“Tell us,” said Rahab after Moriyah closed the door, “what do you mean that the Hebrews are coming to take this city? When?”
“We have not been told when, only that it will happen. We have been sent, by Yehoshua himself”—Shaul lifted his chin, obviously full of pride that he had been chosen from all the men of Israel—“to spy out this city and report back as soon as possible. Our mission is secret. Only Yehoshua knows we have come.”
Rahab refilled Peniah’s wine cup. “Do you actually think you can take this city?”
He looked her up and down with a little smirk, one that trumpeted his opinion of her. “Edrei, the stronghold of King Og, was no match for our army, and Heshbon, the mighty fortress of Sichon and its surrounding cities, are now inhabited by Hebrew families. Yahweh goes before us. This city will fall as well, one way or the other. Even the treachery of the Moabites could not deter us.”
“The Moabites? I thought Mosheh wanted to avoid conflict with them. Aren’t they related to Avraham as well?”
“Indeed they are,” said Shaul. “But the Moabites and Midianites conspired together to send in their women to ensnare our men and entice them into worshipping their foul gods. Sent their own wives in as traders to trick us into participating in their perverted practices. Unfortunately, many fell victim to the ploy.” His eyes narrowed as he thunked his cup onto the table, red wine splashing over the lip. “Nearly twenty-four thousand of our own were struck down as a result of their rebellion. A final culling of the multitude before we set foot into the land.”
I barely restrained a gasp. Twenty-four thousand? Was Tobiah among those losses? Surely not. Tobiah had nothing but respect for women, and the laws of Mosheh. I could not imagine him being lured in such a way. Besides, he must be married to Keziah by now. He would be safe. He must be safe.
Struck with a sudden need to see my daughter and to escape the red-tinged shadows of the battlefield that swirled in my head, I left the room, furious at the tears that burned behind my eyes.
I found Natanyah snuggled against Moriyah on the bed, asleep with her little arms over her head and sweet mouth pursed. How did the sea of love I felt for such a tiny being expand its borders every time I saw her? After kissing her forehead, I sat next to the bed, leaning against the wall and folding my arms across my bent knees. I didn’t have the heart to say anything to Moriyah about the devastating losses the Hebrews had sustained.
Rahab had trimmed the girl’s hair into a more attractive style, and she had grown in the few months since we’d been captive in this house, womanly curves beginning to fill out her figure. Her family would barely recognize her.
“Can you believe it?” Moriyah whispered, her silver-gray eyes shimmering with excitement. “Hebrew men, here, in this house? Yahweh must be providing a way for us to return home.”
Did I have a home anymore? Tobiah had been my home for those months among the Hebrews, and the house I had been born in had been given to Dagan. I was Canaanite, no longer married to a Hebrew who would protect me. If the Israelite army came through to destroy this town, would I be counted among the dead? Would Natanyah? Moriyah?
No. At the least, I must find a way to return Moriyah to Tzipi and Tobiah. Would the spies take her with them? A flutter of regret at sending her away unfurled itself in my chest. I had come to love this Hebrew girl. Her guileless ways, her strange near-prophetic perceptions, her willingness to forgive me when there was no reason to do so . . . She seemed almost like a daughter to me now, even if I was only a few years older than she.
I stood quickly and strode back into the room where the men still sat around the table with Rahab and my mother, interrupting their conversation. “You must take Moriyah with you. She needs to be back among her people.”
“We cannot. I don’t even know how we will make it out of here alive.” Shaul crossed his arms. “We were spotted in the marketplace, I am sure of it. There were two men watching us very closely as we spoke with your mother. It’s one of the reasons we stopped here to ask for lodging, hoping to make it seem that we were soliciting a woman, not spying for the enemy.”
Peniah wiped his lips with the back of a hand. “There is no way we could escape with a girl between us, even dressed like a boy. We will have to find a way around Jercho’s army.” He gestured to the east. “We traveled along the shore of the Salt Sea in the middle of the night to approach from the south. Getting out of this city and back across the river will be difficult enough.”
“I have a better idea,” Rahab interjected. “Save all of us.”
Shaul laughed. “If we cannot take one girl, we certainly cannot take all of you.”
“No, I do not mean now.” My sister’s brown eyes sparkled. “When you return, you must spare this household.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
“There must be some sort of signal we can make, to ensure that your people know to spare us.”
My mother put a hand on Rahab’s arm. “How do we even know that they will succeed? Jericho has been attacked before, and never has she been taken.”
“Were you not listening, Mother?” said Rahab. “They defeated Og, Sihon, the Midianites, and numerous other armies that came against them. Not to mention that Egypt was brought to its knees. You’ve heard yourself how terrified everyone is in this city. Their God is powerful. And I believe—”
“Believe what?” My mother’s voice was small.
“I believe that this God, this Yahweh, spoke to my sister”—Rahab rested her large brown eyes on me—“and told her that he had a plan. Otherwise, I do not believe she would be here now, with Moriyah and Natanyah, especially now that these men are here. There is a reason.”
“It certainly is a coincidence,” my mother said.
“It is no coincidence,” I said. “These men were sent here by Yehoshua. Yehoshua is second in command to Mosheh, who talks with Yahweh himself.”
“Mosheh is dead.” Peniah put his cup down and dropped his eyes.
“What?” I gripped the edge of the table. “How can that be?”
Shaul sighed. “It is true. Mosheh went to the summit of Har Nebo and did not return. Yehoshua inherited the authority of Mosheh and is in command of us all.”
The front door crashed open and Ohel, who had been standing guard, strode in. “There is a commotion down the street. They are looking for these men. Going house to house.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “They will kill us all if they are found here.”
“Quick,” Rahab said. “To the roof. I can hide you there.” She led them to the ladder that leaned against the wall. “There is a hatch here, follow me.”
The three of them climbed the ladder and then she returned within a few minutes to tell us that they were well hidden among the drying flax bushels on the rooftop.
The ladder was concealed under a few blankets and pillows on a bed made up to look like no one had touched the linens, and all trace of the large meal spread on the table was taken away. I tucked my bright hair beneath a green linen headscarf and Rahab painted my eyes and lips with an expert hand before moving on to Moriyah’s. I prayed that Mishabel had long forgotten the two of us, but we could not chance recognition. We must look as if we worked downstairs, no matter how much it made my stomach turn to see Moriyah disguised in such a way.
The four of us women waited in silence, until someone pounded at the door with such force that the hinges wobbled.
Ohel stood to approach the commotion, but Rahab shooed him away. With a measured calmness that I envied, she brushed the hair away from her face, checked her kohl in the copper mirror, and walked across the room with her head held high, even as the pounding and shouting continued. How was this woman three years younger than I? She had the backbone of a queen and the resolve of a warrior.
As soon as she opened the door, soldiers pushed her out of the way and poured through the doorway.
One, a commander, yelled at Rahab. “Where are the spies?”
; “Spies?” she said. “What are you talking about?”
“We received a report from one of your neighbors that two men were seen coming here a few hours ago.”
“My dear, lots of men come here.” She touched his arm with a tone smoothed by practice. “In fact, a few have already been here today. But they left”—she winked—“plenty satisfied.”
The commander narrowed his eyes. “And were they all Canaanite?”
She feigned deep thought. “Hmm. I really couldn’t tell you. We didn’t talk much.”
A few of the soldiers snickered, and the commander barked at them to be quiet. “We are looking for two Hebrews.”
Rahab’s eyes widened with innocent horror as she clutched her hands together. “Hebrews? You mean those crazy slaves who follow a cloud? The ones who defeated King Og?”
“Two of them were spied in the marketplace today, speaking with a whore.”
She looked at me. “Sister? Those two men who came by earlier. The ones with such foreign accents? You don’t suppose they were Hebrews? They were so quiet.”
What was she doing? I shrugged my shoulders at her.
“They did seem to be in quite a hurry. They ate a meal and then left, without even staying to enjoy the inn’s amenities.” A seductive flutter of lashes delivered the meaning of her statement.
“Where did they go?” The commander stepped closer, his eyes blazing. “How long ago was this?”
“Oh, about three hours ago, just before the gates closed for the evening.” Rahab pointed at the window. “My daughter watched them run toward the river.” She smiled with maternal pride. “Always watching, my little Amaya. She counts the travelers coming in and out of the gates all day long. Why, just yesterday she told me a story about a camel sliding off the ramp—”
“We will be searching this house now,” he interrupted, gesturing to his men to follow his orders.
“You are welcome to.” She waved a hand, giving them permission to have free rein. “All you will find is a few women and a couple of children. And of course my bodyguard. Any guests we entertained before are long gone now.”
All the commotion had woken Natanyah, and she howled with hunger. I took the opportunity to take her into the bedroom and sat on the bed containing the ladder to nurse her, my legs folded beneath me in an approximation of comfort. A young soldier came in, searching behind the scarlet curtain, but with a quick perusal of my activity on the bed, he left, without asking me to move. Liquid relief eddied through my veins.
I heard the commander question Rahab again. She gave them false descriptions as the soldiers spent a few more minutes searching the house, but when no men turned up, they left, without ever noticing the hatch built into the ceiling. A miracle if ever there was one.
Rahab waited until the sun had gone down to retrieve Shaul and Peniah from the roof. “You must go now,” she said as she backed down the ladder. “That commander was far too suspicious. I cannot put my girls in any more danger.”
“How will they escape? The gates have been locked for hours,” I said. “They are being looked for in the streets. It’s too dangerous, even in the dark.”
Rahab looked out at the last reflections of the sunset against the low eastern clouds. Then her eyes brightened. “The window.”
Rahab ordered Ohel to retrieve the ropes the flax bundles on the roof had been tied with, and we knotted them together with the red cords from the curtains. Although it would reach only halfway down the wall, the rope was the only chance for Shaul and Peniah to escape into the moonless night. As tempted as I was to once again beg them to take Moriyah, she would likely break her leg leaping from such a height and put all three of them in more danger.
Rahab gave the men instructions not to return the way they had come, but instead to run north and hide in the hills three days before returning to the Hebrews, for they would no doubt be hunted by the king’s men.
Peniah descended first as Rahab, Shaul, and I held the end of the rope. After a few moments of burning palms and measured breaths, the rope went slack as Peniah released his grip. We waited, wide-eyed, listening for any commotion at the foot of the wall. I prayed that Peniah had made it safely across the deep ditch that encircled the city and was waiting for Shaul in the almond grove as they had planned.
Rahab snagged Shaul’s arm before he climbed onto the sill. “You must promise to save us.”
Shaul nodded. “I will tell Yehoshua himself of your kindness and insist that he protect you.”
“How will they know who we are? If you Hebrews breach the walls, we will be killed in the chaos.”
He scrubbed at his jaw and looked around. His face brightened as he gripped the curtain that fluttered in the evening breeze. He pointed at the red cord braided with the papyrus rope that would aid his escape. “Hang this outside your window. It will be easily seen from far off against the stone. Everyone will be told to spare the inhabitants of the house that displays this blood-red cord.”
Rahab studied his face for a moment. “How do I know that you will do such a thing? What if you forget?”
Shaul’s lips pursed and a crease formed between his brows, his expression solemn. “I give you my oath in the name of Yahweh, you and anyone inside this home will be spared.” He raised his palm, skin shredded by the rough rope his friend had just escaped by. “May my own blood attest to this oath.”
Rahab’s eyes flitted to Moriyah with a squirming Natanyah in her arms and then touched on her two little daughters huddled on the bed together. She reached out to grip Shaul’s bloodied hand. “I believe that you will do what you say you will do. Your God brought my sister here to tell me of this Yahweh and of his mighty power and his love for his people, and somehow . . .” She turned her eyes to me, new emotion shining through the shadows. “Somehow, I believe.”
39
Tobiah
1 NISSAN
1406 BC
The nation of Israel spread out along the riverbank for as far as the eye could see, ordered by tribe and clan, waiting for the signal that would end our forty years of wandering. Two thousand cubits to the north, the priests who carried the ark stood at attention, white robes fluttering and eyes trained on their destination.
We had been told to prepare ourselves to ford the river this morning when the shofarim sounded the call. The swift water had days ago overcome its banks, runoff from the white-capped mountains we’d seen in the north. For days men had hacked away the tall rushes that lined the banks, leaving us with a relatively clear view of the opposite shore—Canaan, at last.
Earlier this morning I’d seen Shira on the bank of the swollen river, her small arm around the waist of her Egyptian friend. Too far away to hear what the two women were discussing, I considered the long journey they had taken to come to this spot, to the very edge of the Land. What stories they must have to tell.
The last words from Mosheh, before he ascended a mountain one final time, still circled through my mind. He had spent the last days of his life recounting the trials in Egypt, the subjugation of Pharaoh, the wilderness wandering, and the laws that would protect our nation and our lives. It was hard to imagine my parents suffering under such oppression but almost as difficult to believe the generation before us had been so cowardly at the gates of their inheritance. I believed Mosheh’s last words with everything in me. Our enemies would indeed cringe before us, and we would trample down their high places. And looking around at the other Children of the Wilderness, faces expectant, heavily armed and practically twitching to move forward, I knew I was not the only one.
If only Shimon were here to experience this moment, this culmination of the grand journey. Tzipi stood nearby, her brown hair whipping her face in the cool breeze coming off the river, her arms around her three boys, boys who would become men in the Land without the benefit of their father’s guidance. I would do all I could to fill the immense hole, but there would be gaps, to be sure.
I had already worked out with Tzipi how we would get th
e boys across. I’d come back for each one in turn, and then her and the wagon. Hopefully all of our belongings would not be swept downstream. I trusted Yehoshua’s leading, but I anticipated that crossing here would be chaos and wondered why we had not moved forward in the winter, when the flow had been more amenable. But I was determined not to question and prayed no one else would either. Hopefully we had learned well from the example of the ten spies whose cowardice had cost us all so much. I refused to spend another forty years wandering, I was ready to dig roots deep into the soil of the beautiful land across the river.
The shofarim lifted a synchronized melody into the air, the sound causing the hair to lift on the back of my neck. A few sheep lent their calls to the sound of the rams’ horns, and cattle and donkeys brayed as if they, too, were ready to move, heedless of the rushing river they must cross to reach the sweet grasses of the Promised Land.
A low rumble began somewhere nearby, the vibration of it traveling through the ground. Before I could place the origin of the sound, the earth shook with a curious rolling sensation that caused me to lower my body and widen my stance to keep from falling. Children and animals screamed all around us, and I whipped my head around to ensure Tzipi and the boys were safe. My sister’s arms were a protective circle around my nephews as they huddled together in the dirt. Throughout the chaos, the shofarim blew.
After one more violent jerk, the ground stilled, as did the ram’s horns. For a few moments we all stood silent, waiting for another shaking, but none came. Everything had returned to normal, as if the earth hadn’t just growled and quivered like a beast awakening from slumber.
Wings of the Wind Page 24