Othniel pulled the donkey to the side of the bank and allowed the animal to drink, but Salmon stepped into the rushing water, sandals and all, and dipped his head under water. He scrubbed his hair and beard with his hands, using the silt from the river’s floor to cleanse himself. It wasn’t the best way to wash, but he did not want to take the time to do more.
He glanced up at the sound of splashing to see Othniel walk the donkey through the shallow place where the rocks were few and pass over to the other side. Salmon dunked one more time, rinsing the last of the silt from his hair, and picked his way to the opposite bank.
“I have no blanket to give you to dry yourself, unless you wish to sleep without one tonight.” Othniel looked at him as though he had lost some of his senses.
Salmon shrugged one shoulder. “It matters little. The sun is warm. I will dry as we walk.” He wrung the water from his robe, tunic, and turban as best he could. They walked in silence for a time, but Salmon’s thoughts brought him little peace. Should he believe the man, that Gamal was truly dead? What else was he to do?
“So are you going to marry Rahab?” Othniel stopped the donkey near a small cave to let it rest in the shade of a large terebinth tree. He pulled a sack of pistachios and almonds from the pouch and handed some to Salmon.
“I don’t know.” Salmon accepted the offering, stepping away from the shade to make better use of the sun’s rays. He removed his robe and draped it over a rock where the sun hit squarely.
“And you are sure you don’t love her?”
Salmon chewed some nuts, pondering the thought. “How do you love a woman who has given herself to so many men?”
Othniel glanced at the donkey, which busily ate from a thick patch of grasses, then met Salmon’s gaze. “I suppose the true test of loving someone is forgiveness. Did not even Moses say that our God is a merciful God? If He does not leave us or forget us, how can we be any different? Were we not slaves in Egypt? And yet our God rescued us.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Was not Rahab a slave in Jericho?”
Salmon stared at his friend, lifting a curious brow. “I suppose she was. In a certain sense . . . So I should marry her to rescue her, despite her past?”
Othniel shrugged. “Only you can answer such a question, my friend. If you cannot forget her past, you would be better to forget her completely and marry another.”
Salmon glanced heavenward, his heart warring with opposite emotions. He had tried to forget her! He absolutely could not.
“We should go,” Othniel said.
Salmon retrieved his damp robe and donned it again, feeling the sticky wetness of the river still clinging to his skin. What he wouldn’t give to remove every stitch of clothing and put on something fresh and clean.
Was that how Rahab felt about her life? Wishing she could start fresh and new?
Suddenly he saw her in a different light, and saw his own heart for its wavering feelings toward her. His heart was as splotched as the head of that man in Damascus, covered with resentment that God would not give him the virgin bride he’d once wanted and instead offered him a blemished bride in Rahab.
“When we get back to camp,” Othniel said, interrupting his thoughts, “I think I’m going to approach Uncle Caleb about Aksah.”
Salmon glanced at his friend, then looked forward again toward the path leading home. Home. Where Rahab waited. If she would have him. Suddenly the thought that she might choose to remain widowed rather than marry him seemed inconceivable. He wanted her to be his and no one else’s.
“When we return to camp,” he said, matching Othniel’s tone, “I will speak to Rahab and ask her to become my wife.”
Othniel smiled, saying nothing. Salmon hid a grin, hoping his nerves would not stop him from saying the right words to convince her that he truly wanted her.
Rahab awoke later than she had hoped, caught in the grip of her monthly cycle. Cramps like she had not experienced since the loss of her babe made her nauseous, and she struggled to rise. The strangers had left camp three days earlier, and nearly a week had passed since she had humbled herself to accept the law of captive bride.
She crawled from her mat and took care of her morning ablution, her steps slow and weighted. She had not had a normal cycle since the loss of her child, one more reason she believed she could never bear another. But now . . . could it be that she was at last truly healed?
Thank You, Adonai. Gratitude seemed the right response. Truly Israel’s God had blessed her with grace she didn’t deserve. Her heart yearned to understand Him better, and she quickly dressed and lifted the clay water jar to her shoulder, hoping to make it to the river before a crowd of women gathered there.
She met Eliana along the way, realizing that her extra sleep had cost her time alone.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Eliana said, smiling. “You are usually up before the birds.”
“I fear my cycle has made me lazy. I only just awoke a few moments ago.” Rahab shifted the jar to her head and held it steady with one hand.
“You haven’t heard the news then.” Eliana’s brows drew down, and a slight scowl appeared on her normally smiling round face.
Rahab tensed, sensing the news was not good. “Has something happened to Salmon?” The thought made her feel suddenly worse than the cramps had that morning. She dared not explore what such feelings meant.
Eliana shook her head. “Nothing like that. Joshua has heard nothing from either Salmon or Othniel yet. It’s about those men who came to make a treaty with us.”
They had arrived at the river’s edge and stepped down the bank to fill their jars. “What’s happened?” Rahab felt uncommon relief that the news was not about Salmon, yet she could not help but wonder what awful thing would now affect Israel. Would these strangers prove as big a bane as Achan’s sin had been to the whole camp?
They started back, falling into step beside each other. “A large group of our men followed the men to their homes. They reported to Joshua that they did not come from a distance after all. They are neighbors living nearby in Gibeon. Adonai would have wanted us to destroy Gibeon.”
Rahab stopped walking to face Eliana. “What does that mean? Is God going to judge Israel for making the treaty?” A shudder worked through her.
“It has caused Joshua nothing but grief from the leaders of our people since they discovered the ruse. Some men want to destroy them, but the leaders cannot go back on their word. They swore an oath before the Lord.” Eliana batted a fly from her face, and the two continued walking.
“How is Joshua taking this?” She ached for this new responsibility that rested on him.
“He’s blaming himself for not consulting the Lord before making the treaty. He believed what he saw without checking for the truth.”
They drew close to the camp now, where a large group of men had gathered in front of Joshua’s tent.
“Oh no,” Rahab whispered, glancing at her friend. “Will there be trouble?”
Eliana motioned for Rahab to follow her around to the back of her tent.
“Why have you made a treaty with our neighbors? Now we will never be able to take their land as the Lord our God promised to us.” A spokesman from the crowd stepped forward and faced Joshua and the elders. Eliana and Rahab stopped to listen.
“We have given them our oath by the Lord, the God of Israel, and we cannot touch them now,” one of the elders said. “This is what we will do to them,” he continued when the crowd quieted. “We will let them live, so that God’s wrath will not fall on us for breaking the oath we swore to them.”
Another elder stepped forward. “Let them live, but let them be woodcutters and water carriers in the service of the whole assembly.”
“Summon the Gibeonites to return to me,” Joshua said to the elders when the crowd dispersed, seemingly satisfied. “I want them here before sundown.”
“Yes, my lord,” one of the men said, then several hurried off to do Joshua’s bidding.
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Rahab stirred the lentil stew with an olive branch, listening to the heated conversation going on in front of Joshua’s tent.
“Why did you deceive us by saying, ‘We live a long way from you,’ while actually you live near us?” Joshua’s voice held uncharacteristic anger. Rahab glanced at Eliana, who met her gaze with a worried one of her own. “You are now under a curse,” Joshua said.
Silence followed his comment, and Rahab’s heart beat faster. She stretched as far as the stir stick would allow, straining to hear. At last one of the men of Gibeon spoke.
“Your servants were clearly told how the Lord your God had commanded His servant Moses to give you the whole land and to wipe out all its inhabitants from before you. So we feared for our lives because of you, and that is why we did this. We are now in your hands. Do to us whatever seems good and right to you.”
The crowd seemed to speak all at once, until one of Israel’s men shouted from the back. “They deserve death for their lies. If Achan died for his, how can you allow these heathens to live?”
Joshua held up a hand for silence. “We dare not anger the Lord by breaking our oath to them. It is our sin of trusting them without consulting the Lord that will be judged if we break our word to them now.” He addressed the Gibeonites again. “You will not die, but rest assured, you will be woodcutters and water carriers for the assembly, to provide for the needs of the altar of the Lord at the place the Lord chooses from this day forward.”
“May it be as you have said,” the Gibeonite spokesman said.
Rahab returned to her stirring, half listening as the men of Israel divided the Gibeonites into groups and assigned them specific work. A contingent of men returned to Gibeon with the foreigners to make sure Joshua’s instructions were carried out.
“Will Adonai be angry with us for this?” Rahab asked Eliana some time later, after the men had been fed and the leftover food tucked in baskets to hang from poles in Eliana’s tent. “How hard it is to keep His laws. There are so many.”
Eliana turned from covering the basket and gave Rahab a thoughtful look. “Keeping the whole law of Moses is impossible. It is why Adonai has allowed us the sacrifices, to cover our sins and our failures.”
Rahab nodded. In the distance, she could hear the bleating of lambs kept in pens near the tents when they weren’t out foraging in the fields with the shepherds. “A lot of blood must be spilled because of our sins.” The image of the spotless lamb Salmon had chosen for them filled her mind. “Why could God not accept a different type of offering? Why must an innocent animal be killed?”
“I do not know,” Eliana admitted. “All I know is that from the beginning God expected animal sacrifice. Adam’s oldest son Cain tried to bring an offering of the fruit of the ground, as though he could choose which way to worship our great Creator. Elohim did not accept him, and in the end, Cain killed the brother God accepted out of jealousy. I think the blood reminds us of how grievous sin is to God.”
Rahab pondered the thought. “I don’t suppose a pomegranate or a fig as an offering would have the same effect on our hearts. To see an innocent life taken in our place is much more humbling than offering Adonai fruit.”
Eliana laughed, then quickly sobered. “I never thought of it that way.”
Rahab smiled. “This God of yours is hard to understand.”
“None can. Even our leader Moses, who spoke with God face-to-face, did not always obey Him. We are made in Elohim’s image, but we are not to take His place.”
Rahab pondered Eliana’s words over the next few weeks. Her hair continued to grow, along with her sense of gratitude and peace.
More than a month had passed since Salmon had gone off in search of Gamal. He should return soon, and the thought caused her heart to skip a beat.
She glanced at Eliana, whose presence in her life had become a steadying force. Her friend offered a smile as she lifted a heavy pot of stew and carried it to the central court in front of Joshua’s tent.
Dusk had settled over the camp, and the sound of men’s voices grew louder. She stepped closer, squinting to see who approached in the gathering darkness.
“Joshua!” the voice called. Rahab’s stomach did a soft flip. Salmon.
Eliana returned to the cooking area. “Bring the bread and a flask of the new wine,” she said, her eyes alight.
Rahab nodded. “He has returned.” Her hands shook, and she gripped the edge of her skirt, forcing herself to be still.
Joshua emerged from his tent and gripped first Salmon then Othniel in a fierce hug, kissing each of their cheeks. “Come in at once. Tell me all that you learned.” He stepped back and motioned them forward. A servant took the donkey’s reins, leading it to one of the pens.
Rahab hung back, feeling suddenly awkward and unsure of what to do. She deposited the food she had gathered at the door of the tent, then followed Eliana to the cooking area once more.
Eliana handed Rahab several clay cups and bowls. “You must come with me.”
“But . . . please, not yet. I didn’t—that is, I did not expect him today. I am not ready.”
Eliana studied her for a brief moment, then nodded. “Tomorrow then.”
Rahab breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” As much as she longed to see the man, surprising herself that she did, she wasn’t ready. Not until she had time to seek the Lord alone, to be sure she was truly clean enough to join His people.
She turned to leave when a new thought struck her, and her heart caught in her throat. “Eliana?”
“What is it, dear child?” Eliana put an arm around her, apparently aware of the fear in her tone.
“Will you let me know if they found Gamal?” Why had she not thought of it sooner? He was not with them when they entered the tent, but that did not mean arrangements had not been made for her to return to him. The thought sent shivers down her spine.
“I will tell you as quickly as I hear something.” She kissed Rahab’s cheek. “Now don’t you worry. Things will be all right.”
“I hope so.” But as she walked to her tent alone, she did not think so, and hope was a long time returning.
“Tell me everything,” Joshua said as he took a seat across from Salmon and Othniel. “Did you find Rahab’s husband?”
Salmon accepted a cup of wine from Eliana as his gaze held Joshua’s. “No.” He looked at the swirling liquid, wishing his answers were more conclusive.
“The man Salmon spoke to told him that Gamal is dead.” Othniel nodded at Salmon, then drank deeply from his cup.
“Is this true?” Joshua’s gaze could be felt, though Salmon sensed in it intense compassion and hope.
“It is. We spoke to guards at the city gate, but they had not heard of the man. They allowed us to walk the streets, and we spoke to many merchants, winding our way through the city until we came upon a building project being put together by slaves. I approached a man who appeared to be an overseer, though a slave himself, and he said he’d shared a prison cell with Gamal and that Gamal is dead.” Salmon ran a hand over his beard, the words taking the last of his energy. “I could have checked the Hall of Records, but something about the man, perhaps, or the city itself made me uneasy. I feared being taken captive and made into slaves like the rest of those men.” He hung his head at the admission. Fear was the last thing he should let consume him if he truly trusted Adonai.
“So you left without checking the man’s story.” It wasn’t a question, but Salmon nodded at Joshua anyway. “I don’t blame you and, in fact, am glad you had sense enough to leave before something happened. These nations do not like us. They may fear us, but they also hate us. We must always be on our guard against their attack.”
Salmon glanced up. “What do we do about Gamal then?”
Joshua sipped from his cup. “There is nothing to be done. The witness told you the man is dead. Did he have a reason to lie to you?”
Salmon thought on that a moment. “No. And I made sure the overseer did not carry the s
car Rahab had described. He took plenty of silver to obtain the answer, but he did not have the scar.”
“Then though it is only one witness, there is no reason to doubt him. Did not Rahab say she was told of Gamal’s death soon after he was sold into slavery?” Joshua folded his hands across his knees.
Salmon nodded. “Yes, she did.”
“Well then, there is nothing more to be done. He abandoned his wife long enough ago that he has no right to claim her again. If he were to one day show up looking for her, I will deal with him.”
Salmon studied the older man in heavy silence. At last he cleared his throat. “So then, if someone wanted to marry Rahab . . .” He let the thought go unfinished.
“I would give you my blessing, my son.” Joshua smiled.
A throat cleared, and the men turned, surprised to see Eliana step forward from a dark corner of the tent. “My lord, perhaps Salmon should be told of Rahab’s choice.”
Joshua gave a nod of understanding, while Salmon felt heat rush to his face. “What choice?” The words felt choked. Had she made a vow never to marry while he was away?
“Rahab succumbed to the rite of a captive bride. In sight of all, Eliana shaved her hair and clipped her nails and burned them in the fire. Rahab did this to fully become one of us.” Joshua smiled, and Othniel grinned in that annoying way he had. Salmon scowled at him.
“That does not mean she wishes to marry,” Joshua added. “She simply wanted to show Adonai her allegiance and repentance.”
“Has she chosen not to marry then?” Disappointment coiled in Salmon’s middle. He didn’t realize until this moment how eagerly he longed to return to her, to make her his.
“She has made no decision at all of which I’m aware.” Joshua glanced at his wife, who shook her head.
“She has said nothing to me either, my lord.”
“It seems then, my son,” Joshua said as he stood to bid them farewell, “that when her time of mourning is past, you must ask her. If you love her, do not hesitate to show her.”
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