This Scarlet Cord

by Joan Wolf

  “The prince will complain,” Arazu said. “He is counting on Arsay to expose Makamaron’s inability.”

  “He may complain, but there will be nothing he can do.”

  Arazu nodded. “Good, then. We discredit Arsay, then bring this girl forward. We can buy the father off if necessary, but he should be delighted. He wants her to make a good marriage, and once she has stood in the place of Asherah, no woman will be more exalted. She will have her pick of the young men of the nobility.”

  “It’s a good plan,” the treasurer agreed. “But we must show the girl to Makamaron first. He is the only one who can name her as his hierodule.”

  Arazu nodded. “What was the girl’s name again?”

  “I believe the farmer called her Rahab.”

  Fourteen

  WHEN RAHAB AND HER FAMILY ARRIVED HOME, THEY found Sala and Lord Nahshon waiting in front of their door. Lord Nahshon told Mepu he wished to speak to him, and Mepu invited him inside. Shemu followed them but Sala remained outside with Rahab. Atene, seeing this, remained behind to chaperone.

  Sala said to Rahab, “Your mother said you had gone to see Lord Arazu. Please don’t tell me your father actually allowed you into that man’s company?”

  Rahab, who was trying to quench the thrill the sight of him had produced in her, gave him a haughty stare. “What my father does is no concern of yours, Sala.”

  His nostrils flared. Clearly he was in a temper. Too bad, Rahab thought. He can’t insult me and then think he can tell me what I can and cannot do.

  Sala said, “I am concerned because I care about your welfare. A noble like Arazu is not interested in you as a marriage prospect, Rahab, although he might well want you for something else, now that you have been flaunted before him.”

  Suddenly Rahab was furious. “My father is not flaunting me in front of anyone! And don’t pretend that you care about what happens to me. I have no intention of defiling you by expecting you to marry me, and my father has every right to present me to whatever man he deems suitable. All I want from you, Sala, is for you to leave me alone so I can forget you ever existed.”

  The two of them glared at each other.

  Atene said, “Lower your voices. You are attracting attention.”

  Rahab glanced around, then looked back at Sala, prepared to continue the battle with a muted voice. She stiffened with surprise when he took her hand in his and held it tightly. When he spoke his voice had lost its anger. “Listen to me, Rahab. I’m sorry if I offended you, but you must listen to me. You and all your family must get out of Jericho. And not to your farm—you must go someplace else, someplace where you will be safe.”

  She stared at him, knocked off balance by the change of subject. She heard Atene ask, “Why are you saying this? Why wouldn’t we be safe in Jericho or at our farm?”

  Before Sala could answer, the front door was pushed open and Lord Nahshon stood on the threshold. He scowled when he saw Sala holding Rahab’s hand.

  She jerked it away. “Atene and I must go indoors. My mother will be looking for us.”

  Without another word, the two girls went into the house, leaving Sala and his father alone in front of the closed door.

  Lord Nahshon looked bewildered. “What was going on here? I came to see what had kept you from joining us and I find you holding Rahab’s hand?”

  Sala had admired his father all of his life. He had done everything his father asked of him, had followed him around like a shadow, because all he wanted was to be as great and good a man as his father was. He had never disagreed with anything his father had said, not even in the secrecy of his own heart. But he knew he had to be careful about what he said now and how he said it.

  “Father,” he began, “somehow we must convince Mepu to get his family away from the city before Joshua attacks.”

  Lord Nahshon’s eyes opened wider in stunned surprise. “Sala, you know we cannot do anything that might give away Joshua’s plans to the Canaanites! I cannot believe you would even consider such a thing.”

  “We won’t be giving away Joshua’s plans.” Sala made his voice as persuasive and reasonable as he could. “Everyone knows the Israelite army is poised to strike at Jericho. That is no secret in Jericho.”

  “Then let Mepu make his own decision. If he is worried, he can take his family away on his own.”

  “That is the problem, Father. No one in Jericho is worried! They think they can withstand a siege. None of them understand that we are the army of Elohim and that we cannot lose.”

  Lord Nahshon was silent, his eyes searching Sala’s face. Finally he said, “Mepu is not a fool. If I tell him to take his family and leave the city, he will suspect I have secret information. He may even give us up as spies.”

  Sala set his jaw. “He would never do that.”

  Lord Nahshon put his hands on Sala’s shoulders and said with the calm certainty that Sala had always admired and obeyed, “I understand your feelings, Sala. I like these people too, but they are Canaanites. They stand in the way of the will of Elohim and therefore they are disposable. What you ask is impossible. You will see that for yourself if you stop and think about it.”

  Lord Nahshon’s hands on his shoulders felt like heavy weights to Sala. His father had just called Rahab’s life disposable. He looked down into Nahshon’s eyes and said steadily, “I saved Rahab’s life once. You helped me to save her. How can you think she is disposable?”

  Sala kept looking into his father’s eyes. Rahab was not for him. He knew that. But he would not let her die. He would not let her die.

  His father said, “Soon Joshua will secretly send men into Jericho to bring back the information we have gleaned. When that is accomplished, he will better understand how to move against the city. We cannot risk drawing attention to ourselves in any way, Sala. Perhaps I can speak to Mepu later, when our plans are certain. But we cannot do anything that might alert him now. If we are discovered, then Joshua’s spies will not have access to what we have learned.”

  Sala didn’t think they had learned much and he said this to his father.

  Nahshon said, “We have learned that the north wall of the city is the most vulnerable place and should be the target of Joshua’s attack. We have also discovered there is a split between those who support the king and those who support the prince. Nothing makes a city riper for destruction than division among the rulers. And we are not yet finished. By the time Joshua’s men come, I hope to have even more information to pass along.”

  His father’s logic was impeccable and there was nothing more Sala could say. His heart was bursting inside him, but he could find nothing to refute his father’s logic.

  He said, “But you will talk to Mepu after the spies are away?”

  “Yes,” Lord Nahshon said.

  It shocked Sala to his core to discover that he did not believe his father’s promise. In all his life, Sala had never felt so desperate. “Joshua will kill everyone in the city, Father. That is what he has done elsewhere.”

  “This is not their land, Sala. This is our land. And if we leave the Canaanites alive, there will only be more fighting and more Israelite deaths. Better to cut off the head of the enemy than to leave it wounded but able to overcome its injuries and strike at us again.”

  Sala, his father’s son, knew this was true. But Sala, who loved Rahab, felt as if he were being ripped apart.

  He lay awake for most of the night, wrestling with himself. What he was thinking of doing was traitorous. He knew very well what he owed to his father, to his people. The fall of Jericho would be the greatest moment for the Israelites since Elohim gave this land to Abraham. He should do nothing—nothing!— that might compromise that victory.

  It was almost morning when he came to the most momentous decision of his life. After the spies were safely gone back to Joshua, he would tell Mepu to take Rahab away from Jericho. He had saved her life once and he would do it again. As the sun began to creep in at his tiny window, Sala finally fell asleep.
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  The following morning four soldiers came to the door of Mepu’s house and told him the king had sent for his daughter, Rahab. Mepu was stunned.

  “What are you talking about? What has my daughter to do with the king? You must be mistaken.”

  “There is no mistake,” the soldier who had first spoken said. “The king has sent for your daughter. We have a litter waiting. Tell her to hurry, we must not keep the king waiting.”

  Mepu looked beyond the bronze helmeted men to see that there was indeed a litter waiting in the narrow street.

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “You don’t have to understand, you just have to get your daughter.”

  “Wait here,” Mepu said and closed the door.

  The family was gathered in the small front room and they had heard the whole of the conversation. They stared at Mepu with bewilderment and fright.

  Rahab crossed her arms around herself tightly and said, “I’m not going.”

  Mepu pulled himself together. “You have no choice. If the king has asked for you, you must go. But you must not go alone. Your mother will go with you.”

  “To see the king?” Kata looked terrified. “I don’t understand—what is happening, Mepu? Why should the king wish to see Rahab?”

  Shemu said, “Father has been taking her all over the city for the last week. Clearly someone who saw her told the king about her.”

  Rahab looked from her father’s face to her brother’s and realized there was nothing they could do. Her chest was tight with fear. What could the king want with her?

  Atene said, “I will go with you, Rahab. Mother is too upset.”

  There was no one Rahab would rather have with her than Atene. “Thank you,” she breathed.

  The girls looked at Shemu, who nodded his approval. “A good idea.”

  Kata fluttered her hands helplessly. “You must change your clothes, Rahab. You cannot go to see the king in that old tunic.”

  A hard, impatient knock came on the front door. Rahab shuddered.

  Mepu said, “There is no time for changing clothes. She must go as she is.” He looked at his daughter and spoke reassuringly, “Come, Rahab. I’m sure the king has heard about your beauty and only wants to see you. Don’t worry. All will be well.”

  But Rahab saw the fear in her father’s eyes, and she did not believe him.

  Rahab and Atene sat pressed together in the narrow litter as the porters carried them through the streets. Rahab had seen many such litters in Jericho, but they were for women of the nobility. She had never thought she would be riding in one of them. She wished with all her heart she weren’t.

  Atene took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly. Rahab tried to give her a courageous smile.

  “The king won’t do anything to hurt you,” Atene said. “I’m sure Father was right; he just wants to see if you are as beautiful as people say.”

  Rahab stared at the linen curtains that hid the passengers of the litter from the view of people in the street. “I wish I looked like a frog. What’s the use of being pretty if it only brings you trouble?”

  Atene said sensibly, “You are not of the nobility, but your father is a successful farmer, a man of some substance. No one will be able to do anything to you without his permission.”

  Her words made Rahab feel better. It was true that girls were under the rule of their fathers and she knew her father cared about her. He would never let anything terrible happen to her.

  The litter was lowered to the ground, and one of the soldiers opened the curtains to let the women out. As Rahab stood up she looked around, always curious no matter how frightened she may be.

  They were in an inner courtyard, which was covered by a roof supported by four stone columns. All around the courtyard rose the sheer white walls of the palace.

  “It’s so big,” Atene breathed and Rahab nodded silent agreement.

  A man came down the stairs that led to the upper rooms of the palace and approached the one guard who was still standing with them. Rahab recognized the man as Lord Arazu, the noble she had visited yesterday with her father. She began to breathe more easily. Perhaps it was true, perhaps the king only wanted to see her and then she could go home.

  Arazu dismissed the soldier, then turned to Rahab with a pleasant smile. “We meet again, Rahab.” His eyes moved to Atene. “I see you have brought a friend.”

  “This is my sister-in-law, Atene, who has come with me.” Rahab’s voice was firm. “She was with us yesterday when we came to your house.”

  “Ah, yes.” Clearly Arazu had no memory of Atene. “If you will both come with me, I will show you to your room.”

  Rahab didn’t move. “What do you mean, my room? I have no room in this house.”

  Arazu’s eyes flicked up and down Rahab’s tunic. “You cannot expect to be presented to the king until you have been dressed properly.”

  I don’t like this man. I don’t like anything about him, Rahab thought. But she didn’t know what else she could do except obey.

  “I want Atene to come with me,” she said.

  “Of course.” Arazu smiled. “She can attend your bath.”

  Bath?

  Rahab and Atene stared at each other.

  “Come,” Arazu said, and Rahab and Atene followed on unwilling feet as he led them up the stairs and into the residential part of the palace.

  Fifteen

  TWO HANDMAIDS WERE AWAITING RAHAB IN THE ROOM to which Arazu brought them. He waved the frightened girls in, then closed the door behind them. Rahab could hear the sound of his feet as he walked away.

  The room itself contained a stone basin set on the floor, a table with a large jug of steaming water, and a pile of linen towels. The two women looked stonefaced at Rahab and bowed slightly.

  “Is that the bath?” Atene muttered, her eyes on the stone basin.

  One of the women took Rahab by the hand and led her to the basin, motioning for her to step in. When they began to take off her robe, she pulled away and ran back to Atene’s side. “What are you going to do?” she demanded.

  The older handmaid, a heavy-set woman with a hooked nose, said, “We are going to bathe you, my lady. Then we will dress you in clean robes so you will be fit to meet the king.”

  Rahab and Atene exchanged alarmed glances. The only bathing they had ever done was in a stream during the summer and out of a small hand basin during the winter.

  Atene said, “We bathed before we came to Jericho and I washed her hair myself. She is perfectly clean.”

  The younger handmaid sniffed contemptuously.

  “Her hair looks glossy enough,” the elder handmaid admitted. “We can leave it as it is. There is too much of it to dry properly anyway.”

  Rahab considered refusing. If the king wanted to see her, then he could take her as she was. She had no desire to make a good impression on him. Suppose she didn’t let these women touch her? What could happen to her if she did that?

  She looked longingly at the door. But she had to think of her family. If she angered the king, he was likely to take it out on them. Slowly she moved forward and stood once more in the center of the basin.

  For what seemed like forever she stood there naked while the maids poured water over her and scrubbed her skin from her forehead to her toes. She had been brought up to be a modest woman, and standing nude before these strange women made her uncomfortable.

  As the ablutions went on, Rahab began to wonder what all these preparations could be about? She could understand that she might need to wear nicer clothes to meet the ruler of Jericho, but why this bath? She asked the maids if everyone who went to see the king had to have a bath, and they looked at her as if she were a simpleton.

  “Of course not,” the older maid said condescendingly, as if Rahab were a dairy girl and not a farmer’s daughter. Rahab looked at Atene. She was beginning to feel really frightened. There was something more going on here than a mere visit so the king could admire her beauty. She noticed A
tene was looking worried too.

  After Rahab was dry, the maids gave her a plain robe to put on and began the process of combing out her hair. Rahab had worn it braided, and the combing out was painful. The maids were not satisfied until it was falling down her back in a waterfall of shining black.

  Then they took away the plain robe she had worn to have her hair done and gave her an exquisite linen tunic to put on. They placed a circlet of what looked like real gold on her head and slipped a pair of beautiful leather sandals on her newly scoured feet.

  Both maids regarded her with satisfaction, pleased with their work. “You look like a noble woman,” one of them said.

  Rahab scowled. She did not want to look like a noble woman. She wanted to look like herself.

  “I will go and inform Lord Arazu that she is ready,” the younger maid said to the older.

  Atene came to stand beside the transformed Rahab and took her hand. “Have courage, my sister.”

  “But what can this be about?”

  “I don’t know. It is certainly strange.”

  “You are going to come with me, aren’t you?”

  “I will if they will let me.”

  The maid came back into the room. “I will take you now to Lord Arazu, my lady.”

  Rahab said, “I want my sister-in-law to come with me.”

  The maid shrugged. “That will be up to Lord Arazu. Come, now, and we will go to him.”

  Rahab, with Atene beside her, followed the maid along the outside balcony. They walked for quite a distance before they came to another door. The maid knocked and a male voice answered, “Come.” The maid pushed the door open and stepped aside for the girls to enter.

  Lord Arazu was alone inside. Rahab looked around quickly and saw that the room was small but richly furnished, with a beautifully woven wool rug, elegantly carved chairs, and a table with a lamp. Beyond it was yet another door.