The Scarlet Cord

by Carlene Havel

“And when the prince rides out to war with his father, the king? What will happen then?”

  “Never borrow trouble,” Rohat said. “Whatever happens, there are always powerful men willing to look after a woman with a pretty face.”

  Rahab gathered her courage to state the reason for her visit. “Rohat,” she said. “Leave this place and come with me to my inn. We will bar the door and help each other when the city is attacked.”

  Rohat turned to stare at her sister. “Surely you know such a thing is not possible. Even if I wanted to come with you, I belong to the temple. I am the goddess Ashtoreth’s property.”

  “You said yourself she is nothing more than a stone statue. Escape,” Rahab lowered her voice to a whisper and edged nearer her sister. “Send the runner on an errand, leaving only the one guard at the gate. I have brought silver to bribe him, and a knife if he does not cooperate. Together we can take him. Hit him over the head, or strangle him with a rope. We can outrun the doormen, and I know of a shed in a nearby courtyard where we may hide until dark. Please, come with me now and be saved. You will be protected at my inn. Anyone who sees you will think they have seen me.”

  “You are serious.” Rohat laughed. “Sister, do you know how many winters have passed since I came to live here?”

  “Seven?”

  “Eight. I have lived half my life within these walls.” Rohat spread her hands. “What would I do outside? How could I live?”

  “I will take care of you,” Rahab said. She reached out for her sister’s hand, but remembered she must not touch her.

  “No.” Rohat put another step of distance between them. “The prince will provide for me.”

  “And if these Hebrews prevail against the king’s army? What then?”

  “Then we will all die.” Rohat shrugged. “But have no fear. Our king can defeat any enemy, and the walls of Jericho will stand against any threat. No, Rahab. Take the jewel, go, and do not come again. I wish you well throughout your life. I will think of you and our little sisters fondly all of my days, which is more than I can say for the others of your family.” Rohat turned and walked swiftly to the temple. When the doormen swung open the double doors, she went inside without a backward glance.

  Rahab hired a cart to take her to the well. She saw no reason to put herself at risk by walking through the most dangerous sections of Jericho alone with a valuable jewel in addition to her hidden bag of silver. A woman and a young girl stood in conversation at the well, their water pouches already full. They moved aside to allow Rahab easy access to fill her pouch, and stopped talking. As she began the walk homeward she heard the girl say, “She must be wealthy. Imagine! Hiring a cart to go to the well.”

  “Rich but stupid,” the woman replied. “Any fool knows to walk when the water pouch is empty and ride when it is full.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Guests? At sunrise?” Rahab asked Bilda. She hurried to the reception area, where Karmot was unbolting the entryway to the inn. Before she could question his action, her brothers and sisters burst inside.

  “Explain!” Karmot grasped his eldest son’s shoulder.

  “The gates are closed to all traffic until further notice,” Yassib said. “The Hebrew army is advancing on the city.”

  “No,” Karmot said. “Someone is spreading lies.”

  “One thing is certain.” Kemil replaced the locking beam across the doorway. “We cannot go to the field this morning.”

  “I am going to the rooftop,” Rahab said, not waiting for an invitation to speak to her father in the presence of her brothers.

  “Yes. The rooftop. The road to the gate is visible there. I will go also,” Karmot replied.

  In the courtyard, Bilda looked up from where she stirred the embers of her cooking fire. She straightened and watched her husband and children hurry past her. Accustomed to the stairs, Rahab raced ahead. Once on the rooftop, she picked her way around a stray bundle of flax and flew into the alcove. Dawn was breaking, shedding light from a cloudless sky. In the distance, she saw a huge, rolling dust cloud. Karmot wedged himself in front of her, while Kemil and Yassib pushed everyone else aside. For some time, no one spoke.

  “I want to see,” Sanda said as she pulled on Kemil’s tunic.

  “There is nothing to see,” Yassib said, brushing his sister’s hand away. “Nothing but dust.”

  “I had no idea there were so many of them,” Karmot said at last. As soon as he turned from the window, his sons and daughters flattened themselves against the alcove’s wall to create a passageway for him. “No idea,” he repeated.

  Kemil and Yassib followed their father from the alcove. Sanda and Masula quickly elbowed each other to get at the window. “Kemil was right.” Sanda sounded disappointed. “Just a lot of dust.”

  Masula looked up at Rahab. “Are we going to die?”

  “No,” she said, hugging her little sister close. “We will survive.” Rahab waited to be the last to leave the alcove, to make certain her scarlet cord was not disturbed. Although Karmot had pushed it to the corner, the long length of rope still hung from the window intact. To her relief, no one in her family questioned the cord’s presence. Rahab wondered how long she would be able to keep her bargain with the Hebrews a secret.

  When Rahab returned to the courtyard, Karmot sat near the cooking fire, his sons squatting on either side. “Kemil and Yassib, take Sanda and fetch all the water the three of you can carry,” he said. “Now, before the rest of the city finds out the Hebrews are approaching.” As his sons prepared to depart, Karmot added, “Rahab and I will buy what food we can before merchants raise their prices. Bilda, bar the door and do not let anyone in until we return.”

  Rahab took three shekels of silver and hurried to join Karmot in the reception room. “Who could know the Hebrews have so many men?” he said as they exited into the street. Crowds thronged the food merchants’ stalls, and the prices were already rising. “The rush has started,” Karmot muttered.

  “Yes,” Rahab agreed. “The shorter lines are for vegetables, but they will spoil in a few days. Will you try to get some nuts? I will wait in the line for dates and cheese.” She offered Karmot a shekel of silver, which he eagerly accepted. The sun began to heat the marketplace, and tempers flared on all sides. A fight broke out at the cheese stall. Afterward, Rahab stood with her right hand tucked under her left arm—grasping the handle of the knife concealed beneath her shawl.

  Only two people remained between Rahab and the date merchant, but the man at the front argued endlessly. “How can you expect me to give you twice what my wife paid for dates only last week?” he demanded.

  The vendor shrugged. “Pay my price or leave. As you can see, I have plenty of other customers.”

  “I will starve if these prices hold.” The old man shook a finger in the merchant’s face. “This is thievery.”

  A woman behind Rahab shouted, “Hurry up, Grandfather. You are delaying the rest of us.”

  “You should be impaled,” the old man grumbled, finally paying for a handful of dates.

  The young woman in front of Rahab asked, “Why is everything so expensive this morning?”

  “Have you not heard?” The merchant stopped loading figs into the woman’s bag. “The Hebrew army is advancing on the city. The gates are closed and no one is allowed to come in or go out.”

  “I thought those people were on the sunrise side of the river,” the woman said. “My husband said they cannot cross because of the swift water.”

  “Apparently your husband was wrong, mira,” the merchant said. “Half a shekel.”

  The woman paid and turned to leave. “No one will ever breach the walls of Jericho,” she said.

  Rahab stepped forward and smiled. “A shekel’s worth, please.” She hoped to earn a generous measure through pleasant behavior.

  “A shekel?” The merchant raised an eyebrow. “I hope you are not hoarding. I hear the king frowns on such practices.”

  With a wider smile, she replied,
“Hoarding? Me? Certainly not. I have a large family, and many people regularly take the evening meal at my inn.”

  “Ah. So you are an innkeeper.” The man’s eyes swept up and down her body. “And a comely one I see.”

  Rahab smiled and paid for her dates, and then went in search of Karmot. To her surprise, he did not resist her suggestion to pay for a cart ride home. “The whole city has gone mad,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  When evening came, Rahab turned her flax as usual. Peeking from the window in the wall, she saw the light of innumerable campfires, not far from the city. “The Hebrew army,” she whispered. Inside the alcove, she crouched in the position of prayer. Putting her forehead on the bare floor, she prayed. “Great God of the Hebrews, the siege is coming sooner than I expected. I ask You to remind Salmon and Benjamin of the promise they made to spare my family. Please make certain they keep their word. Thank you, Sir.”

  At sunrise the next morning, Rahab and Bilda prepared the morning meal as usual. Karmot took a portion of flatbread. Instead of sitting, he walked across the courtyard and ascended the stairway. Soon he returned from the rooftop. “The Hebrew army is marching on the city this morning,” he announced. “They are coming straight down the road toward the gates.”

  No one spoke for some time. “Eat,” Bilda urged her sons.

  “I have no appetite,” Yassib replied. “Father, what shall we do?”

  Karmot chewed on his flatbread. “We wait.”

  “For what?” Kemil studied his bread, turning it over and over.

  “I hope the Hebrews give up and leave, once they understand the strength of our walls.” Karmot shrugged. “Otherwise, there will be war.”

  A whimper escaped from Masula.

  “Have no fear, little one,” Karmot said. “These tent-dwellers cannot defeat the king’s army.”

  “You were convinced they could not cross the river,” Kemil said.

  Karmot raised a finger and opened his mouth to speak. However, at that moment, someone began to pound on the inn’s locked entrance. “Open in the name of the king!” someone shouted.

  As soon as Karmot removed the locking beam, Rahab swung open the door. She did her best to smile at the two soldiers who burst inside. They were strangers, not members of the familiar neighborhood patrol. “Who is the keeper of this inn?” the soldier wearing a blue tunic demanded.

  “I am, sir,” Rahab replied. She tried not to tremble as a frightening thought overpowered her mind. They know I hid the Hebrew spies.

  The soldier’s eyes seemed to pierce into her thoughts. “We understand your rooftop provides access to an opening in the city wall.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. “There is an alcove—”

  “We will see it,” the man in blue interjected.

  “Certainly. Come with me.” Rahab’s body was cold, yet her face felt hot. The sudden weakness in her knees made the trip across the courtyard seem to take forever. Her mother, brothers, and sisters stared as she led the soldiers and Karmot up the stairway. As she stepped onto the rooftop, Rahab pointed to the alcove. “Through there,” was all she managed to say.

  Both soldiers brushed by her and went to the window. Karmot raised his eyebrows and looked at Rahab, but neither of them spoke. Will I be able to persuade them my family did not know about the Hebrews? As she stood waiting to be shackled or stabbed, she became aware of the sound of many footsteps.

  “I hear a strange noise,” Karmot said.

  “The enemy is marching around the city wall,” the soldier in the common buff-colored tunic replied.

  Karmot went into the alcove. “I must see.”

  Rahab edged into the alcove behind the three men. What possible reason did the Hebrew army have for walking around Jericho without attacking? The soldier in the blue tunic stood aside while Karmot peeked through the wall.

  “What is this for?” The soldier turned the handle of the winch that held the scarlet cord.

  “I built it to bring our flax to the roof from the street,” Karmot said. “Let me show you how it works.”

  “No need. Why is it here by the window?”

  Rahab did her best to keep her voice steady. “I buy from vendors who bring their vegetables to the city wall ahead of the sunrise, before the gates are opened. I tie a basket to the end—”

  “See that no one moves this red rope,” the soldier in blue cut in. “I want it to hang outside this window at all times.” Turning to his companion, he said, “When our troops go outside the walls, this will help them get their bearings.” Walking out of the alcove onto the rooftop, he kicked a bundle of flax. “Too bad we cannot eat this,” he muttered.

  Rahab followed the soldiers and her father to the courtyard. Remembering her training to curry favor with the king’s men, she asked, “May we offer you a meal? Some wine perhaps?”

  For the first time the man in the blue tunic smiled. “Not today. When the siege begins, you will be required to house a cadre of my men here. Perhaps then I will stop by and partake of what you have to offer.” Rahab shivered as his eyes went from her face to her toes and back again. He turned and motioned to his companion. “Bring the goat.”

  Rahab waited in silence as the shorter soldier untied her goat. Then she and Karmot followed the men to the door. “Feed the animal well and she will produce milk every day,” she said, grateful Karmot held his tongue. Her relief at escaping arrest overrode the anger she felt over losing a source of milk, cheese, and ghee. At the last minute, the man in blue turned to Rahab. “I can sense you are frightened, mira. No need. We will have these Hebrews running for the hills soon enough. You have nothing to fear as long as the king’s men are on the job.”

  Karmot placed the locking beam in place, then turned and scowled. “Thieves,” he muttered. “A blue tunic means he commands two hundred men. That scoundrel has plenty of silver to buy himself many goats. And lodging his men here at the inn? You can be certain they will never pay a shekel. How can we feed so many people?”

  “I saw you were upset, Father. I am grateful you did not speak harshly to the soldiers.”

  “No.” Karmot shook his head. “Angry words will only bring down more trouble.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “The sun has risen and set five times since those soldiers came to look through the window in the wall,” Kemil said. “I cannot sit idle in this courtyard any longer.”

  Karmot drank from his crock of lentil soup. “Where will you go?”

  “I have no particular place in mind,” Kemil replied. “I only know I cannot remain inside this inn another day.” He drummed his fingers on the stone table.

  “Why not make a trip to the well? We can always use more water.” When Kemil sprang up, Karmot added, “Yassib, go with your brother. Protect each other.”

  When Karmot returned from bolting the door behind his sons, Bilda said, “They should stay. We have water.”

  Rahab was surprised when her father spoke gently. “Yes, wife. I agree with you. But they are grown men.”

  “I like not going to the field every day,” Sanda said with a grin. When everyone looked at her without speaking, she added, “Well, I do.”

  Bilda gave Sanda a shove. “See after Karmotil.” Turning away from Karmot, she said, “They will go beyond the well.”

  “I will turn the flax early today,” Rahab said. Although she normally did this chore in the evening, no one commented. Perhaps they are as weary of my company as I am of theirs, she thought. From the rooftop she heard the now-familiar sound of troops marching around the city wall. Every day it was the same. The Hebrews arrived at daybreak, circled once around Jericho’s perimeter, and then withdrew to their camp before the sun was directly overhead. She went into the alcove and peeked around the window’s edge. The line of Hebrew soldiers stretched beyond her sight in both directions. They marched silently, twelve abreast, carrying their bows and spears, swords strapped to their sides.

  Rahab continued to stare out
the window from her protected place, enjoying the solitude. With no travelers to serve, the days seemed to go by slowly. The expectation of lodging a group of soldiers bothered her. She knew Karmot was correct—the king’s men took what they wanted and never reimbursed anyone. Her main concern, however, was how to keep her family separated from the soldiers when the city fell. She sighed, and began to turn bundles of flax. If the Hebrews’ God was powerful enough to overcome Jericho’s famous walls, surely He knew how to deal with a handful of soldiers inside her home.

  After turning every bundle of flax and stacking them with neat precision, Rahab reluctantly returned to the courtyard. As she feared, her brothers were not yet home. She unrolled the sleeping mats and laid them out to sun. When she went into the stable, she found Masula weeping in a dark corner. “Why are you crying?” she asked.

  “I am scared,” the child replied. “What if the Hebrews come for us?”

  Rahab sat on the straw-covered ground and gathered her little sister into her lap. “There is no reason to be afraid,” she said. “Everything will be all right.” When Masula stopped crying, Rahab said, “Come out into the courtyard and let me braid your hair. Would you like that?”

  Masula nodded and followed Rahab into the sunlight. They sat near the spot where Bilda squatted. “They have been gone too long,” Bilda said, as she pressed dates into cakes.

  Rahab agreed, but did not wish to increase her mother’s anxiety. “There may be a long line at the well.”

  Karmot paced from the reception room, through the courtyard, and back to the entryway, occasionally varying his route by climbing the stairway to the rooftop. At last he sat at the stone table in the courtyard. “Perhaps I will go in search of Yassib and Kemil if they do not return before evening.”

  “Where would you look?” Rahab asked.

  Karmot put a hand across his eyes, rubbing up and down on his forehead. “I do not know.”

  “Kemil likes to go to the fleshpots and watch women dance,” Sanda said.