This Scarlet Cord

by Joan Wolf

  “Yes, he did, my daughter. And it is a great honor, not only to you but to our entire family. I am still stunned. I never thought such a great thing would come of my bringing you to Jericho.”

  Rahab stared at her father in disbelief. “You cannot mean that you agreed to it!”

  The puzzled look returned to Mepu’s face. “Of course I agreed to it, Rahab. How could I possibly reject such an honor?”

  Rahab looked to her sister-in-law, and the pity on Atene’s face frightened her even more than her father’s words. Atene said, “You are going to have to do this, Rahab. There is no way you can decline such a command from the king. Nor can your family decline for you.”

  A sick feeling began to rise in Rahab’s stomach. She turned back to her father. “But I don’t want to do this, Papa! Didn’t you at least ask the king if you could speak to me before you agreed?”

  Mepu was looking annoyed. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Rahab. You have just been offered the highest honor a woman can achieve. You are to represent the goddess Asherah in her marriage with Baal. Because of you, life and fertility will bless the lands of Jericho. How can you not be thrilled by such a great distinction?”

  Rahab looked into her father’s genuinely bewildered face and did not know what to reply. What he said about the importance of the sacred marriage was true. But . . .

  “I don’t want to do it, Papa,” she repeated. “The king is old and disgusting. I don’t want him to touch me . . .”

  A wrenching sob tore through her body.

  “Now, now.” He reached out and drew her back into his arms. “There is nothing to be afraid of. It will not be the king who comes to you, but the god. And think of this, Rahab, your future is assured! After the New Year festival the king has promised me that he himself will choose a husband for you from among the most noble and rich men in the city. Everything I hoped for you will come true—even more than I hoped for, because I never dreamed you would be chosen by the king to be the hierodule.”

  He is not going to help me. He is going to let me be the hierodule and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

  Was there something wrong with her that she was so horrified by this so-called honor? For her father was right—in the eyes of all the Canaanite people, it was a great honor. Yet her whole body and soul flinched away from it. She was not the goddess, she was Rahab, and she did not want to be with that old man. Even if he became Baal, she didn’t want him to touch her.

  What will Sala think when he hears this? What will he think of me? I will truly be defiled in his eyes. I will be defiled in my own eyes. This is all wrong. They should not be asking me to do this against my will. What have I got to do with gods and goddesses?

  Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You are frightened now, my daughter, but the spirit of Asherah will enter into you as the spirit of Baal will enter into the king, and you will make the sacred marriage with triumphant joy. Believe me when I tell you this.”

  But she didn’t believe him. He was a man—how could he know how she felt?

  “Go away,” she said and turned her back on him.

  She felt him hesitate, then Atene said, “Come, Father, let us give Rahab some privacy.” She felt Atene’s gentle hand on her shoulder. “Have courage, my sister.”

  Rahab nodded and briefly put her hand over Atene’s. Then Mepu and her sister-in-law were gone and Rahab was left alone with her anger and her fear.

  Seventeen

  SALA HEARD THE NEWS ABOUT RAHAB BEING NAMED hierodule later that day when he and his father were on their way to a meeting with Lord Arazu to discuss Nahshon’s phantom shipping deal. They were early for the meeting, so they stopped first at the Sign of the Olive, where they had established a presence as steady customers.

  Sala was standing with his father in front of a high counter, their wine cups perched in front of them, when a uniformed palace guard entered the shop and stood by the door, waiting for the customers to fall silent.

  It was not long before the gathered men realized the guard’s presence. When the official saw that he had everyone’s attention, he waited a dramatic moment before announcing in stentorian tones, “I have come to bring all the men of the city a message from our revered king, Makamaron.”

  The silence in the room was profound, as if everyone had stopped breathing. A message from the king to the populace, delivered in such a fashion, was unheard of. Sala and his father exchanged glances. Could this be news that the Israelites had been sighted? Was Joshua getting ready to attack so soon? If so, he was going to need their information and there had been no sign of his messengers.

  The official continued with his announcement, spacing each word so it was clear and separate from the one before: “Be it known to all the population of Jericho that Arsay, daughter of Elhu, has offended the king in such a way that he has rejected her as hierodule in the New Year festival.”

  An audible wave of shock ran around the room, with men murmuring their amazement and looking at one another. Nothing like this had ever happened before—not on the very eve of the festival! The official paused, waiting until silence fell once more. When quiet had been restored, he continued, “Be it further known to all inhabitants of Jericho that King Makamaron has chosen a new hierodule. Her name is Rahab, daughter of Mepu, and she is the most beautiful woman in all the kingdoms of Canaan. It is right that such perfection should assume the sacred role of Asherah, and the king believes that the goddess herself has sent this Rahab to heal the contention in the city and to bring the blessings of fertility upon all who live and work under Makamaron’s rule.”

  At the mention of Rahab’s name, Sala’s hand jerked and he knocked over his wine cup. Nahshon grabbed his wrist and hissed, “Pull yourself together, Sala! You have gone as white as your tunic. We can’t call attention to ourselves.”

  Sala didn’t hear a word his father was saying.

  They are going to make her prostitute herself with the king. These were the words going around and around in his head. The image of Rahab rose before him, as clear as if she had been standing there in the flesh. He saw her beauty, but he also saw her enthusiasm, her laughter, her bravery. He remembered the light that had been in her eyes when she told him she loved him.

  He loved her too. He could not marry her, but he loved her. He loved her as he would never love another woman, no matter how long he might live.

  He turned to his father and said fiercely, “They can’t do this to her. We must stop it.”

  The guard by now had left and moved on to the next gathering place. Nahshon put an arm around Sala’s shoulders and said, “Come with me.”

  Sala walked out of the wine shop with his father, aware of nothing but the buzz of fury in his brain.

  Nahshon shook his arm hard. “Sala! Listen to me! We have an appointment with Arazu. You must compose yourself.”

  Sala stared at his father, making no attempt to hide his rage. “Didn’t you hear what that guard just said? They are going to make Rahab into a whore! I have to stop this, Father. She doesn’t want to do this—I know she doesn’t!”

  Nahshon moved his hand to Sala’s shoulder and grasped it so tightly it would leave a bruise. “How do you know how she feels? This Canaanite religion makes a holy thing out of promiscuous sex, and Rahab is a Canaanite woman. She is probably thrilled to be singled out by the king for such an ‘honor,’ and these people will admire her, worship her even. They live in such a filthy world that a woman like that becomes a goddess to them.”

  Sala did not attempt to pull away. The pain felt good, it kept him focused. He said, “You’re wrong, Father. Rahab does not wish to do this disgusting thing. I know this because she loves me. She told me so. And I love her. I cannot let this terrible thing happen to her.” He shut his eyes in anguish. “What can I do to stop it?”

  Lord Nahshon dropped his hand and took a step away. “Do you dare to look me in the face and tell me you love a Canaanite woman?”

  Sala opene
d his eyes. “I do love her, Father. I think I have always loved her.”

  Blood rushed into Lord Nahshon’s face. “What? Has she slept with you, Sala? Has she ensnared you with the charms these Canaanite women know so well? How could any son of mine let himself be so deceived?”

  Sala was not surprised by his father’s reaction, but he hated it. “We have done nothing,” he said. “I know I can never marry her. I know that, Father. But I cannot just stand by and let this happen to her!”

  “So,” Nahshon said in a cold voice, “it has come to this. For the sake of this Canaanite woman you want me to endanger Joshua’s plans to take the city of Jericho. You want me to help you save her from one of the filthy rites that make up her own religion.”

  Sala shook his head, denying his father’s tone more than his words.

  Lord Nahshon went on relentlessly, “Don’t confuse lust with love, Sala. She is the kind of woman every man wants to lie with, but not you! Not my son. You are an Israelite. Don’t you know what Moses did to the Israelite men who lay with the women of Moab in the rites of Baal? He executed all of them for their betrayal of Elohim. They were executed, Sala, for lying with pagan women. And Moses was right to do this. Too many of our men have been seduced by the blatant sexuality of this so-called religion. And my son will not be one of them!”

  Suddenly Sala felt so sick that he was afraid he was going to vomit right there on the street in front of the wine shop. He said, “I am your son. I would never lie with Rahab outside of marriage, and I will never marry her. I know my duty to you and to my people. But if I can help her, I will do that. And nothing you say will stop me.”

  Sala turned away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To her house. To find out what has happened.”

  “What about the meeting with Arazu?”

  Sala glanced back at his father. “You don’t need me for that. Go yourself.” And he walked down the street in the direction of the Lower City.

  Atene’s heart ached for Rahab. She knew it would be impossible for her to plead her sister-in-law’s cause to Mepu. In the eyes of her father-in-law, which were the same as the eyes of all Canaanite men, his daughter had just been given a tremendous honor, an honor that reflected back onto her family. Rahab would not just play the role of the goddess; during the enactment of the sacred marriage she would become Asherah, just as the king would become Baal. It was a marriage of the gods that would take place at the New Year festival, and it was called sacred because that is what the people of Canaan believed it to be.

  But Atene did not think it was going to be sacred this time. The hierodule had to be willing, and Rahab was not. She loved Sala and she would not be able to forget him, just as Atene would not be able to forget Shemu were she in Rahab’s position.

  Atene had loved Shemu since the moment he had taken her hand, smiled down into her eyes, and led her into Asherah’s grove during the autumn festival in their village. They had married the following spring and he was the only man she had ever lain with. And she knew Shemu loved her too. All of these years and no child, yet he had never once hinted that he might wish to divorce her, as was his right under the law.

  Atene had seen the way Sala looked at Rahab when he thought no one was watching and she knew he loved her back. So once they reached home, Atene remained in the front room, keeping her eye on the street so she would see Sala when he came, as she was certain he would. When she spied him in front of the house, she opened the door before he could knock.

  “Don’t go in there,” she said. “Come with me and I will tell you all that has happened.”

  Sala followed her into the tiny dirt strip that separated Rahab’s house from the one next to it that belonged to Mepu’s brother. The shadow of the two houses sheltered them from the view of anyone on the street.

  A muscle jumped in Sala’s jaw and he said in a shaking voice, “I was in the wine shop when one of the palace guards came in and announced that Rahab was going to be the new . . . whatever that name is for the woman who has to prostitute herself with the king.”

  Atene summoned up the calmest voice she could manage. “This is what happened. The king’s men came to our house this morning and told Rahab she must go with them to the palace, that the king had sent for her. She wanted me to go with her, and they allowed it. Neither of us had any idea what the king might want with her. I thought perhaps he had heard of her beauty and wanted to see her for himself. But then, when we got there, we were met by Lord Arazu.”

  “Arazu!” Sala’s voice was filled with loathing.

  “Yes. We had been to his house the previous day, you see. My father-in-law wanted to speak to him about selling his wine.” Atene bit her lip. “At least, that was what Mepu said was the reason. I think the real reason was to show Rahab to Arazu so he might be moved to find a husband for her.”

  Sala said something in his own language that Atene did not understand, but she was quite sure it was not a compliment of Mepu’s judgment.

  She did not ask for a translation but continued, “So that is how Arazu met Rahab. He must have gone to the king and told him about her.”

  “But why would Makamaron make such a change at the last moment? This other woman was probably chosen a long time ago. Why would the king risk alienating her family for Rahab, whose family is of no importance?”

  “Rumor says that Arsay’s family is of the prince’s party, and so Makamaron didn’t trust her. Rahab’s lack of influential family is probably one of the reasons he picked her. She has no ties to any of the factions in the city.”

  The muscle in Sala’s jaw jumped again. “If she didn’t want to do it, then why didn’t she just refuse? It’s not like Rahab to agree to do something she doesn’t want to do.”

  “You must understand, Sala. After her father had approved, there was nothing she could do. I haven’t been able to see her since they took her to the shrine, but I know she is heartbroken. She loves you, Sala. She does not want to be the hierodule, but she has no choice. If she refused to perform this role, the king would surely take his anger out upon her family. She can’t risk that.”

  Sala stared down into Atene’s face. “What kind of religion do you people follow, that you could force a young girl to do such a thing? To prostitute herself! That is all this is, Atene. No matter how you try to pass it off as religion, this is nothing else than prostitution. Her pay for the use of her body will be patronage for her family. Am I right?”

  “Perhaps,” Atene replied in a low voice. She gathered her courage and spoke aloud the thing that had been preying on her mind all day. “Sala . . . Rahab and I prayed to your God yesterday. She told me some of the things you had explained to her about your beliefs, and, well, we prayed to Elohim. Rahab prayed you would marry her and I prayed that he would send me a child. And then, this morning, Rahab was taken away.” She bit her lip. “Sala, I’m afraid Baal was angry with us for turning to another god. I think that might be why this is happening to Rahab.”

  Sala was stunned. “Rahab prayed to Elohim?”

  “Yes. She said you had told her it was all right just to pray from the heart, so that is what we did. But now that this awful thing has happened, I’m afraid we made a terrible mistake. And I encouraged her. We did it together . . .” Her voice broke and she looked away.

  She felt Sala take her hand into his and she looked up. “You did not make a mistake, Atene. It was Mepu who made the mistake, by taking Rahab to see Arazu. If Rahab has put herself under the guidance of Elohim, then there is still hope for her. We must believe this. We must believe that when Elohim heard Rahab’s prayers, He listened and He set her feet upon this path for a purpose.”

  The ring of belief in Sala’s words both surprised and comforted Atene. He truly did believe in this Elohim. “Do you really think so?” she asked.

  “Yes, I do.” His brown eyes were deep and grave. “And we must continue to pray for her, Atene. Both of us. We must ask Elohim to give Rahab the courage to follow
His wishes and give us the knowledge of how we may help her.”

  “I . . . I will try,” Atene whispered.

  “You did the right thing, Atene. There is only one God, and He is Elohim, the Creator of us all. Believe that. And pray for Rahab.”

  Atene could almost feel physically the power of his faith. Perhaps he was right. Certainly her prayers to Baal and Asherah had never been answered.

  “I will pray to your God, Sala. I will.”

  “And so will I,” Sala replied. “If Elohim has called Rahab to be one of His own, He will save her.”

  Eighteen

  FOR ALL OF HIS FINE WORDS TO ATENE, SALA FELT sick every time he thought of Rahab and what she was being forced to do. He had told Atene that if they prayed to Elohim, Rahab would be saved, but he could not ignore the trickle of doubt that crept into his mind as soon as he began to walk back to the inn. Rahab was not an Israelite and she was engaging in a pagan rite. Would Elohim care about her? Would He see in her some part of His plan? Or would He see in her only the false religion He hated? Elohim despised His people when they fell into the worship of pagan gods. But surely He must see that Rahab was different!

  He began to pray:

  She is a good woman, Elohim. She seeks to find the truth. She seeks to find You. I beg You to take pity on her and help her. She does not deserve to be defiled by this false religion that she is turning her back upon. Save her, Elohim. I beg You, save her!

  That evening after supper he went out to the inn courtyard and looked up into the clear night sky. The brilliant stars seemed so close, but he knew they weren’t close; they were far, far away. They belonged to Elohim, not to men. Elohim had made the stars and the sky and the sun and the moon and the great water upon which his father’s ships sailed. How could people believe that such beauty and precision could have come into being through the quarreling of childish gods? Did they not understand the great gap that lay between men and the God who created them? When Elohim created the world, He had put into it the nature of plants to grow and the nature of animals and men to procreate. These ignorant Canaanites thought they had to imitate their gods in order to bring about what the One God had ordained to happen from the beginning of time.