This Scarlet Cord (27 page)

Nahshon said, “From what I have heard, that has been the case. But surely you don’t really think that any army, however merciless, can breach these walls?”

“What do you think?” Shemu shot back.

It was Sala who answered. “I will be frank with you, Shemu. My father and I have certainly thought about leaving Jericho. The reason we have not done so is our fear that, once away from the safety of these walls, we will be mistaken for Canaanites and killed.” He shrugged. “There is little outwardly to distinguish us, and we would be in as much danger as you if we were spotted. As you say, the Israelites don’t wait to ask questions. Their mission is to destroy whatever lies in their path. So we have decided”—here he glanced at his father—“that we will be safer inside Jericho than outside.”

Shemu had always liked Sala, and no one could look more sincere than he did just now. But Shemu was not sure.

“I wouldn’t give you up, you know,” Shemu said. “You saved my sister from a life of slavery. But if you
are
against us, I strongly suggest you leave.”

“I understand what you are saying, Shemu,” Sala said softly. “But we will be all right staying here.”

“Good.” Shemu stood up. “I must be going home. We have my brothers and their families with us now. All of the villages and farms have emptied out for fear of the Israelites.”

“They are safer here than out in the open, that is for certain,” Sala returned.

As Shemu walked out of the wine bar he could feel the gazes of the two Israelites on his back until he passed through the door.

Twenty-Six

W
HEN
S
HEMU RETURNED TO THE HOUSE,
A
TENE WAS
waiting for him. When she asked if he had ever encountered Sala and Lord Nahshon when he was walking through the city, Shemu narrowed his eyes. “Rahab told you to ask me that, didn’t she?”

“We are both interested,” Atene answered with as much dignity as she could muster. “After all, they saved Rahab from a life of slavery.”

Shemu searched her face. Then he sighed. “I’ve seen them, yes. And it disturbs me that they are still in Jericho. Has it ever occurred to you and Rahab that they might be here as agents of the Israelites? They may even be the source of the rumors that are terrifying the city.”

Atene was shocked by such a suggestion. “That can’t be true.” But despite her denial, a seed of doubt was sown and she resolved to tell Rahab what Shemu had said.

The two girls got together later in the day, on the roof, the only place where they could sometimes snatch a few moments of privacy in the crowded house. Once they realized they had the place to themselves, they went to sit in the small patch of shade cast by the wall behind them, their arms clasped around their drawn-up knees.

When Rahab heard Atene’s words, she looked away. Shemu had got it right, of course. Sala and his father
were
here to spy for the Israelite army. But Rahab could not tell Atene this. Atene might tell Shemu, and that could put Sala in danger.

Rahab rested her chin on her knees, closed her eyes, and wished she were a girl again, with nothing to worry about. Then she inhaled deeply and scolded herself for being such a baby. She was part of this intrigue, whether she liked it or not, and she had to protect Sala. She turned her face to Atene and said, “It’s not true. They’re merchants, not spies. Shemu is imagining problems where there are none.”

“I’m not so sure Shemu is wrong,” Atene returned. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, Rahab. Sala’s family makes their living from the sea. They ship the agricultural products their customers bring to Ramac. As you saw yourself when you lived with them, they are wealthy. What reason would these sea merchants have to travel to Jericho to seek out farm produce when ample merchandise has always flowed into their port from the countryside surrounding Ramac?”

Rahab looked into Atene’s clear, light-brown eyes.
I have to trust her. She’s guessed too much. I can’t have her saying such things to Shemu and my father. She will only make them more suspicious than they already are
.

Rahab said softly, “Atene, do you remember how we prayed to Elohim?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Elohim saved me from the king. I know He did.”

“I believe He did, Rahab. I truly do.”

Atene’s eyes had darkened and her hands moved to gently cup her stomach. She said, “It’s too soon to be sure, but I think I am with child, Rahab. I have never been late before.” A smile trembled on her lips. “I think Elohim listened to my prayer and granted my desire.”

“Oh, Atene.” Rahab reached out and the two women hugged. Rahab could feel the dampness on her cheek from Atene’s tears.

“But what should we do?” Atene said when they had separated and she had wiped away her tears. “Everyone says the Israelites are merciless, that they will kill everyone in the city. If we are here—”

“Atene. The Israelites are the people of Elohim, and if Elohim wants the Israelites to take Jericho, then there will be no way we can stop them.”

“If what you say is true, we need to get away. My baby . . .”

Rahab reached out and took her hand. “Elohim gave you this child, Atene. That means He cares for you—and it means that your child is special. You will be safe, my sister. I feel that very strongly. You and your baby will be safe. Elohim will protect the people who worship Him.”

Atene said, “Shemu told me something he had heard in the city. He said that when the Israelites left Egypt, the sea separated before them so they could pass.”

“It is a true story. Sala told me about it.” Rahab tightened her grasp on Atene’s fingers. “Sala will take care of us. I think Elohim has placed our whole family here, under one roof, Atene, just so that Sala can take care of us.”

Atene’s hand returned Rahab’s grip. “I pray you are right, Rahab.”

“We both must pray. We must pray to Elohim for protection,” Rahab said.

The two girls sat quietly, their hands joined, until one of the children came up to the roof to tell them that Kata needed them downstairs.

Tamur, king of Jericho, had posted scouts at the Jordan ford with instructions that they were to report back to him as soon as the Israelites made a move to cross the river. In the meanwhile, he had kept the gates of the city open during the day as usual, to demonstrate to the city’s population that life was going on as normally as possible.

People were still trickling in from the countryside, and Isaac and Gideon were able to enter the city in the morning with a band of shepherds who had deserted their sheep to seek shelter for themselves, just as their master had left them behind when he fled to Jericho many days before.

The two Israelites made their way along the main street of the Lower City, taking care not to speak to each other for fear of being overheard. They spoke and understood some Canaanite, but their accents would give them away as foreigners almost instantly.

Both men kept their eyes raised to make certain they wouldn’t miss the sign with the olive tree. They were almost to the wall that separated the Lower from the Upper City when they saw what they were looking for. Sharing a relieved glance, they had the same silent thought.
Please, Elohim, let our men be inside
.

They walked into the bar, which was so filled that the customers had spilled out onto the street. Both Israelites had dressed in the garb of poor men, with sandals that were merely soles held on by rope ties and tunics that were worn and patched. The only unusual thing about them was the red cord that hung a little ways out of Gideon’s belt pocket.

The owner of this particular wine bar prided himself on catering to the more upper class men who lived in the Lower City—merchants and the wealthier shopkeepers. The two Israelites in their shepherd’s garb stood out immediately as not belonging. They realized this but did not know what else to do. This was their designated meeting spot.

It was Sala who spotted them first. He reached a hand to grasp his father’s wrist and gestured toward the door with his chin. “What do you think?”

Lord Nahshon looked and put down his wine glass. “I think I had better get them out of here as quickly as possible.”

“I agree. You go and I’ll stay to make sure no one follows.”

Lord Nahshon threaded his way through the crowd to the ragged strangers who were still standing uncomfortably in the entrance.

“You don’t belong in here,” Lord Nahshon said in a disgusted voice that he raised to make sure his words were heard. “This is a wine shop that caters to gentlemen, not to farm workers. You had better come with me and I will show you where you can mix with your own kind.”

The spies nodded, without replying, and, looking as humble and embarrassed as it was possible for an Israelite man to look, they followed Nahshon back out into the street.

Sala remained behind to take a reading of the men who had witnessed this little scene. He prayed no one would find it strange that his father had helped the downtrodden strangers.

“Your father did those shepherds a favor,” one of the men at the next table said to him. “If they had tried to come in here and order something, they would have been kicked out.”

Sala offered his most charming smile. “With the mood the city is in, the authorities are bound to come down hard on anyone involved in a fight. It was best that they be removed from here before something unfortunate happened.”

Around the shop came grunts of agreement.

Sala shrugged. “I suppose I should go along and see where my father is dumping them.”

“Good idea. You don’t need your father being harassed because he is in company with such people.”

Sala pushed his way through to the street and then started off in pursuit of Lord Nahshon. He caught up with the trio quickly and the four men proceeded as casually as they could in the direction of the inn where Sala and Nahshon were staying. No one spoke.

They were stopped just before they turned off the main street by the guard who had hit Sala with his sword on the night of the New Year festival.

“So,” the guard said genially, addressing Sala. “I see you have sobered up, my friend.”

Sala stared at the guard, his heart beginning to race. He lifted his hands in perplexity. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

The guard’s dark, big-boned face turned to Nahshon. “He doesn’t recognize me. Too drunk at the time, eh?”

Sala’s father, who evidently did recognize the guard, smiled. “The young men of today can’t hold their drink the way the older generation can.”

“True, true.” The guard looked back at Sala. “I recommend you stay away from the wine, young man. Next time you make trouble you may get more than just a smack on the head.”

By now Sala had realized who the guard was and he managed a wry smile. “I am sorry, Officer. You taught me my lesson. I will watch the number of cups I drink at the next festival. My head the next morning was punishment enough.”

The guard, who was not an officer, was pleased by Sala addressing him as such. He glanced at the two spies and raised his eyes. “What are you doing with these dirty peasants?”

“Removing them from the Sign of the Olive,” Nahshon said. “They came into the city today and don’t yet know their place.”

The guard looked disgusted. “All the riffraff of the countryside is descending upon us these days.”

The two Israelites stood silent, their eyes on the ground.

The guard scowled at them. “Don’t you talk?”

Gideon scraped his scandals on the pavement. “We were afraid,” he mumbled.

“Of the Israelites,” Isaac added, mumbling even more thickly.

“Stupid peasants,” the guard said. “They can’t even speak properly.”

All during this conversation Sala had maintained a slightly hangdog expression even though his heart was slamming so hard he was afraid the guard would hear it. When the Canaanite finally moved off, the four men continued their walk down the street toward the inn.

“Don’t rush,” Lord Nahshon said in Hebrew, his voice pitched low. “We don’t want to call attention to ourselves.”

The two spies nodded and kept their heads bent. It seemed an eternity to Sala before they reached the inn, but finally they arrived. Sala blew out a long breath of relief as the old mud-brick building finally came into sight.

Twenty-Seven

T
HE INN WAS HOUSING MORE PEOPLE THAN IT COULD
comfortably hold and, since it was the time of the midday meal, the courtyard benches were filled with customers eating while the front room was packed with more people waiting for their turn at the food. The weather had turned unusually hot and the indoor rooms were stifling.

Lord Nahshon sent Isaac and Gideon up to their room first. As he explained to Sala as they watched the spies go inside, he didn’t want anyone to be able to make a connection between them and the shabby newcomers.

The heat was even worse on the second floor when Sala and Nahshon entered their tiny room where the two Israelites awaited them. Sala unrolled the sleeping mats and he and his father sat on one while Gideon and Isaac sat facing them on the other. The men spoke Hebrew in low voices, with Lord Nahshon doing most of the talking.