Wiping her forehead with the back of a hand, Bilda answered, “Who knows?”
Soon the family squatted around the cramped walls of the courtyard, eating their meager dinner. Rahab noticed the meal cakes were the smallest yet, and even Karmot was served only one portion this evening.
Karmot fashioned a sling from the stolen weed bag and bound Yassib’s arm close to his body. Absently running her hands over the scratches on her arms, Rahab wondered what might have happened to her if the takers were successful. She remembered Rondar’s whispered tales of taken girls. Some were sold to slave traders from as far away as Egypt or Persia, and none of them ever saw their homes or families again. Such frightening thoughts made her slide a little closer to her twin sister Rohat.
CHAPTER THREE
Hushed voices disturbed Rahab’s sleep. She turned away from the sounds and moaned. How did the brief encounter with the takers leave her so sore?
“Surely there is some other way,” Bilda said.
“What? Tell me,” Karmot whispered. “I cannot stand for any length of time. You are still weak from birthing. Now Yassib will be unable to earn a full day’s wages until his arm heals.”
“Can we wait until she is weaned?”
Karmot exhaled loudly. “If we delay so long, I will not have the heart to see it through.”
“One more week?” Bilda pleaded.
“Tomorrow. At first light. I will send Kemil if you refuse to go.”
“Not Yassib?”
“No,” Karmot said. “He would shrink from this task. Kemil will do it.”
“Um.”
“Wife, I hate this as much as you do. Maybe more because I should be able to provide for our family. But we must do something now, or see all our children starve.”
Rahab snuggled closer to Rohat’s oblivious warmth. Meals were small and dwindling—but starvation? Was their situation so desperate? Resolving to eat less, she drifted to sleep lulled by the soft sound of her mother’s weeping.
It seemed only a moment passed before Rondar shook Rahab awake. “Get up and help with the morning preparations. Mother is too ill to arise.”
“Mother is never sick,” she mumbled. Even after childbirth Bilda was always back on her feet quickly. Rolling up the bedding the girls shared, Rahab noticed both Karmot and Bilda remained on their mat. Kemil sat nearby, whispering with his father. Try as she might, she could not hear their conversation.
Kemil went into the courtyard, while Rondar served each of her parents a cup of heated water for breakfast. “Yassib.” Karmot summoned his son to come near.
“Yes, Father,” Yassib replied, coming to sit by Karmot.
“I will keep Sanda home today. You can move faster without her. You and the older girls work in a field within shouting distance of the city gate.”
“I will do as you say,” Yassib agreed.
“Take no chances.” Karmot tapped each word onto his son’s chest with a bony index finger. “Get inside the walls well before sundown, even if your wages are reduced. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Father.”
Returning inside, Kemil asked, “Father, which of the girls will go with me to care for the baby?”
“I will go,” Rahab volunteered.
“Rahab! Will you never stop speaking before you are spoken to?” Karmot shouted. “How many times must I tell you?” He glared at her for a long moment. “Go with Kemil, then. Perhaps you will learn something.”
Stung by her father’s reprimand, Rahab finished her morning chores in silence. Why were Kemil and Yassib allowed to address her father when she and her sisters could not? At least Karmot’s weakness kept him from administering a slap or pinch for her indiscretion. And today she did not have to go outside the city gates, where takers lurked.
As soon as Yassib, Rondar, and Rohat left for the fields, Kemil assumed an air of importance. “Rahab!” he said. “Remember to bring some drinking water.”
“Yes, brother,” she replied. Even a small amount of water would be heavy.
“And make sure Rima is wrapped well. She must not get cold.”
“I will do as you say.”
As she ladled water into a jar, Rahab wondered why Kemil’s last remark evoked a sob from Bilda.
“Enough,” Karmot said. “Go now.”
Stepping outside, Kemil immediately thrust Rima toward Rahab. “Here, take her,” he said. “Men do not carry babies in the street.”
“You are not a man yet,” Rahab retorted. She adjusted the water container’s shoulder rope and cuddled the sleeping Rima. “She is quite beautiful, do you not agree?”
Kemil shrugged. “All babies look alike.”
Rahab resisted the urge to contradict her brother. It irritated her that he so obviously enjoyed being in control, and she was wary of giving him any additional chance to demonstrate his authority. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“You will see soon enough.”
Hurrying to keep up with Kemil’s quick pace, Rahab did her best to take in the sights of Jericho. The narrow dirt lanes of their neighborhood fed into wider streets where carts and chariots passed each other as they entered the upper city. Near the entrance to a large wooden building, a comely woman laid her hand on Kemil’s shoulder. “Where are you going in such a hurry, my handsome young friend?”
“To the temple.” Her brother’s voice sounded suddenly high and boyish to Rahab.
“We have our own temple of sorts, here at the inn,” she said, looking at him sideways from beneath her painted eyelids. “Why not come in and worship?” The woman trailed her fingers lightly down Kemil’s bare arm.
Rahab shifted the baby to one side. Grabbing Kemil’s free hand, she led him away quickly, while the woman’s laughter trailed after them.
“Come back when you grow up,” a brightly bedecked girl called from a rooftop above the street.
“Try your luck at casting lots?” A man pointed inside a dimly lit house where groups of men squatted in circles. Some were laughing, while others cursed.
Rahab pulled the scarf over Rima’s head, rushing ahead and refusing to answer when a prosperous-looking merchant asked, “Is the infant for sale?”
As the pair walked on they came to a road paved with smooth stones, wide enough for eight carts abreast. “We have been on this street before,” Rahab said, “when Father brought us to the Temple of Baal.”
“Yes,” Kemil answered. “I remember. When he offered a sacrifice asking for another son before Masula was born. I will have some water now.”
At the end of the street was a huge statue of a bull, the representation of Baal, dominating a spacious plaza encircled by tall palm trees. Rahab was confused when Kemil went in the other direction. “I thought we were going to the temple,” she said.
Kemil shook his head. “Not that one. Another temple.”
Realizing her brother wanted her to beg for information, Rahab held her tongue. She offered a rag soaked in barley water to the waking Rima. The infant sucked on the rag, looking up at her sister with wide eyes. “I wonder what she is thinking,” Rahab said, as she ran a finger around a tiny, perfect ear.
“Who?”
“Rima. Does she know who we are yet?”
“Babies cannot think.” Kemil walked ahead.
They rounded a corner to face a great stone building surrounded by an expansive courtyard dotted with smaller structures. As Kemil went to the metal entrance gate, Rahab stared with horror at the figure towering above the trees. She had seen smaller replicas of this ugly stone monster known as Molech. Why was Kemil going into this place? “I will wait outside with Rima,” she said.
Without answering, Kemil grasped her shoulder and pushed her through the gate. A fat bald man came to meet them, causing Rahab to duck behind her brother. The man stood in front of Kemil on the stone-paved walkway, arms folded. “State your business,” he said.
“Greetings, sir,” Kemil said. “I have a child to sell.” He pulled Rahab in front of him.<
br />
“She is pretty, but far too old for Molech. We accept only infants.”
“No, sir, we brought a newborn girl to offer.”
“Indeed. Are you the father?”
“The older brother.”
“Where are the parents?”
“They are busy working.”
“If we strike a bargain, some worshipper will pay to offer the babe as a sacrifice. Then she will pass through the fire. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“She will be burned alive as an offering to Molech,” Kemil answered.
Rahab heard her heart pounding. Everything inside her said to race away and carry Rima to safety. If she somehow got past Kemil and out the gate with the baby, where could they go? She knew she must not take her sister home. And so instead of running she stood terrified and still.
The man pulled the scarf away from Rima, inspecting her head, stretching out her fingers and toes. “Choice,” he said at last. “Come with me. The high priest will make you a good price.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“We will eat well tonight,” Kemil declared.
Rahab took a backward glance at the statue of Molech before quickening her step. Was it her imagination, or did she hear a baby screaming?
As they turned again into the broad street of commerce, Kemil stopped and took her arm, pushing her against a wall. “No one is to know where we took Rima,” he said, leaning his face close to hers. “As far as the others are concerned, we sold her to the slave traders.”
“Why?” Rahab asked.
“Father’s orders.”
She struggled to pull her arm loose from her brother’s grasp. “You are hurting me.”
“You will hurt much worse if you ever speak of this to anyone,” Kemil said. “Now come. We will go home a different way.”
Stumbling along, Rahab felt numb. Until today her family unit was her refuge. Now she felt uncertain of everything. Who might be sold away next? Could she possibly be separated from her twin? What kind of life awaited her?
Kemil led her into a narrow lane. He motioned for Rahab to remain quiet, and then looked here and there. “I almost forgot,” he said. “Father told me to have you carry the silver. He said no one expects a girl to have valuables on her.” He took a pouch and slung it around Rahab’s neck, tucking it until not even the silky cord showed outside her tunic. “Guard this with your life,” he said. Holding up some beads, he added, “I will get food with the rest of the price.”
Emerging from the alley, the pair strolled down a street where loud music from pipes and drums drowned out every other sound. The music became even louder when they passed an open doorway. Rahab turned her head to glimpse three nude women dancing before a crowd of clapping men. She stared, amazed by the energetic writhing of the female bodies keeping perfect rhythm to the beat of the drums. Kemil jerked at her arm barely in time to prevent her from stumbling over a body lying at the side of the road. When they were far enough from the music to hear, Rahab asked her brother, “Was that man dead?”
Kemil shrugged. “Maybe. More likely drunk.”
As they turned into a quiet tree-lined street, an armed guard blocked their way. “What is your business here?”
“We are on our way home,” Kemil responded.
“You cannot go this way,” the guard said. “Wealthy people live along here, and they do not want paupers hanging around. Leave.”
After much wandering, Rahab knew Kemil was lost. She, too, was disoriented, having lost count of the turns they made. “The sun is moving this way.” She pointed. “If we walk away from it we will come to our neighborhood.”
“Of course we will. That is precisely what I have been doing,” Kemil snapped as he took a turn opposite the direction of the sun’s path.
On and on they walked, past shops displaying every kind of ware—pottery, bronze goods, wine, farming implements, jewelry, medicines, and perfumes. A row of fortune tellers beckoned as the pair walked past them. “Come and learn what will become of you,” one shouted. Rahab was attracted by the bright colors of the tent-like shelters, and by the jewels and finery of the women who sat beneath them.
At last they rounded a corner into a bustling food market that spilled over from the storefronts and filled the road. “This is where I wanted to go,” Kemil said. He bargained with an endless stream of merchants, finally trading a few beads for lentils and a pigeon. Tying a cord securely around the bird’s feet, he wrapped it in the scarf that so recently covered baby Rima and thrust it inside his tunic. “I got a good deal,” he told Rahab.
The sun was sinking beneath the high city wall when they found their neighborhood and, finally, their home. Once inside, Kemil took the lentils from Rahab. With a flourish, he displayed them on the low, flat stone that served as a table. Then he drew the pigeon from his tunic. “Let us have a feast,” he said as the bird flailed and flapped its wings.
Standing by silently while everyone else except her mother cheered, Rahab was surprised no one asked about the baby. Had Karmot already told the lie about the slave traders? In a moment, Bilda rose heavily and took the bird from Kemil. Rahab retrieved the lentils from the table, and followed her mother and sisters to the tiny courtyard.
While Rondar stirred the fire, Bilda skillfully wrung the bird’s neck. Soon, pleasant aromas filled the air.
“What is a slave?” Sanda asked of no one in particular.
Ignoring the question, Rondar said, “This soup smells wonderful.”
Tugging at her mother’s tunic, Sanda asked, “When is Rima coming home?”
“You are in the way,” Bilda said with uncharacteristic roughness. “See to Masula.”
Taking Masula by the hand, Sanda sat near the wall and drew her little sister into her lap. The toddler immediately wriggled free and crawled away.
“Did you enjoy your time away from the fields, Rahab?” Rohat asked. “You must have seen many interesting sights in the upper city.”
“No,” Rahab said. “I mean, yes. We walked a lot.” She searched for the right words. “It will be good to return to the fields tomorrow.”
“You cannot mean what you say,” Rondar stopped poking at the fire to gaze at her sister. “Do you not fear the takers?”
“Enough talk,” Bilda said. “Prepare the table.”
Rahab was certain she saw her mother brush away tears with one hand, while she stirred the pot of soup with the other.
A woman’s head appeared over the courtyard wall. “Bilda! Your family is having meat. I can smell it. What good fortune did the gods send your way today?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Jericho
Approximately thirty-four years after the slaves escaped from Egypt
The sounds of Karmot’s snoring never disturbed Rahab’s sleep, but apprehension kept her mind racing. Much as she hated the fields, her father’s announcement she and her twin would not go to harvest in the morning filled her with dread. She slipped from her mat and stole into the courtyard. Rohat was already outside, squatting near the wall.
Rahab sat beside her sister and tilted her head to face the full moon. “They say there is a goddess up there,” she whispered. “I wonder if she can see us.”
“Gods and goddesses are nothing more than stone statues,” Rohat said.
Rahab’s eyes glistened in the dim light. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes. Sacrifices and prayers–what have they ever done for us? Where will we go tomorrow?”
“I wish I knew,” Rahab replied. “Probably to the slave traders.”
“Since the weakness has come upon father again, I suppose there is no other way. I have been worried this day would come ever since Rondar left us.”
“Poor Rondar.” Rahab scratched her fingers across the packed dirt of the courtyard. “I hope she has enough food. We have less at every meal it seems.”
“Mother stopped eating a week ago. At least we are going together.” Rohat took her twin’s hand. “Whatever happens, we wil
l always have each other.”
“Always,” Rahab agreed, hoping this was not the last time to sit in the moonlight and whisper with her sister and best friend.
* * *
Nudging Rahab awake, Rohat mumbled, “Morning.”
Rahab pushed Sanda and Masula from the sleeping mat and began to roll it for daytime storage. Yassib’s pregnant wife Baalah served crocks of barley water first to Karmot, then to Yassib and Kemil, while the girls gathered in the courtyard for a cup of warm water each.
Rahab moved numbly through the morning routine. With no conversation, Yassib led Kemil, Baalah, Sanda, and Masula into the first light of dawn. Desperate for any scrap of information, Rahab concluded her mother was taking her and Rohat to their destination. How she wished Karmot would reveal his plans and end this uncertainty.
“Come, girls,” Bilda said at last. As soon as they cleared the doorway, Rahab asked, “Where are we going, Mother?”
“Some distance,” Bilda answered without looking at her.
Rahab tugged on her mother’s tunic. “And then what?”
“We must arrive before the sun comes over the city wall.”
After a time of silently trudging forward, Rahab said, “I want to know where we are going and what is going to happen to Rohat and me.”
Bilda did not answer.
Rahab stopped. “I will not take another step until I know the truth,” she said.
Rohat quit walking and stood by her sister, arms crossed.
“Your father will not be pleased by this stubbornness,” Bilda said.
“Will we ever see our father again?” Rahab asked defiantly.
The question caused Bilda to burst into tears. Rohat immediately wrapped her mother in an embrace, but Rahab held back.
Wiping her eyes, Bilda said, “Come along. I will tell you what you want to know as we walk.”
“Where are we going?” Rahab insisted.
“To the temple of Ashtoreth.”
Moving forward again, Rahab asked, “Will we be sold as slaves there?”
“Karmot and I hope you will become temple virgins. They take only the most beautiful girls.”
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