The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (33 page)

Rahab watched the spectacle, spotting Salmon in the crowd laughing with a few of the men, then turning to listen to something Joshua was saying. She wondered for the briefest moment what it would be like to dance for him, to have him swing her around in a joyous hold, and to later kiss her with tenderness, true and genuine.

She released a breath, telling herself she imagined too much, and slipped from the crowd before Salmon could catch a glimpse of her watching him. There was no sense in entertaining such thoughts. For despite Eliana’s suggestion, she could not imagine any man wanting her, least of all a spy who despised all she’d been, all he thought she would always be.

Salmon awoke the next morning fighting to remember where he was. Fitful dreams had invaded a night that should have been restful and sweet. But though the victory of Ai was complete and rewarding, the cost of losing Mishael dampened his joy. He should have come home arm in arm with his friend, singing the victory songs, praising Adonai together.

Why him, Lord?
Why not me?

Mishael had done nothing worthy of death. And why should he and thirty-five other men pay for Achan’s greed? Why did the innocent end up caught in the sins of the guilty?

He rose from his cot, rubbed sleep from his eyes, and
in the dark tent quickly donned his clothes. Thoughts of Rahab surfaced as he scrubbed tepid water over his face. Why did the guilty end up saved from the punishment they deserved?

He shook his head, watching as water droplets sprayed across the small room. Blood still clung to his skin from the battle, and he needed to wash clean in the Jordan before he walked with the elders and all Israel to Mount Ebal to offer a sacrifice to the Lord for His grace in granting victory.

He grabbed a clean tunic, his robe, hyssop, and soap and stepped into the predawn light, headed to the river. The women of the camp were just awakening, many moving in the same direction to gather the day’s water from the Jordan. Salmon took a different path to avoid them, to a place secluded among a larger copse of trees.

The questions he’d awoken with churned in him as the icy waters chilled his bare skin. He sank beneath the surface, scrubbing with the hyssop until his body tingled and the dried blood no longer stained his arms and legs. How was God both judging and yet merciful? How could one be expected to obey His laws, yet another be granted pardon without even knowing those laws existed?

He scrubbed harder, then suddenly realized he was making the skin raw. He stopped abruptly and tossed the hyssop branch to the bank, then dunked and soaped his hair, scrubbing and dunking several more times, trying to blot Mishael’s broken body from his mind. His death was the hardest to understand. Why could God not have told Joshua of Achan’s treachery before they risked the deaths of so many men? Why only after those men had died did God reveal the truth?

Anger surged through him, and he shoved his body out of the water, grabbed a thick piece of linen, and dried himself. Finally dressed and outwardly cleansed, he headed back to camp. But his heart still felt dry and dirty, as though the blood of his friend clung to each beating vessel. And no piece of hyssop in all of Canaan could reach deep enough to rub it out.

29

S
hortly after the morning meal, Rahab listened in the shadows of Joshua’s tent as he addressed his family, the elders, and all of his servants. “We will take three days to consecrate ourselves and gather whatever we need to travel to Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim. There we will offer sacrifices to the Lord, as Moses the Lord’s servant commanded us to do.”

He dismissed them then to do what apparently they already understood must be accomplished, but Rahab stood still, not knowing whether to go or stay. Was she to accompany all of Israel on this trip? Or was she an unwelcome guest who would stay behind with the tents?

As the elders, including Salmon, filed out of Joshua’s tent, Rahab sought Eliana. “What would you have me do?”

Eliana turned to face Rahab, her smile sober. “Forgive me, Rahab. I should have explained this to you sooner.” She took Rahab’s arm and led her to the women’s area. “We are to travel to the valley between the mountains, where Joshua will build an altar to the Lord according to the law of Moses.
Joshua will write a copy of the law and read it to the whole assembly. It is a solemn process, and one we must prepare our hearts to accept.” She touched Rahab’s shoulder. “Everyone is to come, even the foreigners among us.” She smiled, her gentle eyes warming.

“How does one prepare their heart?” Was not faith in this God enough?

“We ask God to search our hearts for any hidden sins and confess any known sins to Him. The priests will offer sacrifices on the altar on our behalf, and we shall be clean.” Eliana’s brows knit in a slight frown. “I know this probably does not make much sense to you. It is our way of humbling ourselves before our God and asking Him for mercy. But blood must be shed, the blood of lambs and goats, to cover the wrongs we’ve done. Otherwise there can be no forgiveness.”

“So the innocent animal pays for our guilt.”

Eliana nodded. “Yes, in a sense.”

Rahab stared at her feet for a long moment. “I doubt even the blood of a lamb could wash away all the things I have done.” She turned and walked abruptly away before Eliana could offer her another look of pity.

She hurried to her tent, wondering what she could possibly do to prepare for the upcoming days of sacrifice and atonement. She stopped abruptly near the threshold as Salmon drew near.

“May I speak with you?” He looked slightly nervous, which did nothing to help her own tattered emotions.

“About what?” She was not in the mood to talk of insignificant things. She had questions that needed answers. Answers that went deeper than what Eliana had given her.

He stared at her. “I just want to talk.” He looked at her
as though she ought to be able to read his mind—so typical of the men she had known all of her life.

She motioned to the space beneath the awning. “We can talk here. I will get you a cushion if you like.” There was no way she was going to invite a man into her tent, no matter how much she wanted to trust him.

“I thought perhaps we could take a short walk.”

She glanced around at the crowded camp with people rushing to and fro, where their words could be easily overheard. She picked up her water jug. “You can accompany me to the Jordan if you like. I need water to attend to the ritual cleansing.” Eliana had instructed her on the laws of cleanliness when she first entered her service. She could do at least that much, though her heart was not sure it could do much more.

Salmon nodded and fell into step beside her. Neither spoke as they walked through the camp, and Rahab suddenly realized how alone they were once they passed the last tent and continued to the water’s edge. A woman could be waylaid on such a walk if she were not careful. She took a step away from Salmon, suddenly wary.

“You don’t need to fear me, Rahab,” he said, glancing into her eyes. “I will not let any man hurt you.”

She held his gaze, unable to keep the hurt from her tone. “Can you keep me from yourself?” She glanced beyond him. “I’ve seen you watching me. I know what you want.” She continued walking, heat filling her cheeks. How bold she had become! What possessed her to say such things to him?

He caught up with her in two long strides. “You are mistaken,” he said softly, the only other sound coming from the buzz of insects and their sandals brushing the grasses
as they drew closer to the Jordan. “I will admit you intrigue me. But not because I want to lie with you. I want to understand.”

She stopped mid-stride, her heart beating fast within her. “Understand what? Why I became a prostitute? Why I didn’t go with my family? It is not a story you would want to hear.” Her gaze held challenge. “Even Eliana does not know the things hidden in my heart.” She lowered the jar from her shoulder to her arms, her protection between them.

He studied her, lifted a thick dark brow. “Forgive me then. I only meant to show you kindness.”

She laughed, surprised at its brittle edge. “Kindness for yourself or for me?” She met his gaze but lowered her voice. “You want to find a reason to stop thinking of me as dung under your foot. You want to understand why your God would save a woman like me and not spare your closest friend.” Remorse filled her at the look in his dark eyes. Her words had hit their mark.

When he simply stared at her but did not speak, she straightened, suddenly emboldened. “You judged me from the start, my lord.” She studied him, her heart burdened with the sudden death of a longing for this man to care. “And yet you are attracted to me. And you hate yourself for it.”

He winced and became suddenly interested in something behind her. She avoided following the direction of his gaze. Silence fell, and the air grew as thick as the insects in the bushes.

“Yes,” he said at last, his voice a whisper. He looked up, sorrow in his eyes. “I have despised what you were. But as I have observed you, I know there is a heart of kindness in you, and I don’t think you would choose such a life again.”

It was her turn to look away. “You do not know me. And the truth of it is, you do not really want to understand. Not in a way that would change anything.”

“Did I not say the very opposite only moments ago?” The slightest hint of anger tinged his tone. So typical! “Pardon me, mistress, but you do not know my thoughts either.”

She hugged the jar tighter, wishing for the soft fur of the cat rather than the hard press of the jar. “Don’t call me that.” Her voice was a whisper, and she could not look at him.

“Forgive me. What is wrong with
mistress
? It is a common address among women.”

“It is also a profession.” She turned a half circle away from him. “It is what I thought mine would be one long-ago day.”

“Forgive me. I did not know.”

She faced him again. By his look he did not understand a lot of things.

“I am sure as a pure, faithful, God-fearing man, there are many things you do not know.” She swallowed, searching her mind. How to make him see. He would want nothing more to do with her once she said it plainly.

“I assure you, Rahab, there are things all men understand. We just keep those things between ourselves.” His face seemed to darken as if he were embarrassed by his confession.

“Well then, it will not surprise you,” she said, drawing a breath for courage, “to know that I have known more men than I care to remember. I married a fool. Was mistress to another fool. Was used by countless fools. But I played the part of consort well . . . and sometimes . . . I enjoyed it.” There. She’d said all she would say to the man. “Now let me retrieve the water and go.”

She walked past him to the river, lowered the jar until it
bubbled to the top, and climbed the bank, fully expecting to be alone. But he stood there waiting, watching.

“I am sorry for all that has happened to you,” he said as he fell into step beside her.

“I don’t need your pity, Salmon.” Heat seared her cheeks beneath her headscarf, and she could not hold his gaze. “But thank you for your kindness.”

They walked on in silence until they neared the edge of the camp. He touched her arm, bidding her to stop. “I want to explain something to you.” He paused until she nodded for him to continue. “Whatever is in your heart is between you and our God. If you have sinned, as all of us do, it is for you to confess it to Him.” She watched the Adam’s apple move in his neck and felt suddenly sorry to have made him nervous.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said, taking a step forward, assuming he had finished.

He stayed her with another touch to her shoulder. The gentle pressure sent the slightest tingling through her, shaking her. How was it possible that this man could both exasperate and attract her? She must have some strange attraction to fools . . . or she was one herself at the very heart.

She looked at him, praying he could not see the way his barest touch had affected her—again.

“The purpose of the sacrifice Joshua is about to offer to Adonai,” he said, breaking into her wayward thoughts, “is to bring atonement for the sins of all Israel.” He offered her a rueful smile. “I find myself the most in need of this for my anger with God for letting Mishael die through no fault of his own. I question the goodness of our God for allowing hurt and evil and pain in my life, in this world. I don’t understand it.”