by Joan Wolf
Farut reluctantly agreed.
“There is one vital fact that I must know,” said Tamur, turning to the head priestess. “Did my father manage to complete the sacred marriage before he died?”
“No, he did not. I examined the girl myself and she is still a virgin.”
Tamur’s eyebrows flew upward in surprise. “A girl who looks like that—she was a virgin?”
“Yes, my lord. She was and she still is.”
“So the sacred marriage was never accomplished?”
“No, my lord. It was not accomplished.”
“That is good news,” Tamur said.
The high priest said, “If that is the case then we must have another sacred marriage, a real one. Every part of the festival must follow its proper order. We cannot risk the anger of Baal, not now when we lie under the threat of a siege.” He turned to the young man who was now king of Jericho, Baal’s representative on earth. “You must complete the ritual, my lord. It is not too late. We can bring the hierodule back and start over again.”
“I agree,” Tamur said. “It is imperative that we assure the people that every part of the ritual has been accomplished.”
Farut said, “I think this is how we should proceed. We tell the people that Makamaron’s heart ceased to beat before he even went into the sanctuary. Before he even saw the hierodule. Thus we can assure them that the kingship passed untainted from father to son, and Tamur, their new king, accomplished the sacred marriage in the place of his father. We can assure them that Baal and Asherah have come together and that our land will be blessed for the coming year.”
Everyone agreed with this plan.
Tamur said to the head priestess, “There is still time to do this, Head Priestess. Can you get the girl ready quickly?”
The head priestess looked thoughtful.
Tamur said sharply, “Did you hear me, Head Priestess?”
“I did, my lord, and I do not think you can use this girl as your hierodule. She has been shocked and frightened—she is a virgin, remember. She is in no state right now to allow the goddess to enter into her spirit. The sacred marriage will not fulfill its purpose if she is part of it.”
“She will feel differently with me, Head Priestess. I am not an ugly old man and I know how to woo a woman.”
The priestess shook her head. “Believe me, it would be a great mistake. The hierodule must appear at the banquet in the temple courtyard tomorrow morning, and you do not want a pale and shaken woman sitting beside you, my lord king.”
Bari, who had been quiet thus far, now spoke. “Get Arsay to do it. My sister was supposed to be the hierodule in the first place, until Makamaron replaced her with this farmer’s daughter.”
The high priest looked at Bari in approval. “An excellent idea. Arsay will know how to conduct herself. That would be best.”
“How shall we explain the change in hierodules to the people?” The king’s voice was crisp. His biggest concern was to have answers to any questions that might arise as to the naturalness of his father’s death.
Umara said, “We will say she was your father’s choice, but your choice is Arsay, a priestess of Asherah’s Shrine. No one will question the legitimacy of such a decision.”
Farut, ever practical, said, “What shall we do with the other one then? Lock her up to ensure her silence?”
The high priestess regarded the young man as if he were about two years old. “It would be unwise to make her a prisoner when we may need her to back up our story that Makamaron died before he came to her. She will say what we tell her to say as long as we return her to her family, I’m certain of that. Odd as we may find it, she never wanted to be the hierodule in the first place.”
A thoughtful silence fell, then the king said, “I will listen to your advice, Head Priestess. Send the girl home and make certain she knows what she is expected to say.”
Umara bowed her head.
Tamur once more looked around the hastily summoned council. “So this is what I will do. I will say that my father’s heart stopped while he was preparing to go to the hierodule. I will say that after his body was seen by the high priest, it was respectfully returned to the palace. I will say that I, the new king, made the sacred marriage with a priestess from our own temple.”
Murmurs of approval as the men nodded their heads.
“I will deliver this announcement at the banquet tomorrow morning, and I will also announce that the banquet will be shortened so that my father’s funeral rites can take place immediately.” Tamur paused. “Are we agreed?”
“Yes, my lord,” came the unified response.
“Very well,” the king said. “Then we had better start to prepare for the second sacred marriage.”
“I will get Arsay,” the high priestess said, and the council broke up.
It was after midnight and Rahab lay curled into a tight ball in the middle of her bed. The rush light in the room had burned out earlier leaving her in darkness, but she could not go to sleep. She had scrubbed all traces of the king off her skin, but he was not so easily banished from her thoughts. The nightmare events of the day kept running ceaselessly through her mind.
They had taken her from the temple and brought her here to the shrine, where she had endured a humiliating encounter with the head priestess. The woman had wanted to verify whether or not the king had had intercourse with her. Rahab didn’t think he had, but in her innocence she wasn’t quite sure.
Her relief upon hearing that the king had not defiled her was enormous. It was only after Umara had left her alone that the idea crept into Rahab’s mind that because she was still pure perhaps they would make her be the hierodule again with the new king.
At this thought, Rahab flung herself onto her back and stared up into the darkness, her fists clenched at her sides. “I won’t do it.” She said it out loud, to emphasize her resolve. “I don’t care what they do to me, I will not be the hierodule again.”
They will not want an unwilling goddess, she told herself, struggling to hold back panic. I will tell them that I am sick, that my experience with the king dying while he was lying on top of me has shattered my nerves, that I am not fit to welcome Asherah into my heart. They will see the reasonableness of that. They must! These people truly believe Asherah comes into the person of the hierodule. They will not think I am fit.
Her experience tonight had stripped Rahab of her belief in any rituals of Baal, and her thoughts turned next to Elohim, Sala’s god. When she was chosen to be hierodule, she had believed Elohim hadn’t heard her prayers, that a god of the Israelites would have no concern for her, a Canaanite woman.
Then the king had died before he could defile her.
Elohim had heard her. He had heard her and He had saved her from the king.
Rahab closed her eyes and prayed with all her heart: Help me now, Elohim, as You did before. I believe You are the one God, Creator of us all, and I promise I will be Your follower. Please help me to get away from these false worshippers. Help me to get home.
At this moment, the door of Rahab’s cell swung open and the head priestess came in. She was carrying a rush light, which she put on the wooden chest. The small light flickered, leaving pools of darkness in all the corners of the room.
“We must talk,” Umara said.
Rahab, who had sat up as soon as the door began to open, nodded speechlessly.
The priestess remained standing by the chest so Rahab could see her face in the flickering light. Umara said, “It has been decided that you may return to your family, but you must first agree to certain conditions.”
Joy ignited inside Rahab and she clapped her hands in delight.
The priestess said, “Don’t look so happy yet, you have not heard the conditions. Are you listening?”
Rahab tried to stop smiling. “Yes, Head Priestess. I am listening. I will do whatever it is you ask of me.”
“This is the condition: you must never tell anyone that the king died in your bed. We are tel
ling the people that he died while in his room, before he came to you. It is important that the people be assured the sacred marriage was not desecrated in any way. There is enough fear in the city because of the Israelites and we do not want to add to it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Head Priestess, I understand.”
“If anyone asks you, you are to say you never saw the king at all, that you were informed of his death while you waited for him to come to you.”
“Yes, Head Priestess,” Rahab repeated.
“Before the night is out, King Tamur will make the real sacred marriage. We must be certain the New Year rites have been completed so the city will be protected.”
Rahab stiffened. I will not be the hierodule again. I will not!
“Arsay will take your place as hierodule,” Umara said. “It would not please Asherah to have a distressed woman represent her, and it would only be natural that you should be distressed by the events of this evening.”
“I am extremely distressed, Head Priestess,” Rahab said quickly.
For the only time since they had met, a flicker of approval showed in Umara’s eyes. “Will you swear to me now, by the sword of Baal, that you will never say aught of what happened at the temple tonight?”
“I swear by the sword of Baal that I will never tell anyone about what happened at the temple tonight,” Rahab repeated fervently.
“Very well.” Umara picked up the rush light. “When Shapash makes her first appearance in the sky, I will send for your father to come to bring you home.”
Rahab’s heart was bursting. “Thank you, Head Priestess.”
She sat on the bed until the sound of footsteps died away, then she got up and went over to the window. Looking up toward the sky, she prayed with all her heart and soul, Thank You, Elohim, for listening to my prayers. From this moment forth, You will be my God and I shall be Your faithful servant. Whatever You may call upon me to do, I will do it as I bless Your name.
Twenty-Two
WHEN MEPU HEARD SOMEONE BANGING ON HIS DOOR just after dawn, he leaped up from his sleeping mat, his heart hammering.
Rahab. Had something happened to her?
Kata was sitting up too, her hands clutching her throat. “What is it?” she asked.
“I’ll go and find out,” he said.
“Wait! I’m coming with you,” Kata cried and, pulling a robe around her, she hurried after her husband.
When Mepu opened the door and saw a palace guard standing there, his knees weakened. Was the guard here to arrest him? Had Rahab done something she shouldn’t have?
“Y . . . yes?” he croaked.
“You are Mepu, father of Rahab?” the guard asked in a gruff voice.
“Yes, I am Mepu.” He managed a more normal tone this time.
“You are to come with me immediately to Asherah’s Shrine.”
Kata clutched her husband’s elbow. She was so afraid for Rahab that she spoke to the guard directly.
“Is this about my daughter? Is she all right?”
The guard ignored her and said to Mepu, “You are to bring her home. Get your cloak and come with me.”
“But what about the morning banquet . . . ?”
The guard gave him an impatient look. “I was told to bring this message to you and that is all I know. You had better hurry.”
“Yes, yes, I will be but a moment.” Mepu closed the door on the guard.
Kata was still grasping his arm. “What can have happened? Rahab was supposed to attend the banquet this morning. We were to go too. Why are they sending her home?”
Mepu put his hand over his wife’s to calm her. He was alarmed by this summons, but he did not want to frighten Kata any further. He said, “You know Rahab. She probably begged them to let her come to see us before the banquet starts. I’m sure it’s nothing more than that.”
Kata’s face relaxed a little. “That sounds like Rahab. Perhaps you are right. But to awaken us at this hour! Something does not seem right to me.”
Shemu had also heard the noise at the door and he came down the stairs as his father was speaking. “They want you to bring Rahab home?” he asked, his brows knit together in a worried frown.
“Yes. I am to go right away.”
“I’ll come with you,” Shemu said, and Mepu felt a deep relief that he would have his son’s company. Clearly Shemu also believed something was wrong.
The guard had a chariot waiting outside the door, which worried Mepu even more profoundly. Something was indeed wrong if they were being taken by chariot.
No one spoke as the chariot rattled along the empty streets. The guard drove them to Asherah’s Shrine and stopped outside the courtyard.
“Go in. Someone will be waiting for you.”
Mepu and Shemu stepped out of the chariot and entered into the courtyard. Umara, the head priestess, greeted them.
“You are Rahab’s father?” she said to Mepu.
“Yes, I am.”
“And who is this?” She looked at Shemu.
“I am Rahab’s brother, Head Priestess,” Shemu replied. “May I ask why we have been summoned here like this?”
The head priestess looked as if she had eaten something sour as she proceeded to relate the events of the night.
Shemu interrupted the tale. “The king’s heart gave way? Do you mean he died?”
“Yes.”
Mepu exchanged an astonished look with his son. Neither of them had dreamed of this!
The head priestess continued, “Since it was vital that the sacred marriage take place, our new king went ahead with the ceremony. Your daughter”—she tossed Mepu a disdainful look—“was too upset to be the hierodule, and so one of our own priestesses took her place. So the New Year festival has been successfully completed and we do not need your daughter any longer. Since she shows no interest in remaining here as a priestess, I thought it best to simply send her home.”
Mepu’s emotions were mixed as he listened to the head priestess. He was grievously disappointed that his daughter had been cheated of the honor that had been promised her, but he was also immensely relieved that Rahab had not done anything that might bring evil consequences upon her family.
The two men remained silent as they waited in the courtyard. At last Rahab came out, escorted by a priestess. Her face was as white as desert sand and there were dark shadows under her eyes.
No wonder she looks so unhappy, Mepu thought. From being the highest woman in the land, she was being thrust back into the obscurity of her ordinary home and family. The new king might not even keep his father’s promise to find her a noble husband.
Mepu frowned as another thought crossed his mind. Perhaps no one would want to marry her now. Even if it had been no fault of hers, Rahab would always be associated with the death of Makamaron. Mepu thought bitterly that perhaps it would have been wiser to accept a husband for her from among their neighbors back in Ugaru. Who knew what could happen to her now?
He was thinking these things when Shemu stepped forward and held out his arms to Rahab. She ran into them, threw her arms around her brother’s neck, and buried her face in his shoulder.
“It’s all right, little one,” Shemu said, patting her on the back. “You’re coming home and that’s all that matters. You will be safe with us.”
Mepu stood awkwardly by as Rahab burst into tears in her brother’s arms. After a bit Mepu also patted her on the shoulder. “Come along now, my daughter. There is supposed to be a litter waiting for you in the street.”
Rahab rode in the litter and the two men walked alongside of it. Kata and Atene were waiting inside the door of the house when Rahab walked in, and both her mother and her sister-in-law hugged her tightly. Everyone cried.
Finally Kata served breakfast and Mepu related what the priestess had told him. When Mepu finished, Kata said, “I think we should take Rahab back to the farm. This city has not been good for her. It has not been good for any of us, I think.”
Over Kata’s head, Me
pu looked at his son. It was Shemu who said gently to his mother, “We cannot go home, Mother. There is news that some Israelites have been seen at the Jordan crossing. Once the river subsides to its normal flow, their whole army will cross onto the plains of Jericho. All of our villages and farms will lie helpless before their advance. They are known for destroying everything that lies in their path, and we cannot risk returning home. I am afraid we are going to have to remain in the city for the time being.”
Kata’s face crumpled and she turned to Mepu. “But I hate it here.”
Mepu said gruffly, “You don’t want to be killed by the Israelites, do you?”
Kata sniffled and shook her head.
“Well then, we must stay.”
Once breakfast was finished, Rahab and Atene went up to the roof, ostensibly to check on the drying flax. As soon as they were alone, Rahab said urgently, “Have you seen Sala?”
“I saw him briefly, right after the news about you being chosen was announced. I told him how it had happened.”
Rahab’s chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe. “What must he think of me, Atene, being paraded through the streets like that? Even worse, what will his father think? He will tell Sala I am contaminated, that he must never come near me again.”
“You are not contaminated, Rahab! Being chosen hierodule was hardly your fault. And as it turned out, the king never even touched you. Lord Nahshon will hear that. The story is going to be all over the city within the hour.”
“He hated me even before I became the hierodule. Why should he change now?”
“I told Sala that you had prayed to Elohim and that I had prayed to Elohim as well. He was so happy, Rahab! He told me he thought Elohim would save you, that he and I must continue to pray for you. He said we must put our trust in Elohim.”
“He said that?” Rahab breathed.