by Tessa Afshar
“She loves the Lord, doesn’t she?” Miriam asked into the silence. “I mean, with a genuine desire that goes deep and wide. You don’t find that kind of faith very often.”
“Hmm?”
“Rahab. I overheard some of your conversation with her.”
“Hmm.”
“My brother the conversationalist. I’m serious, Salmone. Remember that day when they burned their clothes? I didn’t tell you what Rahab told Izzie that day. When I had explained to Izzie that she couldn’t bring her robe into our camp, Rahab said that Izzie should only give up her robe for the Lord. ‘Don’t do it because of the rules, or because of Israel,’ she said. ‘If you do it for Him, you will have joy. If you do it for them, you’ll end up with a lot of resentment.’ Her wisdom amazed me. She barely even understood the basic commandments then, yet she comprehended the difference between performance and worship. She understood that doing something as a willing offering to the Lord brings joy, whereas doing something to satisfy human expectations can only end in pain.”
“She’s … an unusual woman.”
“Is that what brings you to their camp so often?”
“What?”
“Come, Salmone. You could send anyone to do this work. Any number of your men could have done the teaching. Yet as often as not, you have chosen to do it yourself. Two weeks ago, you were pulling out your hair in exasperation because Joshua had foisted them on you. Now you hardly stay away.”
“I wanted to gauge their character for myself,” Salmone protested.
Miriam sniffed, but showed enough wisdom to hold her tongue. Salmone tightened his mouth with annoyance. Her words struck too close to home for comfort. He had lost count of the arguments he had had with himself where he sounded just like Miriam. Every morning he lectured himself that he had better things to do with his life. And repeated the lecture even while of their own accord his feet directed him back to Rahab’s camp. He convinced himself that his visits rose out of a concern with the many problems of grafting an enemy family into Israel. The potential pitfalls in this harebrained plan of Joshua’s could give a young man white hair. The possibility of resentment, hatred, insidious idolatry, immorality, division, and a host of other dangers hung over the Jericho contingent like a storm cloud. Salmone almost convinced himself that he visited them as often as he did in order to ensure that none of these dangers would become a reality.
The only thorn in this reasonable conviction had a name. Rahab. His thoughts strayed her way too often for comfort. His eyes rested on her without his volition. Although his physical attraction to the Canaanite woman plagued him, it paled in comparison to his increasing fascination with her as a whole. She had a brilliant mind, he had discovered. Quick-witted and savvy, she often seemed to be five steps ahead of everyone else in her family. She understood the ramifications of every decision with a precision that Salmone couldn’t help but admire. Above all this, Rahab’s faith drew Salmone. She awakened a longing that had old roots for him.
Salmone had been married at a young age. He had known his Anna from infancy. She had been his parents’ choice, though a choice to which he had willingly submitted. In the short years of their marriage, he had known the kindness of a loyal wife. He had known the companionship of a patient and caring woman. But in his deepest heart, he had hungered for more. Anna believed in the Lord and followed His precepts. Yet she wasn’t ardent for Him. She didn’t speak to her husband about Him, growing excited with every new step of faith. When he tried to bring up the subject, she would avoid it. Salmone had longed to be able to bask in the mysteries of God with his wife, to share with her this most precious and sacred desire of his soul. His marriage, though pleasant and warm, lacked the fire of this greatest passion of Salmone’s life.
In spite of the fact that Anna had been dead for many years now, Salmone had never remarried, because he remembered that barrenness and dreaded it. He wanted more than he had known with Anna. He felt disloyal just thinking about it, as if he accused Anna of a shortcoming. What fault had she, after all?
In Rahab, Salmone caught a glimpse of the passion, the intelligent searching mind, the hunger after the Lord that he longed for. In spite of her many gifts, however, she was utterly unsuitable. Her origins, not to mention her besmirched past, made her an unfitting companion for any Hebrew man, let alone one of Israel’s leaders—the son of Nahshon, once leader of the tribe of Judah, no less! They would simply be incompatible.
And yet she drew him …
Salmone had factored in every conceivable danger directed at Israel from Rahab and her family. This one contingency, however, had never occurred to him. That he would himself become the target of so inconvenient an attraction was an irony that he could do without. He would stay away from them starting tomorrow, he decided with finality. If Miriam was beginning to notice the leaning of his heart, then it was more than time to put a dead stop to it. He kicked at a stone as he walked beside Miriam, unintentionally causing a shower of sand to rise up. It flew into her mouth, which was open in a soft hum, and found its way up her nose.
“Yupphht! Hey!” she said, spitting out granules, sticky with her saliva. “What are you doing, declaring war on the sand?”
“Pardon.” It wasn’t the sand he was at war with. It was himself.
“Joshua, I think Rahab and her family are ready to move into the camp with us.” Salmone sat alone with Joshua on a nubby hill. A few blades of tough grass grew around them in the rocky soil, waving now and again in the mild breeze.
Joshua gave a half-smile and then quickly wiped it clean before turning to his protégé. Not quick enough for Salmone to miss, however. “I’m glad to hear it. So you have no more concerns?”
Salmone’s lips twisted. “I wouldn’t say that. I am simply satisfied that their faith is genuine, and that they seek the well-being of Israel.”
Joshua snorted. “That’s mighty generous of you. The woman’s faith is well known to half the camp already. In fact, I’d like to meet her. Why don’t you bring her to me tomorrow?”
“I’ll have Hanani fetch her for you.”
“No, no. You bring her. I’d like to have you there too.”
Salmone barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Of course, Joshua,” he said, his smile wooden.
Chapter
Eleven
Yet again, the next morning, Salmone found himself traipsing down the well-worn path to the Jericho camp. At least this time it was Joshua’s fault. Once there, he avoided meeting with Rahab for as long as possible by first finding her brothers and father.
“You can pack up and join Israel’s camp this afternoon. I know of a tent that will suit your needs; I’ll arrange for you to have it when you arrive. After the noon meal is finished I will send a couple of my men over to help you carry your things.”
He nodded his head as the men thanked him, the effusion of their genuine excitement making him uncomfortable. A feeling too much like guilt clung to him. It occurred to him that given his attitude toward these people, he deserved their resentment more than their gratefulness. Over time he had learned to treat them with respect; he had even relaxed his harsh reservations more with every passing day. He had, however, not behaved toward them with warmth and friendship.
He shrugged off the thought, and unable to avoid his real task any longer, turned to look for Rahab. She was on the other side of the camp, kneeling by the fire. He took his time ambling over to her, dreading her proximity. Anticipating her proximity. The opposing emotions made his stomach churn.
Too soon he arrived at her side, and for a moment stood towering over her. Her eyes widened with surprise, and a shade of dread, he thought, before she lowered them. “Rahab,” he said with a nod.
“Good morning, my lord.”
Without preamble he blurted, “Joshua wants to see you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You. Rahab.” She didn’t move. “Now, if you please.”
“Now?”
“If you
’re going to repeat everything I say, this might become a lengthier conversation than I anticipated.”
“But why does he want to see me? Have I done something wrong?”
Salmone hunkered down on his haunches until his face became level with hers. He studied her for a moment, taking careful note of her reaction. Her full lips trembled and she bit on them to keep them still. She knit her fingers together until they turned white. Dread colored her honey eyes. He found himself wanting to wrap his arms around her in comfort until the fear drained out of her. To stop himself from such rash foolishness, he shoved his hands behind his back. “Look, he wants to meet you, that is all. You saved his men; perhaps he might even thank you. There’s nothing to grow anxious about. In fact, I’ve asked your family to move to our camp later this afternoon. Permanently. A couple of my men will come and fetch them.”
“This afternoon?” She clapped a hand over her mouth for a moment. “I know, I know. I’m repeating your words. It’s only that it feels like a dream. Shall we truly move in with Israel?”
“This very day.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound full of relief and exultation. Salmone, who only two weeks before had fought tooth and nail to keep her out of his nation, found himself grinning right alongside her and wishing he could cause her joy more often.
“If I’m to meet Joshua, I’d better go and change. And I also need to pack if we are to move.”
“Leave your packing to your family. Surely they can manage in your absence.” He looked at her through veiled eyes. “You can change if you wish,” he said, “but you look fine as you are.”
Rahab drew a nervous hand down the side of her linen dress. “I better put on something more suitable. I won’t be long,” she said and moved to get up. She had been kneeling for some time, and as she rose, she lurched for a second, unsteady on her feet. Salmone shot out his hand, his athletic reflexes working before wisdom held him back. For a tense moment they were connected, half leaning into one another, Salmone’s hand on Rahab’s arm. Her skin felt supple. Inviting. Unbidden, he experienced an overwhelming kick of desire at the simple touch. Anger rose up in him against his own reactions to this woman, and irrationally, against her, for being the cause of so much unwanted emotional upheaval. He pushed her away as he removed his hand and stepped back for good measure.
She turned the color of pomegranate skin. “I … I won’t be long,” she repeated and raced away.
“You won’t be long enough,” Salmone muttered under his breath when Rahab was out of hearing range. Almost as if trying to erase the memory of the touch of her skin against his hand, he wiped his palm on his homespun tunic. This was Joshua’s fault. He would dump Rahab at the doorstep of Israel’s great leader and be done with the whole matter. Let Joshua deal with her. He would arrange for the family to purchase a big tent and have it set up as far away from his own tent as the tribe of Judah could accommodate. If he was careful, he might not even run into her above once a month. Now that was a worthy plan.
Rahab reflected that in spite of Salmone’s assurance, the robe she had on was wrinkled and far from fresh. The lack of water in their minuscule camp meant the precious supply they received from Israel was used only for food and drink and the most basic of necessary ablutions. Laundry was a luxury they hadn’t been able to afford for many days now. She had had the prudence to set aside a fresh robe for the day they would move into Israel’s camp, however.
During her last weeks in Jericho, before the army of Israel parked itself outside their walls, she had decided to sell most of her fine silk robes, veils, and sarongs. The night she promised God to change her life, they became useless to her. In their place, she purchased several lengths of plain and sturdy fabric with which she made a few robes of good quality but modest design. Looking at the way Miriam dressed, she was glad of her foresight. If Miriam were typical of other Israelite women, then Rahab’s new garments would be considered luxurious but acceptable.
She washed briskly, using a rag and a basin of tepid water before changing into her fresh linen dress. Her hair hung in a braid down her back. She had no time to fuss with it. Rummaging through a sack, she found a small jar of precious rose water and applied a little to her hair. Instantly, she regretted it. Would it remind Joshua of her past when he smelled it? Was perfume considered an immoral luxury among the women of Israel? With frantic speed she scrubbed the damp rag against her scalp until it hurt. Discarding the rag, she grabbed a long scarf and threw it over her head. She knew further delay would put Salmone in a foul mood. A fouler mood, she conceded. He seemed short-tempered already. When she had stumbled, he had pushed her away as though she were sin on two legs. As though she were an offense to him and to the heavens. She groaned, hating her desperation for winning his approval—hating the easy way he affected her with his smallest actions.
He barely gazed in her direction when she emerged from behind the makeshift curtain. Without a word, he began to walk, and she had to follow him as best she could. His legs were much longer than hers, and every few steps, she had to resort to a jog in order to catch up. If he noticed her predicament, he showed no sign.
“Is it far to Israel’s camp?” she ventured to ask after a time.
“No.”
Another few minutes passed. Under the midmorning sun, she was puffing like a smoky fire, yet the turmoil in her mind was by far the greater discomfort. “Do you know Joshua well?” she asked. With every step, she grew more terrified at the prospect of meeting the commander of Israel. What if he detested her? What if after meeting her he changed his mind about letting them remain?
Salmone slowed his steps. “I’ve known him my whole life.”
“Is he … a good man?”
“He is the best of men.” He gazed at Rahab for a moment and looked away. “Why are you fearful?”
She shrugged, too embarrassed to tell him of her self-doubt. In her own ears she sounded like a child in need of assurance.
“Why?” he asked again. “Tell me.”
At times like this it was easy to see why thousands followed this man’s leadership. The force of Salmone’s personality could be as persuasive as chariot wheels driving right over you, Rahab reflected. She, at least, could not dredge up the resources to resist him. “He might change his mind when he meets me,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Why would he do that?”
She felt perilously close to tears. The nearer they drew to Israel, the more certain she grew that Joshua would dislike her. Her steps began to drag until she stopped. “Perhaps this is a mistake.”
Salmone stopped a few cubits ahead of her. He hesitated, one step straining forward, another digging in the sand, like he couldn’t make up his mind whether to leave her there or come back. He gave a muffled groan and turned around. “Come. It’s not a mistake.”
She shook her head. “Joshua doesn’t understand the defilement of our lives or he would never have allowed us to join you.”
“He understands better than you know, Rahab. He still wants you.”
She sat heavily in the sand and buried her head in her arms. To her shame, she couldn’t control the tears. Before Salmone, of all people. She felt his breath on top of her head before she felt him kneel by her side.
“Shhh. It’s all right,” he whispered. For once, she detected no hint of criticism or exasperation in his voice. Perversely, his genuine sympathy made her cry harder. He lifted her hand with gentle fingers and held it between his own. His touch felt pure, safe. That alone shocked her. How long had it been since a man had touched her with purity? In the security of his presence, the burdens of the past weeks came pouring out of her in a torrent of silent tears. Of all the people in Canaan, Salmone would have been the last person she would have chosen as her comforter. But she hadn’t been able to let these tears out in front of her family because they were leaning on her strength. They relied on her resolve; she needed to be an anchor to them in this season of uncertainty.
“Forgive me,�
� she gasped, after expelling what felt like the last drop of moisture from her body. “I don’t know why I am so overcome.”
He released her hand and sat back. “You’ve been courageous for a long time. Your strength has limits; that is all. But you needn’t fear Joshua. Come now. Come and see for yourself.”
Rahab nodded and stood up. Sand covered her new dress. Tears stained her face. Her nose ran.
“You’re a mess,” Salmone said with a gentle smile that had no sting to it.
“I know.” She wiped her face with a kerchief and beat the sand out of her dress as best she could. Salmone waited without comment. He didn’t even tap his foot or drum his fingers to express his impatience. When they resumed their walk, he moved much slower, matching his footsteps to her smaller ones.
Joshua welcomed Rahab to his tent with a wide smile that could not ease her jangled nerves. Her heart pounded in her chest with such ridiculous force, she was sure everyone could hear it. She curtsied with care; displaying the deference she would have shown a king. Through her eyelashes she studied Joshua, trying to gauge the man. He was striking, though in no measure handsome. The hawklike nose, the strong lips, the intense eyes bore witness to a resolute character that would not brook easy opposition. This was not a man to have for an enemy as she had good reason to know. But she suspected his friendship would be as sweet as his enmity harsh.
“I have looked forward to meeting you, Rahab,” he said. But before he could speak more, a young man ran into his tent unannounced; he was covered in dust, his clothes askew and disheveled. Disconcerted, Rahab stepped to the side. Was this a normal occurrence, this rude access to the leader of the nation of Israel? The newcomer panted hard, as if he had run a considerable distance, and his sentences came out in great bursts of breath.
“Joshua! O Joshua.”