Salmon rubbed the back of his neck. “Mishael would have agreed with you.” A stab of grief hit him at the memory of Mishael’s teasing laughter. “But I have not found a woman who has sparked my interest.”
“Have you considered Rahab?”
Salmon startled as though the woman had walked into the room. He shook his head. Had Mishael put the idea in Joshua’s mind before that last battle?
“It is hard to consider a woman who has known so many men,” he said, his gaze glancing off Joshua’s, unable to hold it.
“God is able to forgive even the most proud and sinful among us, my friend.” Joshua’s look held fatherly comfort and a knowing of secrets Salmon wished he understood.
“God may be able to forgive, but I am finding that I do not possess His ability.” Salmon glanced toward the tent’s opening, but no woman stood visibly listening.
Joshua did not respond immediately. “Give yourself time, my son.”
Joshua’s smile unnerved him, as if somehow God had told him the secret dealings of Salmon’s heart. But God did not reveal men’s secrets like that, did He?
The disturbing thought followed him as he took the path to his tent.
Three days later, Salmon watched from a perch halfway up a large terebinth tree as Joshua led the rest of Israel’s army and set up camp north of Ai, with the valley between them and the city. To the west of the city, between Bethel and Ai, another group of about five thousand men were also waiting in ambush. The plan was a good one, leaving no way for the men of Ai to escape without someone to block their path.
“Things will go better this time,” Othniel said to Salmon as he descended the tree. Though Salmon had always preferred Mishael’s company, Othniel was not only Caleb’s nephew, he was one of Israel’s greatest fighters.
“I know.” Salmon glanced toward Ai, where the sound of merriment came from the merchants’ section of town. “I just wish Mishael had lived to see this.”
Othniel nodded. “The loss of so many was sobering.”
Salmon regarded the stocky man, his square jaw with its determined set, his beard hanging low, yet recently trimmed to within the allowed specifications of the law. Salmon ran a hand along his own scraggly beard. He hadn’t viewed his appearance in any type of mirror in weeks and couldn’t imagine how decrepit he looked.
“The gates are opening,” Othniel said, drawing away from the cover of the trees.
Salmon followed. “The king of Ai has spotted Joshua in the valley.”
“And so it begins.” Othniel pulled his sword from the belt at his side and readied his hand.
“Joshua and his men are fleeing.” Salmon sent a silent prayer heavenward that the men of Ai would pursue as Joshua had hoped.
“And there they go.” Othniel glanced at Salmon as the two stood near some of the thousands of men hidden behind the city.
They watched in silence as the city emptied out, the doors left open behind them. “They expect to return victorious.” Salmon’s blood pumped hot through his veins.
“Then they will be sorely disappointed.” Othniel grinned. Both waited a moment longer, watching for Joshua’s signal. At last they spotted it. Joshua’s sword stretched out toward Ai.
“Let’s go!” Salmon shouted to the men behind them.
They raced toward the open city, swords in hand, and cut down every living person within it. This time they took the animals and spoils with them as they left. Then as they had done with Jericho, they set Ai on fire and slipped away to join the battle with Joshua.
Rahab looked up from the familiar grindstone at the sound of bleating sheep and goats and distant whoops of celebrating war heroes. Eliana set aside the grain sifter and stood. “Come.” She smiled and extended a hand to Rahab. “Let us greet the returning men.”
She called to her daughters to join them, and her voice carried an excited lilt, but Rahab couldn’t muster the same feeling. Conflicted emotions warred within her. Who was this God Israel served who gave victory or defeat, who even taught men strategies of war? Her faith in Him seemed so broken and weak, and despite the words of allegiance she’d proclaimed to Joshua, she could not help feeling as though she did not belong here.
“Aren’t you coming?” Eliana brushed the last bits of chaff from her skirt and glanced at Rahab. “It is customary for the women to sing the praises of the men and of our God for His victories over our enemies.”
Rahab stood and met the woman’s gaze. “I am finding it hard as a daughter of Jericho to not think that your people still think me your enemy.”
Eliana’s face softened, and she reached a hand to touch Rahab’s arm. “I know this is hard for you, Rahab, especially without your family near. But you are one of us now. And I can see that it is time I introduced you to more of the women so you realize just how well they think of you.”
Rahab’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “The women barely look at me as I pass. They stop their conversations, as though afraid I might overhear.” She met Eliana’s gaze. “They act as the women of Jericho did who thought themselves far above me.”
Eliana’s daughters rushed to her side at that moment. “Are we going?” one asked.
The other grabbed Rahab’s hand. “Come on! This is one of the best chances we get to dance with the unmarried boys.”
Rahab met Eliana’s gaze above the girl’s head as the two were carried along with the throng of women. The noise of the crowd grew as they neared the edge of the camp, where the returning army approached.
“Can we find Abba?” the youngest daughter asked Eliana.
Eliana nodded, laughing. “Those girls,” she said as her daughters rushed off. She sighed. “Too soon Joshua is going to have to find husbands for them.” Her look held kindness. “As he would gladly do for you, my dear girl.” She patted Rahab’s arm as more women swarmed around them.
“Those days are gone for me, Eliana,” she said, bending close to her friend’s ear. “And the truth is, I do not know whether my husband Gamal still lives. Am I not bound to him if he does?”
Some of the women glanced her way and smiled, surprising her. “Isn’t that the prostitute Rahab, who saved our spies?” she overheard one say.
“I heard she was very brave,” came the voice of another.
Eliana touched her arm, made her pause. “I do not know the answer to that question, but I will surely ask Joshua. Our spies could certainly search it out.”
“Whether I am married or not,” Rahab said, looking about lest anyone overhear, “I am barren. No man wants to marry a prostitute who cannot give him sons.”
Eliana’s round face filled with compassion. “Nothing is impossible with our God, Rahab,” she said, pulling her close in a motherly embrace. “Never lose hope.”
Rahab nodded, suddenly unable to speak or sing. She blinked away the emotion she felt far too often of late. The crowd grew larger, and the men were jubilant as they entered the camp. Flocks of sheep and goats and donkeys and cattle were driven to hurriedly enlarged pens outside the camp, and the women greeted their men, all who were in dire need of bathing, with dancing and an occasional stolen kiss.
Rahab watched the spectacle, spotting Salmon in the crowd laughing with a few of the men, then turning to listen to something Joshua was saying. She wondered for the briefest moment what it would be like to dance for him, to have him swing her around in a joyous hold, and to later kiss her with tenderness, true and genuine.
She released a breath, telling herself she imagined too much, and slipped from the crowd before Salmon could catch a glimpse of her watching him. There was no sense in entertaining such thoughts. For despite Eliana’s suggestion, she could not imagine any man wanting her, least of all a spy who despised all she’d been, all he thought she would always be.
Salmon awoke the next morning fighting to remember where he was. Fitful dreams had invaded a night that should have been restful and sweet. But though the victory of Ai was complete and rewarding, the cost of losing Mishael dampened hi
s joy. He should have come home arm in arm with his friend, singing the victory songs, praising Adonai together.
Why him, Lord? Why not me?
Mishael had done nothing worthy of death. And why should he and thirty-five other men pay for Achan’s greed? Why did the innocent end up caught in the sins of the guilty?
He rose from his cot, rubbed sleep from his eyes, and in the dark tent quickly donned his clothes. Thoughts of Rahab surfaced as he scrubbed tepid water over his face. Why did the guilty end up saved from the punishment they deserved?
He shook his head, watching as water droplets sprayed across the small room. Blood still clung to his skin from the battle, and he needed to wash clean in the Jordan before he walked with the elders and all Israel to Mount Ebal to offer a sacrifice to the Lord for His grace in granting victory.
He grabbed a clean tunic, his robe, hyssop, and soap and stepped into the predawn light, headed to the river. The women of the camp were just awakening, many moving in the same direction to gather the day’s water from the Jordan. Salmon took a different path to avoid them, to a place secluded among a larger copse of trees.
The questions he’d awoken with churned in him as the icy waters chilled his bare skin. He sank beneath the surface, scrubbing with the hyssop until his body tingled and the dried blood no longer stained his arms and legs. How was God both judging and yet merciful? How could one be expected to obey His laws, yet another be granted pardon without even knowing those laws existed?
He scrubbed harder, then suddenly realized he was making the skin raw. He stopped abruptly and tossed the hyssop branch to the bank, then dunked and soaped his hair, scrubbing and dunking several more times, trying to blot Mishael’s broken body from his mind. His death was the hardest to understand. Why could God not have told Joshua of Achan’s treachery before they risked the deaths of so many men? Why only after those men had died did God reveal the truth?
Anger surged through him, and he shoved his body out of the water, grabbed a thick piece of linen, and dried himself. Finally dressed and outwardly cleansed, he headed back to camp. But his heart still felt dry and dirty, as though the blood of his friend clung to each beating vessel. And no piece of hyssop in all of Canaan could reach deep enough to rub it out.
29
Shortly after the morning meal, Rahab listened in the shadows of Joshua’s tent as he addressed his family, the elders, and all of his servants. “We will take three days to consecrate ourselves and gather whatever we need to travel to Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim. There we will offer sacrifices to the Lord, as Moses the Lord’s servant commanded us to do.”
He dismissed them then to do what apparently they already understood must be accomplished, but Rahab stood still, not knowing whether to go or stay. Was she to accompany all of Israel on this trip? Or was she an unwelcome guest who would stay behind with the tents?
As the elders, including Salmon, filed out of Joshua’s tent, Rahab sought Eliana. “What would you have me do?”
Eliana turned to face Rahab, her smile sober. “Forgive me, Rahab. I should have explained this to you sooner.” She took Rahab’s arm and led her to the women’s area. “We are to travel to the valley between the mountains, where Joshua will build an altar to the Lord according to the law of Moses. Joshua will write a copy of the law and read it to the whole assembly. It is a solemn process, and one we must prepare our hearts to accept.” She touched Rahab’s shoulder. “Everyone is to come, even the foreigners among us.” She smiled, her gentle eyes warming.
“How does one prepare their heart?” Was not faith in this God enough?
“We ask God to search our hearts for any hidden sins and confess any known sins to Him. The priests will offer sacrifices on the altar on our behalf, and we shall be clean.” Eliana’s brows knit in a slight frown. “I know this probably does not make much sense to you. It is our way of humbling ourselves before our God and asking Him for mercy. But blood must be shed, the blood of lambs and goats, to cover the wrongs we’ve done. Otherwise there can be no forgiveness.”
“So the innocent animal pays for our guilt.”
Eliana nodded. “Yes, in a sense.”
Rahab stared at her feet for a long moment. “I doubt even the blood of a lamb could wash away all the things I have done.” She turned and walked abruptly away before Eliana could offer her another look of pity.
She hurried to her tent, wondering what she could possibly do to prepare for the upcoming days of sacrifice and atonement. She stopped abruptly near the threshold as Salmon drew near.
“May I speak with you?” He looked slightly nervous, which did nothing to help her own tattered emotions.
“About what?” She was not in the mood to talk of insignificant things. She had questions that needed answers. Answers that went deeper than what Eliana had given her.
He stared at her. “I just want to talk.” He looked at her as though she ought to be able to read his mind—so typical of the men she had known all of her life.
She motioned to the space beneath the awning. “We can talk here. I will get you a cushion if you like.” There was no way she was going to invite a man into her tent, no matter how much she wanted to trust him.
“I thought perhaps we could take a short walk.”
She glanced around at the crowded camp with people rushing to and fro, where their words could be easily overheard. She picked up her water jug. “You can accompany me to the Jordan if you like. I need water to attend to the ritual cleansing.” Eliana had instructed her on the laws of cleanliness when she first entered her service. She could do at least that much, though her heart was not sure it could do much more.
Salmon nodded and fell into step beside her. Neither spoke as they walked through the camp, and Rahab suddenly realized how alone they were once they passed the last tent and continued to the water’s edge. A woman could be waylaid on such a walk if she were not careful. She took a step away from Salmon, suddenly wary.
“You don’t need to fear me, Rahab,” he said, glancing into her eyes. “I will not let any man hurt you.”
She held his gaze, unable to keep the hurt from her tone. “Can you keep me from yourself?” She glanced beyond him. “I’ve seen you watching me. I know what you want.” She continued walking, heat filling her cheeks. How bold she had become! What possessed her to say such things to him?
He caught up with her in two long strides. “You are mistaken,” he said softly, the only other sound coming from the buzz of insects and their sandals brushing the grasses as they drew closer to the Jordan. “I will admit you intrigue me. But not because I want to lie with you. I want to understand.”
She stopped mid-stride, her heart beating fast within her. “Understand what? Why I became a prostitute? Why I didn’t go with my family? It is not a story you would want to hear.” Her gaze held challenge. “Even Eliana does not know the things hidden in my heart.” She lowered the jar from her shoulder to her arms, her protection between them.
He studied her, lifted a thick dark brow. “Forgive me then. I only meant to show you kindness.”
She laughed, surprised at its brittle edge. “Kindness for yourself or for me?” She met his gaze but lowered her voice. “You want to find a reason to stop thinking of me as dung under your foot. You want to understand why your God would save a woman like me and not spare your closest friend.” Remorse filled her at the look in his dark eyes. Her words had hit their mark.
When he simply stared at her but did not speak, she straightened, suddenly emboldened. “You judged me from the start, my lord.” She studied him, her heart burdened with the sudden death of a longing for this man to care. “And yet you are attracted to me. And you hate yourself for it.”
He winced and became suddenly interested in something behind her. She avoided following the direction of his gaze. Silence fell, and the air grew as thick as the insects in the bushes.
“Yes,” he said at last, his voice a whisper. He looked up, sorrow in his eyes. “I have des
pised what you were. But as I have observed you, I know there is a heart of kindness in you, and I don’t think you would choose such a life again.”
It was her turn to look away. “You do not know me. And the truth of it is, you do not really want to understand. Not in a way that would change anything.”
“Did I not say the very opposite only moments ago?” The slightest hint of anger tinged his tone. So typical! “Pardon me, mistress, but you do not know my thoughts either.”
She hugged the jar tighter, wishing for the soft fur of the cat rather than the hard press of the jar. “Don’t call me that.” Her voice was a whisper, and she could not look at him.
“Forgive me. What is wrong with mistress? It is a common address among women.”
“It is also a profession.” She turned a half circle away from him. “It is what I thought mine would be one long-ago day.”
“Forgive me. I did not know.”
She faced him again. By his look he did not understand a lot of things.
“I am sure as a pure, faithful, God-fearing man, there are many things you do not know.” She swallowed, searching her mind. How to make him see. He would want nothing more to do with her once she said it plainly.
“I assure you, Rahab, there are things all men understand. We just keep those things between ourselves.” His face seemed to darken as if he were embarrassed by his confession.
“Well then, it will not surprise you,” she said, drawing a breath for courage, “to know that I have known more men than I care to remember. I married a fool. Was mistress to another fool. Was used by countless fools. But I played the part of consort well . . . and sometimes . . . I enjoyed it.” There. She’d said all she would say to the man. “Now let me retrieve the water and go.”
Crimson Cord : Rahab's Story (9781441221155) Page 21