“Well, this is Jericho,” Sanda said, “not Bashan. No doubt the king’s men will catch whoever they are after. I want to go and see them impaled or skinned alive, but I never get to stay inside the walls. I have to work in the fields every day.”
Ignoring Sanda’s remark, Rahab felt she should join the conversation to avoid feeding any suspicions Bilda might have. “Why do they have only one god?” she asked.
Dark Eyes drank from her crock of wine. “I have no idea,” she said. “I only know some power has enabled them to defeat many armies.” She glanced up at the city wall. “Regardless of their fortifications.”
Rahab was grateful when Karmot called out, “More wine!” She grabbed a serving jug and took her time replenishing drinks for the men. Finding no further reason to delay, she returned to the circle where the women and girls sat. The topic of conversation was now birthing babies, a subject Rahab felt no practical need to absorb. Judging the competence of a midwife was a skill she never expected to require.
Finally, the travelers melted away to their lodgings. “You were quiet this evening,” Bilda said as she and Rahab cleared away the last of the evening meal.
Rahab scraped food leavings into a bucket for the goat. “Was I?”
After a long silence, Bilda said, “There was plenty of water this morning.”
Punching down the ghee, Rahab said, “Those Egyptian guests were terribly wasteful when washing their hands and feet. There must be many wells in Egypt.” She barely remembered not to refer to the spies as Hebrews.
“Um,” Bilda replied without looking up.
Rahab wanted to go to the rooftop immediately, but she thought it wiser to wait until her mother retired for the night. Bilda fussed with one chore then another—rearranging pots, checking over the supplies for breakfast. Taking a small tree limb, she lowered it into the water vessel. “This deep,” she said, putting her finger midway on the stick. With no further comment, Bilda picked up her sleeping grandson and went inside the room she shared with Karmot.
Although the courtyard was deserted, Rahab lingered near the cooking pots. She quietly gathered nuts and pressed figs, looking around constantly to assure she was not observed. Since she knew Kemil often sneaked food from the larder, she hoped a few days would pass before Bilda noticed these items were missing. Then she was likely to let the shortage pass to protect her son. The creaking of the wooden stairs never caused anyone a second thought, since Rahab routinely went to the rooftop to turn her flax after everyone else went to bed. However, carrying a three-day supply of food to the rooftop was not easily explained.
The moonlit courtyard was peacefully still as Rahab ascended the stairway. Was it possible the number of steps had somehow doubled? Trembling with fear, she finally stepped onto the solid platform of the rooftop. “I am alone,” she said softly. “You may show yourselves.”
“The squeaking stairway announced your coming.” It was the quiet, deep voice of Salmon. He and Benjamin emerged from beneath bundles of dry stalks.
“The king’s men are hunting for you. Be careful to stay out of their sight,” Rahab said. “A patrol will pass by in a little while. They are accustomed to seeing me up here, turning my flax. After they are out of sight, then will be the safest time to go out the window.”
“We will be ready,” Salmon replied. “We have been saying our prayers all evening.”
Rahab saw the outline of his handsome face in the soft moonlight. “You cannot pray here. This is an inn, not a temple.”
“It makes no difference where we are when we pray,” he said. “The Lord is everywhere.”
What an astounding statement. Rahab marveled at such bewildering information. “I have brought food for your journey,” she said.
Benjamin took the bag. “Thank you, mira.”
“What is your name?” Salmon asked.
“Rahab.”
“We will never forget your kindness to us, Rahab,” Salmon said. “And may we never give you cause to regret it.” He raised his hand to signal for silence. Hearing approaching footsteps from the top of the city wall, Rahab pointed to the alcove. Salmon and Benjamin quickly retreated into the space where they could not be seen from the rampart above.
Meanwhile, Rahab went about her normal business, turning bundles of flax. What a peculiar form of religion these people followed. One supreme God, present everywhere. Was such a thing possible? She looked up briefly as eight king’s men tramped along the top of the city wall. Normally there were only two soldiers in the patrol. As the sound of footsteps died away, she went to where the spies were waiting. “You must go now,” she said. “When you reach the ground, run directly away from the city wall. Stay off the road for three days. By then, the king’s men will stop searching for you, and it will be safe to return to your camp.”
Karmot’s winch was already in place in the alcove. Salmon loosed the end of the scarlet cord and fed it through the window. Peering over the ledge, he said, “The rope is almost touching the ground. I will go first.”
“Wait,” Rahab said. “How will your army know which house is mine? What will keep them from treating us as enemies?”
“Leave this scarlet cord hanging from the window,” Salmon said. “It will be our sign to spare you. And remember, you and your family are to be here, in the inn, nowhere else.” He pulled on the rope to test the winch’s holding power, then threw one leg over the window sill. “No need to worry,” he said, “I keep my promises.”
Holding the rope in both hands, Salmon began to rappel down the side of the city wall. After he disappeared from sight, Rahab leaned out the window to watch his descent. “I had no idea a man could walk down a wall,” she said to Benjamin.
“He has done this kind of climbing many times, on cliffs and mountain crags. I am not so experienced. Pray for us.” With those words, Benjamin lowered himself through the window.
Relieved and shaken, Rahab watched the two men hurry across the open expanse and disappear into the distance. She pulled part of the scarlet cord back inside later, to assure no one reached it from the ground below. As she stared across the moonlit plain she thought about Benjamin’s request to pray. Is it possible their God will hear me? She decided to make the attempt.
“Great God of the Hebrews,” she said, “I am Rahab, of Jericho. I do not know how to speak to you properly. Nor do I understand how You exist outside a temple. Please excuse my ignorance and allow me to ask for these two men to return safely to their people. Then be kind enough to make them keep their word to me and my family when You give them victory over this city. Thank You, Sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Not one guest came to the inn to seek lodging or food throughout the day. Twilight turned to darkness, and Rahab’s brothers and sisters were not yet home from the field. “Secure the door behind me,” Karmot said. “I am going to search for my sons.”
Bilda stirred the embers of the cooking fire, although bread for the evening meal was baked and sitting uneaten. Nearby, Karmotil busily packed dirt into a broken, discarded pot. “I hope the children are safe,” Bilda said. “Why are they so late?”
“They will be all right,” Rahab responded, patting her mother’s arm. “Father will bring them home.”
“Maybe the Hebrew spies attacked them.”
Rahab paused to measure her words. “The king’s men say there were no spies. Perhaps people imagined the whole incident.”
“Um,” Bilda grunted.
“Here they are now.” Rahab hurried to the reception area, in response to pounding at the entrance. Hearing familiar voices, she removed the locking beam. “What happened?” she asked.
“Getting through the city gate was horrible,” Sanda said.
At the same time, Yassib announced, “The Hebrew camp has moved to this side of the river.”
Karmot entered the inn last. He secured the door then waved a hand toward the street. “I cannot believe these reports. One or two strong men might cross the river, but a large f
orce? No, it is not possible. Not this time of year.”
At the evening meal, Rahab noticed everyone was subdued. She wanted to assure her family all was well, but dared not reveal the bargain she made with the Hebrew spies. Sanda and Masula huddled near Bilda. Rahab held little Karmotil in one arm while replenishing Karmot’s wine crock with the other.
“Is there going to be a war?” Masula asked.
“No,” Karmot said. “Not in Jericho.”
“There are rumors the city received an offer of good terms if we surrender.” Kemil sipped his wine, and then smiled. “I understand the king had the messenger flogged and thrown out of the city.”
“Fools.” Karmot spat.
Rahab pulled Karmotil closer and kissed the top of his head. She hoped Benjamin did not bring the message to Jericho’s king—though better him than Salmon. It pained her to think of the king’s men whipping either of them.
“Perhaps the Hebrews are foolish enough to bring their fighting men against Jericho,” Kemil speculated.
“No,” Karmot insisted, raising his cup. “More wine. These people will go further toward the sunset, and find a city without our strong walls.”
For the first time, Yassib spoke. “I hope you are right, Father. Meanwhile, maybe it is best to keep the girls home from the fields.”
Masula looked up at Bilda, while Sanda stared at her father.
“Do you believe these Hebrews are truly a threat?” Karmot asked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“I do,” Yassib replied.
“What say you, Kemil?” Karmot turned to peer into his second son’s face. “Does this great, walled city have anything to fear from these tent-dwellers?”
Kemil stared into his wine for a moment before answering. “Jericho is safe,” he said. “Outside the walls, there may be trouble.”
“Trouble is always with us,” Karmot grumbled. “More wine.”
Rahab poured wine for her father and brothers while pondering Salmon’s brief instructions. Since he agreed to spare only those inside the inn, she must find ways to keep everyone at home when the siege began. However, she expected some months to pass between an initial attack and the breaching of the city wall. What if the Hebrews were defeated? Worse yet, what if they prevailed but refused to honor their promise to allow her and her family to live?
While cleaning up after the evening meal, Rahab spoke with Bilda. “See? The moon is new. Do you wish to go with me to the temple district tomorrow? I will try again to see Rohat.”
“There is no one else to care for Karmotil,” Bilda said, spreading the ashes of the cooking fire. “Why go? Either the guard will turn you away or she will.”
Rahab glanced at the full moon. “Once in a while I am permitted inside.” She completed her evening chores lost in thought. As she turned her flax, she reconsidered how to spend the profits from the crop’s sale. Perhaps she would bury her silver in the stable instead of spending it right away. The uncertainty brought about by the possibility of a siege made her cautious. Food was sure to become scarce if farmers had to remain inside the locked city gates for several months.
The following morning, Sanda and Masula were slow in the preparations to go to the fields. “Mother, please ask Father once more if we can remain inside the walls today,” Masula pleaded.
Bilda patted out balls of flatbread dough and thrust the long baking paddle into the outdoor oven.
Sanda rubbed her eyes. “Last night he did not say for certain we have to go to the field.”
“Um,” Bilda grunted.
“What harm is there in asking again?” Sanda asked.
Bilda pulled the paddle from the oven and slipped hot bread onto the stone table. “Eat,” she said.
Rahab sympathized with her sisters’ fears. Yet she knew their father doubted there was any real danger. When the siege began, she anticipated needing all her persuasive powers to keep the family inside the inn. The simple approach was to confess the bargain she made, but Rahab had no confidence her secret would be safe with her family. Karmot kept no secrets from her brothers, either of whom might choose to give her up to demonstrate his own loyalty to Jericho’s king. Ignoring Sanda’s scowl, she went to the stable to release her goat into the courtyard. After taking her time cleaning the stable, she returned to find her brothers and sisters gone to the field.
“I will go to the temple as soon as the morning chores are done,” she advised Bilda.
Continuing to crush grain, Bilda said, “She will not see you.”
“Rohat has a name.” Rahab threw a shawl over her head and shoulders, primarily to cover the knife sheathed under her left shoulder. When her mother did not respond, she left the inn, taking a water pouch with her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Rahab was pleasantly surprised to be admitted to the courtyard of the Temple of Ashtoreth. How elegant Rohat looked, as she seemed to float down the pathway. “You are persistent,” were her first words of greeting.
“Am I?” Rahab asked.
“Yes,” Rohat said. “You happened to choose a good day to visit me, because I know for certain the Prince is sitting in council with his father. But you must not come to the Temple again, Rahab.”
“He is so important to you, this prince of yours? Worth giving up your family?” Rahab asked, trying not to let her hurt feelings show.
“What family?” Rohat cocked an eyebrow. “Need I remind you how expendable Mother and Father considered me? You and all of our sisters as well.”
“Perhaps our parents do their best,” Rahab said. “We have plenty now, but they struggled for enough food before I began to earn wages.” Receiving no response, she suggested, “Let us stroll.”
“You have always been good to me, Sister.” Rohat took a few steps down the pathway. “I do not wish to upset you. However, you must know as well as anyone I cannot depend on our family. The prince is my security. I trust him to protect me in the coming trouble.”
Following at the required distance, Rahab said, “So you have heard about the Hebrews.”
“Yes.” Rohat nodded. “That is why the king confers with the prince and his noblemen today.”
“Father thinks they will not come, but I am convinced Jericho will be attacked. Does the king hope for the gods to defend us?” Rahab fidgeted with the edge of her scarf.
“They will probably make some public sacrifice to Baal. Maybe even Ashtoreth or Molech, to appease the people.” Rohat shook her head. “The prince does not believe in gods any more than I do.”
All her life, Rahab was taught deities resided in temples. “Are you certain Ashtoreth does not live inside this place?”
“Oh, my poor ignorant sister!” Rohat laughed out loud. “Ashtoreth does not live anywhere. As I have told you before, the goddess is a stone statue, placed by human hands in the center of the great hall.” She pointed toward the temple. “In there, where foolish men gather.”
“Do they pray to her, these men?” Rahab asked.
“Yes, daily. They crouch low and put their foreheads on the ground, just as you or I must do when the king passes by. They sound like a swarm of angry bees, everyone mumbling his own pleas to Ashtoreth at once.” Rohat glanced back. “Why do you ask? Does the threat of war make you wish for something greater than yourself to rely on?”
“Perhaps,” Rahab answered.
Rohat sighed. “Do not delude yourself, Sister. We have only ourselves.”
“What about the prince? You have him.”
“He says he loves me,” Rohat said quietly. “Still, I know he will place his own welfare above mine if a choice must be made. His seven wives also, I suppose. At least I am not placing foolish hope in Ashtoreth.”
“The Hebrews say their God lives and has great power.”
Rohat stopped to caress the petal of a pink bloom. Turning her face toward Rahab, she said, “All believers make those claims for their gods. I have left something for you in this flower pot.”
“What you say is true. Ye
t the Hebrew victories show something more than the might of armies is at work. How else did they defeat the Amorites on the sunrise side of the river?”
“You should not believe everything you hear.” Rohat plucked a pink flower and moved away from the planter. “King Og is alive and well.”
Rahab saw the tiny package wrapped in blue fabric and took it into her hand. “No, I saw the smoke of their cities from across the river. Refugees passing through Jericho stayed at my inn. They all told the same story of King Og’s utter defeat.”
“They lied. Like the emissary from the Hebrews who came to our king, saying they were prepared to show mercy if Jericho surrendered. If their God is so mighty, how was his messenger beaten half to death?” Rohat crushed the bloom in her fist and cast it to the ground. “We are no more significant than a pitiful dying flower. We pop our heads up, thinking we are important, and then we perish.”
Rahab clasped her hands behind her, examining her gift from Rohat by feeling of it. When she caressed the outline of a small, hard object, she glanced left and right, then tucked a hand under her bosom and peered into her palm. “A jewel! Rohat, how did you obtain such a beautiful thing? Surely you want to keep it.”
“It is a topaz.” Rohat shook her dark curls and resumed walking along the stone pathway. “The prince gave it to me. Do you like it?”
“I have never seen anything more exquisite,” Rahab said.
“Some believe the light reflected from the topaz will deflect evil spirits,” Rohat said. “Whether you believe or not, you will see the jewel sparkle in the sunlight and perhaps think of me.”
“Surely the prince will notice you no longer have it,” Rahab said.
“I have many other jewels now. Personal possessions are against temple rules, but as the prince’s favorite I am no longer compelled to let the High Priestess take whatever she wants from me.”
The Scarlet Cord Page 10