The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (30 page)

26

T
he city of Ai loomed before them, an insignificant town with less than half the men Jericho had possessed. Salmon glanced at Mishael and smiled. They would be home in time for the evening meal if all went as they expected. They divided the three thousand men into three groups, one coming after the other. Caleb’s nephew Othniel led the first group, then Mishael the second, and Salmon brought up the last of the men.

They came around from behind a large copse of trees, expecting to walk right through the open city gate. But as Othniel’s group approached, arrows shot down at them from the wall. Soldiers from Ai stormed through the gates, chasing them back.

Salmon commanded his troop to circle around the city, but Mishael’s group was caught in the chase all the way to the stone quarries. Seeing the gate shut up behind the warriors, Salmon and Othniel pursued the men of Ai. But more soldiers appeared, coming from the trees, and as Salmon reached the quarries where Mishael’s group was already trying to make their way down the slopes, Salmon ducked into a shallow cave with a few of his men, his courage drained.

“How is it possible they are striking us down?” This from one of his men. “We outnumber them two to one.”

Salmon shaded his eyes against the sun’s glare and looked down on the men trying to maneuver the slopes. His heart stopped, then went into a full gallop as he watched an arrow from a soldier of Ai arc and dip straight toward Mishael.

“Mishael, run!” But Salmon was too far away to be heard. Time seemed like a distant enemy as he broke free of the cave and raced down the hill toward his friend. As he reached Mishael’s side, saw his crumpled, broken body, he let out a war cry that shook the stones surrounding them. He readied his bow and shot back at the approaching handful of soldiers, shouting at his men to do the same.

But as each one looked around at their losses, they fled like children running to their mothers. Salmon took a bold step closer to the men of Ai and nocked another arrow. The men of Ai did the same, both sides standing there waiting for the other to strike.

“Go home, Israelites,” one of them shouted. “Your God may have given you Jericho, but you will not defeat us.”

Salmon glanced around him, wanting to shout back that their God could defeat them with twelve men instead of three thousand. But as the men of Ai turned back toward their city, he did not loose his arrow, and he did not say the words. He turned instead, defeat filling him, picked up Mishael’s body, and walked toward home.

“We lost thirty-six men,” Salmon told Joshua later that afternoon. “Including Mishael.” His voice broke, and silence followed the remark.

Rahab strained to hear more as she knelt in the women’s half of Joshua’s tent, crushing mint leaves and adding them to the water she had drawn earlier from the Jordan.

“We don’t know how they knew we were coming,” one of the other leaders said, “but somehow they were ready for us. They met us at the gate, and some were waiting in the forest.”

“We spent the afternoon looking for a cave big enough to bury the bodies.” Rahab could still hear the wobble of emotion in the timbre of Salmon’s deep voice.

The room grew quiet again, until at last Joshua spoke. “Send for the elders of the people. I will go before the ark of the Lord and they will join me. Perhaps our God will hear our prayers and show us why we were defeated.”

Salmon followed Joshua across the compound to the place where the ark of the Lord rested. Joshua tore his tunic, and Salmon and the rest of the elders did the same. They sprinkled dust on their heads and fell facedown on the ground before the Lord.

As dusk descended, Joshua’s voice broke the silence. “Alas, Sovereign Lord, why did you ever bring this people across the Jordan to deliver us into the hands of the Amorites to destroy us? If only we had been content to stay on the other side of the Jordan!”

Salmon’s heart felt like a heavy weight within his chest. Joshua’s doubt and anguish mingled with the scent of Mishael’s blood, which Salmon would never be able to wash from his hands. Such defeat seemed impossible with the God who had parted the Jordan and caused Jericho’s walls to
tumble. And yet, here they were, fresh from the awful task of burying their dead.

“Pardon your servant, Lord. What can I say, now that Israel has been routed by its enemies? The Canaanites and the other people of the country will hear about this, and they will surround us and wipe out our name from the earth. What then will you do for your own great name?” Joshua’s voice wavered, and Salmon’s throat ached with the need to cry out,
Why?

Stillness, unnatural and eerie, followed Joshua’s prayer, but moments later a rumble like thunder moved above their heads, and Salmon strained to hear above the roar.

“Stand up!” a deep voice said from the darkening clouds. “What are you doing down on your face? Israel has sinned. They have violated my covenant, which I commanded them to keep. They have taken some of the devoted things, they have stolen, they have lied, they have put them with their own possessions. That is why the Israelites cannot stand against their enemies. They turn their backs and run because they have been made liable to destruction. I will not be with you anymore unless you destroy whatever among you is devoted to destruction.

“Go, consecrate the people,” the voice continued. “Tell them, ‘Consecrate yourselves in preparation for tomorrow, for this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: There are devoted things among you, Israel. You cannot stand against your enemies until you remove them.’”

After a few more instructions, the clouds lifted and the voice departed. Salmon rose on shaky legs and looked toward Joshua, whose face was both aglow and hard as flint.

“Go among the people and do as the Lord commanded.
Each one must wash their clothes and consecrate themselves. Tomorrow we will go through every tribe, every family, until we find who is guilty,” Joshua said.

Salmon did not wait for dismissal, nor speak a word to any man. Fear and anger mingled, rising like a storm within him. Mishael had died because some fool had disobeyed their God?

But as he marched toward the camp, he stopped short at thoughts of the temptations he had considered, of Rahab. Could the disobedient one be him?

27

R
ahab spent the rest of the evening washing her garments along with the rest of the women in Israel, kneeling at the Jordan until every last piece of clothing was washed clean. She had said little to Joshua’s wife during the solemn consecration and returned to her tent to find sleep impossible. Could she be the cause of Israel’s defeat? Was her desire to join them a source of anger to their God? Perhaps she should have been devoted to destruction along with her people, and the fact that they had spared her . . . did that make her guilty of this great loss?

She shivered at the thought, telling herself it wasn’t true. Joshua had spared her because she had helped his men. Still, perhaps Joshua had failed his God by saving her. Or perhaps her family leaving Israel’s protection was the cause.

She rose against the chill of night and wrapped her cloak about her, padding softly past the sleeping cat, and stepped into the moonlight. The camp lay in quiet slumber around her. Only the distant howl of a wolf or jackal disturbed the
silence. She left her torch in its stand outside her door and crept quietly around the circle of tents surrounding Joshua’s.

Worry weighted her spirit, and she felt the stirrings of doubt in her soul. Memories of Jericho’s broken walls—everything fallen except her house—rose in her thoughts. Surely God alone had done such a thing. Surely He had meant for her to live because she had put her trust in Him. Hadn’t He?

She rounded the bend, heading back toward her tent. Sounds of weeping met her ear, and she wondered if the tears came from the tent of one who had lost a loved one in the war. Did Mishael’s family live near here? She was suddenly grateful Adara was not here to witness Mishael’s loss. If she had married him, she would already be widowed.

The thought unnerved her. She could not imagine her little sister having to live through the things she had suffered in losing Gamal.

But whoever was guilty of angering Israel’s God—what kind of judgment would they suffer? Jericho’s burning embers filled her mind’s eye, and her feet were suddenly no longer sluggish. She lifted the edge of her cloak and hurried as quickly as she could back to her tent.

Dawn came too early, and Rahab rose with the women of Joshua’s household to prepare the morning meal, but Joshua and the elders ate nothing as the tribes gathered in the center of the camp. Rahab stood in the shadows as Joshua called the tribes one by one, in order of birth. Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah.

“The Lord has chosen Judah,” Joshua said, his face rugged and stern. “All of the clans of Judah, come forward.”

Rahab glanced at the group, Salmon’s tribe. Fear slithered through her, a living thing, as she watched Salmon walk with the tribe to face Joshua. Would Salmon be punished for his promise, the promise that had saved her life? She had coaxed it from him, had bargained for it as easily as she had told so many lies to the men who shared her bed. All for the sake of her freedom. But at what cost to Salmon, to Israel? She placed a hand on her middle, trying to quell the sickening dread.

Joshua looked the men over, then closed his eyes as if listening for direction. “The clan of Zerah, come forward.”

Rahab released a shaky breath as she watched Salmon step back. She did not know the clans of Israel, but apparently Zerah was not Salmon’s ancestor. Which meant he could not be guilty of promising to save her. She searched quickly around for a stone to sit upon, fearing her legs would not hold her.

Joshua repeated the process, listening for the Lord’s choice. “The family of Zimri, come forward.” The men of Zimri’s family stepped in front of Joshua one at a time, man by man. At last Joshua continued. “Achan son of Karmi, the son of Zimri, the son of Zerah, of the tribe of Judah, the Lord has chosen you. Now, my son, give glory to the Lord, the God of Israel, and honor him. Tell me what you have done. Do not hide it from me.”