She knew this. Should have known it when she glimpsed the Syrian traders. But memories of the early days rushed in on her. Your daughter is very beautiful, my lord. She closed her eyes.
“I know, my love. I know.” Dabir pulled her close and stroked her back. He must have assumed her expression was one of sorrow over Gamal’s loss. But as the memories faded, she knew she would not grieve Gamal. Not after all he had put her through. No. She grieved the loss of her freedom.
“What is to become of me?” she whispered against Dabir’s rough cheek, taking advantage of the moment of his kindness to ask what might later become too difficult to say.
Dabir kissed her cheek and brushed the hair from her face. His dark eyes held a glint of longing and the pride of one who has gained a priceless prize. He took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers. “Come, sit with me and I will tell you.” He gave her a lazy smile and tugged her toward a cushioned couch that lined one of the walls of the spacious room. He positioned her to face him.
“I have bought a house along the outer wall of the city,” he said, lifting his square chin in that telltale pride. “The neighborhood is much safer and better than where you are living now. You will have servants and guards, and an allowance to spend however you please.”
She lifted a brow but said nothing.
He looked at her, stroked a strand of her hair. “I have plans for you, Rahab. But now is not the time to share them with you.” He took her hand again and helped her to her feet. “You must be hungry.” He led her toward the door. “I will take you to your new home, where you can eat and bathe and sleep. I will visit you tomorrow to explain what you are to do.”
Rahab stood before a wooden gate, its scrollwork rivaling that of some of the finest homes in Jericho. A guard opened it for her and nodded to Dabir, and a female servant met them in the courtyard to wash their dusty feet. Inside, the rooms were large, spread with tapestries, and sconces held the flame of torches along the walls. Intricately carved furnishings, the kind Gamal would have sold and gambled away, graced each room with elegance.
“Well, my dear Rahab, what do you think?” Dabir turned in a circle, his arm taking in the spacious sitting room. Every vase, every pillow, every detail seemed in perfect place.
“I think it is wonderful,” she said, her voice soft, breathy. “But I am afraid to touch anything.”
Dabir laughed and came toward her, pulling her into his arms. He swung her around, still laughing. “Touch all you like, my dear girl. This place is for your use.” His smile seemed genuine, but Rahab could not stop the sense of wariness that fringed the edges of her mind.
“Will you show me the rest?” She could tell he was eager to show off all he was offering her. But . . . what of his wife?
“Of course.” He took hold of her elbow and gently led her into a large cooking area, where a woman stood at a wooden table chopping vegetables. “This is Kifah. She will cook whatever food you like.”
Rahab stared, seeing herself in such a role just yesterday. She glanced at Dabir, calculating his motives and purpose for her. He wanted more than he was saying.
She followed him to a small sleeping chamber, then to a larger one, then to several more. Was he expecting her to run an inn? Or would he dare to want children by her?
“You’re terribly quiet, my dear.” He swiveled to face her and caught her in a light embrace. “Surely you have a thought in that beautiful head of yours?” His bright smile did not warm her.
She hugged her arms to her chest and glanced around the opulent room. What must the chambers in the palace be like if a normal house could boast so much?
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, meeting his ardent gaze. “How did you . . . I mean, this is too nice for someone like me, Dabir. Surely your wife and children—”
“Live in a home far better than this one.” He pressed a gentle finger to her lips. “Did you not realize the wealth and power I wield? Surely you are not ignorant of my position.” He studied her, and she lowered her gaze against his scrutiny.
“I knew you were advisor to the king.” She looked at him and offered a weak smile. “I did not realize how close an advisor or how well the kingdom paid you.”
His arms came around her then, and before she could think, his lips claimed hers, as they had the night he wooed her. “Well, it is time you realized it.” His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and she caught his sudden shift in mood. He touched her hair and twirled a strand around his finger. “You are mine now, Rahab.”
The knot in her stomach tightened, fed by his obvious need to control her.
“Does your wife know about me?” She watched him, wondering if this was a wise question. “I only wonder how I should act if I should meet her at the market.”
“You will never meet my wife at the market. The servants do her work.” He sounded petulant, and she imagined a woman who sat lazily on a garden bench or upon her bed all day doing nothing.
“Am I allowed to go to market, my lord? I do enjoy picking my own fruits and fabrics. I will learn to weave the finest linen you can imagine.” She smiled brighter now and placed a hand against his chest, coaxing, praying for this small amount of freedom. “I would do my part to please you, Dabir. I could not bear to sit about with nothing to occupy me.”
He considered her a moment, as though the question was more difficult than she thought it should be. “When I am sure I can trust you, and possibly with a guard accompanying you, then we will discuss it. For now, the servants will go to market, but you are free to weave or spin or do whatever you desire—inside these walls.”
So she was a prisoner as surely as she had been in that cell the night before. But she did not say so. “Thank you for your generosity, my lord.” She gave him what she hoped was a grateful smile. She should be thankful to him. After all, he had rescued her from slavery to foreign merchants.
But as she lay alone in her bed after he had finished with her that night, she could not stop the aching loneliness, the awful truth she had known since she married Gamal. She was a slave. As she had been a slave in her marriage, now she was slave to this pompous, wealthy man, who was as much a fool as Gamal. A different type of fool, but pride and greed always produced fools, no matter what level of success they achieved.
She had simply been traded from one fool to another, hopelessly bound to their desires.
8
Evening shadows danced with the flickering torches in Rahab’s sitting room, where Dabir lounged on one of her plush couches. Not a speck of dust swirled above the lamps nor dared to land on the polished wood of the tables. Three months in her spacious prison had nearly driven her mad with the desire to do something, anything. But most of the daily womanly tasks, including the polishing of his expensive furniture, had been given to servants, and she had had no visitors except Dabir. A deep ache for her family settled within her.
“I acquired a new villa today,” Dabir said, drawing her to look at him. He crossed one ankle over the other and clasped his hands behind his head. “It’s quite nice, actually, though of course I will hire men to change things to my liking.” He smiled. “I’ll have to take you there sometime.”
She picked up an embroidered pillow and ran a hennaed finger over the delicate fabric. “What plans do you have for this one?” She met his gaze, showing interest, though his purchases had begun to weary her, especially his prideful arrogance as he bragged his way through the telling of the details. But she had learned well how to play the role he demanded. To do otherwise . . . She blinked. Dabir could be abusive in ways Gamal had not even considered.
“I haven’t decided yet. I may rent it out for a time. Or I may acquire another mistress.” His smile, meant to cause her distress, did the opposite. Another mistress would mean more freedom for her—away from him. But she could never let him think she was anything but his devoted lover. She rose gracefully and came to kneel at his side.
“Have you wearied of me so soon, my lord?” She touched his knee a
nd looked into his calculating gaze, showing him the vulnerable expression she had long ago perfected. What a pretender she had become!
He cupped her cheek, and she knew by the longing in his eyes that her act had its desired effect. “Would you miss me, my girl?”
She lowered her eyes, feigning respect. “I can barely wait for the hour of your visit, my lord. If there is something I have done . . .”
He lifted her chin. “You have been everything I expected, Rahab. You have nothing to fear,” he said, though she knew he lied as easily as she did.
“Thank you, my lord.”
He pulled her onto his lap, and she sifted her fingers along the edges of his beard. “Whose villa? Did the family come under hard times?”
Dabir traced a line along her jaw, his breath catching as she drew nearer, kissing him. “The man took his family and moved north.”
Rahab felt his arms surround her. Her kiss lingered. “Why would he leave?” she whispered. “Jericho is so well protected.”
Dabir stiffened and pushed her slightly from him, his gaze hardened. “The fool heard a rumor about those wandering Israelites coming to attack Canaan, so he took his family, sold everything he could, and fled.” Her heart beat faster at the intensity that suddenly filled his face, reddening his cheeks. This was a subject that always heated Dabir’s ire, and she realized too late that she should not have asked the question.
“Where does he think he will go? What city has stouter walls?” she said, hoping to appease him. She stroked his arm. “Besides, everyone knows the Israelites are a bunch of slaves who can’t find their way out of the wilderness.”
He looked at her, his body slowly relaxing, the tension easing. “No one can breach these walls, Rahab. And no one can escape them without my notice.”
She saw the threat beneath the mask of his charm, but she leaned closer, teasing his ear. “Who would want to try, my lord? You are the great Dabir.” She let her warm breath touch his neck. “I trust he sold his villa to you at a more than reasonable price?”
His laughter brought a sigh to her lips. He would forget his anger now. Relief coursed through her as he set her on her feet and rose, taking her hand. “But of course, my dearest. Do you think I would give him what it was worth?” He kissed her then, harder than she liked, but she did not flinch.
She fingered the hair above his ear. “So tell me what else happened today?” She knew how to play his game and forced herself to continue the role.
He chuckled again, pulling her so close she could barely breathe. “How you try to thwart me, my dear girl.” He ran his finger over her painted lips. “I am in no mood for games tonight.” He lifted her with ease and walked toward her bedchamber, lowering her onto the bed beneath the canopy. He placed his hands on either side of her and searched her gaze. “But I will tell you this . . . I received an invitation to the king’s ball to celebrate the Feast of Keret today. I have been asked to pick the woman who will play the king’s virgin daughter to ‘marry’ the prince during the feast.”
“How wonderful for you, my lord.” She touched his cheek, then played with the fringe of his tunic. “Who will you pick?”
His sudden silence caused her to meet his gaze.
“Your younger sister is a beautiful virgin.”
Rahab’s heart did a painful flip, and she felt the blood drain from her face. No! “My little sister is still a child, my lord.” Please, Yerach, do not let them take Adara. She must offer a sacrifice . . . something.
“She is nearly a woman. She would do for the feast.”
His smile unnerved her, and she found it difficult to breathe. How had she not seen this coming? Pure hatred for the man nearly choked her. She closed her eyes, fighting for control of her emotions. She swallowed hard. Looked into his dark eyes.
“I beg you, my lord.” She paused, summoning control from a place deep within. “Please do not ask this of her. She is innocent and knows nothing of the ways of men.”
“That is the definition of a virgin, my dear. This is a great honor for her, to ‘wed’ the prince of Jericho.” He brushed the hair from her face, and for the first time she felt nauseated at his touch.
“Let me take her place.” The words were out before she could think another thought.
“You are by no means qualified, my dear.” He chuckled, even as he lay beside her on the raised bed.
She turned, forcing every true emotion from her, and sidled closer to him. “But is this not a part to play? I can be anything you ask of me, my lord. I daresay I would know from all you have taught me how to please the prince.” Though the thought of the man who had sent her husband into bondage did not bring her pleasant feelings. Dealing with his advisor was already a struggle. How would she continue to deny her feelings and give herself to yet another man?
But she could not let them take Adara.
“Do you think it a small thing for me to give you to another, Rahab?” He acted offended, and for the brief moment their gazes met she sensed honesty in him. Did he actually care for her? The home he had provided flashed through her thoughts. He did like to give her things.
“I would never think of giving my heart to him, Dabir.” She stroked his arm. “You know that it is you alone I love.” She smiled and kissed him before he could respond, desperate to prove her lying words. “I would not disappoint you, my lord. The prince would thank you, perhaps even promote you at the end of the feast. Anyone else would surely disappoint him.” Her heart beat faster. She dared not even speak her sister’s name lest he lose his focus on her.
“You drive a hard bargain, my sweet.” He gave in to her kisses and closed his eyes. He would not speak of it again, despite her desperate need to pull a promise from him. But experience had taught her how far she could push him.
So she did as she had always done since the day Dabir had purchased her—submitted to his choices and pretended to be someone she was not.
A week later, on the sixth day of the yearly Festival of Keret, Rahab awoke to the deafening march of soldiers stomping the circular streets of Jericho. They had repeated the same silent parade for the past five days. On the seventh, tomorrow, they would shout and dance in the streets, blaring trumpets and clashing cymbals and fairly shaking the earth beneath them. And at the end of it all, she would “marry” the prince, as she had begged Dabir to allow her to do.
If only she had not been forced to make such a choice.
She rose from her bed, pushing anxiety from her heart for the hundredth time. She could do this. She must do this, for Adara’s sake. But though she had once appreciated his mercy, she did not like Prince Nahid. And she thought the ritual of Keret a farce meant to appease the desires of men more than the needs of the moon god. But even her father had insisted that the land’s fertility was at stake. Had the decision been given to him, he might have offered Adara in her place.
What if Dabir changes his mind? The thought greeted her again, as it had every dawn for the past week, with the first sound of the soldiers and the silent parade of her fellow citizens following solemnly behind the prince, Dabir, and most of the royal court. What if he had spoken to her father about Adara and pulled a switch on her at the last moment?
She drew in a long, slow breath. Stop. She could not continue to worry.
Tomorrow. One more day and she could stop fearing Dabir’s treachery.
But in her mind’s eye she saw the look of malice in Dabir’s eyes as he watched Gamal on his knees, pleading for his life. And the gleam of greed when he looked at her, at moments he thought she did not notice. Dabir wanted more from her than he had yet let on. She knew it in a place deep within her, in a place she did not want to visit.
Dabir was capable of evil beyond what she could imagine.
Sweat drew a thin line along her brow, even as a chill swept over her. What had she agreed to do? Why had Dabir given in to her so easily? He had brought up Adara on purpose. Had he done so to get her to unwittingly do his bidding?
But wh
y? Why share her with the prince?
She sank back among the covers, her stomach suddenly heaving. Something was wrong.
With each staccato march of the soldiers, her dread grew.
At dawn the following morning, the familiar march began once again. This time they would circle the city seven times. She rose quickly from her bed, greeted with the rich scent of spikenard, a gift sent to her from Dabir for the evening’s festivities. Sweet delicacies awaited her at a small table in the corner of her chamber, but her stomach revolted at the thought of food. Tonight she would be escorted to Prince Nahid’s chambers dressed as his consort. Their union, if the gods were merciful, would bring a fruitful harvest to the land.
What if it also brought about a real child in her womb?
The thought stirred the desire she had lived with every day of her marriage. But three months with Dabir had proven her barrenness was not Gamal’s fault. Why had the gods not looked on her with such favor?
You are a worthless whore. Gamal’s words rang as sharply as they had four months before.
She rose stiffly, forcing all thoughts of a child, of whatever womanly longings she had once possessed, from her heart. She could not dwell on them. If she did, they would consume her.
Time dulled with the incessant marching.
As the hour approached, servants came to dress her hair and fitted wide circles of silver filigreed earrings into the holes in her ears. The white tunic dipped low at her neckline, and a long slit below her waist easily showed one long leg. A sheer scarlet robe did little to cover what the tunic exposed. One look in the long silver mirror caused her face to flush nearly as crimson as the robe.
She was dressed as a priestess, not a princess. A king’s daughter was to be the part she played. Unless . . . Her earlier fears surfaced like rushing water in a dry wadi. Dabir had lied to her all along. Hadn’t she always known it? Would she arrive at the banquet to find Adara dressed as a princess ready to be given to King Keret/Prince Nahid?
Crimson Cord : Rahab's Story (9781441221155) Page 7