The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (27 page)

James 2:25 NKJV

Nahshon the father of Salmon,

Salmon the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab,

Boaz the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth,

Obed the father of Jesse,

and Jesse the father of King David.

Matthew 1:4–6

23

T
he smoke from Jericho’s burned-out city carried an acrid, sickening scent toward the Israelite camp, and Rahab stood in her tent watching the last of the curling blackness reach greedy fingers toward the heavens. The pink light of dawn seemed out of place against the backdrop of such destruction.

She blinked away the ever-present emotion, seeing in her mind’s eye Tendaji’s broken body. Had her cook suffered the same fate? But of course she had, for she had refused to stay once the shout of Israel’s warriors was heard from outside Jericho’s gates. The loss, the shock of it all, had overtaken Rahab’s family as the flames rose higher. But for fear of the triumphant Israelites, the women had wept quietly, without the normal mourners’ loud cries and tears. She hugged herself, feeling the soft skin of her arms, still struggling to accept the fact that she had been spared.

Why—when she deserved judgment? For despite Dabir’s part in forcing her into prostitution, she had acted her part
willingly. She could have refused and rotted in one of their prisons. If Dabir hadn’t beaten her to death first.

The truth was, she had done what she had to in order to live. To save her family. And herself.

The admission did nothing to wash the scars from her memory. Just as the baths she had required at the end of each evening with some sniveling customer had done nothing to rid her mind of what they did to her, what she allowed them to do. Worse, with a handful, perhaps only one—Prince Nahid—she had allowed herself to care, to enjoy his attention.

She closed her eyes for the briefest moment. Judgment
had
come on those men even as it should have come on her, and yet here she stood. She was free to start a new life, a respectable life.

The thought should have pleased her, did please her, but . . . Salmon’s look of disdain, the one he tried to hide, surfaced in her mind, and she wondered if anyone would let her forget what she’d been.

She glanced up at the sound of male voices coming from the Israelite camp. Fear curdled her middle. Would such men seek out her services even against their God’s wishes? Was she safe even here?

But as the men drew closer, she recognized Salmon and Mishael. She drew in a breath, forcing calmness into her spirit. Tendaji would have protected her. Could she count on Joshua and these two men to do the same?

She left the door of her tent and walked with graceful steps to meet Israel’s two spies. She bowed at their feet as they approached.

“Rise, Rahab,” Salmon said, and his voice carried a hint
of emotion she had not expected. “There is no need to bow to us.”

She rose quickly, smoothing her skirts. “I only wished to express my gratitude to you both.” She flushed, unable to hold either man’s gaze. “Thank you, again, for saving my family.”

Salmon cleared his throat. “We are happy to have done so. Without you, we would not be standing here.”

She looked up at that, searched his face. Silence fell between them until Mishael chuckled. “I think we have all said enough thank-yous. Now how about we get on with what we came for?” His smile held a mischievous glint, and Rahab tilted her head and lifted a brow.

“And what would that be, my lord?”

“We came to take you to Joshua.” Salmon turned and gestured toward the Israelite camp. “Is there anything you need to do first?”

Rahab thought a moment. To walk through the camp with just two men . . .

“I would like to bring my sister Adara, if you can wait while I get her.” She prayed her sister was not still sleeping.

The men nodded, and Rahab hurried toward her tent, which Adara had shared the night before. “Adara?” She spoke softly, looking around the darkened tent, relieved when she saw her sister step from behind a partition, tying the belt of her robe.

“What is it?”

“Oh good. You are awake.”

“It is hard to sleep on the ground, and besides, I heard you talking and peeked outside. What do those men want?” Adara’s wide eyes were filled with curiosity and a sense of excitement.

“They came to take me to Joshua, their leader. If you are willing, I would like you to come with me.” She glanced beyond her sister a moment, surprised at the heat again filling her face. What was this sense of humility, of shame?

“I would be happy to come with you.” Her smile brightened, calming some of Rahab’s unease.

“Good. Run and tell Father and Mother where we are going. And hurry. I do not want to keep them waiting.” Rahab left the tent, knowing her sister’s desire for adventure would cause her quick obedience.

A few moments later, Salmon and Mishael led Rahab and Adara into Israel’s camp, with her oldest brother Azad joining them. Perhaps her father was more protective than she realized, though Rahab knew it was for Adara’s sake that Azad followed them.

“I am surprised they ever let you act as my maid,” Rahab whispered to Adara, out of Azad’s hearing. “Or sleep in my tent.”

Adara gripped Rahab’s arm and leaned close. “They only fuss over me because I am the youngest. But I know how to get my way when I really want it.” She twisted her baby finger through Rahab’s and smiled. “Father is not so hard to reason with. He is just angry at what all those men have done to you. And he doesn’t trust the Israelites.”

Rahab nodded. “I think their leader, Joshua, is a good man.”

They grew silent as the men continued leading them past curious onlookers, both men and women. Rahab pulled the headscarf closer about her neck, ducking her head, not wishing to be seen . . . to be judged.

At last they came to a large tent at the head of the tribe of
Ephraim, not far from the Tent of Meeting. Salmon stopped at the fire pit in front of the awning and called Joshua’s name. The old man emerged from his tent, took in their appearances in one glance, and welcomed them into his home.

“I am glad you have come.” Joshua beckoned Rahab, her sister, and her brother to sit on plush cushions along one wall, while Salmon and Mishael remained outside the tent.

“Thank you, my lord.” Rahab attempted a wobbly smile, her nerves heightened at the fear of what he might say.

“You said you wanted to pledge allegiance to Israel.”

She nodded, not daring a look at either brother or sister. “Yes.”

He seemed to consider them and her comment but a moment. “Very well. If that is the case, this is what our law requires and what you must do to become one of us.”

Rahab walked in silence with her brother and sister, ignoring the curious gazes of the Israelites, feeling the heat of her brother’s anger at each circumcised male they passed. Salmon and Mishael had not joined them on this return trip, and she was glad of it. Joshua’s words were too much to take in, and the thought of what was required of her, of her family, was humbling.

“These people are barbarians!” Azad said as they finally reached the outskirts of the Israelite camp and the safety of their father’s tent. “They want all of us”—he pointed to the men in Rahab’s family—“to be circumcised in order to celebrate their feast days with them, to become one people with them.” He crossed his arms, staring each one down. “I, for one, want no part of such a thing.”

Rahab watched her brothers nod their agreement, and suddenly the room of her father’s borrowed tent erupted with loud, swift bickering. Rahab took Adara’s hand and tugged her to follow, leaving the men to argue alone.

“Shouldn’t we find Mother and Cala and tell them what Joshua said?” Adara’s dreamy expression told Rahab far more than her words. Had she not understood Joshua’s words?

“Father and Tzadok will tell them. Besides, the rest does not apply to them. Only to you and to me, if we are willing, or if one of the men of Israel wants us.” She glanced at Adara’s stricken look. How quickly her expressions changed. She must learn to mask her emotions if she was to survive in a world where men ruled. “We are captives, you understand.”

They entered Rahab’s dark tent, but Rahab had no desire to lift the sides. It would only bring the sounds of bickering closer.

“Perhaps we should go for a walk to the river. The Jordan’s whooshing will drown out the sounds of our men.” Adara stood at the threshold, her gaze beckoning.

Rahab glanced at her few belongings. She did not even have a spindle and distaff with her, nor her tools for weaving flax. But then, the flax on her roof had burned along with the city.

“It is good to walk.” Though her feet already hurt from walking as much as they had through Israel’s camp.

They slipped past the tents of her family, all gifts from Salmon’s and Mishael’s people. They owned so little. And they owed their life to Israel. How could they survive unless they followed the laws of Israel’s God and became one with their people?

“I didn’t like the part about shaving my hair,” Adara said softly as the roar of the river drew closer. “I don’t mind
trimming my nails.” She held up a hand where the henna still coated the tips of her fingernails, then looked at Rahab and twirled her fingers through long strands of dark hair. “But how humiliating to be shaven!” She looked down at her clothes and fingered her multicolored robe, one that she had taken great care to create at Rahab’s side while Rahab worked the flax into linen. “What would we wear if we put these aside?”

“I imagine the husband who would claim you would provide new clothing. At least they would allow a headscarf when we leave their tents.” Rahab felt anew the humility, even humiliation, this God would exact from her. She already felt shame from all she had done. But His ways were humbling in a way she had not before experienced.

“I suppose the purpose of these things is to help us put aside our past, to start anew, with new hair, new clothes, new faith.” Rahab tucked her arm through her younger sister’s. “Do you want to join with Israel? I was speaking for myself when we talked with Joshua. I would not expect any of my family to follow me if they truly did not want to.”

“The cost is high,” Adara said, looking out over the river, her voice carried away on the wind.

“Too high?” Rahab wondered the same thing. Could she do what was required? But then, who would have her? She would not be required to follow the law of captive bride unless a man came forward to claim her, to want to marry her. She could remain on the outskirts of the camp and survive on her own. Perhaps her father would move them to another city or town.

“Not too high.” Adara’s words brought Rahab’s thoughts up short. “Not if Mishael were the one asking.” Color
heightened her sister’s cheeks, and Rahab took a step back to better look into her eyes.

“You only just met the man.” Whereas Rahab had been unable to forget Salmon from the first day the spies had come to her home.

“You have spoken of them both in favorable terms more than once, my sister.” Adara smiled. “Besides, he is very handsome, is he not?”

Rahab shook her head. The girl had no idea of the ways of men, and how one who could seem so kind could end up so cruel.

“Do you think Salmon would marry you?” Adara’s question startled her. She met her sister’s honest gaze.

“Why would you think such a thing? He has shown no interest in me. If any feelings have come from the man, they are definitely not the amiable kind. He disdains me.” The realization, the memory, of how he had nearly cringed when she touched him as he climbed from her window filled her mind, blotting out the kindness he had shown when he tried to keep her from kneeling beside Tendaji’s broken body.

“I see the way he looks at you.” Adara bent to retrieve a smooth stone from beside the river and tossed it in, watching it plop. “He may not realize it yet, but he cares for you, Rahab.”

Rahab glanced from Adara to the river. “Why should he care about a prostitute?” Why should God have saved her in the first place?