In between housekeeping, structural repairs, and bartering for supplies, Rahab tried to make time for a brief nap in the afternoon. Even a short rest helped her tolerate the company of her guests in the evening, when most expected a sexual encounter in their room. Riata had taught her well how to hasten each customer’s satisfaction in order to move on to the next. There was dreary repetition in Rahab’s days and nights, but the specter of starvation no longer stalked her. And she heard no one speak of selling a member of the family into slavery.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rahab was surprised to look up and see her father leading a crowd into the courtyard. “Good news, Daughter,” Karmot said. “Only midafternoon and the inn is filled. I brought in a single family who will occupy every room. And they have no animals.”
“How unusual,” Rahab said. “Good work.”
Karmot stood near and spoke more softly. “These people lived on the sunrise side of the Jordan River. They are fleeing their home because of the Hebrews.”
Rahab kept occasional company with soldiers in the king of Jericho’s army. None of them mentioned fighting across the river, not since King Og put down a small rebellion in his kingdom some time back. “Is there trouble over there?” she asked quietly.
“No, not yet,” Karmot said, “but this farmer believes war is coming. He is so convinced of it he sold his land. The whole clan is relocating to the Jezreel valley, where his wife’s people live.”
“I never heard of such a thing,” Rahab said. “Moving such a distance, merely because this farmer fears something might happen.”
Karmot shrugged. “Those nomad Hebrews are no match for Bashan’s defenses, even if they were foolish enough to start trouble. There may be more to this than we know. Perhaps these people are thieves instead of farmers.”
“In any case,” Rahab said, “we will have every room overflowing this evening. May I make a request of you?”
“What is it you wish, my daughter?”
“Are you willing to make a trip to the market for meat to enrich tonight’s stew? We have leeks, but need something more since you have brought in so much bounty.”
“I will be glad to go,” Karmot said. When Rahab remembered to show proper deference, her father was usually willing to do her bidding. He was especially likely to take on chores that put him in a position to engage in commerce. When she gave Karmot the leather pouch containing a quarter of a shekel of silver, he tested the weight in his hand and went on his way with a spring in his step.
Rahab was about to fetch water when the soldiers who regularly patrolled the neighborhood arrived. “You have strangers lodging here,” the leader said. He was dressed in a short tunic, not as tall as Yassib, with well-muscled arms.
“Nothing escapes your watchful eye,” she said, smiling. “Come into the courtyard and I will identify the head of the family for you.” As Riata had taught her, Rahab went out of her way to make friends with the king’s men. Now and then she gave them something to eat or drink, and she was not above offering them pleasure when she felt it necessary to maintain their good will.
The remaining two soldiers lounged in the reception area, passing the time in conversation with Yassib, while Rahab took the leader to the courtyard. She pointed out the father of the family of guests, then went on her way to the well. Most likely there would be some questions and a few shekels of silver changing hands before the soldiers left the inn. Perhaps the traveling family did not know to offer a bribe or otherwise ran afoul of the soldiers’ unlimited authority. Rahab knew it was possible she would return home to find there had been some trouble, even an execution. So long as no property damage occurred, the actions of the soldiers did not concern her. As she always insisted, the family from across the river paid for their accommodations in advance.
While waiting her turn to draw water, Rahab resisted all attempts to engage in conversation. Any comment directed to her received only a silent smile. She had long ago lost interest in idle chatter. Too often gossip about the King of Jericho, the price of wool, or the best method of pressing figs turned to a discussion of families and children. Rahab did not care to know how many sons a woman had. Nor was she amused by hearing what someone’s little daughter said.
“My husband says they defeated the Egyptians,” the woman ahead of Rahab said to a companion, “even though Pharaoh’s army had more men and better weapons.”
“He truly believes such nonsense?” the woman who was missing one eye asked.
“It happened. My father-in-law saw it.”
“Ah, so he was there. Is he Egyptian or Hebrew? Or perhaps a little bird who flew over the Red Sea and saw the whole thing from the air.”
The first woman insisted, “He was a Chaldean, taken in battle and enslaved in Egypt. He escaped with the Hebrews, but parted from them because it was too hard to obey their god. He told such stories—”
Clearing her throat, Rahab nodded at the jabbering woman. “It is your turn to draw water.”
“Oh.” The woman moved forward. “Baba always warned us the Hebrews are ambitious for land,” she said as she filled her pouches. “He predicted they will never rest easy until they plant vineyards and move out of tents into houses.”
“Yes. Just as I shall soon move into a palace and be fanned by eunuchs all day,” the one-eyed woman muttered.
At last Rahab was able to fill her pouches and leave the well behind. She was unable to stop thinking about what she heard there. Something about the conversation unnerved her in a way she could not define.
Now what? she asked herself when she saw her brother standing outside the inn’s entry way.
“Mother wants to let the neighbor woman spend the night at the inn,” Yassib said.
A woman of Jericho? Seeking shelter at an inn instead of with her family? Something did not add up. “Why?” Rahab asked.
“She says her husband pushed her out of the house,” Yassib said without emotion. “I know nothing more.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
In the reception area, Karmot lounged with some male guests. “Greetings, Daughter,” he said. “I did well at the market.”
“Father.” Rahab bowed her head toward Karmot to acknowledge his comment and passed into the courtyard, certain the words were more for the ears of the visiting farmers than for her.
Scanning the crowd, she saw her next-door neighbor crouching behind the oven. “May Zulaika pass this evening in the inn?” Bilda asked, coming quickly to Rahab’s side. “She has nowhere else to go.”
“She has a home next door.” Rahab rested her eyes on her neighbor’s bruised face, halfway covered by a scarf.
“No, her husband has taken a younger wife. Zulaika is divorced.”
“What is that to us? Look how many paying customers we must feed tonight.” Rahab was sorry Zulaika was cast out. But she needed every available shekel to bring her plans to fruition. “Do you want to send her away or shall I do it?”
“Zulaika will have to become a zonah. No inn will employ a woman of her age. She will be forced to live on the streets. Let us give her this one evening of shelter.” Bilda dropped her eyes from Rahab’s face. “She may have my portion of food.”
Rahab sighed. “All right. For only this one night she can sleep in the courtyard or the stable. Go ahead and feed her. The inn cannot afford for you to starve yourself and become weak.”
“Thank you.” Bilda wore a rare smile.
“Who do you think would help us if we were in trouble?” Rahab asked. Then she answered her own question. “No one. Zulaika must go before the sun comes over the wall.”
“May the gods shower favor on you, Daughter.”
“Gods are nothing more than statues, Mother,” Rahab said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
At the evening meal, the women from across the river squatted in the back of the courtyard, while the men congregated in the opposite corner. Curious to know more about the farm family’s flight, Rahab took her food and joi
ned her mother near the foreigners.
“My boys are the joy of my life,” the old woman was telling Bilda. “Two others were born to me, but the poor little fellows died. One caught a plague before he was weaned, and the other was torn apart by a wild animal. My remaining sons are all good men, farmers like my husband, and each one has children of his own. I have three daughters also, but they stayed across the river with their husbands.”
“You have seen my two sons,” Bilda replied, scooping ghee with a piece of flat bread. “Yassib found this inn for us, and now he guards it daily. He is very handsome, do you not agree? He named his little boy Karmotil, after my husband. My younger, Kemil, is a farmer, like your family. He grows some of the finest flax found anywhere. The two girls over there, Sanda and Masula. They are mine as well.” Bilda pointed to the spot where the city girls and farmers’ daughters sat talking and laughing as if they were old friends.
For a time, Rahab wondered why she was omitted from her mother’s ownership. “I am your child, too,” she said at last.
“Oh, yes.” Bilda waved a hand in her direction. “The innkeeper is my oldest daughter.”
The innkeeper? Do I no longer have a name? Rahab thought. Deeply hurt by having to ask for acknowledgment as a daughter, Rahab was disappointed no mention was made of her provision for the family. Surely Bilda knew Yassib and Kemil would still be day laborers in other men’s fields if it were not for her. She burned with the familiar feeling she was of lesser value than her brothers in Bilda’s eyes. Even her little sisters now appeared to rank above her in their mother’s esteem. Was it because of her trade? How would they eat if she had not taken up harlotry? Sorry she joined the group, Rahab ate in silence while the two women went on and on about the admirable qualities of their sons. She found the conversation not much different from those she heard among the tiresome women fetching water at the community well.
Slipping away from the group of women, Rahab went to the rooftop where she sat looking up at the stars. In Bilda’s conversation, it was as if Rondar, Rima, and Rohat never existed. If the takers or slavers owned her, would her name also disappear from the family listing? She sensed the answer, and felt a melancholy sadness settle over her.
Kemil no longer pressed her to buy him a wife, not since his discovery of the pleasures of Jericho’s fleshpots. Instead, he made it known he hoped to buy his own field soon. Both Bilda and Karmot hinted of the need for a dowry to insure a good marriage for Sanda. It was obvious such an investment required all of the profits from the coming flax harvest, again delaying Rahab’s plan to buy a slave girl. Her family seemed to expect her to provide for everyone else’s needs first. Then, if there was anything left over for her, fine. If not, she was supposed to sacrifice for the good of the others. Is this all there is to life? Will I work to better my brothers and sisters only to be discarded when I am of no further use to them? Her thoughts shifted to Rohat. The approaching full moon promised a chance to see her twin, the only person she was certain cared for her without demanding something in return.
After the courtyard became quiet, Rahab sighed and went downstairs. A small oil lamp cast shadows here and there in the breeze. She picked up the lamp, wondering if it remained burning out of neglect or a wish to guide her path. Stepping into her room, she saw sleeping bodies everywhere. Even if she wished to spend the night here, there was no space. What foolish people these farmers were, not to have secured the door from the inside. She went to the reception room, to assure herself the inn’s entrance was properly bolted for the night. Yes, everything was in order. Yassib lay across the threshold next to the softly snoring Karmotil. Any movement of the door would awaken them to spread the alarm.
Moving back to the silent courtyard, she considered her options. The rooftop was peaceful, but offered no comfort. She could perhaps join her sisters, but they were likely to have been displaced to the cubbyhole shared by Karmot and Bilda. The stable was probably occupied by people since the farmers brought no animals. A slight movement near the oven caught her eye. Of course, she remembered, the neighbor woman was sleeping here under the stars. On my mat, Rahab noticed as she wandered closer. She blew out the lamp and nudged Zulaika aside. How appropriate it seemed for her to pass this night with another outcast.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I will go to the temple and try to see Rohat today. Do you want to go along?”
Bilda shook her head. “Some other time, perhaps.”
Receiving the reply she expected, Rahab continued on her way. She ought to bring water when she returned, but decided not to bother with a pouch. With Kemil in the fields, Karmot at the city gate and Yassib guarding the inn, she had to travel to and from the temple unguarded. She slid her knife into a scabbard attached to the leather thong about her waist. There was only a slight risk involved in going out alone in the daylight so long as she was armed and looked prosperous. Ruffians were much more likely to attack a poor harlot or beggar than a woman of means. Remembering how Rohat loved nuts, she took a bag of pistachios from a secret hiding place in the room where she slept.
There were more people than usual on the streets in the temple area, causing Rahab to wonder if this was some special worship day or festival. The thought quickly faded as she made her way through the growing crowd and on to the Temple of Ashtoreth. While she waited for permission to enter, the gate guard startled her by asking, “Are you going to the public execution today?”
As she typically did when caught without a suitable answer, Rahab smiled at the man.
“I wish I could go with you,” he said. “It is not just your common thieves today.” He arched his brows and lowered his voice. “I hear enemies of the king are to be impaled.”
This time Rahab knew the appropriate response. “May all who dare to oppose the King of Jericho die a horrible death.”
The runner returned with the surprising news Rahab was to be admitted to the temple. Searching the grounds with her eyes, she saw Rohat emerge through the wide temple doors. As always she asked, “May I go to her?”
Instead of the perfunctory approval, the guard eyed her knife. “You are armed?” he asked.
“I am so sorry. I forgot.” Rahab untied her belt and handed the knife and scabbard to the guard.
“Proceed,” he said, swinging the gate open and nodding toward the temple.
Drawing as near as she deemed appropriate, Rahab said, “Oh Rohat, it has been so long since I have seen you. You are looking well, dear sister.”
“Thank you. Yes, I am prospering.” Rohat smiled. “You will be pleased to know I have attracted the attention of the king’s son.”
“How marvelous! I hope he treats you with tenderness.”
Rohat laughed. “Better to hope for something possible, perhaps generosity toward me.”
“That, too,” Rahab agreed. “Whatever you want, I hope you receive it. You deserve the best of fortune, and I am glad it is finally coming your way. Our family is well. I brought you some roasted pistachio nuts, your favorite.”
“How thoughtful. But you need not bring me gifts any longer. I can have anything I want at the temple these days.”
“I am so glad to hear you are treated well at last. Oh, Sister, I have so much to tell you. The flax is tall in the fields. Soon we will have a great harvest, I think. Shall we stroll in the courtyard? Mother and father think Sanda is almost old enough—”
“No,” Rohat said. “I must go inside soon. It is not wise to be unavailable if the prince should call for me.”
“All right.” Seating herself on the nearest bench, Rahab expected her sister to sit with her. “I will leave your nuts behind the bench, as always. Have I told you—?”
“Take the pistachios with you when you go,” Rohat said, as she continued to stand near the doorway. “And another thing.” She looked away. “You need not make the journey to visit me so frequently.”
“But I want to see you as often as I can,” Rahab insisted. “It is no trouble.”
R
ohat took a deep breath and exhaled. “The prince thinks I am from a noble family, that I was brought to the temple out of devotion rather than necessity. He cannot discover this is untrue.”
As Rahab absorbed this information, she said, “I suppose it would be a bad thing for this man to find out your twin is a lowly zonah.”
“I am relieved you understand,” Rohat said. “I must go now.” With a wave of her hand, she slipped inside the broad double doors.
Shocked by Rohat’s dismissal, Rahab sat for a moment looking down at the pouch of pistachios in her hand. Then, without a backward glance, she went to the gate. “Do you want some nuts?” she asked the guard.
“Thank you, mira.” The man beamed as he took the pouch and tucked it inside his tunic. Then he handed Rahab her belt and scabbard, still holding the unsheathed knife in his hand. “This is quite a dagger you have here,” he said, running a finger along the serpentine blade. “Where did you get it?”
“It is my father’s,” Rahab lied. “Made of bronze I believe.”
“Very nice. Small, but extremely sharp. Far too dangerous for a woman.”
Trying to smile graciously, she said, “I will tell my father of your wise advice.”
“I wonder if he wishes to part with this fine weapon,” the guard said.
“No doubt he would be eager to honor a man who faithfully guards the Priestess Rohat, but of course I must ask him first.”
At the mention of Rohat’s name, the guard handed Rahab her knife. “Yes,” he said. “Tell your father I will make him a good price.”
Hastily exiting the gate, she turned her thoughts to getting home as quickly as possible. The gathering crowd would impede her progress, with pickpockets everywhere. Why did the king’s men have to execute wrongdoers the first day after the full moon?
The Scarlet Cord Page 7