The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (20 page)

Satisfied at last, she strode to her sitting room, where Tendaji waited near the door. “Dabir is leading ten of the king’s personal guards. Shall I let them in?”

She shook her head. “No. I will come with you to the gate.” She led the way, and Tendaji followed close on her heels.

“Dabir, how good it is to see you.” She offered a coy smile, then glanced beyond him as though she just now noticed the torch-carrying guards. “But . . . what is this? Have I done
something wrong?” She played the part of a truly anxious woman, longing to please, giving him what she knew he wanted with one well-placed look.

Dabir gripped the barred gate and rattled it. “Let me in, Rahab. The king has sent us.”

“What does the king want with me?” Memories of Dabir’s offices, of his whip surfaced, and she could not stop the sudden tightness in her middle. If not for Prince Nahid’s rescue once he’d learned of the beating . . .

“You beat Rahab? Why would you do such a thing, Dabir?” Prince Nahid had paced her sitting room while Dabir sat nervously on the edge of her couch. Rahab had stood to the side, trembling at the rage she had sparked with the word
babe
.

Dabir’s face paled, but he held his chin up, and Rahab sensed an elaborate lie awaited her ears. “She escaped, my lord. The Nubian took her to our ancestral burial caves, of all places, and she admitted the plan was hers from the beginning. I had no choice but to teach her a lesson.” He cleared his throat at the prince’s glaring hatred.

Rahab swallowed hard. She had never seen such anger in the prince’s eyes in all the time she had known him.

“You will never touch her again, Dabir. If I find out you have caused her even a hint of pain, I will have your body impaled on a stake in front of the Hall of Justice. Do you understand?”

Dabir nodded but did not speak.

“Say it, Dabir.”

“Yes, my lord.” He clasped his hands in front of him, and in that moment Rahab almost felt a hint of compassion for the man. But the emotion did not linger, swiftly replaced by
the burning anger that always accompanied the memories of the midwife, of her child.

“The king has sent for you if you are harboring Israelite spies.” Dabir’s comment drew her back to look into eyes full of malice. She took a small step backward.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Her heart hammered in her chest, but she held still, silently praying to the God of Israel to keep her calm. Did their God hear the prayers of a foreigner, whom He seemed to despise?

“The king says, ‘Bring out the men who came to you and entered your house, because they have come to spy out the whole land.’” Dabir looked beyond her to Tendaji, then back to hold her gaze once more. “We know they came to you. They were seen entering Jericho, and the bread merchant says he pointed them here. So bring them out so that we may take them to the king.”

“Yes, the men came to me,” she said, “but I did not know where they had come from. At dusk, when it was time to close the city gate, they left. I don’t know which way they went. Go after them quickly. You may catch up with them.” She held Dabir’s gaze, unflinching.

He looked at Tendaji. “Does she speak the truth?” Menace emanated from Dabir’s heated gaze, but Rahab felt Tendaji also stiffen and straighten beside her.

“She speaks the truth. Two foreign men came just before dusk. They did not stay long.” He crossed his arms and took a step closer to Rahab.

Dabir looked quickly from one to the other, then whirled on his heel. “After them!” he barked to the ten guards with him. They rushed ahead, but Dabir hung back. He glanced at Rahab. “We will find them,” he said, his voice smooth as
oil. “And if you are not telling the truth, it will not go well for either of you.”

“I am telling the truth,” she said, her mouth set in a determined line. “If I had known they were Israelites, I would have turned them over to you before they could escape. They deceived me. But I would expect nothing less.”

Dabir gave a slight nod, then left toward the direction of the palace. He would not dirty his hands searching for the spies. He would leave that to the king’s guards, who would pay dearly if they failed.

17

S
almon shifted uncomfortably beneath the stalks of flax, fighting the urge to sneeze. Voices drifted up to them from Rahab’s outer courtyard below, and after what seemed like hours, quiet descended, and Salmon took the risk of emerging from under the flax.

“I think they’re gone,” he whispered to Mishael. “We need to get out of here.”

“Don’t you think we should wait for Rahab? She said she would return.”

Salmon considered the thought. It appeared she had indeed kept her word and sent the king’s men away, but to what end? Would they return with greater numbers and surround the house? He rose and crept to the parapet, peeked over the edge, and looked down at the steep drop to the ground below. He turned and hurried back into the shadows at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Rahab appeared, her form only slightly illuminated by the half moon. He noticed the adornments in her ears and the way her hair draped in delicate ringlets beneath a veil
she had pulled back. He glanced away, angry at the way his heart beat faster as she approached. How could he even think of allowing his feelings to betray him in the presence of a prostitute?

She drew alongside him and motioned both of them closer to the small room they had used before. “Please.” She waved a hand toward the now dark room.

Salmon looked at her, not fully trusting her. “You first.”

She raised a brow, then seemed to understand his fears. She stepped inside, and Mishael followed. Salmon stood in the arch but swung the door partly closed.

“It is safer to speak in here where the sound will not travel across the rooftops,” she said.

“Did you send them away?”

“Yes.” She lowered her gaze, and for the briefest moment, Salmon felt compassion for her. What had led her to this life?

She lifted her gaze and met his, her look vulnerable, almost pleading. “I know that the Lord has given you this land,” she said, “and that a great fear of you has fallen on us, so that all who live in this country are melting in fear because of you.” She glanced to Mishael, then looked at Salmon once more. “We have heard how the Lord dried up the water of the Red Sea for you when you came out of Egypt.”

Salmon nodded, saying nothing.

“The rumors have grown in strength over the years,” she continued, “and lately, with the tales of the movement of your tribes toward the Jordan, everyone’s courage has failed because of you.” She glanced beyond him as though the next words were hard for her. “Though my people do not believe it, I know that the Lord your God is God in heaven above and on the earth below.” A sense of awe filled her dark, liquid eyes.
She held her hands in front of her in supplication. “Please swear to me by the Lord that you will show kindness to my family, because I have shown kindness to you. Give me a sure sign that you will spare the lives of my father and mother, my brothers and sisters, and all who belong to them—and that you will save us from death.”

Salmon studied her, seeing honesty in her gaze. He glanced at Mishael, caught his slight nod, then faced Rahab. “Our lives for your lives,” he said. “If you don’t tell what we are doing, we will treat you kindly and faithfully when the Lord gives us the land.”

She drew in a breath and released it. “Thank you.” She let her hands fall to her sides, relief evident in her eyes. “Come with me. I will let you down through the window in my room.”

At Salmon’s look, she smiled. “Do not worry. You will not be tainted by entering it. But the window is the biggest one along the wall to allow you through.”

He nodded and stepped out of the rooftop chamber. They waited while she closed it behind her, then followed her, crouching as they walked down the stairs. They passed the same courtyard and hallways and entered her private set of rooms. There was no sign of the Nubian, and Salmon hoped that did not bode ill for them or her.

She walked to a wicker basket and pulled a scarlet rope from its depths. “Can you tie a secure knot?” She handed one end to Salmon and pointed to the post attached to the curtain-draped bed, then fetched two pouches and filled them with almonds and figs. She gave one to Mishael, who tied it to his waist, and held the other out to Salmon.

Salmon secured the rope, though just touching the bed
post made him squirm, then took the pouch from Rahab, taking care not to touch her fingers in the exchange. He nodded his thanks. Rahab looked at him oddly, then carried the other end of the rope to the window, opened the shutters, and tossed it out. She peered from side to side, then turned to face them.

“The king’s men will head toward the Jordan in search of you. Go to the hills so the pursuers will not find you. Hide yourselves there three days until they return, and then go on your way.”

Mishael grabbed the rope and tugged. “It should hold.” He climbed onto the ledge to lower himself slowly down. Salmon watched him but a moment, then faced Rahab.

“This oath you made us swear will not be binding on us unless, when we enter the land, you have tied this scarlet cord in this window, and unless you have brought your father and mother, your brothers, and all your family into your house. If any of them go outside your house into the street, their blood will be on their own heads—we will not be responsible.” He stepped closer to the window as Mishael disappeared from his view. “As for those who are in the house with you, their blood will be on our head if a hand is laid on them. But if you tell what we are doing, we will be released from the oath you made us swear.”

“Agreed,” she said, lifting her chin. “Let it be as you say.”

Salmon climbed onto the ledge, his grip tight on the rope. He glanced up at a touch on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, quickly removing her hand. “Go in peace.”

His face heated with the shock of her touch. He lowered himself quickly to the ground where Mishael waited, then glanced back one more time before they took off running.
Rahab was retying the cord around a shutter post, where it continued to dangle from the window.

Rahab stood at the window until the two men of Israel were long out of view. The night breeze turned cool, and she mildly wondered if they would make it past the burial caves and into the hills. She should have warned them to go far enough. She shivered and closed the shutters. Of course they would. They were not children. No. Her cheeks heated at the memory of the way the one, Salmon, had looked at her. He was a man through and through, and he clearly disdained her profession. Hadn’t he told her of the foreigners, the Midianites, who were God’s enemies? Jericho’s people were no different.

She walked to her bed and sat on the edge, staring down at her unpainted hands. She should have allowed Adara to draw the henna patterns along her nails. Her first patron should be arriving soon. But she found she suddenly did not care. What would happen if she turned the men away? Dabir was too busy worrying about the Israelites to check on her again. And if he wanted silver for her services, she could draw on the stash she had hidden beneath the floor.

She rubbed her forehead to forestall a headache. How weary she had become of her life. Of the men who became as pitiful as selfish children the moment they walked into her chambers. So needy. So demanding. So weak.

She closed her eyes, seeing again Salmon’s disapproving scowl crease his handsome Israelite brow. Those dark eyes, hooded beneath dark bangs that escaped below his tan turban. Her heart had skipped a beat at the first sight of him, but
she had ignored it. And she was wise to continue to do so. Even if by some great miracle she escaped Jericho’s downfall with her life, neither Salmon nor any Israelite man would have anything to do with a prostitute. She was dung in their eyes, foreign. Forbidden.

But if Israel truly gained victory over the warriors of Jericho, she could be free of Dabir, of this life she loathed. And there was no reason to doubt a God who could part the Red Sea.

She drew in a breath and slowly released it. There was also no reason to continue to entertain patrons if she did not care to do so. Especially after making the spies such a solemn promise. The thought of strange men or even repeat customers touching her . . . she could not bear it.