The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (21 page)

Have
mercy on me
, she pleaded, unable to even lift her head to the skies, fearful she might think Israel’s God and the moon to be one. Did such a mighty God hear the cries of a prostitute?

She straightened and stood, then met Tendaji at the door near the courtyard, informing him that she was not available for visitors.

18

I
f things go as we told her, and Rahab lives through the taking of Jericho . . .”

At Mishael’s words, Salmon glanced up from the stick he was whittling. “What about her?” Rahab was the last person he wanted to talk about right now. But he couldn’t seem to get her out of his thoughts.

“Where will she go? What will become of her family? Once we destroy their town and their people, we will have to take them in. Won’t Rahab have to marry one of our people?” Mishael’s expression held confusion mingled with his telltale concern as he met Salmon’s gaze. He quoted Moses’ words. “‘When you go out to war against your enemies, and the Lord your God gives them into your hand and you take them captive, and you see among the captives a beautiful woman, and you desire to take her to be your wife . . .’”

Salmon looked at Mishael askance. “No one in Israel is going to want to marry a prostitute.”

Mishael glanced beyond the low fire toward the mouth of the cave. “Can our God not redeem a prostitute?”

“They are defiled, Mishael. Prostitution defiles a land. Do you not remember Zimri and Kozbi?”

“Captives of war can repent and be joined to our tribes.”

“You’re assuming that just because she wants to save her life that she has repented and wants to leave her soiled work.” Salmon heard the bitter tone in his voice.

“I did not doubt her sincerity.” Mishael’s quiet words silenced Salmon’s response. Let Joshua decide her fate. Was it not he who had Yahweh’s ear? Why should Salmon care what happened to Rahab or her family?

“All that matters is that we get back to Joshua and give a good report.” He set the flint knife down. “And hope the prostitute keeps her word.”

“If she does, Joshua might think it best for someone to marry her if she is to stay among us,” Mishael said again.

Salmon scowled at his friend. “Or she lives like a widow outside the camp. Stop troubling yourself over a woman who means nothing. Her fate is God’s, not ours.”

Three uneventful days later, Salmon climbed to the top of the hill above the cave and scanned the horizon in each direction, his gaze landing on the gates of Jericho in the distance. No sign of the king’s men filled the valley.

“It appears they’ve given up,” he said when he joined Mishael again near the cave’s mouth.

Mishael tucked his flint knife into his belt and girded his robe to make walking easier, as Salmon had already done. “Are you ready then?”

Salmon nodded. He was more than ready to return to the Israelite camp.

They skirted a wide path from Jericho, avoiding any hint of the sentries’ notice, keeping to the tree lines and traveling most often by night. Salmon pushed himself, anxious to return, to plan how best to take the city. War strategies were always the best remedy for wayward thoughts.

Two nights later, he plopped beside Mishael on the banks of the Jordan near the place they had crossed nearly a week earlier. “What happens if Joshua doesn’t approve of our deal with Rahab?” The thought had troubled him the closer they got to the river’s edge. He had given his word, but a part of him had wagered that she would not keep hers, freeing him from the guilt of bargaining with a prostitute.

“He will approve. Why wouldn’t he?” Mishael tied the straps of both sandals together and put them around his neck.

“She is a
prostitute
. He wouldn’t expect us to make such a bargain.” Weariness crept over him, but he bent forward to untie his sandals as well. Every muscle ached with the day’s trek, fueled by the guilt, the worry. “I should never have promised her.”

“She did not give you much choice. She helped us escape and did not give us away. Doesn’t that count for something with you?” Mishael’s normally congenial tone turned angry. “Why do you beat yourself up so? She saved our lives. We will save hers. So be it.”

Salmon did not respond as Mishael stood and reached for a low-hanging branch. Salmon draped his sandals over his neck and came up behind him. The river was narrower at this spot, and not so deep they couldn’t swim if their feet slipped on any moss-covered rocks. Mishael’s sure footing gave Salmon’s weary body strength to continue.

“Don’t fall in,” Mishael called as he grasped the tree on the other side. “I don’t want to have to fetch you out.”

Salmon grasped the same branch moments later. “Be grateful you didn’t have to. I would have had to dunk you.”

They both crawled up the embankment and sat a moment, panting from the exertion.

“Be kind to her when you tell Joshua the tale.”

Salmon’s gaze snapped to Mishael’s. “I am always kind.”

“You disdain her. And your thoughts toward her are not kind.”

“So now you have the ability to know my thoughts?” Salmon met Mishael’s gaze, then quickly retrieved his sandals and tied them on his feet. “We need to go. It will be too dark to find Joshua’s tent among the throng.”

“Just don’t forget what I said.” Mishael fell into step beside him, and the two passed the Tent of Meeting and came to Joshua’s door soon after.

“How did it go?” Joshua reclined on a mat across from them in his sitting room, his smile serious and unassuming. “I see you made it there and back unharmed.”

Salmon nodded. “Yes. The trip was . . . interesting.”

Joshua looked from man to man. “Tell me everything.”

Salmon talked throughout the meal they shared, with Mishael interjecting here and there, until they came to speak of Rahab.

“So you stayed with a prostitute?”

“Not exactly stayed,” Salmon said, feeling his defenses rising. “It became apparent that a woman of her profession, one with the ear of the king, would have information that could prove useful. We merely questioned her.”

“And she proved to be quite helpful to us,” Mishael said.

Salmon glanced at his friend. “Yes. Yes, she did.” He
held Joshua’s gaze. “While we were talking with her, the king’s guards appeared at her gate. Someone had reported our presence to him, and Rahab said the guards watched her house closely. She hid us from them and sent them off another way. Then she let us down through her window by a rope.”

Joshua clasped his hands in front of him. “A brave woman. One of obvious faith.”

“Or she is very good at saying what she must to get her way.” Salmon looked down, half ashamed of the judgment he felt toward her. He drew a slow breath and once more met Joshua’s gaze. “She made us promise to spare her and her family when we come to take the land.”

“And did you?”

“Yes, my lord, on the condition she keeps her end of the bargain.” Salmon set his empty clay bowl on the tray in front of him and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “So far, everything she has said and done for us has come to pass.”

“The Lord has surely given the whole land into our hands,” Mishael added. “All of the people are melting in fear because of us.”

“According to Rahab,” Salmon added. “Though I think because of her unique situation, she is more aware than most.”

Joshua nodded but said nothing for the space of many breaths. “The Lord is in this,” he said at last. “He used this woman to spare your lives. When we take Jericho, we will do the same for her.” He stood then, and the men stood with him. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow we will travel back to the Jordan.”

The journey from Shittim to the Jordan took longer for their large company than it did for just two men. By the third day, Salmon found himself in Joshua’s tent once more.

“As heads of your tribes,” Joshua said, “go throughout the camp and tell the people: ‘When you see the ark of the covenant of the Lord your God, and the Levitical priests carrying it, you are to move out from your positions and follow it. Then you will know which way to go, since you have never been this way before. But keep a distance of about two thousand cubits between you and the ark—do not go near it.’”

Twelve men nodded their agreement.

“Tell the people to gather here near my tent before nightfall. Any questions?” Joshua’s gaze swept the group. “Good. When you have finished, report to me.”

Salmon left the tent and glanced at the sun, blinking against its glare. He had wanted to ask where the priests would be leading them, but he had been with Joshua long enough to know that when the time was right, he would tell them what they needed to know.

“I should have sent another of your tribe to do the work today, my friend,” Joshua said hours later when Salmon returned, sweating and mopping his brow with a swatch of linen cloth. “You look as though you have barely slept since you returned from Jericho.”

Salmon rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve slept.”

Joshua raised a brow.

“Just carried along by some fitful dreams, is all.” Salmon felt Joshua’s scrutiny as he met the man’s gaze. “And anxious
to be on with the next step of our journey.” It was partly the truth. He itched to pursue the land Adonai had promised them. He could not tell Joshua that a beautiful prostitute had invaded his waking and sleeping.

Other heads of the tribes trickled into the tent, and Joshua bid them sit to eat and rest in its shade.

Joshua’s wife Eliana and their two daughters brought trays of cheeses and figs and pistachios newly picked from nearby trees, and placed them before the men. Talk of war and strategies for taking Jericho were tossed about until the sun had moved to near dusk.

Joshua motioned for the men to precede him out of the tent where a crowd had gathered, their numbers too great to count. He stood before the group and raised his hands for silence. “Consecrate yourselves,” he said, “for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things among you.”

What sorts of
amazing things?
The question burned in Salmon, even as a sense of humility filled him. How did a man consecrate his mind from wandering to forbidden places?

The thought burdened and angered him as he followed the crowd to gather what was needed for his trek to the river at dawn. To wash and don fresh clothing seemed so outward, as though even a foreigner could do so and fit right in with the rest of their tribes. But what soap, what hyssop could cleanse a person from all that held him captive? What cleansing could purify the hidden places of his heart?