Rebekah was suddenly filled with foreboding. Esau was home. Esau always went straight to the cookfire. And Jacob had arranged for his father and mother to be sitting inside the shed where they could hear but could not be seen. What could it be, except that Jacob had finally figured out a way to force his father to see just how unworthy of the birthright Esau was?

Esau was angry, and when Rebekah and Isaac were seated again, listening, it became clear that Jacob was demanding something from him.

“You don’t ever bring me any meat from these hunting trips, but you come here and expect to eat pottage I made, from lentils I grew.”

“I haven’t eaten in two days,” Esau said. “And you have food there that nobody’s going to eat at this hour of the day!”

“And it’s yours, if you pay.”

“All right, then, what is it you want? You’re the one who knows all the sheep—”

“By name,” said Nebajoth, and he laughed nastily.

“I don’t want sheep from you,” said Jacob. “In fact, what I want is something you don’t even care about.”

“What’s that?”

“The birthright.”

Inside the shed, Isaac immediately became angry. “I’m going to put a stop to this at once.”

But he was whispering. Which meant he didn’t want to be heard.

“Let’s stay,” said Rebekah. “Don’t you think it will be interesting to hear what Esau says?”

Esau was laughing. “Sell you the birthright? Why not! It’s yours! Now dish up the soup!”

Isaac whispered to Rebekah. “Of course he’ll agree. He knows the birthright is mine to give, and I’d never transfer it to Jacob because he bought it with pottage.”

“First put your seal on this parchment,” said Jacob.

“What’s that?” Esau asked.

“Read it.”

“Just tell me.”

Once again, Rebekah wondered if Esau remembered how to read, or even what all the marks of the alphabet were.

Jacob was answering Esau. “It says what you just agreed to. That in exchange for as much of my pottage as you want to eat, you relinquish all claim to the birthright and give it to me.”

“This is a joke,” said Esau. “You know Father will never stand for it.”

“Even if he did allow it, what difference does it make to you?” said Jacob. “You don’t care about the holy writings.”

“I care about them.”

“Not about reading them. Not about copying them.”

“I’ll always have women like you who can do that for me, Jacob. In fact, after Father’s dead I think I’ll make you my steward, and you can spend all day copying the holy writings over and over till you go as blind as Father.”