The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (4 page)

Rahab glanced at the position of the sun overhead, her heart skipping a beat at how fast time had moved. Gamal should have been home long ago. Only two reasons would have kept him away. Either he had not yet sold the material, or he had been waylaid at the gaming house.

Unless someone had assaulted him and stolen his silver.

Fear quickened her blood at the sudden sound of marching feet coming her direction. She laid aside the flax comb and stood, quickly brushing flax residue from her robe, then hid in the shadows along the wall. She turned toward the sound, saw the king’s men stop at her gate. Where was Gamal?

Loud pounding hit the outer door. “Open in the name of the king!” The guard’s shout curled a tight fist in her middle. The squeaking of leather hinges coming from the back of the house caused her to turn. She caught sight of Adara peering from the sitting room into the courtyard. Her young sister didn’t mind scaling the back wall and entering through their little-used door. But what was she doing here now?

The pounding outside of her door continued. She backed farther from it and slipped into the house, hoping they had not seen her, and met Adara, silencing her with a finger to her lips.

She bent low to avoid exposure from the window and pulled Adara to the floor. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

Adara’s eyes grew wide as she stared at Rahab’s cheek. “What happened to you? Why is your face purple?”

Rahab touched the spot where Gamal had hit her and secured the scarf over it. “It is nothing.” She touched Adara’s arm. “Please, don’t tell Father.” Though right now she wished for her father and brothers to rescue her from this house, from her life.

Adara startled at the incessant banging, louder now. “Are you going to just ignore them?” Her voice remained as hushed as Rahab’s.

“They want Gamal, not me, and he’s not here.”

A frown creased Adara’s face. “Why do they want Gamal?”

Rahab studied her sister. How much dare she tell her?

Gamal’s voice cut through the noise of the king’s men, and Rahab quickly stood, Adara with her. “Go home now. Tell Father and our brothers that Gamal has been summoned to the Hall of Justice. I’m going to go with him.” She raised a hand to stop Adara’s protests. “Just go.” She shooed her back the way she had come, then hurried to the gate where Gamal stood arguing with the guards.

“Did you receive the summons from Prince Nahid?” the lead guard asked.

Gamal nodded. “Yes, just this morning. But the first notice said I had three more days. Why this sudden rush and change of plans?”

“And your accounts are ready?”

“I know what is owed.” Gamal’s confidence worried her, but she held her tongue. There was nothing to say to such a lie. The amount owed changed with each new debt he incurred. “But I do not have enough for this month’s payment. I need more time.”

Had he not sold the cloth?

The guard leaned close to smell Gamal’s breath. “And yet you can afford to drink so early in the day?” He shook his head. “The crown prince of Jericho requests your presence in the Hall of Justice. Now.” The two guards near the door each took a step to the side to allow Gamal to walk between them. “You will come.” The speaker glanced through the gate and caught sight of Rahab. His brow lifted in interest. “This is your wife?”

Gamal looked at Rahab, his expression defiant yet wary. “My wife was not the one summoned.” His voice held little
conviction. He limped forward without a backward glance at her, but the guard stopped him, blocking his path.

“Your wife will also come.” His command brooked no argument, and Rahab begged the moon god Yerach, and whatever other god might be listening, to keep her husband’s mouth shut. Better she go along than for Gamal to get himself in greater trouble by showing disrespect to the prince’s guard.

Gamal stood fidgeting while Rahab grabbed her cloak from a peg by the door and hurried after them. She ducked her head toward the guard, then walked behind her husband in silence.

The columned hall where the guards led them stood at the front of the debtors’ prison, where men slept when they were loaned out to work the king’s fields or flocks or quarries or worse. Some stayed only long enough to be sold to passing merchants, if the debt was high enough or worthy enough to command such measures.

Rahab leaned against a tall marble pillar at the back of the audience chamber, clinging to her cloak, cinching her scarf tighter at the neck to cover her bruised face. A warm, late spring breeze moved through the open windows to stir the room’s still air, but Rahab felt only the chill of fear as she watched the guards grip Gamal’s forearms and force him to his knees in front of Prince Nahid, seated on a chair of ornate wood and gold. His formal dress of rich robes and the golden circlet crown on his dark head worried her. This prince had power. Would he use it against her husband, against her?

Behind the prince and to his right stood Dabir, dressed in all his royal finery. His presence here should have comforted, but his expression toward Gamal only added to her fear. And
her guilt. If she hadn’t given herself to him, would Gamal have been called here three days early?

Her stomach twisted like a wound spindle as the guard who had led them here stepped forward.

“Gamal, son of Bakri, awaits your judgment, my lord,” he said.

Prince Nahid rested both hands on the carved arms of his chair and looked down at Gamal, who still knelt, head bent toward the shining mosaic tiles, his shoulders slumped. In that moment, Rahab wanted to rush forward and pull him into her arms and, for the second time that day, beg his forgiveness for believing Dabir’s honeyed words. To assure her husband that she would never desert him, that things would work out.

But Dabir’s glare held her shivering where she stood.

“Gamal, my friend.” The prince’s tone held surprising kindness. “Have you brought the records of your accounts?”

Gamal did not look up. “I am afraid, my lord, that my accounts are not in proper order. I need time—”

“You have had three years, Gamal. And my records show that your debt is clearly out of hand.” The prince drummed the fingers of his left hand on the chair’s arm.

“Forgive me, my lord, but I fear the injuries to my leg have affected my thinking. The daily pain . . . Sometimes the drink helps, sometimes it clouds my judgment.” Gamal looked up then, and Rahab caught a glimpse of him wincing as he clutched his bad leg with one hand. Irritation pricked her. He was lying. Gamal rarely complained about the pain, and sometimes the limp barely showed. The only thing clouding his judgment was his own lack of common sense and arrogant pride.

“Your judgment is more than a little clouded, Gamal. You
owe the king’s coffers nearly twenty years’ worth of silver. Twenty years, Gamal. My life is not worth that much.” Prince Nahid’s heavy brows furrowed, and the grim set to his square jaw revealed age lines along the corners of his mouth. He was still young, probably in his late twenties, a handsome man.

Gamal rose up on one knee and boldly met the prince’s gaze. “On the contrary, my prince. Your life is worth far more. Your father thought so when he offered me such generous gifts after the battle.” The reminder of the king’s reward was aimed precisely as Gamal intended, no doubt. But Rahab saw little warmth in the prince’s eyes.

“I think your memory is also clouded, Gamal. For you have taken my father’s generosity and spent far beyond your means. Your debt to the crown has gone beyond the reward for my life.” He crossed his arms. Rahab held her breath, fearing to release it lest in doing so she lose what little grasp she still had on her self-control.

“Please, my lord, if you just give me more time . . .” Gamal’s voice sounded thin and strained as it lapsed into silence.

“Time is not on your side, Gamal.” The prince cleared his throat. “I am ordering the confiscation of all you own. You will be escorted to debtors’ prison until we can find suitable buyers to take you or until you can work off your debt in the king’s stone quarries. Your wife will be sold as well.”

Rahab stuffed a fist to her mouth, unable to stifle a soft cry, but the sound went unheard as Gamal’s cries rose above hers. He fell to the tile floor, face in his hands, weeping.

“Please, my lord, I beg you, do not hold this thing against your servant. If you will have mercy on me and cancel the debt, I promise I will make it up to you.” His voice broke on a sob as guards stepped closer. They stopped at the prince’s
upraised hand. “Please, remember the kindness done to you by your servant, and if you will release me from this bond, I will never again mention the king’s reward in your presence, nor consider myself worthy of anything else from your hand. Only please, have mercy on me!”

Rahab pulled the cloak tighter, clenching her jaw to keep it from trembling. Did the moon god hear the prayers of gamblers begging release from debts they owed? Or was it some other whose amulet she should have purchased who deserved her sacrifice? Her sister would know. Why hadn’t she asked her long ago?

Bile rose in the back of her throat as she watched the prince stare down at her weeping husband. Why did he wait? What point was there to watching a man humiliate himself?

She grew faint as the full force of Prince Nahid’s words hit her. What did it mean to be sold into slavery? What would she do? Who would purchase her? The images in her mind’s eye were not pleasant.

My darling Rahab, you are
much too beautiful to be a common harlot.
Dabir’s words mocked her now. If she were sold, no one would see her weaving skills worth nearly as much as her beauty.

She moved farther into the shadows, silently cursing the gods for making her desirous to men, suddenly wishing she could fly away like a bird and disappear where no one could find her.

“Stand up, Gamal.”

The command snapped her thoughts to the prince once more.

Gamal rose slowly, using both hands to hold on to his bad leg to gain his balance. He stood and wiped his eyes, shoulders slumped, head bowed.

Silence descended in the hall as Prince Nahid sat, arms crossed, his gaze raking her husband. What was he doing now? Did the prince enjoy this game of torture?

“I will cancel your debt.” He rested both hands on the arms of the chair. “See to it that you do not squander my mercy.”

The room closed in on Rahab, the breath sucked from every pore as every man stood still, processing the prince’s words. A moment later a gentle breeze returned, touching Rahab’s cheeks, freeing her from the prison of her fear. Had she heard correctly?

Gamal’s weeping returned, and he fell once more to his knees. “Thank you, my lord! You are the greatest of princes. May you live forever!”

“Help him up and take him home.” Prince Nahid’s lips twitched, but he did not smile, and Rahab did not miss the hint of skepticism in his eyes, nor the complete scowl on Dabir’s square face.

Two guards stepped closer to Gamal and lifted him from the tiles, half carrying him toward the doors near where she waited. He met her gaze as they approached, his expression a mixture of relief and something she could not define. If she did not know better, she might think Gamal thought everything had turned out exactly as he’d planned.