The Scarlet Cord

by Carlene Havel

  Benjamin began to speak. “Surely you must recognize—”

  “Forgive me,” Karmot interrupted. “I must hear this answer directly from Prince Salmon.” Rahab desperately wanted to see the faces of the men as they spoke. There was so much she could discern by watching the movements of their hands and eyes.

  “What man would not want to call your lovely daughter wife?” Salmon asked. He was so self-assured when he addressed public gatherings. Yet Rahab heard uncharacteristic nervousness in his voice this evening.

  “However,” Salmon continued. “From my years sitting in judgment, first at my father’s side, and now alone, I have learned beauty is fleeting. A man can grow weary of a pretty wife as quickly as a woman who is plain and spare.” Rahab heard Salmon draw in a breath. “What first turned my heart to Rahab was her faith. She believed the Lord would give us victory over Jericho, even more strongly I must say than some among our own people.” Was he gesturing with his palms up and fingers spread, as he so often did when he stood before the tribe of Judah? “Then there is her courage. Who else was brave enough to help Benjamin and me when we were spies in your city?”

  Could it be?

  “Most men would have been afraid to help us, let alone a young woman,” Benjamin said.

  “And when she was abducted,” Salmon said, his voice becoming stronger. “She made her way across the wilderness with this little soldier.” Rahab heard Karmotil giggle. Did Salmon tickle him? “Hungry and footsore, she nevertheless had the resolve to press on. She was even courageous enough to refuse an army escort.” There was a short silence. Are they eating again? Then Salmon spoke once more. “I have observed the devotion with which you and your daughter hold to our laws, even more than some who own this birthright. To summarize, I admire Rahab. She is a brave woman with bold faith, everything I wish for in a wife. I want her at my side to take this land and build a great nation.”

  How Rahab wanted to reach beneath the curtain, place a restraining hand over Karmot’s mouth, and prevent her next question from coming forth. Nevertheless, she sat silent and helpless as she heard her father’s voice again. “You are aware Rahab was a zonah in Jericho. Will you come to scorn her because of this past?”

  “Out of all the people of Jericho, the Almighty One spared only your family. I cannot believe he joined you—or your daughter—to us so that we might despise you.” After a moment of silence, he spoke again, more softly. “I will never look down on Rahab. I believe the Lord has ordained her to be my wife. If you give your daughter to me, I will cherish her as long as I live.”

  “I can see you have given much thought to this matter,” Karmot said. “In a day or two we will speak on it again.”

  After the rustling sounds beyond the curtain subsided, Karmot said, “They have gone. Come and eat.” Rahab sat stunned by what she heard while her mother and sisters scurried away.

  Hannah took Rahab by the hand and nodded toward the main chamber. “Come,” she said. “And congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Rahab answered. She tossed her incomplete basket aside, not at all concerned the new section contained only uneven, misplaced stitches. She leaned her head back, barely able to keep from laughing aloud. Although she wanted to sit alone and savor Prince Salmon’s words, she obediently followed Hannah.

  Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, Karmot shifted his eyes to Rahab without turning his head. “You heard?” he asked.

  “Yes, Father,” Rahab replied, surprised at the weakness in her voice.

  “And I suppose you wish me to decline this offer?” he asked as he reached for more bread.

  “Oh, no,” Rahab screamed as she threw herself prostrate before Karmot. “You must not refuse, Father. I beg you to accept Prince Salmon. With all my heart I want to become his wife.”

  “Of course you do!” Karmot smiled, jumped to his feet, and clapped his hands. “I knew it all along.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  The days dragged by for Rahab as she prepared for her wedding. At times, she went to the river and squealed with delight at the prospect of becoming Prince Salmon’s bride. On other days, she worried about her ability to conceive a child. In all the time she worked as a zonah, she was never once pregnant. Did this result from her caution, or was she barren? She consoled herself that Rohat was fertile, and surely no two people were ever more alike than she and her twin sister.

  While there was no open hostility with her mother, Rahab was reluctant to share her innermost thoughts with Bilda. Hannah might be willing to listen, but she and Rahab had not yet become close enough to share confidences. Sanda and Masula were too young to understand, and she could certainly never broach the subject with Karmot.

  It was several days before Rahab found a chance to go and sit with her friend. “Ah, good morning,” Milcah called out from the shade of her tent. “No doubt you have come to tell me news I already know.”

  “Good morning,” Rahab said with a smile. “What do you mean?”

  Milcah chortled. “Many a young woman cast her eyes on Prince Salmon in hopes of becoming his bride. That is, until they heard you are now his betrothed.”

  “I am. It is true.” Rahab hugged herself before sitting near a pile of freshly cut grasses. Out of habit, she began to sort the vines according to thickness.

  “Your face fairly glows,” Milcah said, as she continued to work on the basket in her lap. “It is clear you are pleased.”

  “Beyond measure,” Rahab replied. She stretched her arm and grasped her friend’s wrist. “I never dreamed a man such as Salmon would ask for me. I pray he will not be disappointed.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “What if I am barren? If I never give him a child? Will he take another wife to produce an heir?”

  Milcah swiped her forehead with a hand. “You put me in mind of my Aunt Zillah. If there’s nothing to fret about, she will imagine some vain thing to keep in practice.” She resumed her work, but kept her face turned toward Rahab. “Surely you know all of our women are fertile. You are one of us now. You will bear a child.”

  “He may grow tired of me. Or become angry about my past.”

  “Or he may grow horns and eat grass with the goats,” Milcah said with a chuckle. “A husband is a risk, mine as well as yours. Why borrow trouble? Let us enjoy this season of happiness. If the future brings a bitter portion, there will be time enough to taste of it then, without spoiling today. May I offer you some refreshment?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Rahab said, thinking back to the time when Milcah first explained about hospitality. She nibbled at the bread her friend offered. “This is good. I congratulate you on your cooking skills.”

  “Thank you.” Milcah squatted and resumed work on her basket. “Just in time, because Hashabiah will come to claim me as his bride after the next Shabbat.”

  “How wonderful! But how do you know?” Rahab asked. “I thought the exact date was a secret.”

  Milcah laughed. “His mother told me. She is quite a pleasant woman. I believe I shall enjoy living in my husband’s family’s tent.” She glanced around. “One thing is certain, there will be more space.”

  “You are blessed to get a good mother-in-law,” Rahab observed.

  “I agree.” Milcah nodded. “Yet, your situation is not so bad, either. No mother-in-law at all. Normally, this places a great burden of work on a wife, but Prince Salmon has servants.”

  “Does he?” Rahab yearned to know more details about the life she would soon take up. “I wish my hair was longer. It grows fast, but still it is only down to my shoulders.”

  “Did you not tell me Salmon saw your uncovered head when the soldiers rescued you in the wilderness? Your hair was even shorter then, and that was before he asked your father for you.”

  “All true.” Rahab involuntarily fluttered her eyelashes. “But I want to be pretty for him.”

  Milcah grinned. “If I owned your face, I would ask nothing of my hair. And if I had your shape, my face would not
matter.” She cocked her head and stared at Rahab. “You are heart-struck over Salmon.”

  Rahab tried unsuccessfully not to smile. “I am,” she admitted.

  “Is this a new experience for you?”

  “Yes.”

  Milcah set her basket aside and fixed her eyes on Rahab. “You never had a playmate or a friend, perhaps even a cousin, that you adored and yearned to have someday as your husband?”

  “Never,” Rahab replied. “There was nothing to admire in the men I met as a girl. How about you?”

  After a pause, Milcah sighed and said, “There was one. I never told anyone except for my sister, Noah, and now you. But it was not to be.”

  “Did you think he cared for you, the one you wanted I mean?”

  Milcah shrugged. “Who knows? I doubt he was ever aware of my feelings. Needless to say, Hashabiah and his family must never find out.”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Rahab assured her.

  “But you,” Milcah said. “You have a virginal heart. To my way of thinking, this is a better marriage gift than my inexperienced body.”

  Rahab finished sorting the grasses. “I wish I could present both to my husband.” She folded her arms. “But I will bring what I have.”

  “Our best is all we can do,” Milcah said. Then she laughed. “How serious our conversation has become. We are already beginning to sound like old married women.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  One year after the fall of Jericho

  Rahab awoke before sunrise and lay on her mat savoring the delightful thought of her imminent marriage. While no one told her the time was near, the preparations were unmistakable. The family’s best garments were clean and neatly folded away, and Bilda’s treasured red and black pottery was prominently displayed. The contract was done, every detail discussed, reviewed, and settled. A well-dressed, gray-haired servant woman had visited each of the past three days, conferring with Bilda in hushed tones outside the tent. Regardless of the looming excitement, fetching water was necessary every morning other than the Shabbat.

  As she sat upright, Rahab yawned and stretched her arms. She caught herself looking for Karmotil, but quickly remembered he was not there. Her little nephew now slept in a separate compartment of the tent with his father. No longer tagging after Rahab, Karmotil spent his days playing soldier or helping Hannah and Masula with the family’s growing flock of sheep. She slung the water pouch over her arm and slipped into the darkness outside the tent.

  Rahab noticed a human form a short distance behind her family’s tent. Someone was hunched down. “Mother?” she asked softly.

  “Why are you awake?” It was Bilda’s weepy voice.

  Stepping nearer, Rahab whispered, “Are you all right?” When she received no answer, she knelt and put an arm around her mother’s trembling shoulders. “What is wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” she asked. In the semi-darkness, Rahab saw the shifting shape well enough to know they were now face-to-face.

  “Is Kemil ever coming home?”

  Rahab embraced Bilda. “I cannot say.”

  “You will never understand until you have a son of your own. I expect to lose my daughters, one way or another. But Kemil?” She brushed away a tear. “I search for him each morning, every day as darkness falls.”

  “Perhaps he is well,” Rahab said. She hugged Bilda close, feeling her pent-up anger melt away. She felt nothing but pity for her mother’s aching heart.

  “Do you think he is alive?” Bilda turned her face upward.

  “Only the Almighty One knows the answer to such questions,” Rahab said. “Come inside now, and rest.”

  Bilda shook off Rahab’s arms. “No, I will keep watch until sunrise.” She turned her face away from the dim light of the beginning dawn. “Go on to the river. We need water.”

  Rahab hugged Bilda once more, though she felt resistance in her mother’s stiff body. She saw no point in further discussion, knowing Bilda would sit and scan the distant horizon until her daily cooking chores began.

  At Bilda’s direction, Sanda and Rahab took the woven goat hair carpet outside later that morning and shook it vigorously to remove dirt and dust. By early afternoon, every surface inside the tent was cleaned to Bilda’s satisfaction. However, Rahab noticed no preparation was made for the evening meal. When Karmot and Yassib returned early from meeting with their military company, she strongly suspected something was afoot. Karmot’s rule that his daughters speak only when spoken to was no longer enforced in the family’s tent. Nevertheless, Rahab held her peace. Instead of asking questions, she went back to the river and immersed herself. She washed her hair, wishing for some of the sweet perfumes of Jericho to comb through it.

  “Someone should call Masula and Hanna from the pasture,” Karmot said shortly after Rahab returned to the tent.

  “I will go,” Rahab volunteered.

  “No,” Bilda said quickly. “Let me send Sanda.”

  When Sanda rushed away without complaint, Rahab felt certain this was her wedding day. She shook droplets of water from her hair and said, “I think today Salmon will come and claim me as his bride.”

  Bilda looked surprised, but Karmot grinned and said, “Then go and put on your finest garment to prepare yourself.”

  How nice it would be to have just one silver bangle or a pair of earrings, Rahab thought as she slipped into her best linen tunic. Would the prince someday give her jewelry? How little she knew of this man who was now to dominate her life. He seemed kind, even generous, but was he different inside his own tent? Would he pry into her past? Rahab tried to keep her hands from shaking as she fluffed her hair once again. Since he rendered judgments, Salmon must know the law well. Perhaps he will satisfy my unending curiosity about the Almighty One when we sit together in our tent observing the Shabbat. She knew her marriage contract by heart, having overheard the men as they labored over every word. Her husband promised to cherish, protect, and provide for her. What form would these extravagant vows take? Was there hope for her and Salmon to learn to love each other, as Karmot so boldly predicted? Rahab had so many questions, and now there was no time left to ask anything of anyone.

  The groom and his procession arrived at dusk. In a detached way, Rahab was aware of the presence of a crowd. However, her eyes fell on no one but Prince Salmon. She had forgotten how gracious he was, how well-spoken, how handsome and dignified. Yes, as Milcah observed, Rahab was completely heart-struck by the man who would be her husband. While they stood under the canopy, the nearness of Salmon left Rahab weak and breathless. When at last they were alone, he took her in his strong arms and kissed her with more intimacy than anything she ever before experienced. Only one memory from Jericho penetrated her mind on her wedding day—the fortune teller’s mocking taunt from years ago, “You will marry a handsome prince and live happily ever after.”

  POSTSCRIPT

  Rahab and Salmon named their son Boaz. The Bible recounts the tender love story between Boaz and a foreign woman named Ruth.

  Rahab’s great-great-grandson was King David, from whom sprang an impressive line of monarchs, including wise King Solomon.

  She became an ancestor of the King of Kings, Jesus Christ. How unlikely it seems that Rahab the harlot has a role in the story that never ends.

  “For with God nothing shall be impossible.” Luke 1:37, King James Version of the Bible

  Please enjoy this sample from Daughter of the King by Carlene Havel and Sharon Faucheux, available from Prism Book Group!

  “You’re not taking my wife anywhere!” Phaltiel bellowed. He struggled to break free from the soldiers who restrained him.

  “Then we will take your widow.” The soldier tossed an unconcerned glance in Phaltiel’s direction. “It makes no difference to me.” He turned to the woman standing nearby. “You will come with us.”

  “I shall make preparations for a journey of how many days?” Michal struggled to keep her voice calm. The daughter of the king must not show fear.

  “W
e cannot waste time with preparations.” Captain Osh sat straight and tall on his horse. “We will leave as soon as—”

  “There must be some mistake,” Phaltiel’s chief steward interrupted. “King Saul himself gave his daughter to my lord Phaltiel.”

  “King Saul no longer reigns.” Osh glared at the steward. “He is as dead as you and I will be if we fail to deliver the woman Michal soon.”

  Michal addressed her handmaid. “Come, Tirzah, we will gather a few things quickly.” She felt the stares of soldiers all the way across the courtyard and braced herself for the thrust of a spear in her back.

  “We have endured two days of hard riding, Phaltiel.” The authoritative ring of the Captain’s voice filled the courtyard. “Feed my men and see to our animals.”

  Michal breathed deeply to maintain her composure. Was it true her father, King Saul, was dead? Was it possible her dear brother, Jonathan, was now king of Israel? Was there a rebellion? A foreign invasion? Were soldiers, like those in the courtyard, even now rounding up her sister, Merab, and her family? She knew an insurgent ruler could never risk her or her sister’s royal blood flowing into the veins of a legitimate heir.

  Michal forced down her fear as she walked toward the women’s living area. She prayed for courage as she concentrated on keeping her steps steady on the tamped earth of the courtyard.

  The clapping of the chief steward’s hands broke the tension. Servants grabbed water jars to fill the stone drinking trough for the military animals. Others stoked the kitchen fire and made preparations for the soldiers’ meal. Lord Phaltiel’s senior wife, Bida, stood watching the activity. Such excitement rarely intruded upon the mundane life of Gallim.

  Michal quickened her steps to push through the crowd of Phaltiel’s wives, children, and servants streaming into the courtyard. Once indoors, she fought to focus on which of her few possessions she should take.