This Scarlet Cord (15 page)

Arazu nodded. “The girl.”

“Yes, the girl.”

Arazu moistened his lips with his tongue. “A daughter like that can be worth more to a father than a thousand barrels of wine.”

Edri’s nose quivered. “Quite so. And he has brought her to Jericho to show her around. Peasants may be stupid in some ways, but they are shrewd in others. What did you think of her?”

Arazu lifted his eyebrows. “I thought exactly as you did, my dear Edri. She is astonishingly beautiful and delicious as a ripe fruit. No man could see her and remain unmoved.”

The two men looked at each other, the same idea in both their minds. It was Arazu who spoke the thought out loud.

“She may be just what we need for the king.”

Edri stood up and began to pace around the courtyard, his hands behind his back. “If any woman can rouse Makamaron’s manhood, that girl is the one.”

Arazu leaned back in his chair and watched his colleague pace. “And even if he fails, we can make sure she never tells. What we need to do is buy all of her father’s wine. We’ll offer him an extravagant price. Even if we don’t make a profit selling it on to the merchants, we can still afford it. We’ll be making huge profits on the grain and olive oil harvests.”

Edri swung around, frowning. “Why overspend for the wine? The man should be thrilled his daughter has been chosen to be the hierodule. It is the greatest honor a woman can attain; to be the goddess herself in the sacred marriage.”

“That is so.” Arazu looked over his shoulder at his friend and complained, “Will you please sit down and stop pacing? My neck hurts from trying to follow you.” After Edri had resumed his place, Arazu went on. “Will we have a problem because she’s not a priestess?”

Edri waved his hand, dismissing the notion. “Not if the high priest says she is called to the office, which of course he will. And there have been precedents. Don’t you remember the time Makamaron fell in love with one of Salu’s daughters and insisted she be the hierodule? The priestesses were not happy, but once the high priest said it was all right, there was nothing they could do.”

“The prince will complain,” Arazu said. “He is counting on Arsay to expose Makamaron’s inability.”

“He may complain, but there will be nothing he can do.”

Arazu nodded. “Good, then. We discredit Arsay, then bring this girl forward. We can buy the father off if necessary, but he should be delighted. He wants her to make a good marriage, and once she has stood in the place of Asherah, no woman will be more exalted. She will have her pick of the young men of the nobility.”

“It’s a good plan,” the treasurer agreed. “But we must show the girl to Makamaron first. He is the only one who can name her as his hierodule.”

Arazu nodded. “What was the girl’s name again?”

“I believe the farmer called her Rahab.”

Fourteen

W
HEN
R
AHAB AND HER FAMILY ARRIVED HOME, THEY
found Sala and Lord Nahshon waiting in front of their door. Lord Nahshon told Mepu he wished to speak to him, and Mepu invited him inside. Shemu followed them but Sala remained outside with Rahab. Atene, seeing this, remained behind to chaperone.

Sala said to Rahab, “Your mother said you had gone to see Lord Arazu. Please don’t tell me your father actually allowed you into that man’s company?”

Rahab, who was trying to quench the thrill the sight of him had produced in her, gave him a haughty stare. “What my father does is no concern of yours, Sala.”

His nostrils flared. Clearly he was in a temper.
Too bad
, Rahab thought
. He can’t insult me and then think he can tell me what I can and cannot do
.

Sala said, “I am
concerned
because I care about your welfare. A noble like Arazu is not interested in you as a marriage prospect, Rahab, although he might well want you for something else, now that you have been flaunted before him.”

Suddenly Rahab was furious. “My father is not flaunting me in front of anyone! And don’t pretend that you care about what happens to me. I have no intention of
defiling
you by expecting you to marry me, and my father has every right to present me to whatever man he deems suitable. All I want from you, Sala, is for you to leave me alone so I can forget you ever existed.”

The two of them glared at each other.

Atene said, “Lower your voices. You are attracting attention.”

Rahab glanced around, then looked back at Sala, prepared to continue the battle with a muted voice. She stiffened with surprise when he took her hand in his and held it tightly. When he spoke his voice had lost its anger. “Listen to me, Rahab. I’m sorry if I offended you, but you must listen to me. You and all your family must get out of Jericho. And not to your farm—you must go someplace else, someplace where you will be safe.”

She stared at him, knocked off balance by the change of subject. She heard Atene ask, “Why are you saying this? Why wouldn’t we be safe in Jericho or at our farm?”

Before Sala could answer, the front door was pushed open and Lord Nahshon stood on the threshold. He scowled when he saw Sala holding Rahab’s hand.

She jerked it away. “Atene and I must go indoors. My mother will be looking for us.”

Without another word, the two girls went into the house, leaving Sala and his father alone in front of the closed door.

Lord Nahshon looked bewildered. “What was going on here? I came to see what had kept you from joining us and I find you holding Rahab’s hand?”

Sala had admired his father all of his life. He had done everything his father asked of him, had followed him around like a shadow, because all he wanted was to be as great and good a man as his father was. He had never disagreed with anything his father had said, not even in the secrecy of his own heart. But he knew he had to be careful about what he said now and how he said it.

“Father,” he began, “somehow we must convince Mepu to get his family away from the city before Joshua attacks.”

Lord Nahshon’s eyes opened wider in stunned surprise. “Sala, you know we cannot do anything that might give away Joshua’s plans to the Canaanites! I cannot believe you would even consider such a thing.”

“We won’t be giving away Joshua’s plans.” Sala made his voice as persuasive and reasonable as he could. “Everyone knows the Israelite army is poised to strike at Jericho. That is no secret in Jericho.”

“Then let Mepu make his own decision. If he is worried, he can take his family away on his own.”

“That is the problem, Father. No one in Jericho is worried! They think they can withstand a siege. None of them understand that we are the army of Elohim and that we cannot lose.”

Lord Nahshon was silent, his eyes searching Sala’s face. Finally he said, “Mepu is not a fool. If I tell him to take his family and leave the city, he will suspect I have secret information. He may even give us up as spies.”

Sala set his jaw. “He would never do that.”

Lord Nahshon put his hands on Sala’s shoulders and said with the calm certainty that Sala had always admired and obeyed, “I understand your feelings, Sala. I like these people too, but they are Canaanites. They stand in the way of the will of Elohim and therefore they are disposable. What you ask is impossible. You will see that for yourself if you stop and think about it.”

Lord Nahshon’s hands on his shoulders felt like heavy weights to Sala. His father had just called Rahab’s life disposable. He looked down into Nahshon’s eyes and said steadily, “I saved Rahab’s life once. You helped me to save her. How can you think she is disposable?”

Sala kept looking into his father’s eyes. Rahab was not for him. He knew that. But he would not let her die. He would
not
let her die.

His father said, “Soon Joshua will secretly send men into Jericho to bring back the information we have gleaned. When that is accomplished, he will better understand how to move against the city. We cannot risk drawing attention to ourselves in any way, Sala. Perhaps I can speak to Mepu later, when our plans are certain. But we cannot do anything that might alert him now. If we are discovered, then Joshua’s spies will not have access to what we have learned.”

Sala didn’t think they had learned much and he said this to his father.

Nahshon said, “We have learned that the north wall of the city is the most vulnerable place and should be the target of Joshua’s attack. We have also discovered there is a split between those who support the king and those who support the prince. Nothing makes a city riper for destruction than division among the rulers. And we are not yet finished. By the time Joshua’s men come, I hope to have even more information to pass along.”

His father’s logic was impeccable and there was nothing more Sala could say. His heart was bursting inside him, but he could find nothing to refute his father’s logic.

He said, “But you will talk to Mepu after the spies are away?”

“Yes,” Lord Nahshon said.

It shocked Sala to his core to discover that he did not believe his father’s promise. In all his life, Sala had never felt so desperate. “Joshua will kill everyone in the city, Father. That is what he has done elsewhere.”

“This is not their land, Sala. This is our land. And if we leave the Canaanites alive, there will only be more fighting and more Israelite deaths. Better to cut off the head of the enemy than to leave it wounded but able to overcome its injuries and strike at us again.”

Sala, his father’s son, knew this was true. But Sala, who loved Rahab, felt as if he were being ripped apart.

He lay awake for most of the night, wrestling with himself. What he was thinking of doing was traitorous. He knew very well what he owed to his father, to his people. The fall of Jericho would be the greatest moment for the Israelites since Elohim gave this land to Abraham. He should do nothing—nothing!— that might compromise that victory.

It was almost morning when he came to the most momentous decision of his life. After the spies were safely gone back to Joshua,
he
would tell Mepu to take Rahab away from Jericho. He had saved her life once and he would do it again. As the sun began to creep in at his tiny window, Sala finally fell asleep.

The following morning four soldiers came to the door of Mepu’s house and told him the king had sent for his daughter, Rahab. Mepu was stunned.

“What are you talking about? What has my daughter to do with the king? You must be mistaken.”

“There is no mistake,” the soldier who had first spoken said. “The king has sent for your daughter. We have a litter waiting. Tell her to hurry, we must not keep the king waiting.”

Mepu looked beyond the bronze helmeted men to see that there was indeed a litter waiting in the narrow street.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You don’t have to understand, you just have to get your daughter.”

“Wait here,” Mepu said and closed the door.

The family was gathered in the small front room and they had heard the whole of the conversation. They stared at Mepu with bewilderment and fright.

Rahab crossed her arms around herself tightly and said, “I’m not going.”

Mepu pulled himself together. “You have no choice. If the king has asked for you, you must go. But you must not go alone. Your mother will go with you.”

“To see the king?” Kata looked terrified. “I don’t understand—what is happening, Mepu? Why should the king wish to see Rahab?”

Shemu said, “Father has been taking her all over the city for the last week. Clearly someone who saw her told the king about her.”

Rahab looked from her father’s face to her brother’s and realized there was nothing they could do. Her chest was tight with fear. What could the king want with her?

Atene said, “I will go with you, Rahab. Mother is too upset.”

There was no one Rahab would rather have with her than Atene. “Thank you,” she breathed.

The girls looked at Shemu, who nodded his approval. “A good idea.”

Kata fluttered her hands helplessly. “You must change your clothes, Rahab. You cannot go to see the king in that old tunic.”

A hard, impatient knock came on the front door. Rahab shuddered.