16

The walk through the city of palms took time, and more than once they found themselves taking a wrong turn down a street with little light. The sun had already passed the midway point in the sky, and still they had not found the prostitute’s house.

“Are we lost?” Mishael pulled a handful of almonds from his pocket and handed a few to Salmon.

Salmon glanced at the sky and toward the city walls. “Not exactly lost. Not yet.” He hated to admit such a thing, but as the sun continued toward the west, his stomach rumbled and worry settled in his middle. “Let’s check this street. The man said we couldn’t miss the place.”

“At least we’ve gotten a good idea of what the city looks like. Perhaps those wrong turns were providential.” Mishael reached for another handful of almonds.

“You might want to ration those.” Salmon glanced at the sack of dates he carried. “We might need these for many days to come.”

“Can’t you hear my stomach roaring? It’s like thunder inside of me!”

Salmon laughed. “You complain too much.” He spotted the prostitute’s house a few moments later, but held Mishael back when he continued as if he would simply approach without forethought. “What are we supposed to say to her?” The very thought of speaking to a prostitute turned his stomach.

“If she is as popular as the merchant said she is, let’s at least see if we can secure an appointment with her first. Then we will worry about what to say.” Mishael lifted a brow. “Unless you would rather spend the night in the streets. How much sleep do you think you’ll get in the open in a wicked city?”

“I don’t expect to sleep at all regardless.” Salmon glanced behind them, grateful to see they were relatively alone. Neighbors were not within hearing distance, even if Mishael should learn to keep his voice down. “Come on then. We can speak to the Nubian.”

Salmon led the way to the prostitute’s gate and found it locked. He rattled the knocker and waited. “Maybe they are sleeping?” he whispered to Mishael.

“At this hour?” Mishael looked doubtful. A moment later, a tall, dark-skinned man approached the gate.

“What do you seek?” He looked down at them, his gaze taking in their appearances before settling on their faces.

“We are travelers, here on business.” Salmon cleared his throat. “We seek a night’s lodging with your mistress. A merchant in the marketplace recommended her to us.”

The Nubian looked them over again, then shook his head. “I’m afraid the merchant is mistaken. This is not an inn. My mistress does not keep men through the night. They pay for time with her. They do not stay.”

Disappointment and relief mingled in Salmon’s heart. He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “I can pay her well. For a few moments of her time then. We will seek lodging elsewhere.” He hated himself for what he was suggesting, though he had no intention of actually using her services. Why did he even care? And yet . . . had God led them here? What better place to gain information from than a woman who slept with the city’s highest officials?

The Nubian looked dubious but held up a hand. “Stay here.” When he walked into the house, Mishael stepped closer to Salmon.

“How are you planning to spend that time with her?” His look held uncertainty, even fear. Zimri’s demise was too recent to treat this mission with anything but caution. “You wouldn’t actually touch her, would you?”

“Of course not!” Salmon shifted from foot to foot. “If she will see us, we will question her. That is all.”

Salmon glanced at the sun, now past the midway point, then leaned against the stone pillar that held the gate firm. At last the Nubian returned, unlocked the gate, and bid them enter. Salmon followed the taller man into a sitting room covered in scarlets and purples, with cushioned couches and plush embroidered pillows. Oriental tapestries hung from whitewashed walls, and alabaster vases sat on low tables. The prostitute lived well.

“Sit,” the Nubian said, pointing to the couches.

Salmon glanced at Mishael, but one look at the Nubian and he obeyed, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the seat. They waited in silence long enough for Salmon to have counted a thousand sheep.

“What’s taking her so long?” Mishael whispered.

Salmon shrugged, but he could tell by the look in his friend’s eyes that he was as anxious as Salmon to be about their business. It would be dusk soon, and they needed to get back to the city gate and find a real inn to stay in. Sitting here was wasting time.

His heart beat faster at the thought. He stood. “This was a mistake.” He motioned to Mishael to come and headed toward the door.

“Going so soon? My, my, but you foreigners are an impatient lot.” A rich, sultry voice came from behind him. He turned and took in the sight of her. His breath stuck in his throat. The woman was simply beautiful. He had expected rich adornments in her hair and jewels dangling about her body. He had expected rich, patterned clothing, but though her robe was scarlet, her tunic was white, and she wore a simple scarf over her head.

She stepped closer to him. “I am Rahab, and this is my home. Tendaji, my guard, tells me that you seek lodging. Surely you are aware that my services provide much more.” She tilted her head, her look curious, not seductive.

“We are aware that you are the consort of princes and wealthy men.”

“Neither of which you appear to be,” she said, glancing from Salmon to Mishael, who now stood beside him. “So tell me, what really brings you to see me?” She motioned to the couches and sat in a plush chair opposite them.

Salmon glanced beyond her. “Is this room secure? Will our words be heard by your servants?”

She looked thoughtful but a moment, then shook her head. “Had you asked me that a few months ago, I would have said yes. My employer kept me his prisoner until the prince got word of what he had done to me.” She looked away as though the thought still pained her, but her expression quickly changed and she faced them once more. “Since then, I have come to an agreement with my employer and dismissed all of the servants but Tendaji and hired my younger sister as my maid. No one else in this town can be trusted.” She looked toward the window. “My house is still watched, but they do not enter without my permission.”

Salmon nodded. “That is good.”

“So why have you come to me if not for my services, which Tendaji tells me you can afford.” She crossed one leg over the other, exposing her bare foot.

Salmon looked away, embarrassed. “We are simply visitors to your city on our way to Babylon. We came for supplies and to spend the night before we attempt to catch up with our brothers. It seemed wise for us to learn what we could of your city while we are here.” He met her gaze, unflinching, studying her reaction. “When a merchant suggested you knew more than most, we decided to start here.” He smiled, though inside he chided himself that lies should fall so easily from his lips.

Rahab uncrossed her legs and tucked them beneath her, as if sensing his discomfort in her presence. “Tell me your names. Where are you from?” Her brows narrowed the slightest bit, and Salmon thought her too intelligent to be a prostitute. Why had some man of this city, even the prince himself, not married this woman? What an asset she would be to a kingdom. Yet how he could tell that by one glance, he did not know. She must have cast some sort of spell or curse on him.

“I am Mishael,” his friend said before Salmon could rein in his thoughts. “And this is my friend Salmon.”

“Interesting names. You say you are headed to Babylon?” She rested her chin in her hand. Even her nails were plain, not painted, as he’d expected them to be. As Kozbi’s had been when he helped bury her body.

“We have business there.” Mishael spoke for him again. Salmon met his gaze, getting the message that he clearly hoped Salmon would speak up and take over this conversation.

Salmon studied her. “You are not dressed as a prostitute.”

She raised a brow. “You seem quite aware of what my profession requires.”

Heat filled his face, and he looked away from her gaze once more, thoroughly embarrassed. He must get hold of his wayward thoughts. She waited, watching him, and Salmon debated within himself whether to tell her the truth.

Her forehead knit with the tiniest of scowls. “Clearly you need something from me, my lord. If it is not my services, then please, either tell me or do not waste my time.” She shifted gracefully and stood.

Salmon jumped to his feet. “Can we trust you? Do you keep the secrets of your patrons?”

Rahab searched his face but did not smile. “Normally my patrons pay for my silence.” But as Salmon reached to pull out several pieces of silver, she waved his actions aside. “To simply talk is free.” She motioned toward a side door. “Come.”

Salmon followed, Mishael at his heels. She led them to an inner courtyard and a stairway leading to her roof. They walked in silence until they reached a small enclosure facing the city wall. Rahab opened a half door and showed them inside.

“I know by your clothing and beards that you are not from around here,” she said softly. “And I can tell by your eyes that you are not truly headed to Babylon. So tell me the truth. If you want my silence, tell me why you are here.”

Salmon nodded. “We have come from beyond the Jordan. We are Israelites.”

She looked at him, and he thought her beauty would poison him where he stood. No wonder Zimri fell captive to Kozbi.

He straightened, narrowing his gaze. “Do the men of this place speak of us?”

She glanced through the top of the half door, seemingly to make sure they were still alone, then leaned closer. Too close.

Salmon’s breath hitched, but he held steady.

“Most of the men of the city fear you,” she said. “We have heard the stories of what your God did to the Pharaoh of Egypt with the plagues, and to the kings of the Amorites, Og and Sihon. And even though you wandered in the wilderness and plagues have befallen you, the fear of you has not abated. In fact, it has grown stronger in recent months, as if people fear invasion.” Her gaze held first Salmon’s then Mishael’s.

“They would be right to fear our God,” Mishael said softly. “He is a great and powerful God, and He does not abide sin. Not even from among His own people.”

Salmon looked at her. “One of the plagues you speak of took twenty-four thousand of our people because one of our men took a Midianite woman.”

Rahab drew in a breath, clearly troubled. “So your God does not allow for outsiders to enter your camp? He would kill you for taking one in?” She seemed to take a sudden interest in her feet.

The scent of her perfume wafted in the small room, and Salmon drew a hand over his face, trying to block its potency. “Not for taking in a foreigner,” he said at last. “If a foreigner chooses to follow the ways of our God, they would not be shut out. It was because our people had been seduced to follow the lifeless gods of the Midianites, the Baals of Peor, and worshiped them instead of the one true God, that our God became angry and sent the plague on us.”

She still studied her feet and clasped her hands together. “Your God is a powerful God.”

“Yes,” Salmon said, wondering at the soft awe in her voice.

She sighed, then glanced at him but could not hold his gaze. “What is the purpose of your visit here?”

She appeared to struggle with something, but Salmon could not deduce what it was from her expression.

“Our God is giving us this land. We have come here to spy it out.”

She drew a sharp breath, but a moment later, she nodded and sighed, as if she had been expecting this very thing. “It is what our leaders have feared. Now their fears will come upon them.”

“Yes.” Sadness accompanied his admission in that she would suffer along with the city. He did not explore why a prostitute should matter to him in that moment.

“May I ask one question?” Her voice held longing, a need to know.

“Of course.” Salmon glanced beyond her toward the other rooftops. No one lingered near to overhear them.

“Why would your God do that? Why take something from its rightful owners to give to a group of wanderers?” She fingered her veil, then clasped her hands once more.

Salmon wondered again if this woman could be trusted, but he sent a silent prayer heavenward and hoped that Moses’ assurance that God would be near them when they prayed would actually prove true.

“God is the rightful owner of all land,” he said quietly. “He promised the land of Canaan to our ancestor Abraham many years ago. But our forefathers had to go through a time of great testing and punishment for our disobedience to Him. Now at last, God has made a way for us to see His promise fulfilled.”

Silence followed as she seemed to ponder his words. “And He is giving you Jericho first, is that right?”

“You could say that.”

“You will find these walls hard to breach,” she said, straightening, confidence suddenly lifting her chin. “I can assure you that it will not take long for word of your presence to reach the king, but I will not be the one to tell him. As I said, my house is watched. Even now, despite our secrecy, men will know that you are here, and they will send guards to question me. They do this with every foreigner.”

Mishael touched Salmon’s arm, his expression strained.

“Can you give us a place to hide until we can escape the city?” Salmon asked.

Footsteps sounded in the distance, and Rahab stepped from the small enclosure and bid them stay where they were. The Nubian met her at the top of the stairs.

“We shouldn’t have come,” Mishael whispered once she was out of earshot.

“Well, we’re here now.” He looked at his friend. “It wouldn’t hurt to pray.”

Rahab appeared at the small half door. She motioned to mounds of flax a short distance from them, spread out on her roof to dry in the sun. “The king’s men are at my door. Hide beneath the flax until I can send them away. Then I will return to you.” She pointed to a corner of the roof that was hidden in shadows and turned to go.

“Rahab,” Salmon whispered.

She looked back at him.

“You will not betray us?” They would somehow scale the outer wall, despite the deep drop, and risk injury if he thought he could not trust her. “Promise me.”

She offered him the slightest hint of a smile. Her beauty nearly took his breath. “I promise. On my life, I will send the guards away. Then I will return to you.”

She hurried down the steps while Salmon and Mishael buried themselves in stalks of prickly flax.

Rahab slipped into her room and stood before the mirror. Her simple attire would never do, especially if Dabir happened to accompany the king’s guards. She searched her wooden chest for an embroidered robe and quickly pinned up her hair, leaving a few strands loose beneath the veil, then added earrings and one of the many necklaces Dabir had given her. Her sister was better at applying the kohl to her eyes, but Rahab had already sent her home.

Satisfied at last, she strode to her sitting room, where Tendaji waited near the door. “Dabir is leading ten of the king’s personal guards. Shall I let them in?”

She shook her head. “No. I will come with you to the gate.” She led the way, and Tendaji followed close on her heels.

“Dabir, how good it is to see you.” She offered a coy smile, then glanced beyond him as though she just now noticed the torch-carrying guards. “But . . . what is this? Have I done something wrong?” She played the part of a truly anxious woman, longing to please, giving him what she knew he wanted with one well-placed look.

Dabir gripped the barred gate and rattled it. “Let me in, Rahab. The king has sent us.”

“What does the king want with me?” Memories of Dabir’s offices, of his whip surfaced, and she could not stop the sudden tightness in her middle. If not for Prince Nahid’s rescue once he’d learned of the beating . . .

“You beat Rahab? Why would you do such a thing, Dabir?” Prince Nahid had paced her sitting room while Dabir sat nervously on the edge of her couch. Rahab had stood to the side, trembling at the rage she had sparked with the word babe.

Dabir’s face paled, but he held his chin up, and Rahab sensed an elaborate lie awaited her ears. “She escaped, my lord. The Nubian took her to our ancestral burial caves, of all places, and she admitted the plan was hers from the beginning. I had no choice but to teach her a lesson.” He cleared his throat at the prince’s glaring hatred.

Rahab swallowed hard. She had never seen such anger in the prince’s eyes in all the time she had known him.

“You will never touch her again, Dabir. If I find out you have caused her even a hint of pain, I will have your body impaled on a stake in front of the Hall of Justice. Do you understand?”

Dabir nodded but did not speak.

“Say it, Dabir.”

“Yes, my lord.” He clasped his hands in front of him, and in that moment Rahab almost felt a hint of compassion for the man. But the emotion did not linger, swiftly replaced by the burning anger that always accompanied the memories of the midwife, of her child.

“The king has sent for you if you are harboring Israelite spies.” Dabir’s comment drew her back to look into eyes full of malice. She took a small step backward.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Her heart hammered in her chest, but she held still, silently praying to the God of Israel to keep her calm. Did their God hear the prayers of a foreigner, whom He seemed to despise?

“The king says, ‘Bring out the men who came to you and entered your house, because they have come to spy out the whole land.’” Dabir looked beyond her to Tendaji, then back to hold her gaze once more. “We know they came to you. They were seen entering Jericho, and the bread merchant says he pointed them here. So bring them out so that we may take them to the king.”

“Yes, the men came to me,” she said, “but I did not know where they had come from. At dusk, when it was time to close the city gate, they left. I don’t know which way they went. Go after them quickly. You may catch up with them.” She held Dabir’s gaze, unflinching.

He looked at Tendaji. “Does she speak the truth?” Menace emanated from Dabir’s heated gaze, but Rahab felt Tendaji also stiffen and straighten beside her.

“She speaks the truth. Two foreign men came just before dusk. They did not stay long.” He crossed his arms and took a step closer to Rahab.

Dabir looked quickly from one to the other, then whirled on his heel. “After them!” he barked to the ten guards with him. They rushed ahead, but Dabir hung back. He glanced at Rahab. “We will find them,” he said, his voice smooth as oil. “And if you are not telling the truth, it will not go well for either of you.”

“I am telling the truth,” she said, her mouth set in a determined line. “If I had known they were Israelites, I would have turned them over to you before they could escape. They deceived me. But I would expect nothing less.”

Dabir gave a slight nod, then left toward the direction of the palace. He would not dirty his hands searching for the spies. He would leave that to the king’s guards, who would pay dearly if they failed.