The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (25 page)

She reined in the desperate need to beg and plead with them, instead kneeling again at her father’s side. “I cannot force you, Father. But I have plenty of room, and my home stands along the wall. If they invade the city, we could escape from the window in the wall.” Though she knew they ought to see through such impossibility, she could think of nothing else to say to convince them.

Her father’s gaze shifted to hers, softening. He cupped her cheek with a veined hand. “My dear Rahab.” His expression
filled with sorrow, as though his thoughts carried him to another time and place.

“Father,” Rahab said again, her tone more urgent this time. “Just because the Israelites have stopped marching for today does not mean they will not return tomorrow. They
will
return. They are going to take this city.”

She stood and turned in a circle to include her brothers in her plea. “You can think what you want of me, but you have heard what their God did to stop up the Jordan River in the midst of flood stage. You have heard of the miracles He performed in Egypt and seen how the men of the city won’t even leave their homes for fear. Well, they are right to fear a God so powerful. I fear Him.”

“If their God is so powerful that He could destroy Egypt and stop up the Jordan, what good does it do to band together?” her father said. “We are all doomed.”

“Then let us be doomed together,” she said, longing to reinstill hope in her father’s hopeless eyes. “But I do not think we are doomed,” she added, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “I believe in their God, Father. If He is as great as the tales tell, then come with me and let us encourage each other while we wait.”

She watched her father’s changing expressions, his indecision palpable. At last he stood. “We will come with you.” To the household he said, “Gather your things, only what you can carry, and let us go and lodge with Rahab.”

The following morning Rahab awoke to the same marching beat, only this time, Adara clung to her in the bed they shared, as though they were both young girls.

“Why do they not shout like normal warriors?” Adara poked her head from beneath thick linen sheets. “Are they truly acting out the part of our festival?”

Rahab patted her sister’s arm, reminded of her innocence. “I can only assume what they are up to, my sweet. But I do believe they will break through these walls. It is only a matter of time.”

“You do not know that for sure.” Adara rose up on one elbow. “Do you?”

Rahab noted Adara’s raised brow and slowly nodded.

“The spies promised you, didn’t they?” Adara’s dark eyes grew round. “Why didn’t you tell us?” she whispered, glancing toward the closed door.

“You speculate too much, my sister. Even if they had given it, since when have you known me to trust any man’s word?”
Only when a handsome stranger is able
to take my breath with a look.

But no, she was not so fickle as that. She had heard the stories of their God, seen the fear in the eyes of the men of the city. She rolled on her side to face her sister.

“You used to trust men.” Adara met her gaze, searching.

“I trust Israel’s God, not their men.”

“But if the Israelites did not promise you, how do you know their God will accept you . . . or us? Why would He save a prostitute?”

The words, though said in innocence, stung.

“He has no reason to,” she whispered, pulling Adara into her arms lest she see her doubt, her fear. “But I believe He can. If He is merciful.”

Adara pulled slowly away, jumped from the bed, and walked toward the shuttered window. “I have never heard of a god
who is merciful without a calculated reason.” She touched the shutter and glanced at Rahab. “One peek?”

Rahab chuckled, then came to stand at Adara’s side. “Suddenly you are brave?”

Adara shrugged. “I’ve never seen an Israelite,” she whispered. “Are they very different than we are?”

Salmon’s handsome bearded face filled Rahab’s mind, the memory as sharp as it had been every day since she had helped both men escape. “Not very different.” Somehow she could not bring herself to describe them to her virgin sister.

Adara looked at her and began to unlatch the shutter. “Just a quick glance?”

Rahab nodded. But before she could pull the shutter open, her mother burst into the room. “What are you doing? Do you want them to see you? Close that at once.”

Rahab stepped back from the window, and Adara hurried to her mother’s side. “It’s not Rahab’s fault, Mama. I asked to look.”

Her mother’s scowl brought heat to Rahab’s cheeks. A moment later her father’s large frame filled the archway. “Their priests carry a gold box on long poles ahead of the company. And men march before it with the horns of rams, yet they do not blow the trumpets. This is not like our festival. What foolishness is this?”

Rahab felt his gaze bore into hers, as though she should somehow know the secrets of Israel’s plans. “I do not know, Father.”

He shook his head in disgust and strode from the room. Her mother followed, taking Adara with her. Rahab hurried after them, fearing they would leave and go home after only one night. But relief filled her as she saw them go to
the cooking room and accept food from the cook. The cat licked scraps from a bowl in the adjacent courtyard near where Cala stood. Her sister met Rahab’s gaze with a guilty one of her own.

“He was hungry, and I felt sorry for him.”

Rahab smiled. “I intended to feed him. But how did he get out of my room?” She’d been sleeping with the animal for days but, in the hustle of settling her family, had forgotten him.

“He was scratching at the door, and I was awake with Raji, so I let him out. Where did you find him? Tzadok thinks cats are cursed.”

Rahab scowled. Tzadok had an opinion about everything, but she did not say so. “He showed up in our courtyard one day. I have yet to name him.”

Cala nodded. “I like him. He’s so scrawny, though. Do you think he’ll live?”

Rahab picked the cat up after he’d finished eating and stopped to lick his paws. “He’s a fighter. If he doesn’t get crushed in the battle, we must keep him inside with us.” She looked at her sister. “Will you help me?”

“If I think of it. With the men underfoot and Raji nursing at odd hours, I don’t know. Better ask Adara to help you.” Cala turned at the sound of her young son crying. “I should go.”

Rahab stroked the cat’s back and held him close, wishing it were her baby she held and not just a homeless animal. She nodded at Cala, who walked toward one of Rahab’s bedrooms. But a moment later she turned back.

“Thank you for doing this for us,” she said. She placed a hand on Rahab’s shoulder. “I know Father and Tzadok and our brothers blame you, but I know it was not your fault—all
that happened to you. To us. Thank you for suggesting this final time together.” She put a fist to her mouth to stifle a sob. “At least if we die, we die together.” She hurried off to care for her child, while Rahab sank onto one of the plush chairs in her courtyard, still holding the cat.

The marching had ceased for the second day, but the thought was not comforting.

22

O
n the seventh day, the march began with an armed guard leading seven priests carrying seven trumpets and blowing the rams’ horns with short blasts. They walked ahead of the priests who carried the ark of the Lord. The rear guard followed the ark, and Joshua stood at the head of the troops who came behind. Heavy footfalls accompanied the trumpet blasts around Jericho’s walls. Once, twice, until at last the seventh time ended at the city gates.

The trumpets sounded again, this time long and loud. Joshua turned and faced the fighting men.

“Shout!” His voice carried on the silent wind. “For the Lord has given you the city! The city and all that is in it are to be devoted to the Lord. Only Rahab the prostitute and all who are with her in her house shall be spared, because she hid the spies we sent.”

Salmon’s heart beat with the heavy rhythm of the march and the added rush of coming battle. So Rahab would be spared. He found a mixture of anxiety and relief in that knowledge and drew himself up straighter, determined. He
would keep his promise to her, lest he anger his God and his leader. But he would not allow her to tempt him into sin. She was still a Canaanite, after all.

And a prostitute.
He shoved aside his inner battle as Joshua’s voice continued.

“But keep away from the devoted things, so that you will not bring about your own destruction by taking any of them. Otherwise you will make the camp of Israel liable to destruction and bring trouble on it. All the silver and gold and the articles of bronze and iron are sacred to the Lord and must go into His treasury.”

As Joshua’s words ended, the army gave a deafening shout. Salmon looked toward the city walls, saw the scarlet cord hanging from Rahab’s window. A roar, like that of the river Jordan when God unleashed its fury from the hold He had placed on it, crashed around him. He watched as the thick bricks of the outer wall crumbled downward and formed a perfect ramp. Had Israel spent weeks building it, they could not have created a better rampart.

The rumble continued until every last brick collapsed, except for the part attached to Rahab’s home. Battle cries drowned out all other sounds as the men charged the city.

Rahab stood in the center of her sitting room, surrounded by her family. Cala’s baby had not stopped crying since the first trumpet blast, but when the roaring sound of crumbling bricks came, he buried his head into Cala’s chest and barely whimpered.

“They have broken the walls,” Tzadok said, peering through the window to the courtyard where Tendaji stood,
still barring the gate. “We should go out there and fight them.”

“You can’t!” Cala’s voice was low, like a growling she-bear. “I will not lose you.”

Her husband glanced at her. “What makes you think we will die? What makes you think we will not kill them?”

Rahab’s brothers joined the argument, suddenly acting like a pack of wolves pacing her sitting room.

“Tzadok is right. We would be fools to just sit here and die.” Azad nearly kicked the cat in his pacing.

Rahab scooped the cat into her arms and moved to the doorway to block their way, but they pushed her aside with ease. She turned, the words forming on her tongue to beg them to stay, but stopped at the sight of Tendaji blocking the entry.

“Rahab has asked you to stay. You will stay,” he said, command in his voice.

“Who’s going to make us? You?” Tzadok’s mocking tone made Rahab want to slap him, but she held her peace and pulled the cat closer.

“If that’s what you require.” Tendaji’s look turned menacing. “Do you truly think Dabir jumped to his death?”

For once, Tzadok had no response.

“Dabir was a fool,” Tendaji said, “but he did not die a fool’s death. Take care that you do not do the same.”

Rahab’s brothers stepped back, the threat clear, while Tendaji returned to the gate to stand guard. Relief filled her as she watched her family settle onto couches and chairs, all huddled together, listening to the carnage outside. One thing was certain. The wall had fallen all around them, but her house remained standing. If she did not believe in the God of Israel before this, she did now.