Noting how matter-of-factly the young woman acknowledged being excess in her household, Rahab asked, “Was your husband killed in battle?”
For the first time Hannah stopped working. “I thought you knew,” she said. “No one has told you?”
“It seems I am always the last to know anything,” Rahab answered.
“He was stoned.” Hannah moved to another peg and began to rock it back and forth. “He cast his eyes on a married woman from another tribe. I suspected him, but said nothing. Then Jonadab—my husband—brought the woman into our tent, and sent me home to my father. I was angry and embarrassed, but my parents decided to take no action.” She stood and rubbed her back for a moment before resuming work. “The other woman’s husband was of a different mind. He brought Jonadab into court, and the judgment was adultery. So he was executed.”
“I am sorry,” Rahab said, wishing for more eloquent words.
“We can start removing the ropes now. We will start from this side and work the other way.” Hannah pointed. “Now, I like to wrap each peg in the rope it goes with. Some say it does not matter. But if you keep everything together, you will always know what goes where, and you will always have the right length of rope. Since the pegs are loose, we can slide the rope off instead of taking the knots out. Saves a lot of work when you put the tent back up.” Hannah demonstrated her method with the first peg. “There is no need to feel sorry for me,” she said. “I knew Jonadab disliked me the day we were married. As soon as he took me into his family’s tent I saw he was disappointed. No doubt you have noticed I am not pretty like my sister.”
Not knowing how to reply, Rahab concentrated on trying to keep up the pace of releasing and wrapping ropes.
“We must keep the pegs in order from the tent’s entrance flap, all the way around,” Hannah said. “How did your husband die?”
“I thought you knew,” Rahab said. Realizing her answer was the same one Hannah gave her earlier, she laughed—and was relieved when Hannah joined in the laughter. “You must be the only woman in the camp who has not heard I was a harlot in Jericho. I wear the widow’s stripe because it is the closest representation of my status. Former status, I should say.”
“A harlot!” Hannah stood still and stared at Rahab. After a moment she stooped to remove another rope and said, “No, I have not heard this. I am often in the field with the flock. When I am with my family I usually eat the evening meal and go right to bed. No has said so directly, but I think my parents feel disgraced because of what happened with my husband.” She shook her head as she wrapped and secured the rope around a peg. “I learned only today I am to marry. Do you mind if I ask what your brother Yassib is like?”
“Tall, rather good looking.” Rahab thought for a moment, not wishing to use the term weak—although the word sprang into her thoughts as soon as Hannah asked her question. “Yassib is gentle, easily influenced perhaps.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-four, I think,” Rahab answered. “Though he might seem older. We grew up fast in Jericho.”
“Stop me if I ask too many questions,” Hannah said. “My mother told me your brother has a son. What happened to his wife?”
“She divorced Yassib just after Karmotil was born. We never saw her again.”
“Last peg,” Hannah said. “Then we will wrap the tent in on itself and make it into a bundle for moving.” Despite her thin arms, Hannah pulled the peg from the earth with one tug. “I never heard of a woman divorcing a man among our people. It is always the husband who puts the wife away,” she said. “Is your brother devout in worshipping the Almighty One?” Hannah dropped her narrowed eyes when Rahab caught her glance.
“Difficult to say. My family is new to your ways. I suppose my father and I are the most interested in learning and obeying the law. Why do you ask?”
Hannah turned her back as she began to fold the tent. “I want to know if I my next husband will betray me with another woman.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Rahab joined the swelling crowd hurrying to welcome the victorious army returning from Ai. Joshua led the soldiers into the camp, all singing a song of praise to the Lord for their success. A shiver of fear coursed through her when she saw herds of livestock were interspersed with groups of men. Chariots stacked high with spoils followed the ranks of men. If Achan was stoned for taking gold, silver, and a garment from Jericho, how would the Almighty One deal with the people who brought this rich booty into the camp? Yet all around her, women were clapping and singing the triumphant song. No one seemed frightened. She scanned the crowd for a familiar face—someone from Matthias’ family or her friend Milcah—but saw no one familiar in the jubilant throng.
Even from a distance, Rahab recognized Prince Salmon as he led the men of Judah into the camp. She admired the confident way he carried himself. She was thinking how handsome Salmon was when his glance swept across the crowd where she stood. For a moment, she felt as though his eyes rested on her, registering recognition. No, she told herself, the prince had no reason to take note of her—unless her safe return to the camp resolved an administrative concern, with one less member of his tribe in jeopardy.
As soon as the soldiers began to melt into family groups, Rahab made her way to Milcah’s tent. “Good afternoon,” Milcah said. “I was hoping you would stop by. I have much to tell you.”
“I am glad I am not intruding,” Rahab replied. “Tell me your news, and then you must help me again to understand the ways of your people. Our people.”
“Have some of my bread and then you must speak first.” Milcah gestured toward a food tray. “Because when I tell you what has happened, it will make you forget everything else.”
Rahab tasted a bit of bread. “This is good,” she said. “Your cooking is advancing much faster than my basket-making.”
“Perhaps I practice more.” Milcah beamed. “Now what is your question?”
“A family was stoned for taking plunder from Jericho,” Rahab said, as she sat beside Milcah under the shade of the tent flap. “Yet the army has returned from Ai with so much livestock I hear every family will receive a portion of sheep.” She swallowed the last of her bread. “No one trembles in fear of judgment. I do not understand.”
“The taking of spoils is not the issue, though I suppose it could appear so.” Milcah continued weaving grass into the sides of a half-completed basket. “The Almighty One gave specific instructions concerning Jericho. Achan flaunted the command, and it was for his disobedience he was executed.”
“Was there something particularly unclean about Jericho?” Rahab asked. “More so than in Ai, making the city’s plunder unacceptable?”
Milcah shook her head and smiled. “You are not listening to what I say. This is all about obeying the Almighty One. If He says not to touch the spoils, or drink the water, or walk on circular stones, we must comply. There may or may not be anything wrong with the stones, or the water, or the valuables—in and of themselves.”
“I do not understand,” Rahab said as she began to sort the pile of grasses lying nearby.
“Well, have you not stated the point?” Milcah asked. She looked up from her work. “We are to obey the Lord even when we do not fully understand why He gives us certain instructions.” Resuming her weaving, Milcah chuckled and said, “If my father were alive, he would say you think too much. However, that is the main reason I so enjoy your company.”
“Thank you,” Rahab said, appreciating the rare compliment. “Did your father ever claim you were too much of a thinker?” Rahab asked.
“Occasionally. Hand me more grass, will you please? This width.” Milcah held up the stub of a fiber woven into her basket. “More often, it was my sister Noah. She always wants everything to make sense.”
“I understand your sister’s wish,” Rahab said. “My parents say I was never the most obedient of their children. However, when I understood why I did much better.” She tossed Milcah the end of a strand of dried grass. “T
his one, I think.”
“Yes, it will do nicely.” Milcah twisted the new strand with the old one and continued weaving the sides of her basket. “The problem with wanting a rationale for everything is that the Almighty One’s purpose is not always clear.” Her hands became still as she looked up at Rahab. “When we fully trust the Lord, and are convinced He is always good, following His commands makes sense—even if it does not.” Milcah resumed work. “Moses often reminded us the law existed to make our lives better. I recommend you start another basket instead of endlessly sorting and re-sorting the same grasses. And now, I cannot wait any longer. I am fairly bursting with news!”
“Oh,” Rahab said, realizing she was moving the basket materials around without thinking of what her hands were doing. “Tell me.”
Milcah sat her work aside. Leaning forward, she took hold of Rahab’s wrist. “My marriage contract is under negotiation.” She sat back, smiling. “And I like him, the man I will be married to. His name is Hashabiah. What do you think of that?”
“Congratulations,” Rahab said, doing her best to sound enthusiastic.
“Think of it, I shall be a wife. I hope to have many children around my table.”
Rahab took a sturdy twig to form the base of a new basket. “What do you know of this Hashabiah?”
“He is from my tribe, of course. His father owns a lot of livestock, and his family has a spacious tent. Best of all, his mother is most pleasant.” Milcah narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “A good mother-in-law is very important, you know. A woman can make her daughter-in-law’s life miserable if she wants to. You must remember this when considering your future husband. When you marry a man, you get his whole family in the bargain.” Milcah took a deep breath and turned her face upward. “Are you not happy for me?”
“If you are pleased, then I am indeed delighted for you,” Rahab replied, keeping her eyes on the basket base beginning to take shape.
“It took so long for my older sisters’ arrangements, I worried my turn would never come.” Milcah declared.
“I have heard the law requiring girls to marry in accordance with their order of birth in the family.”
Milcah shook her head. “No, it is a tradition, not part of the law. Our people follow this custom, but there is no such commandment from the Almighty One.”
“Are you sure of this?” Rahab was careful to avoid her friend’s eyes.
With a shrug, Milcah answered, “My father instructed my sisters and me from the time of my earliest memory. I have heard the law read over and over, many times. So, yes, of this I am certain.” She put her work aside and stretched her arms. “You are still convinced you will receive no offer of a marriage contract. You are wrong in this thinking, my friend. You will.”
“How can you be so sure?” Rahab asked.
“Because every woman is chosen by some man, sooner or later. Somehow it works out and we are all matched into pairs. You will see.”
“Sometimes I wish for marriage,” Rahab confessed. “Yet, just as often, I do not.”
“What does it matter what we want? What life can a woman have if she has no husband?” Milcah pulled her strand of grass in and out around the ribs of her basket. “Besides, do you have no wish ever to have a child?”
“What if I end up with a mother-in-law who hates me because of my past?” Rahab cast her work aside and exhaled heavily. “Or my parents choose a weak-minded man? I dread the thought of subjugating myself to a fool for the rest of my life.”
Milcah’s grin overtook her whole face. “Then you do want to get married, but you want a husband you can respect. I understand your position.”
“My greatest hope is to have my own child,” Rahab said without meeting Milcah’s eyes. “And I do not relish living as a burdensome widow in my family’s tent to the end of my days. Still, I do not want to end up with a man only because he lacks the ability to win a respectable woman.”
“It appears to me you ask nothing more than a strong, brilliant, admirable orphan. As long as you expect perfection, why not demand wealth and good looks as well? Look, my basket is finished.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“Come in, Salmon, come in.” Joshua remained seated on the carpet in his tent, smiling and beckoning with one hand. “It is good to see you.”
“Thank you.” Salmon sat beside his commander. “I know it is late, but I am in need of a brief conversation.”
“I do not consider this time of day late,” Joshua said. “We have not yet had our evening meal. You may join us if you like when we do. What is on your mind, my friend?”
Salmon stared at his knees and flexed his fingers. “I hardly know how to begin,” he said with a quick sideways glance.
“Are you wrestling with a difficult judgment?”
“No, not in the sense I think you mean.” Salmon pressed his lips together firmly. Without moving his head, he cut his eyes toward Joshua. For a long moment the two men sat in silence. “The blessings and curses ceremony was amazing,” Salmon said at last. “We shall remember it always.”
“I hope so,” Joshua replied. “We must never forget we are a special people, and must behave according to the laws given by the Lord.” After a long pause, he added, “Is that why you came to see me?”
Salmon chewed at his bottom lip. “I came on account of something personal.”
“Ah.” Joshua nodded.
“How I miss my father,” Salmon said without looking up.
Joshua waved away a child who opened the entrance flap to the tent. “Not now, little one.” After a pause, he asked, “Are you here because of the same matter weighing on you before the battle at Ai?”
“Yes.”
“And have you prayed?” Joshua asked.
“I have.” Salmon made fists and released them. “More fervently than ever before.” He lifted his eyes to meet Joshua’s. “Perhaps this is not a good time for you. I can return—”
Resting his hand on Salmon’s arm, Joshua said, “I have no pressing business. Speak, my son.”
“I am determined to take a wife.”
“Good. It is about time.” Joshua grinned and withdrew his hand.
Salmon stared at his friend for a moment. “Have I said something amusing?”
“Forgive me,” Joshua said, still smiling broadly. “You have put me in mind of the occasion when my father and I first discussed my marriage. I am seldom at a loss for words. Yet, like you, I suddenly found myself tongue-tied that day. Your generation may think I was never young and heart-struck, but you are wrong. Although our bodies grow worn, a man always carries the springtime of youth somewhere inside, waiting for a pleasant memory to call it forth.” He leaned against a cushion. “Now, tell me all about the woman who will become your wife, and how you chose her.”
“I can only hope she will be mine,” Salmon answered, as he rubbed his hands over his knees. “I fear her father may refuse me. I know he has turned away at least two offers already.”
Joshua shook his head. “I cannot think of one man in this camp who would not welcome you as his son-in-law.” Raising a finger, he added, “However, you must take care not to confuse her father’s name with her mother’s as I did on the first meeting with my in-laws.” He chuckled, then cleared his throat. “Who will speak for you?”
Salmon fingered a tassel of his tunic. “As you know, I have no parents or even an uncle to approach the girl’s family. I always expected my cousin to represent me when the time came for a marriage contract. Now, I think I will engage another spokesman, because I believe Obediah disapproves of my chosen bride. Or perhaps I will speak for myself.”
“Unusual.” Joshua pursed his lips. “Yet not unheard of.” He leaned closer. “Tell me, Salmon, why does Obediah oppose you? Surely he realizes there are competing families who want you to marry their daughters. Someone is certain to be disappointed, and no doubt a few will grumble about your choice.”
Salmon looked directly at his commander. “I will ask Karmot
of Jericho for his daughter Rahab.”
“I see.” Joshua nodded. “Interesting choice.” With one eyebrow raised, he asked, “How did you come to this decision?”
“When Benjamin and I were spying in Jericho, Rahab’s faith impressed me. She trusted the strength of the Lord to deliver the city into our hands. Furthermore, she risked her life on nothing more than our promise to protect her and her family.” Palms up, he made a dismissive gesture with his hands. “The idea of marriage did not cross my mind at the time. Although I must admit I could not fail to notice her lovely appearance.”
When Salmon did not continue immediately, Joshua said, “And then?”
Salmon rubbed his hands over his face as if awakening. “Many times I have pleaded with the Lord to send me a good woman for my wife. As we prepared to go to the battle at Ai, I asked Him to reveal her in such a clear and obvious manner I could not fail to recognize she was the one.” He smiled. “The same day, Rahab came walking across the pathway of our military formation.”
“Are you certain you were not overwhelmed by her beauty?”
Salmon inclined his head toward Joshua. “She was dirty, footsore, and sun-baked.” He leaned back and continued. “My heart ached as I heard of her ordeal. I was seized with a most peculiar urge to wash her face, cradle her in my arms, and whisper tender words of comfort. It was all I could do to tear myself from her side.”
“There are those who will never forget this young woman’s past. Does it concern you some will be critical of her?”
Salmon shook his head. “For her sake, but not for myself. Did not the Almighty One choose this undeserving people for His own special treasure? Who among us has earned a blessing? Besides, I have observed Karmot’s family more carefully than they know. I am confident they adhere to our laws with a diligence lacking in many sons and daughters of Israel.” He took a deep breath and sat up straight. “One thing I have learned by sitting in judgment. The truly repentant sinner leads a more obedient life than those who think highly of their own righteousness.”
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