The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (36 page)

Joshua cleared his throat. “I do not have this from our law, Rahab, but from what I understand of our God, He is not pleased with greed, or with men who show no mercy. You saw what He required of Achan?”

“Yes, my lord.” Achan’s greed had brought such dread punishment to many families in Israel. “The punishment seemed a harsh one to the innocents who suffered with him.”

“None of us are truly innocent, Rahab.” She glanced at Salmon, saw the earnestness in his troubled gaze. What secrets lay behind that handsome brow?

“Salmon is right,” Joshua said, drawing her gaze to his once more. “The greed began with Achan, but his family helped him keep his secret. And our spies were overconfident with their proclamation of how easy it would be to take the city. I, in my pride, did not consult the Lord for guidance. I listened to Salmon’s and Mishael’s advice without question.” She watched Salmon’s face flush in the dim light. Joshua ran a hand through graying hair. “But even the best counselors cannot replace our reliance on Adonai. He is the leader of our army, and He directs our steps. So you see, Rahab, we have all failed Him.”

“There is so much I don’t understand.” She studied her hands, turning them palms up in her lap, suddenly ashamed of all the things her hands had done.

“Our God is beyond our human understanding.” Joshua’s voice grew soft, and he glanced from her to Salmon. “The more we read and keep His law, the better we will know Him. But even a lifetime will not give us all of the knowledge we might crave.”

Sounds of the camp filtered to them in the quiet room as Rahab pondered Joshua’s words.

“What can I do to repay His mercy?” She looked at her sandaled feet.

“Mercy is a gift, child. You cannot pay for what is freely given.”

She met Joshua’s steady gaze then and slowly nodded.

“As love is a gift,” Salmon said, his words like a caress. “You can give and receive it, but you cannot repay it.”

She looked at him and felt the soft stirring of appreciation for him growing within her. But love? She was not sure she was capable of loving a man.

“I appreciate all you have done for me—both of you.” She looked from one man to the other. “I am grateful you think me worthy of a second chance to be a wife. But I am not ready.” She paused, searching for words to help them understand. “You said I could live among you, that I would not have to marry—has that changed? Am I a captive bride who no longer has a choice?”

“You are not a captive, Rahab,” Joshua said, pulling her attention back to him. “You are a woman and, if you should want it, a bride of mercy.”

“And in this mercy, am I allowed to choose who and when?” She heard the sigh escape Salmon’s lips but could not look at him. She looked at Joshua for a response, but it was Salmon’s low voice that startled her.

“I will not force you to choose me,” he said.

“Nor will I force you to choose marriage,” Joshua added. “Our God saved your life, Rahab. We would like to see you a happy mother of children in a loving family, a gift our God can give if you are willing.”

“You ask the impossible.” The words sent her cheeks to flaming.

“Nothing is impossible with God,” Joshua said, his fatherly smile warming her. What would it have been like to grow up in his household? But she would never know.

“I need time to seek your God.” She stood, and the men rose with her. “Give me time. Please.”

She slipped from the tent, grateful for the reprieve. Salmon would likely change his mind about her as time passed. Besides, he deserved one better than such as she.

“She is a remarkable woman,” Joshua said once Rahab had left the tent, head bowed. “I think once she comes to know us better and the laws of our God, she will want to marry again.”

“I’m not sure she wants marriage, my lord.” Salmon ran a hand down his neck. “I think she wants release from her guilt, which the sacrifice did not supply. I think she wants time to feel the freedom she’s been given. I fear that she wants to earn God’s grace.”

Joshua lifted a cup of barley water to his lips and drank. “I don’t see it that way, my son. I think she wants Adonai to see her heart. What better way to express repentance than through obedience?”

Salmon thought on that a moment. “I will admit, Joshua, I am attracted to her. But I had always thought to marry an untouched woman.” He picked up a clay cup of water and studied the contents, though he did not drink.

“God can restore her to be as a virgin to you, my son. A month or two of mourning her family will give her time for her body and heart to heal.”

Salmon still studied the cup. “You seem very sure of this.
And yet, could you not allow me to go and search for Gamal? If we know for certain he is gone, she will be freer than she would if she were to always wonder what happened to him. I am used to spy missions, my lord. Give me someone to go with me, and I will search Syria until I find him.”

“The next battle is not far off, Salmon. I need you to lead your men.” Joshua set his cup down and tugged on his gray beard.

“I will be back to lead them. In the meantime, let Rahab stay as she is, near your tent, which will tell the camp she is bound to your family, but she can also have her time alone without feeling unsettled around me.” The desire grew within him as he spoke. He knew the risk. If he found Gamal, could he put him to death? Had the man been living in Jericho, he would have been under God’s curse. But if he remained a slave in Syria, the best Salmon could do would be to get him to sign a writ of divorcement. On his life, he could not bring himself to take Rahab to live with Gamal again, slave or free.

The thought brought a kick to his gut. When had he started to feel so strongly about her?

“You are almost as persuasive as Mishael.” Joshua’s smile was sad.

“I try.” His smile felt awkward. “Just say yes, Joshua. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

Joshua lifted a brow, but his look held a hint of amusement.

“Let Othniel go with me this time. He talks too much, but I promise not to hurt him.”

“What will you do if you find Gamal?” Joshua glanced toward the open doorway, where sunlight chased off the shadows of morning.

Kill him.
But no. “If he is willing to be circumcised and
repent of his ways, I will buy his freedom and return him to his wife.” The words did not bring the relief they once would have.

“And if he is not willing?”

“I will seek a writ of divorcement for her.”

“And if he will not give it?”

“I don’t know. Pray that Adonai grants me wisdom.”

Joshua nodded. “Do not risk killing the slave of another man. If we are not at war with the city, we cannot kill without just cause.”

“I understand,” Salmon said, relieved to have such guidance.

“You must return before month’s end. I cannot have the army sitting on their hands while we wait for you to run off on this fruitless errand.” Joshua folded his arms in front of him and met Salmon’s gaze, unflinching.

“I will leave as soon as Othniel agrees to join me. Do you wish to see him before we go?” Salmon was not so sure the man would appreciate such a mission.

“That is not necessary. Othniel enjoys a challenge.” Joshua smiled and walked Salmon to the tent’s door.

Salmon followed Joshua from the tent and caught sight of Rahab back at her chore of pounding the dust from her pallet. He approached her, keeping his distance from the swinging broom.

She glanced up and stopped mid-swing. “Interrupting my work again, my lord?” She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes.

He nodded, taking in her dirt-smudged face, which somehow only added to her beauty. “I will be leaving soon to journey to Syria . . . to seek Gamal, or to at least discover his fate.”

Her large dark eyes grew wide, and he knew she understood his reasons.

“What will you do if you find him? Will you take me to him then?”

“Not if you do not want to go.”

“I don’t.” She clung to the broom as though it were a staff holding her up. “But I want to obey Adonai. Would He have spared me to send me back?”

Her intelligent questions made his own deepen. “I do not understand all the ways of our God, Rahab,” he said at last. “And I do not even know if I will find the man. I just know that I have to try. I will trust Adonai to lead me after that.”

She nodded, her gaze moving from him to her feet. “Gamal . . .” she paused, met his gaze, “. . . has a scar along his brow, near his hairline. He got it in the war, saving the prince’s life.”

He gave her an affirmative smile. “That will help. Thank you.” But he could tell by the wariness in her eyes that she gave the information with great hesitation. “I will be back within a month.”

She searched his face, her gaze too vulnerable. “Be careful.”

Her concern for him lifted his spirits. “If nothing else, it will give you time alone, the time you need to learn more about our God.”

Rahab watched Salmon walk with Othniel and head north toward Syria the following morning, her heart heavy within her. Why was he doing this? He could not know the outcome of such a journey. He could be killed along the way. Everyone knew bandits lived in the hills. And if he found
Gamal, what then? Her stomach turned over at the thought of the man.

Oh God, don’t let them find him.
If they couldn’t find him, she would be free of him and free of all men who might come seeking marriage. She would not be bound to Salmon, as Joshua seemed eager for her to be. She need never risk her heart to the untrustworthiness of men again.

She turned back to her tent and gathered the herbs she had found in the fields near their camp. Today she would show Eliana and her daughters how to flavor the flatbread and stews into something other than the bland lentils and barley they had recently reaped from the land. Then perhaps she would take a walk to the Jordan to bathe, though she knew no hyssop or ointments could wash her as clean as she wished to be.

31

R
ahab turned the millstone the following week, grinding newly harvested wheat in the company of Eliana and her youngest daughter. She listened as mother and daughter laughed over something they’d overheard as they gathered water that morning. Wistful longing filled her that she would never have a daughter with whom to share the secrets of women. Images of Adara came to mind, and with it homesickness as heavy as the millstone’s weight. Why had she stayed here? If she left for Egypt with a passing caravan, could she find her family now?

“You’re terribly quiet today, Rahab,” Eliana said as she lifted ground grains from the stones and poured them into a thick clay jar. “Does something trouble you?”

Rahab looked up from her work and brushed the flour from her hands. She had spent days in prayer, walking alone among the fields, keeping to herself, her mind turning over the laws of circumcision and captive brides that Joshua had read to them less than a month earlier. If her father and brothers were required to be circumcised to join Israel, how
was she released from doing something to show Adonai her allegiance? Was there not some rite for women? Or did everything rest with the men alone?

“I see even now you are struggling to say it.” Eliana moved closer and touched Rahab’s shoulder. “Can you share what troubles you, my daughter?”