Pearl in the Sand

by Tessa Afshar

  “Shall we be slaves to the Hebrews if we come and live with you?” His voice wavered, despite his obvious effort to sound calm. Salmone thought he detected fear, even mistrust, but not violence. He willed his straining muscles to relax. The question was a reasonable one.

  “No. You’re not our captives. Your sister purchased your lives and your freedom by saving our men before the war began. You would join us as free people. There is no compulsion for you to join us, however, if you don’t have a mind to. You aren’t in our debt. Your lives were purchased fairly.”

  “And how would we live? We owned a small plot of land before … in Jericho, I mean. We made our living as farmers. How shall we feed our families if we join you?”

  Salmone shrugged. “Your young men will go to battle with the rest of the men. You shall have a share of the land and plunder same as the others. Your women and children will stay at our camp and help with daily upkeep.”

  Several of them gasped at once. “Battle?” one of them choked.

  Well what did they expect—that their Canaanite origin would exempt them from unpleasant chores? What did they think joining another nation meant?

  “If you join us, we will expect you to live as one of us.”

  Rahab who had moved to stand behind her brothers stepped forward again. Her voice was so soft Salmone had to strain to hear it. He noticed that she avoided his gaze. “My lord, my brothers and father have never been trained for war. They are skilled farmers. I have been told that some of you will be settling in the land that was once Og’s and Sihon’s. Will you not need to till the land and work it soon? Having traveled most of your lives, you may perhaps find farming a challenge. If your men are gone a good deal of the time, the heavy work of the farms will fall on women who have no experience. You would lose much in the process of learning. My brothers and father could be of tremendous help, teaching your people agricultural skills. They are familiar with the land in this area—the crops that grow well and those that perish. They understand what feeds the ground and what drains it. Would it not be an advantage to Israel to use their farming knowledge rather than waste their lives in battle for which they haven’t been trained?”

  Salmone threw her a sharp glance. In a few moments, she had managed to establish her family as an indispensable commodity to Israel, while also giving a notable reason for them to avoid fighting. And not once had she resorted to using anything like feminine wiles, which he would have renounced with some pleasure. He was astonished to find her blush under his scrutiny. She lowered her eyelids; it made him stare at her even harder. Never had a woman so utterly puzzled him. Or drawn him. The thought almost made him groan. He wanted to run as far away in the opposite direction as his legs would carry him, and then borrow another set of legs and run those ragged too.

  Chapter

  Nine

  Rahab studied Salmone surreptitiously. He stood rigid, hands balled into fists at his sides, teeth clenched, surveying Rahab and her family the way a shepherd might survey a pack of flea-riddled wolves. That he had no love for them he did not bother to hide. The only thing colder than his manners were his words. With one breath he delivered the best news she had ever heard in her life; with another, he berated her like the very sight of her offended his senses.

  When Salmone announced that he would be their leader, her heart dropped to her feet. There was a strength about Salmone that she found intimidating. Years of wandering the desert had made his tall frame lean with muscle, and recent battles had made him keen. But it wasn’t his physical power or even the stony good looks that she found so imposing. He had a penetrating quality in the way he gazed at you, like he took a dagger and dissected your deepest being without mercy. Judging by the hard line of his mouth, whatever he found in Rahab gave him no pleasure. Though she tried to hide inside her brand-new respectable clothes, Salmone made her feel like a misbehaving child.

  After being upbraided with such harshness, Rahab locked her mouth tight and spoke as little as she could. Until he casually released this last thunderbolt: her brothers were expected to go to war alongside the rest of Israel.

  She had thought of this possibility during the long waiting hours. What else could Israel expect of them? What better way to prove their good intentions and fidelity? She never told her family of these suspicions; instead, she bent her mind to finding a solution. So while everyone else was startled by Salmone’s pronouncement, she stepped forward to give her speech. It took her entire courage to speak before him. Inside, she was sick with dread. If her brothers’ lives weren’t at stake, she would never have opened her mouth in front of this man.

  She dared not look him in the eye, but she couldn’t resist peeking at him from beneath her eyelashes to try and gauge his response. His face was as unreadable as the Sphinx. His eyes burned into her as she finished, and she felt herself blushing. She bit her lip, wanting to kick herself for this ridiculous return to shy girlhood.

  Salmone crossed his arms and took one step back. “And you thought of this argument just now, I suppose.”

  Rahab had promised herself that she would start right with these people if they accepted her. She knew the Lord would want her to speak truth, but telling the truth just then was like carving out her own tongue and handing it over as a goodwill present. She feared that this haughty Hebrew lord would think her a schemer for preparing a clever speech. She was sure that if she told the truth about her foresight and planning, he would think the worst of her. And she so desperately longed to give a favorable impression. To be accepted and well received. O Lord, help me honor You.

  Rahab took a deep breath. “No. I have been thinking about it through the night.”

  She noticed his sharp inhale. A dark eyebrow arched after a moment. “Who told you that the men would have to go to war?”

  “No one told me. I surmised it. You could expect no less of us than of your own people. More, if anything. Newcomers must prove their loyalty.”

  He uncrossed his arms. “Your suggestion has … merit.” It seemed to her that he begrudged his own admission. “I’ll think about it,” he said after a moment of pause.

  “In the meantime none of you can enter the camp without learning the basics of the Law. Ezra, since you are here already, you might as well start with the fundamentals. Miriam, after Ezra is done with the Ten Commandments, why don’t you instruct the women while Ezra teaches the men some of the more particular precepts of the Lord? You can return to the camp together later this evening.

  “Make certain to speak to them in our dialect. Even though our languages share the same root, the differences in our dialects would make communication difficult for them once they arrive in Israel’s camp. We cannot continue speaking to them in their speech, for few would extend that favor once they join Israel.”

  He turned to Rahab for a moment, and she thought he would speak more. He changed his mind, though, and turned to her older brother, Karem, instead. “How many days’ supplies do you have?”

  “A week’s worth of food—more if we are careful. We are short on water.”

  “I’ll send water daily, and food when you need it. You have no tent, I see.”

  “We couldn’t carry anything large during our escape. Anyhow, we’re all right. The evenings are mild, and we have blankets.”

  “They’re mild now. But come winter, you’ll need appropriate shelter. Do you have gold or silver enough to buy a tent or two? Once you move into our camp, you’ll find you shall need it.”

  Karem’s brows knit in thought. “I’ll see what we have between us if we pool our resources.”

  Salmone nodded. He turned to leave, hesitated, then turned back again. “Please understand. This step that you are taking is a life-and-death one. You are choosing to change your whole way of living. Completely. Count the cost before you commit yourselves to this thing.” And then he left, not giving them a chance to bow or curtsy their respect.

  Rahab sat down hard on the sand, realizing for the first time that her
legs felt wobbly. She put her head on her knees and tried not to cry. What was this longing to be part of Israel? What was this desire that ate at her with a passion unequal to any she had ever known? Her family still longed for Jericho. Still mourned the life they had lost. It was different for Rahab. Other than tearful thoughts of her friend, Debir, Rahab never thought of her lost home. Her whole mind had become consumed with Israel.

  Yet Salmone’s warning was a fair one. What did she know about life in Israel? Still, for all the threatened dire consequences, she found herself more determined than ever to become a true worshiper of the Lord God.

  A soft hand touched her shoulder making her jump.

  “I’m sorry,” Miriam said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “My thoughts plagued me. An interruption is welcome.”

  “Don’t let Salmone worry you. My brother doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes. He has a good heart. He’ll do right by you and your family. Besides, Joshua himself has decreed that you can join us.”

  “Do you think I can really learn to fit in with your people?” Rahab asked, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice. She did not spell out her thought—she didn’t say a zonah like me, but the implication was hard to miss.

  “Of course you can. Anybody can see you already love the Lord. You are valiant and true to your word. You care for your family. These are qualities that my people treasure. It may not be easy at first. Not everyone is kind to outsiders. The worst of it will pass with time, though, if you persevere.”

  Rahab almost broke her reserve and hugged Miriam for her kindness, but a last-minute concern that it might be deemed unacceptable behavior in Israel made her contain the impulse. Instead she just smiled with awkward self-consciousness.

  Throughout that day, Ezra and Miriam taught them about the Lord and the laws that governed Israel. Rahab listened with intensity and tucked every new piece of knowledge in her memory to ponder over later.

  “So who is your king?” Joa asked partway through a discourse on leadership.

  “The Lord is our King,” Ezra replied.

  “Yes, yes. But who is your earthly king?”

  “We have no earthly king.”

  “Then who is your prince? Is Joshua a prince? Or Salmone?”

  Ezra shook his head. “We have no kings or princes. The Lord has anointed Joshua to lead Israel. There are twelve tribes, and each tribe has its own leader. The leader of the tribe of Judah is Caleb, who is Joshua’s age and a man of stout heart. Under the heads of the tribes, we have leaders and officers of the people. We have commanders of thousands, which is what Salmone is, and under them we have commanders of hundreds. Then we have heads of families. We bring our disputes to judges. There is no need for kings, who can become despots, and princes, who can grow vain and cruel.”

  Imri shook his head. “I’ve never heard of the like.”

  “It works well. Our respect for one another rises out of our trust in the Lord. Joshua has proven himself a mighty man a hundred times over by now. But the real reason we trust and follow him into gravest danger is that we know the Lord has chosen and empowered him.”

  Izzie squirmed a little closer. “So if you have been traveling for almost forty years in the wilderness, you can have no houses. No shops. No temples. No roads. No walls. How do you manage?”

  Miriam didn’t quite grin, Rahab noted, but a dimple peeped at the side of her mouth. “We do have a sanctuary for the Lord—a tabernacle. You are right though; it isn’t a temple as you are accustomed to, though it is far grander than it sounds. There are curtains of twisted linen in blue and purple and scarlet, with cherubim worked into them, and many articles of gold and silver marvelously wrought. Yet it is God Himself who makes the tabernacle awesome to behold, for the presence of the Lord when manifested is more wondrous than the greatest temple carved by human hands.” Rahab’s heart trembled at these words. The thought of one day entering the tabernacle of the Lord, experiencing His glory and being touched by His presence rendered her both terrified and filled with delight.

  “We live in tents instead of homes,” Miriam continued. “Some are very large and comfortable. Everything has to be mobile, so we have few pieces of heavy furniture outside of those things that have been consecrated for the Lord’s use. We have no shops. Men and women barter amongst themselves.”

  Izzie’s eyes brightened. “I can weave well.”

  Miriam bent a little closer and touched Izzie’s robe. “This is beautiful. Did you weave it yourself?”

  She nodded. “It took half a year. I wove these patterns that you see at the edge right into the fabric. It’s not painted.”

  “How delicate and soft you have managed to make it. What is it made of?”

  Rahab noticed her sister’s cheeks colored with pleasure. “I wove wool and linen together.”

  An odd look crossed Miriam’s face. She bit the corner of her thumb and looked over to Ezra. He was busy talking to Imri. Rahab could tell that something was bothering Miriam, though she couldn’t understand what it might be. Her sister seemed to miss the rising tension and discoursed happily on the virtues of mixing various yarns. Miriam seemed to grow more dismayed by the minute.

  Finally, during a silent interlude Rahab asked, “Miriam, may I speak with you alone for a moment?”

  She nodded and followed Rahab to a corner of the camp where they stood under the scanty shade of a palm. “Miriam, will you tell me what is wrong? It’s plain something is bothering you.”

  She groaned. “Your poor sister. I haven’t the heart to tell her.”

  “Tell her what?”

  “Her robe. She can’t wear it when she joins us. We are forbidden to wear clothes of wool and linen woven together. And she’ll have to leave behind everything else of mixed fabric. Such beautiful workmanship. Oh, Rahab, your poor sister.”

  Rahab opened her mouth and closed it again. Izzie was bound to take this hard. She had worked long hours on that robe. It wasn’t as if she had dozens of garments. And she had salvaged the best from Jericho’s ruin.

  “I’m so sorry,” Miriam said Rahab bit her lip and thought for a moment. “It can’t be helped.”

  Back with the others, Rahab tackled the problem right away. “Izzie, dear, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” she began, inwardly preparing herself for some emotional thunderbolts. “In fact this goes for all of us. We won’t be allowed to wear garments of wool and linen woven together. We can only bring those things that are made of one or the other.”

  “What?” Her sister’s yelp brought every eye on them. “What are you talking about?”

  Miriam stepped forward. “I’m so sorry. Your robe is beautiful. I’m sure every woman in Israel would admire it as much as I. Only, you see, we aren’t allowed to wear clothes that are woven with a mix of wool and linen.”

  “Why in the name of all the gods not? That’s ludicrous!”

  Ezra lost a bit of color at that first exclamation. Rahab could read confusion and distress in his expression. She supposed he was trying to figure out why a woman who had lost home and hearth with a certain amount of aplomb would lose her composure over one measly garment.

  Into the shocked silence, Ezra said, “Pardon me, I pray. I can see that this is very difficult for you. But please, you must understand if you wish to live amongst us, you must learn not to resort to expletives about other gods, even in anger or carelessness. And if that were the name of the Lord you were taking in vain, it would be even worse, as I explained this morning.”

  Izzie looked at him as though he had grown a donkey’s tail. “We are discussing my robe,” she stated, her voice only a shade warmer than ice.

  “Yes, but …” Miriam put a restraining hand on Ezra’s arm and he fell silent. Rahab started taking deep breaths to try and calm herself. Would they tell Salmone? Would he come to the conclusion that they were beyond reform and ban them from joining Israel? This was proving to be so much more convoluted than she expected.

>   Miriam walked over to Izzie and took her hand. “It must seem unreasonable to you, Izzie. I would feel the same if I stood in your place. There is a principle behind this requirement, though. Let me explain it to you, because it’s going to apply to almost every part of your life with us. The Lord has called His people to be set apart for Him. We are to belong to Him, and follow only His ways and plans. We are not to be like other people. He knows how quickly influenced the human mind is. It would be so easy for us to start chasing after Canaanite beliefs. So the Lord has given us these outward rules to help us remember every day that we belong to Him and no other. That we must be different in our thinking and actions from the world around us.

  “Some even say that by forbidding the mixing of different threads, God is symbolically reminding us that we cannot mix with people of other faiths. I do not understand such mysteries. What I do know is that I would rather obey the Lord without understanding than follow my own limited knowledge.

  “Perhaps a day might come when God’s people will no longer need these outward reminders. Perhaps one day, He will write His Law on our hearts and we shall be able to give up living by these stringent rules. Until such a time, however, we must abide by His will.

  “It is a sacrifice we choose to make for His sake. We know He isn’t being cruel when He directs us in these minute details of life. He is being a protective Father who wishes to keep His easily misled children out of trouble. In these daily acts of obedience, we learn the larger principles of a righteous life.

  “The Lord knows how much it will cost you to give up that robe, Izzie. But you will make His heart glad if you do.”

  Rahab drew closer to her sister and gave her an enveloping hug. “Do it for the Lord. Don’t do it because of the rules, or because of Israel. If you do it for Him, you will have joy. If you do it for them, you’ll end up with a lot of resentment.”