This Scarlet Cord (23 page)

“Yes, Head Priestess, I understand.”

“If anyone asks you, you are to say you never saw the king at all, that you were informed of his death while you waited for him to come to you.”

“Yes, Head Priestess,” Rahab repeated.

“Before the night is out, King Tamur will make the real sacred marriage. We must be certain the New Year rites have been completed so the city will be protected.”

Rahab stiffened.
I will not be the hierodule again. I will not!

“Arsay will take your place as hierodule,” Umara said. “It would not please Asherah to have a distressed woman represent her, and it would only be natural that you should be distressed by the events of this evening.”

“I am extremely distressed, Head Priestess,” Rahab said quickly.

For the only time since they had met, a flicker of approval showed in Umara’s eyes. “Will you swear to me now, by the sword of Baal, that you will never say aught of what happened at the temple tonight?”

“I swear by the sword of Baal that I will never tell anyone about what happened at the temple tonight,” Rahab repeated fervently.

“Very well.” Umara picked up the rush light. “When Shapash makes her first appearance in the sky, I will send for your father to come to bring you home.”

Rahab’s heart was bursting. “Thank you, Head Priestess.”

She sat on the bed until the sound of footsteps died away, then she got up and went over to the window. Looking up toward the sky, she prayed with all her heart and soul,
Thank You, Elohim, for listening to my prayers. From this moment forth, You will be my God and I shall be Your faithful servant. Whatever You may call upon me to do, I will do it as I bless Your name
.

Twenty-Two

W
HEN
M
EPU HEARD SOMEONE BANGING ON HIS DOOR
just after dawn, he leaped up from his sleeping mat, his heart hammering.

Rahab. Had something happened to her?

Kata was sitting up too, her hands clutching her throat. “What is it?” she asked.

“I’ll go and find out,” he said.

“Wait! I’m coming with you,” Kata cried and, pulling a robe around her, she hurried after her husband.

When Mepu opened the door and saw a palace guard standing there, his knees weakened. Was the guard here to arrest him? Had Rahab done something she shouldn’t have?

“Y . . . yes?” he croaked.

“You are Mepu, father of Rahab?” the guard asked in a gruff voice.

“Yes, I am Mepu.” He managed a more normal tone this time.

“You are to come with me immediately to Asherah’s Shrine.”

Kata clutched her husband’s elbow. She was so afraid for Rahab that she spoke to the guard directly.

“Is this about my daughter? Is she all right?”

The guard ignored her and said to Mepu, “You are to bring her home. Get your cloak and come with me.”

“But what about the morning banquet . . . ?”

The guard gave him an impatient look. “I was told to bring this message to you and that is all I know. You had better hurry.”

“Yes, yes, I will be but a moment.” Mepu closed the door on the guard.

Kata was still grasping his arm. “What can have happened? Rahab was supposed to attend the banquet this morning. We were to go too. Why are they sending her home?”

Mepu put his hand over his wife’s to calm her. He was alarmed by this summons, but he did not want to frighten Kata any further. He said, “You know Rahab. She probably begged them to let her come to see us before the banquet starts. I’m sure it’s nothing more than that.”

Kata’s face relaxed a little. “That sounds like Rahab. Perhaps you are right. But to awaken us at this hour! Something does not seem right to me.”

Shemu had also heard the noise at the door and he came down the stairs as his father was speaking. “They want you to bring Rahab home?” he asked, his brows knit together in a worried frown.

“Yes. I am to go right away.”

“I’ll come with you,” Shemu said, and Mepu felt a deep relief that he would have his son’s company. Clearly Shemu also believed something was wrong.

The guard had a chariot waiting outside the door, which worried Mepu even more profoundly. Something was indeed wrong if they were being taken by chariot.

No one spoke as the chariot rattled along the empty streets. The guard drove them to Asherah’s Shrine and stopped outside the courtyard.

“Go in. Someone will be waiting for you.”

Mepu and Shemu stepped out of the chariot and entered into the courtyard. Umara, the head priestess, greeted them.

“You are Rahab’s father?” she said to Mepu.

“Yes, I am.”

“And who is this?” She looked at Shemu.

“I am Rahab’s brother, Head Priestess,” Shemu replied. “May I ask why we have been summoned here like this?”

The head priestess looked as if she had eaten something sour as she proceeded to relate the events of the night.

Shemu interrupted the tale. “The king’s heart gave way? Do you mean he died?”

“Yes.”

Mepu exchanged an astonished look with his son. Neither of them had dreamed of this!

The head priestess continued, “Since it was vital that the sacred marriage take place, our new king went ahead with the ceremony. Your daughter”—she tossed Mepu a disdainful look—“was too upset to be the hierodule, and so one of our own priestesses took her place. So the New Year festival has been successfully completed and we do not need your daughter any longer. Since she shows no interest in remaining here as a priestess, I thought it best to simply send her home.”

Mepu’s emotions were mixed as he listened to the head priestess. He was grievously disappointed that his daughter had been cheated of the honor that had been promised her, but he was also immensely relieved that Rahab had not done anything that might bring evil consequences upon her family.

The two men remained silent as they waited in the courtyard. At last Rahab came out, escorted by a priestess. Her face was as white as desert sand and there were dark shadows under her eyes.

No wonder she looks so unhappy,
Mepu thought. From being the highest woman in the land, she was being thrust back into the obscurity of her ordinary home and family. The new king might not even keep his father’s promise to find her a noble husband.

Mepu frowned as another thought crossed his mind. Perhaps no one would want to marry her now. Even if it had been no fault of hers, Rahab would always be associated with the death of Makamaron. Mepu thought bitterly that perhaps it would have been wiser to accept a husband for her from among their neighbors back in Ugaru. Who knew what could happen to her now?

He was thinking these things when Shemu stepped forward and held out his arms to Rahab. She ran into them, threw her arms around her brother’s neck, and buried her face in his shoulder.

“It’s all right, little one,” Shemu said, patting her on the back. “You’re coming home and that’s all that matters. You will be safe with us.”

Mepu stood awkwardly by as Rahab burst into tears in her brother’s arms. After a bit Mepu also patted her on the shoulder. “Come along now, my daughter. There is supposed to be a litter waiting for you in the street.”

Rahab rode in the litter and the two men walked alongside of it. Kata and Atene were waiting inside the door of the house when Rahab walked in, and both her mother and her sister-in-law hugged her tightly. Everyone cried.

Finally Kata served breakfast and Mepu related what the priestess had told him. When Mepu finished, Kata said, “I think we should take Rahab back to the farm. This city has not been good for her. It has not been good for any of us, I think.”

Over Kata’s head, Mepu looked at his son. It was Shemu who said gently to his mother, “We cannot go home, Mother. There is news that some Israelites have been seen at the Jordan crossing. Once the river subsides to its normal flow, their whole army will cross onto the plains of Jericho. All of our villages and farms will lie helpless before their advance. They are known for destroying everything that lies in their path, and we cannot risk returning home. I am afraid we are going to have to remain in the city for the time being.”

Kata’s face crumpled and she turned to Mepu. “But I hate it here.”

Mepu said gruffly, “You don’t want to be killed by the Israelites, do you?”

Kata sniffled and shook her head.

“Well then, we must stay.”

Once breakfast was finished, Rahab and Atene went up to the roof, ostensibly to check on the drying flax. As soon as they were alone, Rahab said urgently, “Have you seen Sala?”

“I saw him briefly, right after the news about you being chosen was announced. I told him how it had happened.”

Rahab’s chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe. “What must he think of me, Atene, being paraded through the streets like that? Even worse, what will his father think? He will tell Sala I am contaminated, that he must never come near me again.”

“You are not contaminated, Rahab! Being chosen hierodule was hardly your fault. And as it turned out, the king never even touched you. Lord Nahshon will hear that. The story is going to be all over the city within the hour.”

“He hated me even before I became the hierodule. Why should he change now?”

“I told Sala that you had prayed to Elohim and that I had prayed to Elohim as well. He was so happy, Rahab! He told me he thought Elohim would save you, that he and I must continue to pray for you. He said we must put our trust in Elohim.”

“He said that?” Rahab breathed.

“Yes, he did. And once his father knows you have turned your back on Baal and now worship the god of the Israelites, his feelings toward you will change. How could they not?”

Last night Rahab had thought she would never be happy again. Now she could scarcely contain the joy that flooded throughout her being. “Do you really think so, Atene?”

Atene nodded. Then, in a slow and gentle motion, her hands cupped her flat stomach. “I hope Elohim answers me too.”

Rahab hugged her sister-in-law. “He will, Atene. I think Elohim wants us to belong to Him. I feel it in my heart.”

“I want a baby so much, Rahab.” Atene’s voice broke. “So very much.”

Rahab held her closer. “Let us pray again—together.”

Atene nodded, and Rahab slowly released her embrace. Quietly and solemnly, the two girls clasped their hands and began to pray.

When Sala awoke the morning after the festival, his whole body ached from his bruises and he had a raging headache. His father showed little sympathy.

“You asked for it,” he said. “Do you remember how you started a fight with the men around you? Finally one of the guards subdued you by hitting you on the head with the handle of his spear. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

Sala was sitting on his sleeping mat, holding his head in his hands. “I remember,” he mumbled. And he did. He remembered the look on Rahab’s face as she passed by, and the same fury he had felt then swept through him again. He shut his eyes. It would all be over by now. Rahab . . .

He had moaned her name aloud and the word seemed to enrage Nahshon. “How can you be so stupid, Sala? That girl has turned you into someone I don’t even recognize! A troublemaker. Even worse—a disobedient son.”

Sala winced. His head felt as if a knife were stabbing into it.

His father said, “Can you come downstairs with me?”

Sala began to shake his head, then moaned. “No. My head hurts too much.” After a moment he added pitifully, “I’m thirsty.”

“I’ll bring you some water,” Lord Nahshon said in a grim voice and left the room.