This Scarlet Cord (8 page)

Suddenly the Jericho man looked interested. “A shipping merchant?
Hmmm
.” His sharp eyes went from Lord Nahshon to Sala, then back to Lord Nahshon. “The farms of Jericho usually sell most of their produce directly into the city, but you are right when you say our harvests are usually plentiful.” He tapped his finger against his chin. “What are your names?”

Sala’s father gave the names they had agreed to assume for their stay in Jericho. “I am Debir and this is my son Arut. We are recently arrived and have been looking around the city a little, trying to orient ourselves.”

The man continued to tap his chin. Sala struggled to maintain a courteous expression. Finally the Jericho man said, “Perhaps it is the will of the gods that I have run into you. I only stopped because we in Jericho have been careful about strangers ever since that pack of Israelites started to invade our territory.”

“I can understand that,” Lord Nahshon said. “We have heard about some terrible battles.”

“They will never take Jericho,” the man said, waving a hand toward the walls. “But let me introduce myself. I am Lord Arazu, counselor to the king, and I would be interested in speaking to you more specifically about your business.”

Nahshon bowed. “I would be most happy to discuss our business with you, my lord. I can assure you, we are a highly reputable company in Gaza.”

“Good, good. If you come to my house later, I will have a few other people there who may be interested in working with you. Where are you staying?”

Sala admired his father’s rueful look. “In the only place we could find, my lord, an inn on the north side of the Lower City.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, you have come at a busy time. The festival of the New Year is but a week away and people have been coming in from the outlying areas in large numbers.”

Nahshon said, “Unfortunately I did not take account of that when I made my plans. I just thought, with most of the grain already high in the fields, it would be a good time to find customers.”

“I am not criticizing you, you are right. But we are not a large city and the few good inns get taken fast. I am sorry men of your class have been forced to take rooms in the Lower City.”

Lord Nahshon shrugged. “We will be fine.”

Lord Arazu gestured to the building behind them. “I noticed you were looking at Asherah’s Shrine. Her priestesses are hoping to collect a goodly sum of money for it during the time of the festival. They will be happy to take your donation.”

Sala was silent as Lord Nahshon promised to make a contribution.

“You can get directions to my house from anyone,” Lord Arazu said. “I shall see you there at five.”

Lord Nahshon assured him they would be there and he and Sala watched as the man walked off down the cobbled street.

Sala said, “I hope you don’t really plan to contribute to that shrine, Father!”

“Of course not. Those women—priestesses, as they call them—are nothing but prostitutes. They collect money for the shrine by selling their bodies to men.”

Sala looked at the young and pretty girls with horror. “They sell themselves out in the open like this?”

As he watched, a man approached one of the priestesses, bowed, and handed her what looked to be a sum of money. The girl received the money, turned, and began to walk back toward the shrine building. The man followed.

“That is disgusting!” Sala said.

“And that is why Elohim wishes us to destroy them and take this land for ourselves.” Lord Nahshon’s voice was sober. “Such people do not deserve to live.”

Sala wholeheartedly agreed.

Lord Nahshon said, “We cannot allow our feelings to show on our faces, Sala. We must remember we need these people to believe we are one of them. We have been tremendously lucky to meet this Arazu fellow. If he is truly a counselor to the king, we may be able to discover a great deal about the temper of the city, how united they are, how willing to take a stand against an attack.”

Sala straightened his shoulders. “You are right, Father,” then he smoothed his expression to blandness.

“Very well. I suggest we go back to the Sign of the Olive wine shop. It would be good for us to establish ourselves as regular customers there. That way there’ll be little notice paid when we finally do meet with the men Joshua will send.”

Sala agreed and the two men began to make their way back toward the Lower City.

Seven

R
AHAB HAD BEEN IN
J
ERICHO FOR SEVERAL DAYS. THE
only cities she had ever been in before were the seaports of Gaza and Ramac, and she was brimming with excitement at the prospect of being able to see all of the sights of Jericho.

This did not happen immediately. The first day of their residence was spent unpacking what they had brought and cleaning the house that belonged to Mepu’s brother. The following day Rahab, Kata, and Atene went shopping for food supplies, so it wasn’t until the third day of their residence that Rahab was able to tour the city.

On this day the three women, with Shemu as escort, got an early start, beginning their exploration with the Lower City where they were residing. Jericho had two main streets, both of them rising in a series of wide, cobbled steps from the gate in the outer wall to the second wall that encircled the Upper City. The streets in this area of the town were lined with closely packed houses, many of which served both as shops and residences, the shops on the ground floor and the rooms upstairs for family.

The three women barely glanced at the various foodstuffs that had been brought in from the surrounding farms; they had shopped at those stalls yesterday. What interested Kata, Atene, and Rahab were the crafts: the pretty woven baskets; the elegant pottery; the imaginative wooden bowls; the linen and woolen cloth that other women had woven and dyed. Most fascinating of all was the jewelry. They all owned a few bronze pins, but here there were belts and necklaces and broaches and earrings— some even made of gold.

Atene ventured to ask one of the shop owners if the gold was real and received an outraged stare in return. “Of course it is real, madam. Do you think I would sell fakes?”

Atene flushed with embarrassment and began to apologize, but Rahab took her hand and drew her back onto the street. “Don’t pay any attention to him,” she advised her sister-in-law. “I’ll bet there are a lot of fake items being sold in this market. People like us are probably easy marks; when have we ever seen real gold to be able to make a comparison?”

Kata had been outside the shop waiting for the girls, and the three women stood talking while they waited for Shemu to come out of the farm implement shop that had caught his attention.

Kata said, “I heard a few women talking as they passed by and they said there is a meat market on the west side of the city. I was glad to hear that. We certainly don’t have room at that house to have our own sheep and chickens.”

Kata had not said much about Mepu’s brother’s house, but she had managed to make it abundantly clear to the rest of the family that she was not pleased with it.

Rahab said, “It seems to me the whole well-being of this city depends upon the work of us farmers. Without us, the people here would starve.”

“They most certainly would,” Kata said.

Shemu, who had just come up to them, responded to Rahab’s remark. “They might need us but we need them too, Rahab. They get our food, but we get our money from selling them our produce. Father always says that is why Jericho is such a prosperous kingdom: the city and the countryside help each other.”

Rahab thought about that, then smiled at her brother. “That is a true thing you have said.”

Shemu said, “Ready to move on, Mother?”

“Yes, my son. I think the girls would like to look at the shop that is selling statues.”

They bought bread and fruit in one of the shops on the way home. Kata had been noticeably unenthusiastic about cooking in the small indoor kitchen area of the house, so, under instructions from his father, Shemu bought them their main meal at one of the food shops along the way. The spring day was delightfully warm and dry and Mepu, who had spent the day conducting some business with his brother, suggested they sit on the front steps to eat and watch the world go by.

Mepu’s brother’s house was actually bigger than many of the other houses on the street because it had a third floor. The main problem with the house was that the first two floors smelled, and the space on the third floor was filled with a collection of junk left by the previous renters. After their meal was finished, Kata announced that tomorrow the women were going to once more clean the first two floors, which still smelled, and that the men were going to empty out the third floor so they could use it as another bedroom.

No one opposed her scheme. With only two bedrooms available, the women had been sleeping in one and the men in another. If they had a third bedroom for Rahab, the married couples could be together. Shemu was particularly pleased by his mother’s scheme and even volunteered to clean the third floor room once it was emptied. He didn’t even complain when Mepu said he had an engagement the following day and could not help. Instead Shemu assured his mother he would be happy to do the work by himself.

The family worked hard, and on the following day they were rewarded when Mepu said at breakfast that he would take them all to the Upper City, home of Jericho’s royalty and nobility. Normally it took a special pass to be allowed through the gate into the Upper City, the wealthy of the town having no desire to clutter their streets with riffraff. This rule was relaxed at the time of the festival of the New Year, which was a feast for all the people of the kingdom. For two weeks the subjects of the king were allowed to enter into the Upper City to view the sights.

The sky was blue and the sun bright on the morning Rahab set off for the Upper City with her family. As soon as she passed through the gate that separated the two parts of Jericho, it was clear to Rahab that she had moved from one world into another. The houses that lined the streets here were large and built of stone, not mud bricks. These were the homes of the rich nobility and the priests who, together with the king, governed the small kingdom of Jericho.

The royal palace was the largest of all the houses in the Upper City. Rahab had never seen anything like it. Fronted by a courtyard paved with flagstones, the entrance to the building itself was approached by shallow steps flanked by two wooden columns set in circular stone bases. There were two floors to the huge building and it spread over so wide a space that Rahab could not begin to guess at how many rooms must lie within.

“The king surely lives well,” she murmured into Atene’s ear.

Her father heard her. “Remember, Rahab, the king is his people’s connection to Baal. We only flourish if he flourishes. It is right for him to live as befits his sacred role.”

“Yes, Papa,” Rahab said, her eyes still moving around the extensive stone edifice.

Eventually they moved away from the other visitors, who were gaping at the palace, and continued along the street. Mepu pointed out a particularly large house and told them it belonged to the high priest. Atene whispered to Rahab, “He does not live too badly either.”

Mepu said importantly, “If you will look ahead, you will see the great Temple of Baal itself.”

Rahab kept her eyes on the building as they approached it. It was not nearly as big as the palace, but it was still an imposing sight. The street before it was crowded, and when they reached the gate that led into the courtyard, Rahab realized they would have to wait until those inside the courtyard cleared out before they could fit in.

No one would be allowed into the temple itself. That was only for the king and the priests to enter.

They waited patiently in the hot sun, with Mepu and Shemu exchanging polite comments with the men around them. Rahab, like the rest of the women, was silent, but her eyes flicked with interest around the many faces in the crowd.

When finally it was their turn to go in, Rahab found the courtyard was even larger than it had looked. A massive sacrificial altar stood before the shallow stone steps that led up to the great closed door. The other remarkable thing in the courtyard was a tall standing stone, off to the left of the stairs. When Rahab finally got close enough to see it clearly, she saw that the engraving etched into the stone was a picture of Baal himself.

Rahab had never seen anything so perfect. She looked with wonder at the long legs with their long, slender feet, the raised arms holding the spear of lightning and the club that was a thunderbolt, the kilted skirt and bare upper body, the long-nosed profile.

I wonder how the stonemason knew what Baal looks like?
Rahab thought. And she remembered Sala’s words about his god who could not be contained in a picture because the god who created the world was too great to be known by the mind of man.

“Aren’t you ever going to move?” a woman next to her complained. “There are other people who want to see the picture too.”

Rahab turned away, murmuring apologies, and went to join Atene, whom she spied standing in front of the temple building. Atene acknowledged her with a glance and said in an awed voice, “Just think, in a short time the king will be making the sacred marriage in the sanctuary inside.”

Rahab nodded. There
was
one time when someone else was allowed within the temple besides the priests and the king, she remembered. It was when the hierodule, the woman picked to represent the goddess Asherah, made the sacred marriage with the king at the festival of the New Year.

A woman standing beside them said in a friendly voice, “Your first time here?”

“Yes,” Atene said.

“Well, take a good look. You have no chance of getting into this courtyard on the day of the festival.”

“I didn’t think we would. Do you know who is to be the hierodule this year?”

The woman shook her head and her gaze slid past Atene to Rahab. “You’re a beautiful girl. The Lady Asherah would be proud to have you take her role, I think.”

Rahab flushed with embarrassment. “I am not high born enough for such an honor.”