This Scarlet Cord (13 page)

The young man took a quick step back. “I meant no harm. Are you her brother? Your sister is beautiful.”

“I am her betrothed,” Sala said, “and my advice to you is to be on your way.”

The young man’s companion said, “Come along, Charzu. Don’t make trouble.”

The young man let himself be led away by his friend. As soon as they were out of sight, Rahab turned to Sala and said lightly, “I didn’t know we were betrothed. When exactly is our wedding day?”

Spots of color stained his high cheekbones. “I’m sorry, it was the best way I could think of to get rid of him.”

From the next bench Atene, who had observed the scene, said to Sala, “Everybody stares at Rahab. Even the prince noticed her yesterday from his chariot. He sent his friend to find out where she was staying.”

Sala’s brows snapped together.

Rahab wanted to tell Atene not to say such things, but fortunately Kata, who was seated on the other side of Atene, said something and Atene turned away. Rahab silently blessed her mother and turned once more to Sala.

He had swung around so his back was to the women and his body blocked Rahab’s face from their view. “Is that what you and your father are aspiring to then, the hand of a prince?”

She looked into his eyes, trying to decipher his mood. “That’s a ridiculous thing to say. First of all, the prince would never stoop to marry a farmer’s daughter. And I wouldn’t marry him even if he wanted me to. I would suffocate having to live the rest of my life in this walled-up city.”

“I thought your father brought you here so he could find you a rich husband.”

“I have to marry somebody, Sala.” Rahab was all sweet reason. “That is what girls do with their lives.”

He looked down at his hands. “What kind of man do you
want
to marry?”

Rahab kept staring at him, not sure what she should answer. Should she expose her heart? She knew it would hurt her cruelly if he rejected her, but . . . if she did nothing, if she never let him know how she felt, then he might simply go away and she would have lost him forever.

That would be worse.

She held his gaze and said bravely, “I want to marry a man who can take me on a boat.”

Sala went pale. He swallowed. “Rahab.” His voice was unsteady. “No matter how you may feel, or how I may feel, you and I can never marry. My father would never permit it.”

Rahab ignored the last part of his statement and went right for the important part. “Do you want to marry me?”

“I’ve always thought of you as a child.” She could see he was trying to be as honest as she had been. “But then, when I saw you again yesterday . . . well, I realized that you are the reason I was never eager to marry any of my father’s choices. None of the girls were at all like you.”

Her heart began to sing.
He does want to marry me. He loves me. That is all that matters. He loves me!

She put all of her happiness into her smile. “I have thought about you, Sala. I have always remembered you.”

But instead of looking happy, he looked anguished. “You don’t understand. My father—”

“I know there are obstacles, Sala. My father does not like Israelites and your father probably does not like Canaanites. But don’t you see, what is important is how
we
feel. Not them.”

“You have no idea of the obstacles, Rahab.” His face looked thinner, older. “If I were to marry a Canaanite woman, it would be as if I put a dagger through my father’s heart. Everything he believes—everything
I
believe—would be outraged by such a union. I am his only son, Rahab.” He shook his head. “I am his heir. I am to follow him not only in the business but also as
Chazzan
in our prayer meetings.”

Rahab could feel herself growing colder and colder as he spoke. “You are going to be a priest?”

“Not a priest. We have had no priests since our people became so separated. But in Ramac we have always met, to pray and to talk about our scriptures, and the leader is the one who can read those scriptures. I am the one whom everyone expects to replace my father someday. I cannot—”

He stopped talking and looked at her.

“Do you love me?” Rahab asked, feeling small and fragile.

There was a white line around his mouth and his nose looked pinched. “Yes,” he said.

“And I love you, Sala. You are the only man I wish to marry.”

“I wish we had never met again,” he said wretchedly.

I can’t believe this is happening. How can he be saying such things to me?

“I thought your father liked me,” she whispered.

“Yes, he liked you. But you are not an Israelite. He would think my marrying a Canaanite woman would forever defile me in the eyes of Elohim. I would be dead to him, Rahab. It would be as if I were dead.”

Rahab turned her face away. People were coming by them on the path, the children by the wall were calling out to each other in a game, and Kata and Atene were chatting about food. But for Rahab the world had changed.

I would defile him
.

To her great relief, she heard Atene say, “Here come the men.”

Rahab jumped to her feet and everyone else followed. Suddenly all she wanted was to feel her mother’s love, and she went to stand close beside Kata. Her mother put her hand on Rahab’s arm and smiled at her. Rahab wished desperately that she was a child again and that her mother’s smile could make everything right. But that was no longer true.

Twelve

L
ATER THAT AFTERNOON,
M
AKAMARON,
K
ING OF
J
ERICHO,
was alone in his private reception room, staring out the open door that looked out into his private courtyard. He had been king since he was twenty years of age and now he was fifty-two. Thirty-two years of leadership and now his own son was trying to pull him down. Makamaron had at least had the grace to wait until his own father died, but not Tamur. His greedy son wanted to grasp what did not belong to him, and he had chosen the worst time possible to make his bid for power.

Makamaron considered the threat the Israelites posed. Jericho could withstand a siege, but he was concerned about the logistics of dealing with a city crammed with hundreds of people from the countryside as well as its own residents. Too many people in tight quarters always made for restiveness. They would have to ration water and food, never an easy matter. Rationing always fostered corruption, which would lead to more unrest—particularly among the farmers, whose homes and fields would surely be burnt by the advancing enemy.

Jericho had armed troops, of course, probably far better armed than the Israelites were. But from the information that had come to him from Edom, Moab, Sihon, Og, and Ammon, his troops would be greatly outnumbered. That had been the case in those kingdoms, all of which had fallen to the invaders. If the military of Jericho took the fight outside the walls and were slaughtered, as had happened elsewhere, it would panic the city. And Makamaron knew how dangerous panic could be.

To add to all of this, the festival of the New Year was upon him and he knew he was going to have to rouse his tired old body to complete the marriage act with the hierodule. It had been difficult enough for him to complete his duty last year, when the hierodule was cooperative, but this year he would be dealing with Arsay, a girl whose family was loyal to Tamur. She was unlikely to do anything to help him along.

He was vulnerable. Had not King Keret, greatest of all Canaanite kings, been similarly challenged by his son when he was lying ill and helpless with age?

The Keret stories were part of the cultic rituals of Makamaron’s people, and everyone in Jericho would have heard the high priest speak the well-known words of Keret’s son as he challenged his father:
Come down from your kingship that I may be king, from the throne of your dominion that I may sit on it
.

It was a deeply rooted belief of Makamaron’s people that the fertility and strength of the nation were bound up with the sexual and physical powers of the king. If Arsay announced he had failed to complete the sacred marriage, Tamur would certainly overthrow him.

Come down from your kingship that I may be king, from the throne of your dominion that I may sit on it
.

Makamaron closed his eyes, imagining the sound of those dreaded words on his son’s lips; imagining the look of triumph in Tamur’s glittering black eyes.

He could not let it happen! He was strong. All he needed was a woman who could stir him, not freeze him as Arsay was certain to do.

He had to get rid of Arsay and find another girl to be the hierodule.

One of his servants came in to announce that the Lords Arazu, Edri, and Ratu had asked for an audience with him. Makamaron smiled. He would discuss his idea with these three men whose loyalty he did not doubt. Perhaps, among them, they could come up with a solution.

The morning after Rahab’s conversation with Sala in the garden, Kata asked Atene and Rahab to go to the market to buy some flax. Rahab’s mother was beginning to find it irksome to spend her days in what she considered idleness. They had no garden to weed and no animals to care for, but they could buy flax that had come in from the countryside. They would spread it on their flat roof to dry and then they would strip it and comb it and make it into yarn. That would at least be useful. After all, how many times could they just parade around town looking at things?

Mepu grumbled at his wife’s idea. He wanted Rahab to be seen by the people in the Upper City, not to waste her time playing with flax. None of them was so in need of new clothing that Kata had to worry about making yarn! However, Mepu knew his wife. She was the mildest and most pliable of women, but she hated not having something to occupy her. So he gave his permission for the girls to go and buy some flax.

Shemu went with them. He let them walk in front so they could talk while he took in the ever-fascinating street scene.

Rahab walked beside her sister-in-law and, unlike her brother, she saw nothing of her surroundings. All she saw was the fog of her own misery.

Finally Atene said, “Rahab, is something wrong? You’ve been so subdued that you have me worried. It’s not like you. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Rahab said.

“No you’re not. You haven’t been yourself since we came back from our visit to the garden yesterday. Did something happen there to upset you?”

They passed by a shop selling leather belts and the owner leered at Rahab from his doorway. Shemu snapped at the man to keep his eyes to himself.

Atene said, “Was it Sala? Did he say something to hurt you?”

Rahab turned toward her sister-in-law. She and Atene had lived in the same house since Shemu’s marriage four years ago. They had always liked each other but they had never shared confidences. The years that separated them, and the fact that Atene was married, had always been a barrier. But Atene was the closest thing to a sister she had, and Rahab needed someone to talk to.

She said, “I can’t tell you here. When we get home.”

Atene took her hand and squeezed it. “Fine,” she said.

The flax market was concentrated in one small square in the midst of the maze of streets that comprised the Lower City, and when they found it they ordered the amount Kata had specified and asked for it to be delivered. Then Shemu escorted them back to the house that was their temporary home.

Before he opened the front door, Shemu said to Rahab, “Father told me he wants to take you to the Upper City this afternoon, but I don’t think Mother will budge from here. She’s seen enough buildings, she says.”

Rahab didn’t want to go either. When they first came to Jericho, it had been fun to see the markets and visit the great temples and the palace, but the excitement had quickly faded. She hated the bold way men looked at her. In her home village she had always been regarded with respect. She was Mepu’s daughter, and that counted among his friends and neighbors. But the men in Jericho had no respect for her or for her father. If it wasn’t for Sala, she would be begging Mepu to take her home.

She said nothing to Shemu, however, and passed into the house to tell her mother they had purchased the flax.

Kata was preparing the midday meal. After a few days of purchasing prepared food, she had decided she would cook their food after all, even if the kitchen was so small she could scarcely turn around in it. It was too expensive to keep buying their meals, she said, and the food wasn’t half as good as hers. Since everyone agreed with that assessment, and since Kata wouldn’t let anyone else in the kitchen because there was no room, Rahab and Atene had some time to themselves.

They climbed up to the roof, which was shaded by the city wall that formed the house’s back wall. Tomorrow they would have to start hanging the flax, but for now it was deserted up here, and private. The girls reclined on two rush mats and raised themselves on their elbows to look at each other. Atene said, “You never mope, Rahab. What is wrong?”

Rahab felt tears sting behind her eyes. She blinked them away. “You were right. It
is
Sala who has upset me. I’ve never stopped thinking about him, even though I thought I would never see him again. But he saved my life, Atene, and I thought he was wonderful. I still think he’s wonderful. He’s the only boy I have ever wanted to marry.”