by Brian Godawa
The last revelation that came to him as he lay dying was that Og had always wanted to control the region. With Sihon’s kingdom decimated, Og could vanquish the battle-weary Habiru and have the entire Transjordan to himself.
Sihon had been the biggest fool not to see it.
And then he breathed his last on earth, to face his maker in judgment.
• • • • •
The four archangels arrived at the city and found their way to the temples. Molech was long gone. Chemosh, they found cowering in his sanctuary, trying to hide.
They dragged out the trembling deity onto the floor. He had even wet his tunic.
Mikael pummeled his face like a punching bag until he was bleeding from a broken nose and fractured cheekbones.
Chemosh yelped, “Please do not bind me. Please do not bind me! I beg you, have mercy on me!”
Mikael said with resounding authority, “Where is Ashtart?”
Chemosh looked confused at the angels.
“In Ashtaroth!”
“Boy, was that pathetically easy,” said Uriel. “I would hate to be your colleague in crime.”
And then they did something strange. They turned and walked away. They left Chemosh alone!
Did they offer him mercy after all?
And then it hit Chemosh. He remembered that Yahweh had commanded the Israelites not to dispossess the Moabites or the Ammonites because they were the descendants of Lot, Abraham’s nephew. So the angels were not authorized to bind Chemosh and Molech, the gods of the Moabites and Ammonites while in their protected territories.
They were after Ashtart and the others.
Uriel was right. Chemosh was pathetic.
But he remained unbound.
• • • • •
With the city in flames, Moses, Joshua, and Caleb gathered by the high place of Molech to personally direct the tearing down of its foundations and the destruction of the tophet.
The still smoldering flesh of children inside the tophet made Caleb wretch. He had seen the horrors of war, he had crushed skulls, and impaled evil with swords and pikes. But this sight was too much for him.
He forced out, “What kind of monsters do such things?”
“Humans do such things,” replied Moses. “Evil is more mundane than we give it credit.”
Joshua wrapped it up. “We must maintain our momentum as an element of surprise and terror. We will subdue the surrounding villages and towns within days and move swiftly up to Edrei in Bashan.”
Edrei was the first city in the kingdom of Og.
Chapter 19
Rahab’s family did not take long to settle in to the large inn she had acquired in the wall of the city that was above her tavern in Jericho. Though she was involved in shameful employment, they could not condemn her too easily because she had been stolen from them at a young age and forced into a life of debauchery. It was all she knew. And at least she was not a sacred cult prostitute. As a profane harlot, she would have the chance to advance somewhat in life, as she had in fact done. Sacred harlots had no choice in their duties and were chewed up like meat, and spit out when they were used up.
It was heinous what some people did in the name of their gods and religion.
Rahab had done very well for herself. And it did not surprise her mother or father. They always knew her independent spirit would either get her killed or help make her own way in the world. She had clearly done the latter. She had purchased an inn with tavern and found herself in the know of everything that was happening in the region because of the travelers who frequented her establishment.
And today, she was serving some of those very travelers some of her special ale for which she had become known. There was a table of Amorite traders and nomads discussing the latest hostilities in the Transjordan. As Rahab served them their drinks, she eavesdropped on their discussion.
One of the traders, an obese one with pimples, was saying, “I would stay on this side of the Jordan for a while until they get it all settled out over there.”
Another one with an eye patch said, “They completely decimated Sihon’s forces at Jahaz, then took Heshbon and the surrounding region within days. It is no longer Sihon’s kingdom.”
Rahab had arrived a bit into the conversation and wondered whom they were talking about. Who had the kind of power to subdue Sihon? She knew he was an ally of Og of Bashan, which made it even more reckless and foolhardy a venture.
One-eye looked up at Rahab. “What are you standing there for, wench? Pour my beer!”
He grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her over to him, pulling her onto his lap.
She dropped the ale pitcher. It fell to the floor and shattered, drawing all their attention to the floor—while her hand reached in her cloak to pull a dagger and place it at One-eye’s cheek below the eye.
She whispered into his face, “If you fancy that good eye of yours, I recommend you release me. I run a respectful house, and I do not appreciate rabble-rousers.”
One-eye’s one eye was wide open with shock. The other men laughed. One of them shouted, “Zakura, meet the proprietor of this good establishment, Rahab the innkeeper! And, may I add, she keeps her promises.”
The men all laughed. Zakura released her with embarrassment.
An oxen—looking nomad raised his mug of beer and said, “She is our most valued asset in this entire city.” They clinked their mugs with him. He added, “And the aristocracy would say, ‘in more ways than one.’”
They laughed again. Rahab playfully slapped the back of the oxen’s head.
He said, “Aw, I am just teasing you, Rahab.”
One of the barmaids was already cleaning up the broken pitcher on the floor.
Rahab said to them, “Who are these invaders, you speak of?”
The obese one offered, “Habiru of some kind. But I have not seen their likes before. Word is they were desert wanderers from Egypt. But they worship a single god.”
“Easier to focus on one,” said someone.
“No,” said the obese one. “I mean that they worship one god as the only god, and seek to dethrone all others.”
“Ba’al?” said Rahab. He seemed the reasonable choice, since he was the most high god, chief of the pantheon in Canaan. No one was mightier than the storm god.
“No,” said the obese one. “I do not remember his name. It was weird and hard to pronounce. But I have never heard of him before. They claim he is the Creator of all things, and the god of all gods. That he is invisible and has no outward form.”
“How do they worship him?” said one. “Where do they look if he is invisible?”
“He has a tent in their midst.”
“Well, there you have it. All gods need to reside somewhere. But a silly little tent? What is he, a dog?”
“Dog” was the derogative word they used for homosexual cult prostitutes.
“I could care less about their god or their dogs,” said the obese one. “What I am concerned about is their effect on my trading business. They have strange dietary habits and do not interact with foreigners well.”
Rahab was engrossed with these Habiru. “What do you mean?”
“Well, for one, they have a whole scroll of foods they cannot eat. Like pork, shellfish, most birds.”
“Dammit. There goes my business in the east,” said One-eye. “I make most of my money selling swine.”
“It gets more confusing. As I understand it, they cannot eat anything with cloven hooves. But if it has cloven hooves and chews its cud, then it is okay to eat.”
“Who are these ignorant people and their crazy rules?” said the oxen. “They should go back where they came from.”
“That is not the half of it,” said the obese one. “They refrain from sexual delights of all kinds other than marriage of a man and a woman: No incest, no adultery, no homosexuality, no cult prostitution, no bestiality.”
“No fun,” interrupted One-eye.
The oxen said, “Their god is a prude.”
One-eye added, “And if he claims to be the Creator of all things, then why did he create us with such desires?”
And another, “One man and one woman only, with children? Disgusting.”
“Boring,” said One-eye.
Rahab was becoming more interested in these Habiru with each passing description.
The obese one was not done. “And they execute necromancers, diviners, sorcerers, mediums, and astrologers.”
“Well, that just about takes care of everything we do in Canaan.”
“Barbaric,” said the oxen. “Next thing you will tell us is they have no human sacrifice either!” Everyone laughed as if it was absurd.
The obese one just raised his eyebrows and nodded as if to say, “No human sacrifice either.”
“That is outrageous!” proclaimed One-eye.
“I am deeply offended,” said another. “How dare they come into our land and condemn all our practices!”
The obese one said, “One thing is for sure, Og of Bashan will not tolerate such intolerance. He will bring justice. He will bring a hammer down upon their heads.”
One-eye said, “I hope he carves them up and eats them.” Then he thought of something, and gave the obese one a dirty look. “How do you know so much about these uncivil savages?”
“They are not all so high and holy as their god wants them to be.”
“Ahhhh,” said One-eye. “Hypocrites.”
The obese one continued, “They allowed me to pass through with my wares, and I was able to make some trades with their locals. They have no qualms with strangers and aliens, just so long as you are not hostile toward their god.”
Rahab had been completely mesmerized during the entire discussion. Now she finally jumped in eagerly. “What was your trade?”
He was hesitant. “Well, just some foodstuffs and other minor cultural artifacts.”
“Like what?” she exclaimed. He was not getting away with that one.
He sheepishly reached into his cloak and pulled out two small pieces of strange material folded up.
“This is some of their writing. But I cannot read it.”
Rahab was already jutting out with greedy hands. “Let me see.”
He handed them to her.
“What is it?”
“It is Egyptian. They call it papyrus. A new medium for writing.”
“A lot lighter than clay and stone tablets,” she said.
“They say it is the future for communications.”
She opened one of them and looked at the text.
“I recognize this script. It is similar to my own people’s writing. But different.”
Rahab’s people were the Seirim. They had come from the Edomites whose lineage traced to Esau—the brother of Jacob—the forefather of Israel.
The obese one got anxious. “Can you read it?”
She was reading it already to herself.
She said, “It is a poem. A song for the congregation, I think. It is labeled at the top ‘elleh haddebarim.’ I think that means, ‘these are the words.’”
“Well, what are the words?” said One-eye. “Read it!”
She had to translate a little, so she read with some stops and starts.
“It says, ‘remember the days of old. When Elyon, the Most High gave to the nations their inheritance, when he divided mankind, he fixed the borders of the peoples according to the number of the sons of God. But Yahweh’s portion is his people, Jacob his allotted heritage.”
The oxen butted in, “What in Sheol does that mean? Who is Yahweh? Who is Jacob? I cannot understand poetry.”
Rahab settled him, “Yahweh is the name of their god that Kabu-Amurru here could not remember.”
The obese one shrunk a bit in his chair.
“And I believe that Jacob is the ancestor of their people.”
They were all transfixed now. One-eye said, “Keep going, keep going.”
Rahab read on. “’He found him,’ I think that means Jacob, ‘in tohu wabohu.”
“What is that?” said one.
“It means a ‘waste of wilderness.’” She continued. “‘Yahweh alone guided him. No foreign god was with him.’ Then it says he forsook Elohim who made him and scoffed at the rock of his salvation.”
One-eye put it together. “Just like Kabu said, they are hypocrites! They are unfaithful to their god.”
Rahab continued, “They stirred him to jealousy with strange gods; with abominations they provoked him to anger. They sacrificed to—sheddim—that were no gods.”
“What are sheddim, Rahab?” said Kabu.
She made sure she was translating correctly, and said, “Demons. They sacrificed to demons that were no gods.” She continued, “‘To gods they had never known, to new gods that had come recently, whom your fathers had never dreaded.”
One-eye was on top of it, “Those are our gods! He is talking about our gods as demonic. That elitist pig.”
The oxen butted in, “They do not eat pork.”
One-eye just gave him a dirty look.
Rahab continued, “He says he is a jealous god. He will punish them.” She skipped to the end. “‘Rejoice with him, O heavens; bow down to him, all gods, for he avenges the blood of his children and takes vengeance on his adversaries. He repays those who hate him and cleanses his people’s land.’”
An ominous silence washed over them. It sounded like a portent of disaster.
The ox was a bit slow. He said, “His people’s land. What land is he talking about?”
But none of them would speak up. They all had a strong sense of exactly what land he was talking about: The land of Canaan.
Rahab said, “Can I borrow this for a while, Kabu?”
“Oh, I do not know, Rahab.”
“Free beer until I give it back.”
“Well, in that case, keep it as long as you want,” he responded without even thinking. He did not have to think. She was clearly giving him the better deal. The silly harlot.
She folded the parchment back up and stuck it into her dress. She looked at the door to the tavern and saw one of the nobles from the palace standing at the threshold. It was Jebir, the Right Hand of the Chief Commander of the fort. He would not defile himself by entering the establishment. He expected Rahab to greet him at the door. And there was only one reason why Jebir bothered to show his face in such an otherwise seedy locale.
• • • • •
Rahab stepped into the water of the large stone bath to cleanse her body. The two things she appreciated about military commanders was that they paid well and they had wonderful, comfortable bedrooms and baths. After pleasuring a patron, the most helpful thing was to enter the bath to try to wash off her sins by soaking in the clean hot water.
The truth was, it only helped a little to shield her pain.
Alyun-Yarikh, the Commander of Jericho, got in the water beside her. He tried to snuggle up next to her, but she pulled away. She needed her space.
“Rahab, I would make you so happy. I would shower you with gifts and I would never let you go. I would love you forever until the day I died.”
Rahab gave him a look of contempt. “Do you realize every single patron I service says the same exact thing? Almost word for word.”
The Commander said, “But I am…”
She finished his sentence with him, “Different. Yes, and that is what every patron also says.”
“Do you have to call me a patron?” he said. “‘Servicing a patron’ sounds so cold and removed. Why do you not call me by my name?”
“Alyun,” she said, and he smiled. “I am not going to marry you. You are the Chief Commander. And you are a man. You are led by your little head to speak of your burning passion and vows of eternal devotion—until you have had your fill—and then you move on to the next vessel to satisfy your lusts.”
If she spoke to the Commander this way in public, it would cost her head. But after she had fulfilled his every fantasy and desire in the privacy of
the bedroom, it was the one place he preferred her to speak honestly.
“You would let me go, you would not love me forever, and it certainly would not last when you got older, much less the day you died.”
“But I am….”
She held her finger up to stop him.
“You are not different. You are all the same. Do you know why I am so successful?”
Alyun smiled and moaned, remembering her skill of pleasing him just minutes before.
She said, “That is correct. Because men are simple, and I know how you think and what you need. I know you better than you know yourselves. Trust me, you do not want to marry me.”
Alyun sat back into the water and splashed his face with water in frustration.
She watched him closely. Then said, “So why else did you invite me tonight? This is not your normal evening.”
He looked at her. Damn, she was right. She could read him like a tablet.
He spoke up, “Have you heard any intelligence of the Transjordan?”
“Just that there is war, and the traders are avoiding it,” she lied.
“Nothing about Habiru or their intentions?”
“No,” she lied again. “Why?”
“Keep your ears open at the tavern, and let me know what you hear about the invaders and their god. I will pay you well.”
“Why so important?”
“These invaders are evil, Rahab. They are killing everyone and enslaving the survivors.”
“Everyone does that. You do that.”
Alyun looked at her. He could not keep anything from her. She was too disarming. Her beauty was like a truth spell. “There is word that the Transjordan is not their true goal.”
She said, “You mean they intend to invade the Cisjordan?”
He gave her a look of yes.
She finished the revelation, “Jericho is the first across the Jordan River for an invasion.”
He said, “If they can conquer us, they have a bridgehead from which they can attack the entire region. We are not sure if that is their goal. But you will let me know if you hear anything about them, will you not?”
“Of course, my lord,” she lied again.