“You are an enigma to me, Salmon. First you say, ‘Who could ever marry a prostitute?’ Then you tell me I should make my sister befriend one.” His brows narrowed as his scrutiny grew. “Look me in the eye and tell me you do not care for Rahab.”
Salmon met Mishael’s gaze, but he could not hold it.
“I knew it.” Mishael’s laughter was too self-satisfying.
“I do not care for Rahab.” Salmon forced the words through suddenly dry lips.
Mishael’s laughter stopped. Silence followed as they looked at each other. At last Mishael shrugged, as though through with the conversation. “Your loss, my friend.”
Salmon looked away. “I’d like to see you marry someone who has known more men than she can count.”
Mishael tucked the flint knife into the pouch at his side and stretched out on the ground, hands behind his head. “Perhaps I will.” He rolled over, his back to Salmon, the conversation clearly at an end.
Salmon stared at his friend’s relaxed pose. Mishael was just baiting him, as he and Zimri and Mishael had baited each other throughout their childhood. He couldn’t marry Rahab any more than Salmon could.
And yet as Salmon closed his eyes, it was Rahab’s vulnerable face that appeared in his mind’s eye . . . with that scrawny homeless cat tucked into her arms.
He must have slept, for dawn woke him with much the same thoughts as he’d had hours before. Mishael had already doused the embers of last night’s fire.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Not long.” Mishael glanced at him. “You ready to head to town?”
Salmon rose and stretched. “Yes.”
They left camp and headed south toward the plain, where the gates of the small city stood open before them. “How shall we handle this?” Mishael asked.
Salmon tapped the earth with his staff. “Same as before.”
Mishael nodded. Salmon felt the slightest tension between them. “Look,” he said when the silence stretched on too long. “I know you think me conflicted about Rahab, defending her one moment, shunning her the next. But I can’t marry a prostitute, no matter how much she might have changed.” He paused, glancing at his friend. “So if you find her worthy, you have my blessing.”
Mishael stared into the distance. The gates of the city drew closer. “I will think on it.”
Somehow the thought that Mishael preferred Adara but would consider covering Rahab’s shame tasted sour on Salmon’s tongue. Would to God he had such courage. The woman had captivated him with more than her beauty. She was smart and resourceful and she loved her family. And that silly cat.
All qualities he would want in a wife.
If only her past didn’t keep coming between them.
25
Rahab awoke before dawn to the sound of loud purring in her ear. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. What day was it? Unnatural silence greeted her. Of course, everyone would still be abed. She glanced at the cat that had perched on her chest. “Perhaps the cook was right about you, you little beast. Why did you wake me?”
She rolled over on her side, trying to ignore the animal. But the absence of the predawn activity she should have heard grew deafening. She tossed the covers aside and stood, wrapped a robe about her, and walked slowly to her tent’s door, heart pounding. She peered into the gray light and looked from right to left. There was no sign of her family. The tents, the water jars, even the few goats the Israelites had given them were gone.
Shock broke through her foggy thoughts, and the dew tickled her feet as she walked. “Adara? Cala?” Had no one the decency to say goodbye?
She stifled a soft cry and placed a hand to her throat as she walked the length of the small area where each tent had stood. How far had they gotten? Did they wait until they knew she slept?
Twin daggers of betrayal and hurt pierced her, bringing with them a physical ache so deep she had to remind herself to breathe. With the breath’s release came a simmering rage. How could they do this to her? She had saved their lives!
She looked south, toward Egypt. No sign of Adara or even of her family’s small caravan in the distance. They must have left during the darkest heart of night. Oh God, what am I supposed to do? Was there no one trustworthy, no one who wanted her?
Soft fur rubbed her calf, followed by the cat’s familiar purr. A moment later, he hopped up into her arms. Round green eyes looked directly into hers as if to say, “I didn’t leave you.”
She held him close, wetting his fur with her tears.
Rahab tried to sleep again, to no avail. At last she rose, tidied the small tent of her few belongings, and pulled the cat into her arms. “Don’t worry about the people,” she whispered in his ear. “Just hang on to my robe, and I won’t let you go.” She couldn’t leave him alone. He might not wait for her, or worse, he might be torn to pieces by some wild animal. She covered her hair with a veil, shielding the cat like a babe in arms, and headed toward Israel’s camp.
She passed several women talking in a group near some of the tents, but their conversations stopped abruptly as they saw her approach. She glanced their way and nodded, her stomach tightening with their lack of response. She sighed, mentally shaking herself. It did not matter what they thought of her. She was here now, and she would seek Joshua’s protection.
The camp seemed to stretch on forever, and she searched her mind for the path Salmon had led them over a week before. At last she spotted Joshua addressing a group of soldiers. “Be strong and courageous and take the city,” she heard him shout as she grew close. “The spies have agreed that not all of us need to go up, for the city is small. So go now, and defeat Ai in the name of the Lord.”
Rahab glimpsed Salmon and Mishael among the group that turned and marched away at Joshua’s orders. When the last man left the camp, Rahab forced her feet to continue forward until she stood within arm’s length of Joshua.
“My lord, may I speak a word with you?” Her voice sounded distant, and she could not help the dead feeling inside of her. The hope she’d felt when Israel had rescued her family, when men had actually kept their word, failed her now.
Joshua turned, his lined face smiling at her as though she was already one of them. Of course, she wasn’t. “How can I help you, Rahab?” He motioned her to enter the sitting room of his tent, then called to his wife to bring water to drink. “Please, sit.”
Rahab found a cushion and settled the cat in her lap as she lowered herself to the floor. She smiled at Joshua’s wife Eliana, a woman much younger than Joshua himself. She noticed the slice of fresh cucumber floating in the clay water cup. She sipped. “Thank you.”
The woman nodded and smiled, then spotted the cat. “Well, who is it you have here?” She knelt at Rahab’s side and gently touched the cat’s head. His purr followed. “What a friendly little thing.” Eliana looked from the cat to hold Rahab’s gaze. “We are so glad to have you as one of us now. I hope you will consider spending some time with my girls and me.”
The offer took Rahab off guard, but she managed a slight nod. “Thank you. That is very kind.”
“Not at all. You are a hero in this camp. If not for you, we would never have had the advantage to take Jericho.” She smiled again, then sat in a corner and picked up her spindle and distaff.
Joshua gave his wife an affectionate look, then faced Rahab. “Now, please, tell me what I can do for you.”
Rahab swallowed, drawing on courage she did not feel, calmed by Eliana’s kindness. “It appears, my lord, that my family has left the protection of Israel. They broke camp and left by cover of night while I slept.”
“Oh, my dear girl, how awful for you!” Eliana said, her expression filled with genuine sympathy. She glanced at her husband. “You must come and stay with us, of course.”
How was it this woman seemed to know her very thoughts? “Thank you again, mistress. That is very kind of you.”
“Call me Eliana.” She nodded to Joshua.
“Of course Eliana is right,
Rahab. You cannot live alone outside the camp. It isn’t safe.”
“But to live among you, a woman alone . . . is that safe, my lord? Will your men keep their distance from me?” She met his gaze and knew he understood her meaning.
“If any one of my men sought you out as the men of your city once did, he would be punished. Our God does not abide adultery, Rahab. He is pleased when we marry and are fruitful and multiply.”
“I could live in my own tent then?” She stroked the cat’s head and could not meet Joshua’s gaze.
“As long as you pitch it near my wife’s. No one will touch you under my protection.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Call me Joshua, dear girl. I am not your master. Only one God is master of all.”
Rahab nodded, though she found the comment curious, even confusing.
“But I wonder if I might ask you a question,” Joshua said quietly, sipping on a cup of water.
“Of course. Anything.” She would not pretend or lie in giving her answer as she had become so adept at doing.
“Why would you choose us over your own family?” He paused. “I realize you feel a devotion to us for saving your life. But family ties are strong, and the bonds of father and daughter hard to break. Why would you not remain under your father’s protection now that you are free?”
She studied the outlines of the cat’s dark and varying shades of brown, slightly tightening her grip, tugging him gently closer to her heart. Was the animal her new shield against pain? But of course, the little thing had no power to keep her from the wounds of men and women.
“If you would rather not tell me, you have no obligation to do so,” Joshua said after her lengthy silence.
“No, no. I do not mind,” she said quickly. “You must understand. I love my family.” Her voice caught on the memories of their absence, and suddenly she felt completely alone.
Eliana laid her distaff and spindle aside and came once more to kneel at her side. “If you are not ready, we do not need to know your secrets, Rahab. Just know that you are accepted. Whatever happened with your family or in your past is past.” She looked to her husband, who gave a slight nod. “One day I will tell you about our sacrifices, and then perhaps you can confess the hurt to our God and be made whole once more.” She patted Rahab’s knee.
“I have not been whole since I married an unworthy man.” She suddenly realized that the memories of Gamal, Dabir, and the others were still too fresh to share with strangers. Even kind strangers.
“You may set your tent in the circle of mine,” Joshua said, “near Eliana’s. I will see to it that no man comes near you. You will spend your days serving my wife, helping her to prepare food and clothing for some of the younger unmarried men or care for the widows among us. Does that please you?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She swallowed the perpetual emotion, wondering where the stoic lying prostitute had gone. In this place, with these people, she felt nothing like that now. “I will go and gather my things.”
“I will send my daughters to help you.”
She nodded and waited for him to call his daughters, left the cat with Eliana on the promise of her swift return, then walked with the girls to her tent, feeling as though perhaps something would at last be right with her world.
26
The city of Ai loomed before them, an insignificant town with less than half the men Jericho had possessed. Salmon glanced at Mishael and smiled. They would be home in time for the evening meal if all went as they expected. They divided the three thousand men into three groups, one coming after the other. Caleb’s nephew Othniel led the first group, then Mishael the second, and Salmon brought up the last of the men.
They came around from behind a large copse of trees, expecting to walk right through the open city gate. But as Othniel’s group approached, arrows shot down at them from the wall. Soldiers from Ai stormed through the gates, chasing them back.
Salmon commanded his troop to circle around the city, but Mishael’s group was caught in the chase all the way to the stone quarries. Seeing the gate shut up behind the warriors, Salmon and Othniel pursued the men of Ai. But more soldiers appeared, coming from the trees, and as Salmon reached the quarries where Mishael’s group was already trying to make their way down the slopes, Salmon ducked into a shallow cave with a few of his men, his courage drained.
“How is it possible they are striking us down?” This from one of his men. “We outnumber them two to one.”
Salmon shaded his eyes against the sun’s glare and looked down on the men trying to maneuver the slopes. His heart stopped, then went into a full gallop as he watched an arrow from a soldier of Ai arc and dip straight toward Mishael.
“Mishael, run!” But Salmon was too far away to be heard. Time seemed like a distant enemy as he broke free of the cave and raced down the hill toward his friend. As he reached Mishael’s side, saw his crumpled, broken body, he let out a war cry that shook the stones surrounding them. He readied his bow and shot back at the approaching handful of soldiers, shouting at his men to do the same.
But as each one looked around at their losses, they fled like children running to their mothers. Salmon took a bold step closer to the men of Ai and nocked another arrow. The men of Ai did the same, both sides standing there waiting for the other to strike.
“Go home, Israelites,” one of them shouted. “Your God may have given you Jericho, but you will not defeat us.”
Salmon glanced around him, wanting to shout back that their God could defeat them with twelve men instead of three thousand. But as the men of Ai turned back toward their city, he did not loose his arrow, and he did not say the words. He turned instead, defeat filling him, picked up Mishael’s body, and walked toward home.
“We lost thirty-six men,” Salmon told Joshua later that afternoon. “Including Mishael.” His voice broke, and silence followed the remark.
Rahab strained to hear more as she knelt in the women’s half of Joshua’s tent, crushing mint leaves and adding them to the water she had drawn earlier from the Jordan.
“We don’t know how they knew we were coming,” one of the other leaders said, “but somehow they were ready for us. They met us at the gate, and some were waiting in the forest.”
“We spent the afternoon looking for a cave big enough to bury the bodies.” Rahab could still hear the wobble of emotion in the timbre of Salmon’s deep voice.
The room grew quiet again, until at last Joshua spoke. “Send for the elders of the people. I will go before the ark of the Lord and they will join me. Perhaps our God will hear our prayers and show us why we were defeated.”
Salmon followed Joshua across the compound to the place where the ark of the Lord rested. Joshua tore his tunic, and Salmon and the rest of the elders did the same. They sprinkled dust on their heads and fell facedown on the ground before the Lord.
As dusk descended, Joshua’s voice broke the silence. “Alas, Sovereign Lord, why did you ever bring this people across the Jordan to deliver us into the hands of the Amorites to destroy us? If only we had been content to stay on the other side of the Jordan!”
Salmon’s heart felt like a heavy weight within his chest. Joshua’s doubt and anguish mingled with the scent of Mishael’s blood, which Salmon would never be able to wash from his hands. Such defeat seemed impossible with the God who had parted the Jordan and caused Jericho’s walls to tumble. And yet, here they were, fresh from the awful task of burying their dead.
“Pardon your servant, Lord. What can I say, now that Israel has been routed by its enemies? The Canaanites and the other people of the country will hear about this, and they will surround us and wipe out our name from the earth. What then will you do for your own great name?” Joshua’s voice wavered, and Salmon’s throat ached with the need to cry out, Why?
Stillness, unnatural and eerie, followed Joshua’s prayer, but moments later a rumble like thunder moved above their heads, and Salmon strained to hear above the roar.
; “Stand up!” a deep voice said from the darkening clouds. “What are you doing down on your face? Israel has sinned. They have violated my covenant, which I commanded them to keep. They have taken some of the devoted things, they have stolen, they have lied, they have put them with their own possessions. That is why the Israelites cannot stand against their enemies. They turn their backs and run because they have been made liable to destruction. I will not be with you anymore unless you destroy whatever among you is devoted to destruction.
“Go, consecrate the people,” the voice continued. “Tell them, ‘Consecrate yourselves in preparation for tomorrow, for this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: There are devoted things among you, Israel. You cannot stand against your enemies until you remove them.’”
After a few more instructions, the clouds lifted and the voice departed. Salmon rose on shaky legs and looked toward Joshua, whose face was both aglow and hard as flint.
“Go among the people and do as the Lord commanded. Each one must wash their clothes and consecrate themselves. Tomorrow we will go through every tribe, every family, until we find who is guilty,” Joshua said.
Salmon did not wait for dismissal, nor speak a word to any man. Fear and anger mingled, rising like a storm within him. Mishael had died because some fool had disobeyed their God?
But as he marched toward the camp, he stopped short at thoughts of the temptations he had considered, of Rahab. Could the disobedient one be him?
27
Rahab spent the rest of the evening washing her garments along with the rest of the women in Israel, kneeling at the Jordan until every last piece of clothing was washed clean. She had said little to Joshua’s wife during the solemn consecration and returned to her tent to find sleep impossible. Could she be the cause of Israel’s defeat? Was her desire to join them a source of anger to their God? Perhaps she should have been devoted to destruction along with her people, and the fact that they had spared her . . . did that make her guilty of this great loss?
Crimson Cord : Rahab's Story (9781441221155) Page 19