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FEET STILL BARE, SALMON grabbed his sandals and pulled them back on. Pinchas followed suit.
Salmon smiled at Faryel and mouthed "thank-you". He patted her on the head before standing and groping for the sword concealed under his tunic. The smile was gone now, and his eyes were cold and hard.
Rachav watched with a look of panic, speechless. But she noticed how Salmon took the time to show kindness and gratitude to little Faryel before going for his sword.
"We're here on orders of the king," the loud voice said. "You had better not try to stall us!"
Nadir slipped into the room, eyes bulging, gaze bouncing between Rachav and the two strangers. "It's soldiers from the garrison," he said, in a hushed tone. "Father says you must come to the door."
Rachavpressed her hand against her heart. Her eyes closed for a brief moment. When they opened again, her countenance changed. There was a different set to her jaw, and the fear had been replaced by resolve. She locked eyes with Nadir, gestured towards the visitors, then pointed to the alcove at the back of the room.
At first Nadir was confused. Rachav repeated the silent instructions, punctuating them with a jerk of the head that meant "get going!" and a look of reprimand that only mothers and big sisters could master.
Nadir marched toward the alcove. Rachav waved for the visitors to follow.
Salmon kept his hand under the tunic, where it gripped the hilt of the sword, but he followed the boy, nodding for Pinchas to come along.
They quietly darted around the wall of the alcove, where they found the young boy already halfway up a ladder to a trapdoor in the ceiling. Salmon nudged Pinchas, who grabbed the ladder and climbed after the boy. When he was far enough up to make room, Salmon got on the ladder, too.
RACHAV JOINED HER FATHER in the doorway, facing the two enormous soldiers on the stone balcony.
"Turn over the men who came to you," demanded the Gibborite who was obviously in charge. "They are spies!"
Rachav tried to maintain a calm, even voice, as she said, "I did entertain two clients earlier–though I didn't know where they were from. I certainly didn't know they were spies."
"Turn them over!" the huge soldier commanded.
Rachav tried to ignore the irrational fears racing through her mind–like the Gibborites being able to hear how hard her heart was pounding, and figuring out her duplicity. "They left just before the city gates were shut. I don't know which direction they went, but if you hurry, you may catch them."
Both soldiers fixed hard stares down at her, without speaking, for a long, uncomfortable moment.
It was a bit strange, really, how inconsistent were the customs in Bet-Yariq. Obviously the king had little regard for private property, or he wouldn't confiscate the farms of those surrounding the city. Yet violating a family's privacy and entering a home uninvited was still taboo. Not that a Gibborite could fit inside a normal dwelling standing up, or even get through a normal doorway without creative contortion.
Rachav imagined them seeing right through her facade of calm honesty; seeing through the walls; seeing everything, and striking her and her father dead on the spot. But after an agonizing period of scrutiny, the one Gibborite turned to the other.
"Get back to the Court. Report on this, and tell them I'm getting a patrol together to find the spies.."
The other Gibborite nodded and they both turned away, trudging off with heavy footfalls.
THE TWO YACOVIM LAY atop the city wall, hidden under bundles of flax.
Salmon couldn't see Pinchas, though he knew his companion had also been hidden by the young boy Nadir, under a stack of flax bundles. In fact, Salmon couldn't see much at all. He expected a stealthy enemy soldier to arrive at any moment, yank away his cover and thrust a spear right through him. Salmon's hand remained on his sword hilt. If discovered, he would go down fighting.
Lying still, breathing quietly, and listening intently to every sound, Salmon heard the creaking of wood from below–someone's weight on the ladder in the apartment. Then the trapdoor opened. Through a narrow gap in the flax, he saw movement–someone's clothes blurring past his narrow view. He tensed and prepared to roll away and draw his sword. But he smelled something that didn't signal a threat. In brief moments he heard Rachav's voice.
"It's safe to come out, now," Rachav said, quietly. "Let's get you back down inside before a guard or someone decides to take a stroll up here."
Salmon pushed the flax off and rose to one knee. Pinchas threw his flax off and stood, scratching itches all over himself. "What did you tell them?"
"She can explain downstairs," Salmon said. "Let's get out of here."
Rachav met Salmon's gaze and nodded. Light from Ma'adim and Lebanah lit her face in a way that accentuated her natural beauty. Salmon realized the familiar smell was her perfume.
She led them back down the ladder into the small annex.
Salmon was the first to break the awkward silence as they stood there together. "You have our gratitude, Rachav."
She nodded. For a brief instant her gaze met Salmon's. She peered into his eyes as if searching for something, looking quite vulnerable. Then she looked away and crossed her arms, face fading into an inscrutable mask.
"Why did you take such a risk for us?" Pinchas asked, studying her closely. "You and your whole family could be executed for not turning us over."
She motioned for them to sit, then did so herself, leaning forward with a grave expression. After hesitating, Salmon and Pinchas sat, too.
"I know you're not Mizraimites," she said. "Oh, you came from Mizraim...or at least your parents did. Your accents are similar. But you are Yacovites."
Nobody spoke at first. Then Salmon said, "If that were true, then your behavior is even more confusing."
"It's true," she said. "You can let go of the mysterious pretenses with me. The soldiers were right–you've come to look at the city's defenses."
She paused, and when her guests remained silent, she continued. "Tell me about the god of Yacov. Your invisible god."
"His name is El Elyon," Pinchas replied, "And Hashem, and...he has many names. And it is not that he is invisible; it's just that we exist in a place and a state where we can't see him."
Salmon hadn't heard this summary before. Pinchas had his undivided attention now.
"Is he stronger than other gods?" Rachav asked.
Pinchas nodded. "Not just stronger. He is their father. Creator. They were originally his servants, but there was a rebellion... Mankind rebelled, too. Long ago, El Elyon divided up the nations of the world. He put them under the authority of the 70 Princes in his Council...who later rebelled. Our nation he kept for himself."
Salmon imagined this all sounded pretty egotistical to the woman, but she listened attentively. Besides: what did it matter how it sounded to her?
"The rebellious Princes presented themselves as gods to the people entrusted to them. People worshiped them as gods...still do."
Rachav chewed on a lower lip that Salmon might describe as succulent. "And they interbred with human beings. That's where the Gibborites came from, true?"
"True," Pinchas agreed, face twisting slightly with disgust.
"Why do they all have such misshapen heads?" Salmon blurted.
"The mothers are human women," Rachav said, with a perfunctory glance toward Salmon. "The Gibborim babies are very large. They get trapped in the birth canal and their skulls are squeezed out of shape. That's how the midwives explain it. Anyway, the baby usually has to be cut out. The mother almost never survives."
Salmon studied her silently. An image sprang to his mind of Rachav being cut open and a bloody monster being pulled from her womb. That triggered other images, which he also didn't want to see. He looked away hastily.
"These abominations we see in your city and elsewhere are results of their other breeding programs," Pinchas said, lip still curled into a sickened sneer. "They mix different species of animals. And animals with men. Hashem destroyed all those hideous freaks once already, back in history. But it didn't take long for the evil ones to start all over again. They won't stop until everything and everyone is corrupted–physically and spiritually."
"There's a war coming." Rachav moved her arm in a circular motion. "Your army against the armies of all the cities in Kenaan. Your god against their gods." She spoke this as a statement; not a question.
Salmon shrugged. Pinchas nodded.
"You've got a better grasp of the situation than we could have imagined," Pinchas said. "How do you know all this?"
Rachav shrugged. "I've been contemplating all this every day for some time. And the fear of you is everywhere. Even the Gibborites are scared. I could see it in their eyes a little while ago...though they would never admit fear to a human."
"Fear of us?" Salmon replied, surprised by her revelation.
"Fear of you. Your god. Your general...Yeshua, right?"
Salmon nodded, but said, "Most of us call him Y'hoshua."
Rachav closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she nodded to herself and said, "Your god is the strongest. He's the father of gods. I know he's going to give you victory over this city. Over all the cities. I know it. Everybody has heard about what your god did to Mizraim, and to the kings across the river. No god can stand against that kind of power. People are right to fear him. To fear you."
"All the more reason for you to turn us over to the Gibborim when you had the chance," Salmon said.
Rachav licked dry lips. "I've saved your lives, by hiding you, and sending your enemies off on a futile chase. Promise me you'll return the favor. When your army attacks Bet-Yariq, spare me and my family."
It sounded fair enough to Salmon, but with all the things that could happen in war, death could, and did, find unintended targets. It was indiscriminate.
"Done," Pinchas said, before Salmon could even form his caveats into words. "We'll remember what you did for us. We'll make sure you, your parents and siblings are spared when the time comes."
"Hold on, now," Salmon protested. "War isn't always cooperative with the plans of men. We have no idea what all will happen and it's impossible to guarantee that anyone's life can be spared."
Without missing a beat, Rachav replied, "It's impossible to guarantee you won't be caught or killed before you make it safely back to your camp, but I did everything within my power to keep it from happening. I ask at least that much. Surely your god has authority over all that happens in battle."
"He does," Pinchas replied, with finality. "You have spared our lives; we will spare yours."
"And my family?" she pressed.
"And your family," Pinchas agreed.
Salmon scowled, but bit his tongue.
She studied each of them intensely, in turn. Salmon stared out the window and wondered if El Elyon might have a cruel sense of humor, with such beautiful eyes set in the face of a prostitute. The face...sure. The face was part of what must get customers interested. But the eyes supposedly were a portal one could see through to the inner person.
"Why is it he is so confident," Rachav asked, indicating Pinchas, "while you are so skeptical about the same matter?"
Because our god doesn't honor deals with whores, Salmon thought. And he wouldn't bother protecting one.
"He's a soldier," Pinchas said, nodding toward his fellow Yacovim. "He's a practical man. Spiritual matters are intangible to him. He can't see or touch them."
Someone else might have sounded condescending giving this explanation, but Pinchas seemed to have meant it as a compliment. In fact, Salmon admitted, it was a rather gracious judgment from somebody whose life centered around spiritual matters.
Rachav studied Salmon for an extra time, then gave her head a shake as if ridding it of unneeded thoughts. "I wouldn't try to escape right now, when the guards are on the alert and everyone has their eye out for you. You should leave an hour or two before dawn. You should go to sleep early, so you'll be rested when it's time to get up. I'll wake you then."
Pinchas thanked her for her hospitality and consideration. Rachav left them to bed down.
SALMON, EVEN MORE WARY than usual, kept his clothes on and his sword close. He sat on the floor, his back against the wall, while Pinchas took advantage of the chance to sleep comfortably on the bed.
"You're not going to take the other side of the mattress?" Pinchas asked as he stretched out under the covers.
Salmon shook his head. "You know she services customers in that bed, right?"
Pinchas had no response, and was soon snoring.
While prostitution was an institution accepted in every culture Salmon knew of (and, in fact, men of his tribe had visited prostitutes right back to their common ancestor); the practitioners of the profession were still scorned by everyone who wasn't enjoying their services at the moment.
Salmon intended to stay awake through the night and keep watch. Maybe it was exhaustion catching up with him from the journey, but whatever it was, he went unconscious in very short order.
He had a strange dream that he was with Yacov, the ancestor of his people, tending a flock near a watering hole. Some of the sheep were solid in color, and some were spotted. The unspotted ones belonged to his father-in-law, and Salmon was disappointed that Yacov had to settle for the blemished ones. Strange things were said and took place, as always happens in dreams. Then one particularly ugly, spotted sheep was given to Salmon as a gift.
Salmon groused about not wanting such an ugly animal, and threw rocks at it to make it go away. But Yacov, sitting by the water and peeling bark off sticks, said, "You know our god can make pure what is blemished."
The blemishes on the sheep all blended together and its wool was transformed until it was all one solid color.
While Salmon marveled at this, the sheep came over and nuzzled against him. He found the warmth of its head against his arm rather pleasant. But in time the pleasant warmth gave way to insistent jerking. He petted the sheep to calm it down, but the shaking only got worse.
When Salmon's eyes cracked open, he saw the source of the warmth was Rachav's grip on his arm as she shook him awake. His hand covered hers, having thought he was petting an affectionate ewe.
He came fully conscious with a start and yanked his hand away.
"Well," she said, letting go of his arm, straightening from her stooped position and meeting his groggy glare. "For a soldier, you sure sleep heavy."
At some point during the night, Salmon had slumped over and curled up on the floor. Now he swung up to a sitting position and looked around, blinking.
The sky outside the window was dark. A small candle dimly lit the interior of the room. Pinchas sat on the couch, fully dressed, tying his sandals.
"You have a couple hours before sunrise," Rachav said.
Salmon grunted acknowledgment, rubbing his eyes as he climbed to his feet. "We have to get out. But answer a few questions first."
Rachav met his gaze and waited patiently.
Salmon asked her about the strength of the garrison, and how many of the troops were Gibborim. She gave him her best estimate. He frowned. Bet-Yariq was a strong fortress, by any measurement.
"Weapons?" Salmon asked.
She shrugged. Her brothers obsessed about such things but she'd never had much of an interest. "Spears; shields; javelins. That's what I mainly see. I don't know if you noticed the boulders atop the walls–they're for dropping on top of besiegers. And of course there would be archers and javelineers up there, as well."
"Are there provisions for a siege?" Salmon asked.
Rachav nodded. "We have the springs, so there would never be a lack of water. And the king's store rooms are full of food that is rotated regularly. Normally a tenth of all crops and livestock are taxed from the farmers. Ever since news of your approach reached us, the tax has gone up to a third."
"How about the guard?"
"The walls are not fully manned in peacetime. Guards rotate shifts walking the wall, as a lookout. My brothers saw your army setting up camp beyond the Yarden, so the lookouts certainly have reported it. The gate is always manned. During daylight, details guard the fields outside the city."
"Besides the gate, is there any other way in or out?"
"Not that I know of," Rachav said. "And speaking of that, the gate is closed. You wouldn't want to try getting out that way, though, even if it were open. I'm sure every soldier is on the alert for you." She picked up the candle and gracefully slipped out of the room, plunging them in darkness.
Salmon dug in his haversack, extracted a bundle of rope, and brought it to the window. He frowned. Very likely, it would not be long enough to reach the ground.
Rachav returned a moment later with a heavy coil of rope.
Noticing how she strained with the weight, Pinchas took it from her.
"Thank-you," she said, then pointed at Salmon's rope. "You might as well put that away. It's not going to be enough."
Both men examined her rope. It was a very great length, and red in color.
"This is the longest, and strongest, rope we have," she said. "We died it red so we could tell it from the lengths that are not as stout. It should be able to support your combined weight."
Pinchas looked from her to the window, then back to her. She nodded. "It's the only safe way out of here," she said.
"Safe?" Pinchas replied, skeptically.
Salmon clapped him on the shoulder. "She's right. Besides, El Elyon will keep you from falling, true?"
Pinchas gulped. "True."
Salmon scooted the couch over to the wall. It was well-built, and wider than the window, so should prove an adequate anchor. Working together, he and Pinchas tied one end of the red rope to the couch; then Salmon heaved the rest out the window, where it uncoiled on the way down.
Salmon checked to make sure his sword was secure, and climbed onto the thick windowsill. Rachav clutched at his arm, almost in the same spot she had touched when waking him.
Their eyes met under the red glow from Ma'adim through the window. She looked so vulnerable at that moment, he forgot she was a harlot as his instincts overwhelmed him with the urge to protect her.
"Give me a sign you'll show mercy to my family when your army attacks," she implored him.
Salmon grabbed the rope and gave it a tug, forcing himself to concentrate on immediate, practical matters. "When our army marches on this city, keep your father, mother and whole family up here in your home. Don't let them leave. Hang this same rope in your window so we can climb back up and we'll know to spare everyone in this apartment."
She nodded.
"If we don't see a red rope in the window," Salmon warned, "then our agreement is void. If you betray us, and tell the king or his soldiers which way we went, our agreement is void. And if any member of your family doesn't stay up here with you when we attack, then their blood is on their own heads."
Rachav nodded her acceptance to these terms.
"I'll go first," Salmon told Pinchas. Grabbing the rope in both hands, he slithered backwards over the edge of the windowsill into the dark.
Pinchas took a deep breath. He was a bit uneasy about executing this maneuver But he climbed onto the sill, took hold of the rope, gave Rachav a nod, and followed his companion out the window.