“What do these temple virgins do?” Rahab wondered aloud.
“They are treated well, I think. They live in the temple and are provided clothing and enough to eat. Some of them even have jewelry.”
Rohat asked, “Do they work in the fields?”
“No. They never leave the temple. They serve the goddess Ashtoreth day and night. Your father and I do not want to do this. But we cannot afford to buy food to keep you alive. Soon there will be another mouth to feed with Yassib and Baalah’s baby. Even if you cannot understand, I hope you can forgive us.”
Rohat dropped back to whisper in Rahab’s ear, “What is a virgin?”
“I think it means you are not married.” Lost in her thoughts, Rahab ignored the growing crowd that jostled against her. She tried to think of other questions to ask her mother. Once in the temple district they walked a good distance beyond the great statue of Baal, finally arriving at an imposing white stone building supported by columns on every side. Hundreds of people packed the temple courtyard, more than half of them pretty little girls.
Bilda squeezed into the crowd, holding onto Rohat with one hand and Rahab with the other. “Take care not to be separated from me,” she shouted over the noise.
As a sudden hush settled over the courtyard, Rahab’s eyes were drawn to a high balcony where a woman with flowing garments and long auburn hair stood flanked by two muscular bodyguards.
“Good morning,” the woman said. “I am Selina, the high priestess of Ashtoreth. Be assured we will carefully assess every girl presented for service today. Be patient. Those of you now inside the courtyard will have your turn.” A bodyguard opened a door behind Selina, and she disappeared inside the temple.
“What is happening?” Rahab asked, unable to see over the adults around her.
“They are locking the courtyard gates,” Bilda answered. “It is a good omen we got inside.”
It seemed to Rahab as if a long time passed before anything happened. Then a small group emerged from the temple, and a low murmur rippled through the crowd. Down the steps of the temple colonnade came a dignified white-haired woman, followed by a cadre of bodyguards. The woman’s long blue robes swirled and trailed behind each elegant movement. She walked directly toward the mass of humanity as if expecting them to make way—and they did. Rahab tugged at Bilda’s tunic, only to have her mother brush her hand away and motion for quiet.
“They are setting up at the gate,” someone whispered.
When a bodyguard compressed the crowd even more, Bilda again grasped each daughter with a hand. Rahab’s every move brought a frown from a woman whose warm body pressed against her.
A disembodied voice said, “People dislike being sent away. They know they will not have another chance until the next harvest moon.”
“Most of the girls never get beyond the courtyard anyway.” The tall woman near Rahab spoke softly, hardly moving her lips.
The sun warms these temple grounds the same way it heats the fields, Rahab thought. As the number of people in the courtyard thinned, she realized they were in a line moving slowly toward the gate. There the queue stopped behind a guard. He sent girls forward one by one to approach a stone bench where the white-haired woman sat. Soon after each girl advanced, the woman pointed to the gate. Guards gathered the girl’s companions and guided the little group outside. Perhaps Bilda would soon be taking her and Rohat back to their familiar home.
Most of these transactions occurred quickly. Occasionally, a girl stood longer before the woman. Once, two guards led a girl from the stone bench inside the temple along with a taller person—her mother? “Where are they going?” Rahab asked.
“She has been chosen,” a nearby girl answered.
By mid-morning, when Rahab approached the bench, the courtyard was almost deserted.
“What is your name?” the elderly woman asked from the bench.
“Rahab, mira,” she answered, careful to keep her eyes on the ground and address her questioner with the feminine title of respect.
“Why are you here, Rahab?”
“My mother brought me.”
“Wait over there.” The priestess nodded her head toward a nearby sentry, simultaneously beckoning Rohat forward with the motion of a hand.
Rahab stood by the well-armed man while Rohat answered White-hair’s questions. Her thoughts wandered to the trip home. She hoped to stroll through the city markets with her mother and sister. The priestess’s crisp announcement broke into her reverie. “Take the twins to the temple.”
CHAPTER SIX
Rahab took two strides to cover each of the white stone steps leading to the colonnade. A chariot could drive through either of the double doors. While a guard took them toward the entrance, the bare-chested sentries on either side of the doors stood like statues. Each held the shaft of his bronze spear at arm’s length and rested the base of his weapon at his feet. Just as Bilda and her daughters stepped onto the porch, the men drew in their spears and stepped aside in unison, pulling the massive doors open.
After walking through a wide hallway with a ceiling higher than the tallest tree Rahab had ever seen, they were guided into a chamber the size of many dwellings. Most of the grownups sat on the stone benches lining the walls, their children cross-legged on the floor at their feet. A few adults paced back and forth. Periodically the door opened and another girl came inside.
Rohat nudged Bilda awake when a straight-backed, white-haired woman came in. As she proceeded to the center of the room, Rahab recognized her as the same priestess who questioned girls earlier, at the sorting. “Greetings,” the woman said. “Again, welcome to the Temple of Ashtoreth. Parents, you are congratulated on the beauty and comportment of your children. Girls, with continued good fortune, you may soon join the service of the great goddess. We have much to do today. No doubt you understand why everyone must follow all instructions fully.” She glanced around, making eye contact with people in various locations.
“First, let me explain that once the price is paid, the girls become the property of Ashtoreth. This means living in the temple and abiding by our rules for life. To facilitate adaptation, we do not allow contact with anyone outside the temple for the first year of training. Afterward, each girl may be allowed an occasional visit from a family member at our discretion. Leave now if you cannot agree to these conditions.”
She paused, again looking around the room. No one moved. “Good. We will proceed. Girls will be called in groups of five for further evaluation. Parents may not accompany them. Once our final selections are made, someone will come and complete the business transaction. Should a child be eliminated, she will be returned here and you may go. Any questions?”
A well-dressed woman who was one of those pacing back and forth said, “One, if I may, mira.”
“Yes?”
“My daughter is very young. It would be so much better if I went with her through the examination—”
White-hair cut her off. “Then she is too young. She is dismissed.” At the nod of her head, guards went to either side of the woman and began escorting her to the exit with her child.
“She can go alone,” the mother said. The priestess did not look in her direction. “I meant no harm, mira,” was the last tearful plea before the doors slammed shut.
“Any other questions?” When there were none, she called the names of five girls and withdrew.
“They are serious about their rules,” the tiny woman sitting next to Bilda said. Raised eyebrows and a head bob were the only acknowledgment she received.
Meanwhile, Rahab sat on the floor next to Rohat at Bilda’s feet, thinking she could stay in this room forever and not take in all of the sights it offered. One wall was covered by a gigantic likeness of a stunning Ashtoreth, her filmy blue garment swept sideways to display her perfect shape. How clean she looked. The high ceiling was festooned with fabrics in every shade of blue and purple, gathered and bound with thick scarlet ropes.
Waiting patiently, Rahab
inventoried the furniture. Unlike the rough-hewn table in her own home, the stone benches were of uniform size and shape, their tops as smooth as a river rock. The supporting pedestals were carved with lovely women’s faces and clawed feet. She longed to run across the stone floor, perhaps gather some speed and slide across its polished expanse. Instead she sat obediently still, moving only her eyes.
A priestess led a little girl into the room. “Family of Laraba?” she said.
A man rushed forward. “What?”
“This child has a wart on her back,” White-hair said. “She is dismissed.”
“But mira, it is small and her clothing covers it,” the man pled without success, while being pushed through the door by two guards.
The tiny woman ventured another comment, “Rough to get this far and then be sent home empty-handed.”
“Um,” Bilda replied.
At last Rahab heard her name called, along with Rohat’s. “Good,” Rohat whispered. “We are together.”
Steam rose from the pool in the small room where the girls were taken. “Strip and get into the bath,” a young woman in priestess garb said to the group of five girls. “Stack your clothes on the pile there.”
Immediately doing as she was told, Rahab followed Rohat and another girl down rounded steps into the steamy water. The wet warmth felt delightful on her skin.
When all five girls were splashing in the chest-high pool, the priestess said, “Duck under and get your hair completely wet.” Five little heads quickly complied. “Now wash thoroughly with this.” She tossed sweet-smelling chips onto the surface of the water. Rahab felt as if she wanted to spend the entire day in the pool. Far too soon the priestess said, “Everyone out of the bath.”
A man handed each shivering girl a length of cloth. “Dry your body and then your hair,” was his brief instruction repeated to each of them.
“A eunuch,” Rahab heard someone whisper after the man withdrew to the other side of the pool.
Rahab exchanged a quick glance with Rohat, but neither of them spoke. After telling them to leave their clothing and drying cloths behind, the priestess marched the girls through the main hallway into another large chamber. “Sit and wait until you are called,” she told them, motioning toward an ornately carved stone bench behind a screen. Without moving her head, Rahab stole sidelong glances at the other girls. Sitting naked felt peculiar, although it was far easier than pulling weeds in the hot sun. But when would she have a chance to speak with Rohat?
The first called away was a lovely child with big almond-shaped eyes and dark brown hair falling in soft waves to her waist. The girl’s smooth, creamy skin led Rahab to compare Rohat’s suntanned face and arms. She looked at the darkened skin on her own arms and knew her face must have the same brown hue as her sister’s. Was this a cause for dismissal? She truly did not know whether she hoped to stay or go. The familiarity of home beckoned, but how long could they stay with their parents? Would failure at the temple send her and Rohat to the slave traders?
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Hello, Rahab,” said the white-haired priestess. She and many other women dressed in similar blue gowns sat three-deep in a semi-circle, while Rahab stood naked before them. “This is your final assessment before being accepted.”
Not knowing what to do or say, Rahab smiled, remembering to stand straight and keep her eyes on her feet.
“Is the hair real?” someone asked.
A priestess examined Rahab’s scalp, pushing her thick locks first one way and then another. “Yes,” she announced. “The curls go all the way to the root.”
“Lovely. Her sunburn will fade quickly, I should think,” the woman with white-hair said.
Someone spoke up, “No doubt. And they will be such a novelty together.”
“A double treat for some robust worshipper,” a young priestess said.
After more discussion among the women, Rahab was given a soft tunic with a scarlet belt and a pair of sandals. She had never touched fabric so smooth, nor ever before worn shoes. The fine clothing and her exquisite cleanliness made Rahab feel as beautiful as the women continually said she was.
“Assemble all of the new girls for the high priestess,” the white-haired one said at last.
When the identically clothed girls were lined up, each positioned to everyone’s satisfaction, the high priestess Rahab had seen on the balcony strode in with her guards. She walked up and down looking at faces, touching cheeks, occasionally patting heads. “Fine,” she said. “You have done well. I like most of them. The short one on the end need not stay. She shows her nervousness.” Turning toward the doorway, she raised an index finger. “And no twins. They are too confusing. Dismiss one of them.” With a toss of her hair, she swept away.
By the time Rahab realized she and Rohat were separated, she was already being hurried down the hallway with the other dismissed girl. “I want to get something to eat,” the priestess said, “let us not bother with making them change clothes.”
Back in the main chamber, the nervous girl ran sobbing to her mother. Meanwhile, Rahab struggled to understand what just happened.
Accompanied by a guard carrying a carved wooden box the size of an infant, a gorgeous young priestess came into the chamber. She spoke briefly with family members as she handed out fat pouches taken from the box. If these pouches contained silver, this temple paid even more than Molech, Rahab thought.
“I did nothing wrong,” Rahab said as soon as she and Bilda emerged into the courtyard.
Bilda shook her head. “I know. The one who paid the price for Rohat told me. She said at the very end someone decided not to take two girls who look exactly alike.”
“Will Father be angry with me?”
“Take off the sandals and carry them,” Bilda said. “And keep the tunic clean. Perhaps we can make a trade at the market.”
Rahab was happy to remove the sandals, since her feet were unaccustomed to their restraint. She ran her hand across the fine fabric of the tunic, sorry to think of giving it up so soon. “What will happen to Rohat?” she asked.
“What they said,” Bilda answered. “She will live in the temple.”
“Can I come and see her next harvest time?”
“Too many questions.”
Holding fast to Bilda’s hand, Rahab looked backward as long as she could see the temple. How she longed to say goodbye to her sister.
As they passed beyond the temple of Baal, a muscular young man in a rough tunic tumbled out a door. He spun past Rahab into the roadway, causing Bilda to drag her daughter quickly to the other side of the street. An older, well-dressed man—a merchant perhaps?—ran from the same doorway and began to beat the man in the road.
“Why is he hitting him?” Rahab asked her mother.
Bilda looked straight ahead and kept walking. “Pay no attention.”
Rahab looked back to see the first man curl into a ball, warding off the continuing blows as best he could. The rich man cursed loudly at his victim, painting thin stripes of blood on the passive man’s arms with a short leather whip.
“Why does the big man not fight back?” she asked. “Surely he has more strength than the one who is beating him.”
“Hush, Rahab,” Bilda admonished. “The slave may have done something to displease his master. Now he is being punished. Or perhaps the owner lost when casting lots and feels like taking it out on his servant. It is none of our business. Come along.”
So this is how slaves are treated, Rahab thought. Worse than a disobedient daughter. It was no wonder everyone shivered at the thought of the traders. She wondered what she had done to make herself expendable to her parents. Since the temple rejected her, she dreaded going to the slavers. And then what?
“This shop,” Bilda said, motioning toward an open doorway. The shelves inside held expensive wines contained in skins, along with cheaper versions put up in lidded pots. After lengthy negotiations, Bilda traded the new pair of sandals for a crock of wine. “These will buy foo
d,” she said, tucking away the generous number of beads received as change. “Good shoes.”
“What is the wine for?” Rahab asked as they walked on.
“Do not ask me another question today, Rahab. Not one. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mother,” she answered.
In the food market, Bilda took her time looking over merchandise and discussing prices with vendors. Rahab missed her twin’s companionship. What was her sister doing now, she wondered. Did Rohat miss her family, or was she too busy learning how to be a virgin?
The sun was sinking behind the city wall by the time the pair returned to their home. “Lamb for dinner,” Bilda announced to the family.
“Rahab? You are home!” Sanda’s hug was reassuring.
“Lamb? That sounds wonderful,” Kemil said.
“Explain, wife,” was Karmot’s only comment.
Bilda handed Karmot the pouch containing Rohat’s purchase price. She moved to the stone table to begin food preparation while she spoke. “The Temple of Ashtoreth will only buy one twin.” The sound of chopping the cut of lamb into chunks was the only break in the ensuing silence. “Rahab managed to come away with the tunic she has on and some sandals, which she traded for a jug of wine.”
Karmot weighed the pouch’s heft with his hands. “Wine?” he asked. “I will taste it.” A nod from her mother sent Rahab flying to serve her father his drink.
Soon Yassib and Kemil sat near Karmot, taking long draughts from the wine crock whenever they freed it from their father’s grasp.
Finding she had no appetite, Rahab sulked in her usual spot in the courtyard while the rest of the family enjoyed their meal. Am I the only one who misses Rohat? When I am sent away as a slave, will anyone notice I am gone? Or will they only concern themselves with the food cooking in the meal pot?
She felt alienated, as if she and Rohat were betrayed by those who were supposed to care for them most. Did she imagine that she was ignored this evening, or did everyone other than her two younger sisters distance themselves? If she could not depend on her family, there was nowhere to turn. With Rohat gone forever, there was no one in whom to confide. It was no help to see her father and brothers grow more jovial as the evening wore on.
The Scarlet Cord Page 3