by Joan Wolf
“Yes, he did. And once his father knows you have turned your back on Baal and now worship the god of the Israelites, his feelings toward you will change. How could they not?”
Last night Rahab had thought she would never be happy again. Now she could scarcely contain the joy that flooded throughout her being. “Do you really think so, Atene?”
Atene nodded. Then, in a slow and gentle motion, her hands cupped her flat stomach. “I hope Elohim answers me too.”
Rahab hugged her sister-in-law. “He will, Atene. I think Elohim wants us to belong to Him. I feel it in my heart.”
“I want a baby so much, Rahab.” Atene’s voice broke. “So very much.”
Rahab held her closer. “Let us pray again—together.”
Atene nodded, and Rahab slowly released her embrace. Quietly and solemnly, the two girls clasped their hands and began to pray.
When Sala awoke the morning after the festival, his whole body ached from his bruises and he had a raging headache. His father showed little sympathy.
“You asked for it,” he said. “Do you remember how you started a fight with the men around you? Finally one of the guards subdued you by hitting you on the head with the handle of his spear. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”
Sala was sitting on his sleeping mat, holding his head in his hands. “I remember,” he mumbled. And he did. He remembered the look on Rahab’s face as she passed by, and the same fury he had felt then swept through him again. He shut his eyes. It would all be over by now. Rahab . . .
He had moaned her name aloud and the word seemed to enrage Nahshon. “How can you be so stupid, Sala? That girl has turned you into someone I don’t even recognize! A troublemaker. Even worse—a disobedient son.”
Sala winced. His head felt as if a knife were stabbing into it.
His father said, “Can you come downstairs with me?”
Sala began to shake his head, then moaned. “No. My head hurts too much.” After a moment he added pitifully, “I’m thirsty.”
“I’ll bring you some water,” Lord Nahshon said in a grim voice and left the room.
Sala slept for the rest of the day, and when he awoke the following morning he felt slightly better. At least he could stand up without feeling as if his head was going to explode.
He went downstairs with his father to have breakfast. The courtyard was packed with people. They found a place at a table with two other men and sat on the bench to wait for their bread and fruit.
Nahshon said to their neighbors, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. Did you come to Jericho for the festival?”
The men looked like farm workers with their shaggy hair and work-worn hands; not the sort of people who visited Jericho, even at festival time.
One of the men picked up the slice of dark bread in front of him and took a bite. “No, we came in yesterday, along with a lot of others from our village. Haven’t you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“The Israelites have been seen at the Jordan crossing. It looks as if they are preparing to cross the river. The whole countryside will soon be on the move, coming to shelter inside the walls. The word is that the Israelites are vicious; they kill everything in their path: men, women, children, animals . . .”
Sala’s attention suddenly focused on the conversation.
“They won’t be able to get into the city, though,” the other farm worker was saying. “Not with these walls to protect us.”
A man from the next table, who had been listening to the conversation, leaned across. “Now that we have a young warrior for a king, our defense will be even stronger.”
Sala’s head snapped around. He didn’t even wince at the pain. “What do you mean? What new king?”
“Where have you been that you have not heard? Makamaron is dead and his son, Tamur, has taken his place.”
Makamaron dead? Sala’s heart began to slam in tune with the pounding in his head. “No, I have not heard. What happened?”
The speaker smiled with satisfaction at this chance to impart news. “It happened on the night of the festival. Makamaron died before he could make the sacred marriage with the hierodule. Tamur had to step in and do it.” He chuckled lasciviously. “That’s what Makamaron gets for choosing such a gorgeous girl to be hierodule. Just thinking about her probably stopped his heart.”
Sala stared at the men, trying to make sense of what they were saying. “Do you mean Tamur made the sacred marriage with Rahab?”
Lord Nahshon put his arm around Sala’s shoulders. “You’re as white as your tunic. Come upstairs.”
Sala pulled away. “No!” He turned again to the men. “What happened?”
The first man burped, then coughed. “He didn’t make the sacred marriage with the first one. That would have been unlucky. He made it with the priestess who should have been the hierodule in the first place. They sent the other one home. Everyone is talking about it. I don’t know how you didn’t hear.”
Sala said, “Home to her village?”
“No.” The big man looked at Sala as if he might be simple. “Weren’t you listening? It’s not safe in the farms or the villages anymore. She’s in Jericho—not far from here, I have heard. Men have been hanging around her house hoping to see her but she hasn’t come outside.”
Sala stood up. “I am going out,” he said to his father.
“No, you are not,” Lord Nahshon replied, standing as well and putting a restraining hand on Sala’s arm. “You are in no condition to be walking the streets.”
Sala pulled his arm away from his father’s grip, gave him a fierce look, turned, and walked out of the room.
Twenty-Three
DESPITE HIS ACHING BODY, SALA RACED THROUGH the narrow streets, almost knocking down a few people as he went by. When he reached Rahab’s uncle’s house, he stopped, trying to catch his breath. For the first time since he had left the inn, he began to think about what he was going to do once he got here. Obviously he couldn’t just knock on the door and ask to see her; her father would never let him in. He finally decided all he could do was wait until Atene or Shemu came out and hope they would help him.
Sala leaned his shoulders against the mud-brick wall and for the first time noticed the large group of men who were gathered on the other side of the street. He remembered what he had heard at breakfast, that lots of men were hanging around hoping to see the woman whose beauty had killed the king.
Sala’s hands clenched into fists. Rahab didn’t deserve this notoriety. I wish she wasn’t so beautiful. I wish she were just an ordinarily pretty girl. Then she would have never been chosen to be the hierodule and I might have been able to get her away from Jericho before now.
“You get a better view of the house from over here!” one of the men from across the street called to him. “We can see right in the door when it opens.”
Once again fury knotted Sala’s stomach, but he didn’t answer. They would get tired of waiting and go away, he told himself. It was best to ignore them. He didn’t need to call attention to himself by getting into another fight.
The day passed slowly and the crowd on the other side of the street began to thin. When it was almost suppertime, Rahab’s door opened and Shemu came out. Sala watched as he strode across the street and began yelling at the men who remained. The last hangers-on melted away and Shemu turned back toward the house, a disgusted look upon his face. When he was almost at the front door, Sala called, “Shemu!”
Shemu’s head whipped around. “Sala!” he said in deep surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see Rahab. I haven’t been able to see her since they took her away to be the hierodule, and I must speak with her. Please, Shemu! I love her. I have always loved her. Please help me to see her.”
He hadn’t thought about what he would say; the words just tumbled out.
Shemu narrowed his eyes. “You have heard what happened?”
“Atene told me how she came to be chosen. Then I heard
that the king died before he even saw her. Is it true?”
Shemu’s brows lifted at the mention of his wife’s name but all he said was, “Yes, it is true.”
A great weight lifted from Sala’s heart. “I saw her when she was being carried through the streets. I saw her face. How could her family have done that to her? How could you force her to participate in that disgusting rite? Rahab loves me just as I love her. She was devastated! Could you not see that?”
Shemu replied in a level voice, “You do not understand our rites. To be hierodule is a great honor. The king wanted her and my father agreed. There was nothing anyone else could do.”
Sala looked closely into Shemu’s face. “Did you want her to do it?”
Shemu shrugged. “What I wanted, what Rahab wanted, had nothing to do with it. This was bigger than any of us.”
Sala collected his thoughts. There was no point in railing against Shemu—Sala needed him. “I must see her, Shemu. Can you arrange it? Please? I’m begging you. I just want to speak to her.”
Shemu looked down at the ground. There was a frown on his face. When finally he looked up, his words surprised Sala. “Rahab says she believes in this God of yours. Atene told me about it. She said that Rahab prayed to your God and that He saved her from the king.”
Sala’s heart leaped. “Did she really say that?”
“That’s what she said to my wife.” Shemu rubbed his jaw. “It seems Atene has come to believe in your god as well. You have been busy indeed, Sala.”
“Listen to me, Shemu. It would be well if all of your family believed in my God. The Israelite army has never been defeated and it will be coming to Jericho soon. They are on a mission from Elohim, and they will roll over you like a boulder rolls over a colony of ants. No one in Jericho will survive, Shemu. You must get Rahab and the rest of your family away from here!”
Shemu lifted a skeptical eyebrow and pointed a finger at the city wall that rose behind the houses they were standing before. “The Israelites will not get beyond that. Others have tried and failed. The walls of Jericho are impregnable.”
“Not for us, not for the people of Elohim,” Sala answered. “He has promised the land of Canaan to the Israelites. Do you know that the seas parted for my people when they left the land of Egypt? Then, when the last Israelite was on dry land, the seas came together again, drowning all the Egyptians who were giving chase. For many years Moses and his people wandered in the deserts that lie between Egypt and Canaan, and they never lacked for food. Elohim fed them with manna that fell from the sky. Elohim has promised the land of Canaan to my people and we will take it, Shemu, even if it means destroying everything that stands in our way. It is the wish of Elohim that we do this, for we are His people and He is our God.”
Shemu did not reply at once. Then he said, “I understand you believe this, but Jericho is Baal’s city. Baal will protect us from your avenging God, Sala.”
Sala slammed his hand against the building. “Why won’t you believe me? You are endangering all of your lives.”
Shemu lifted an eyebrow. “Everyone is fleeing from the countryside into Jericho. It is Jericho that is safe, not the countryside where we would be open to attack.”
“You’re wrong.”
Shemu shrugged again.
“Can’t I at least see her, Shemu? That’s all I want, just to see her. Just to say . . . good-bye.”
Shemu said, “She and Atene went up to the roof awhile ago. That is all I can tell you.”
He turned and went back into the house.
It took Sala about a minute to figure out how he could get to Rahab. Walking around her uncle’s house, he discovered an attached ladder leading up to the roof. Such a ladder was a common addition to many homes; the inside stairs in Rahab’s house were unusual.
Measuring with his eye, Sala judged that he could jump from her uncle’s roof to Rahab’s, which was about ten feet away. The pain from his bruises seemed to have miraculously disappeared.
He climbed the ladder swiftly and then looked to the roof next door. He was startled to see that it was strung with drying flax. For a moment he thought Rahab had left, but then he saw two female figures heading toward the door.
In a moment they would disappear into the house and he would lose any chance of seeing her. He took a deep breath and called her name as loudly as he dared. She stopped, then swung around. When she saw him standing on the edge of the neighboring roof, her mouth opened in surprise.
The woman who was with Rahab said something and they both hurried to the edge of the roof. They stopped and stared at him across the divide that separated them. Rahab said, “Sala! What are you doing here?”
She looked the same. He felt some of the knot in his stomach begin to dissolve. “I have to see you. Stand back, I’m going to jump across.”
Atene, whom he had recognized, said, “Don’t be a fool, Sala. You’ll fall and kill yourself.”
Rahab said, “It’s not that far. I could jump it myself if I wanted to.”
Sala grinned. That was his Rahab. He waved the women back from the edge, got a running start, and landed on Rahab’s roof. His momentum knocked him to his knees but he jumped right up.
She ran to him, her eyes widening when she saw the bruises on his face. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
He devoured her with his eyes. Then he took her face into his two bruised and swollen hands and said, “I had to see you. I had to tell you how much I love you.”
Her large brown eyes looked up into his. He saw them fill with tears. “Don’t cry, my love,” he said. “Please don’t cry.”
Her tears were flowing freely. “I can’t help it. I’m so happy.”
Atene’s voice caught Rahab’s attention and she turned away from Sala, the tears still glistening on her cheeks.
Atene said, “I’ll wait just inside the stairs so I can warn you if anyone is coming up. If you hear me knock, hide Sala under the flax.”
Since the flax was spread on wooden frames about two feet off the ground, this was an excellent suggestion. Rahab said with heartfelt gratitude, “Thank you, Atene.”
As soon as the door had closed behind her sister-in-law, Rahab turned back to Sala. He said, “I saw you when they were carrying you through the streets. I thought my heart would break.”
She looked up into his intelligent, fine-boned face. One of his eyes was swollen half shut, but the other eye was hard and concentrated as he looked intently at her. She could feel that look in her stomach.
“My heart was breaking too,” she breathed.
He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “I thought I had lost you, Rahab. I thought I had lost . . .”
She buried her face in his shoulder, feeling the smooth linen of his tunic under her cheek. She inhaled the scent of him the way a drowning person takes a first breath of air after being pulled to the surface. “I love you too.”
She felt his hand twining into her hair, pulling her head back so that her face was tipped up to his. He bent his head and kissed her.
The time, the place, everything that had happened to her, it all dropped away at the touch of his lips. Rahab clung to him fiercely, caught up in an emotion she had never felt before. In the stillness around her, the world coalesced into just this one moment, just this one man.
Then he lifted his head and buried his lips in her hair. “I love you so much, Rahab. So much.”
“I have always loved you, Sala. You have always been my savior. You saved me from the slavers and you saved me again when you taught me about Elohim. I prayed to Him, you know. At first I didn’t think He had heard me, but He did! He saved me. He made the king die right there in the bed, Sala, before he could do anything to hurt me. It was a miracle.”
Sala held her away from him so he could look into her face. His black brows were sharply knit. “In the bed? I thought he died before he ever came into your room.”
“That is what they want me to say. You
must never tell this to anyone, Sala. I had to promise I would never say anything before they would let me go. But he did come into my room. He was lying in the bed when he died. I was frightened when first it happened, but now I understand. It was Elohim. He heard my prayers and He helped me. He saved me from being degraded, Sala. I . . . I know how you feel about that.”
“You could never be degraded in my eyes,” he said fiercely.
“Well, in your father’s eyes then.”
His good eye darkened. “I don’t know what my father will think, Rahab.”
“What do you think?”
He ran a finger along her cheekbone. “I don’t know exactly, but I think Elohim wants something from you. I think He has a plan for you, Rahab. He put you into the hands of the slavers and He put you into the hands of someone who would teach you the truth about Him. Now He has saved you from the dissolute rites of a false god. You are important to Him, Rahab. You must just wait and see what it is He wants you to do. Wait and listen.”
Rahab shivered.
“It’s hard to think I could be so important. I am only a girl, Sala.” She smiled up at him. “A girl who loves you very much.”
A muscle along his jaw jumped. “I should never have kissed you. I took advantage of you. I’m sorry, Rahab. I wasn’t thinking . . .”
Rahab didn’t like the look on his face. “If we are to marry, then kissing me isn’t wrong.”
“Marriage.” His voice sounded choked. “I don’t think that will happen. My father—”
She stared at him. “I would go against my father for you!”
“You don’t understand. If there were other sons, then maybe . . . I don’t know. All I know is that my father would never allow me to mix my blood with the blood of a Canaanite woman. He just wouldn’t.”
Rahab couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After all he had said about loving her . . .
“You do still think I would defile you.”
“No! I would never think that. You would honor me by marrying me. But that is not how my father would see it, Rahab.”