The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (32 page)

Rahab looked up at the sound of men hurrying past her tent. She had not stayed with Joshua’s wife Eliana after the encounter with Salmon, however minor it had been. The sight of him sitting with Joshua and the elders was too great
a reminder of powerful men . . . of Jericho . . . even those of Syria who had taken Gamal away.
Gamal.
How long it had been since her thoughts had strayed to him.

Was he still living?

Why did she even care about such a thing? Tzadok had hinted that the Syrians would sell him to torturers, and Dabir had insisted Gamal was dead, though he’d had no written communication to show her to prove that his words were not just another one of his many lies. Dabir would say the moon was square and make men believe him when he was at his most charming. And she, to her great shame, had wanted to believe him about Gamal—in fact, had often believed him.

She drew in a breath as memories washed over her and grief settled in her heart. For the first time since Jericho’s fall, she saw her aching loneliness for what it was. She’d been abandoned by everyone she loved. Why had she stayed in Israel? Egypt was not so bad that she could not have survived. Her family would have protected her. She could have proclaimed herself a widow and allowed her father to pick a new husband for her.

Who would pick a husband for her here?

She shook herself. She did not want another man. Men were untrustworthy.

She glanced up, sensing someone watching her. Salmon. Now what did he want? She waited, knowing it would be impolite to ignore him.

“May I help you?”

He stood a moment without a response.

“I thought you were with your family outside of the camp.” He studied her, his gaze somber, curious.

“My family moved on to Egypt,” she said, looking at the half-finished flaxen basket in her lap.

“When?” His voice had dropped in pitch, and she glanced up again, sensing his genuine concern. She supposed he deserved an explanation for saving her life.

“About a week after you rescued us. My father and brothers could not abide the strict rules of your God.” She held his gaze. “So they left.”

“But you remained.”

“Yes.”

Silence followed her remark, and he gave his head a little shake as if trying to understand. “Why?” he said at last. “They are your family.”

She stroked the cat and looked beyond him, fighting the sudden emotion his comment evoked. “Your God saved my life. I could not leave one so powerful.”

Salmon stared at her, but his expression revealed little. “He is a God of blessing and of cursing, as you saw today.”

She nodded, recalling Achan’s weeping. “It should have been me in Achan’s place.” She straightened, setting the basket aside. “So I have seen your God’s mercy to the undeserving.”

Salmon nodded. “Your faith is great, Rahab.” He took a step back, looked as though he might say something more, then simply nodded and walked away.

Rahab watched him go. He was wrong. If he knew her thoughts, he would know what little faith she clung to. This God of Israel was beyond her understanding. And she was not sure she wanted to understand.

Salmon held a cup of red grape juice to his lips. They had not lived in the land long enough to turn the juice to wine, but the taste of the fresh juice was one he savored, after so
many years of the same diet of manna, quail, and water in the wilderness.

The women had left them alone, and dusk had descended over the camp. “I should go to my tent and rest, but I am finding that meal has made me feel too good to move. Thank you for inviting me, Joshua.”

Joshua nodded, sipped from his own cup, then wiped the red stain from his beard with the back of his hand. “You are welcome to eat with us anytime, my friend. I know it cannot be easy without a family of your own.” Joshua looked at him, his gaze thoughtful, and Salmon felt the unfamiliar desire to squirm like he had done when his father spoke to him as a child. “I wonder,” Joshua said, setting the cup beside him on a low table, “if you have given any thought to marriage. I know we have been busy with war these several years, and many men have put off taking a wife, but it is not good for a man to be alone.”

Salmon rubbed the back of his neck. “Mishael would have agreed with you.” A stab of grief hit him at the memory of Mishael’s teasing laughter. “But I have not found a woman who has sparked my interest.”

“Have you considered Rahab?”

Salmon startled as though the woman had walked into the room. He shook his head. Had Mishael put the idea in Joshua’s mind before that last battle?

“It is hard to consider a woman who has known so many men,” he said, his gaze glancing off Joshua’s, unable to hold it.

“God is able to forgive even the most proud and sinful among us, my friend.” Joshua’s look held fatherly comfort and a knowing of secrets Salmon wished he understood.

“God may be able to forgive, but I am finding that I do
not possess His ability.” Salmon glanced toward the tent’s opening, but no woman stood visibly listening.

Joshua did not respond immediately. “Give yourself time, my son.”

Joshua’s smile unnerved him, as if somehow God had told him the secret dealings of Salmon’s heart. But God did not reveal men’s secrets like that, did He?

The disturbing thought followed him as he took the path to his tent.

Three days later, Salmon watched from a perch halfway up a large terebinth tree as Joshua led the rest of Israel’s army and set up camp north of Ai, with the valley between them and the city. To the west of the city, between Bethel and Ai, another group of about five thousand men were also waiting in ambush. The plan was a good one, leaving no way for the men of Ai to escape without someone to block their path.

“Things will go better this time,” Othniel said to Salmon as he descended the tree. Though Salmon had always preferred Mishael’s company, Othniel was not only Caleb’s nephew, he was one of Israel’s greatest fighters.

“I know.” Salmon glanced toward Ai, where the sound of merriment came from the merchants’ section of town. “I just wish Mishael had lived to see this.”

Othniel nodded. “The loss of so many was sobering.”

Salmon regarded the stocky man, his square jaw with its determined set, his beard hanging low, yet recently trimmed to within the allowed specifications of the law. Salmon ran a hand along his own scraggly beard. He hadn’t viewed his ap
pearance in any type of mirror in weeks and couldn’t imagine how decrepit he looked.

“The gates are opening,” Othniel said, drawing away from the cover of the trees.

Salmon followed. “The king of Ai has spotted Joshua in the valley.”

“And so it begins.” Othniel pulled his sword from the belt at his side and readied his hand.

“Joshua and his men are fleeing.” Salmon sent a silent prayer heavenward that the men of Ai would pursue as Joshua had hoped.

“And there they go.” Othniel glanced at Salmon as the two stood near some of the thousands of men hidden behind the city.

They watched in silence as the city emptied out, the doors left open behind them. “They expect to return victorious.” Salmon’s blood pumped hot through his veins.

“Then they will be sorely disappointed.” Othniel grinned. Both waited a moment longer, watching for Joshua’s signal. At last they spotted it. Joshua’s sword stretched out toward Ai.

“Let’s go!” Salmon shouted to the men behind them.

They raced toward the open city, swords in hand, and cut down every living person within it. This time they took the animals and spoils with them as they left. Then as they had done with Jericho, they set Ai on fire and slipped away to join the battle with Joshua.

Rahab looked up from the familiar grindstone at the sound of bleating sheep and goats and distant whoops of
celebrating war heroes. Eliana set aside the grain sifter and stood. “Come.” She smiled and extended a hand to Rahab. “Let us greet the returning men.”

She called to her daughters to join them, and her voice carried an excited lilt, but Rahab couldn’t muster the same feeling. Conflicted emotions warred within her. Who was this God Israel served who gave victory or defeat, who even taught men strategies of war? Her faith in Him seemed so broken and weak, and despite the words of allegiance she’d proclaimed to Joshua, she could not help feeling as though she did not belong here.

“Aren’t you coming?” Eliana brushed the last bits of chaff from her skirt and glanced at Rahab. “It is customary for the women to sing the praises of the men and of our God for His victories over our enemies.”

Rahab stood and met the woman’s gaze. “I am finding it hard as a daughter of Jericho to not think that your people still think me your enemy.”

Eliana’s face softened, and she reached a hand to touch Rahab’s arm. “I know this is hard for you, Rahab, especially without your family near. But you are one of us now. And I can see that it is time I introduced you to more of the women so you realize just how well they think of you.”

Rahab’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “The women barely look at me as I pass. They stop their conversations, as though afraid I might overhear.” She met Eliana’s gaze. “They act as the women of Jericho did who thought themselves far above me.”

Eliana’s daughters rushed to her side at that moment. “Are we going?” one asked.

The other grabbed Rahab’s hand. “Come on! This is one of the best chances we get to dance with the unmarried boys.”

Rahab met Eliana’s gaze above the girl’s head as the two were carried along with the throng of women. The noise of the crowd grew as they neared the edge of the camp, where the returning army approached.

“Can we find Abba?” the youngest daughter asked Eliana.

Eliana nodded, laughing. “Those girls,” she said as her daughters rushed off. She sighed. “Too soon Joshua is going to have to find husbands for them.” Her look held kindness. “As he would gladly do for you, my dear girl.” She patted Rahab’s arm as more women swarmed around them.

“Those days are gone for me, Eliana,” she said, bending close to her friend’s ear. “And the truth is, I do not know whether my husband Gamal still lives. Am I not bound to him if he does?”

Some of the women glanced her way and smiled, surprising her. “Isn’t that the prostitute Rahab, who saved our spies?” she overheard one say.

“I heard she was very brave,” came the voice of another.

Eliana touched her arm, made her pause. “I do not know the answer to that question, but I will surely ask Joshua. Our spies could certainly search it out.”

“Whether I am married or not,” Rahab said, looking about lest anyone overhear, “I am barren. No man wants to marry a prostitute who cannot give him sons.”

Eliana’s round face filled with compassion. “Nothing is impossible with our God, Rahab,” she said, pulling her close in a motherly embrace. “Never lose hope.”

Rahab nodded, suddenly unable to speak or sing. She blinked away the emotion she felt far too often of late. The
crowd grew larger, and the men were jubilant as they entered the camp. Flocks of sheep and goats and donkeys and cattle were driven to hurriedly enlarged pens outside the camp, and the women greeted their men, all who were in dire need of bathing, with dancing and an occasional stolen kiss.