Rebekah rose quietly, so as not to waken Deborah—who slept heavily in any case, gently snoring in her corner near the doorway. Covering herself with a simple robe, Rebekah slipped out into the cool air of a summer evening in the high grasslands.

No sooner did she begin to make her way toward Akyas’s tent, however, than she felt a sudden dread. What could she do that was more foolish than to defy the bride’s seclusion and waken her at some awful hour of the night?

Rebekah turned back to the tent, wondering what she could have been thinking even to consider such a course of action, when all of a sudden the fear left her and she again thought: But that’s absurd. It isn’t that late, and Akyas will be up, and why shouldn’t the daughter of the household come to her to welcome her in advance? It would be a gracious thing to offer, anyway, and if Akyas didn’t want her to come in, she had only to refuse to admit her at the door.

Rebekah turned again and strode boldly toward the tent of Ezbaal’s women. At once the dread and doubt returned to her, but she paid it no heed, refusing to let foolish fear stop her from the right course of action. Soon she arrived at the tent door, and yes, a light flickered dimly within. Not wishing to clap her hands at this quiet hour—for who knew how many people would think it was their tent into which someone desired entry?—Rebekah merely snapped her fingers several times.

At once someone touched her arm. Rebekah whirled to see a stern-looking man looming over her, holding a lamp inside a pierced jar. Of course Ezbaal had set a guard to watch over the women’s tent!

Rebekah waited to be recognized, but then realized that was stupid. She had not been seen without her veil by any man in Ezbaal’s party, so how would this poor fellow recognize her? Indeed, if she had been thinking straight, she would have worn her veil—in fact, she could not think why she had forgotten to wear it, since it had been second nature to her for years to put it on whenever she ventured outside, day or night. Yet tonight she had forgotten it, and so would not be recognized.

All this thought passed in a moment, and she was about to begin to explain who she was when the man’s expression changed to one of embarrassment.

“Ah, mistress, no one told me you were abroad tonight,” he whispered. “But why wouldn’t you simply go in?”

His seeming recognition of her confused him. Had Akyas and the other women described her so carefully? And why should she simply walk in? “Am I expected, then?”