26

The city of Ai loomed before them, an insignificant town with less than half the men Jericho had possessed. Salmon glanced at Mishael and smiled. They would be home in time for the evening meal if all went as they expected. They divided the three thousand men into three groups, one coming after the other. Caleb’s nephew Othniel led the first group, then Mishael the second, and Salmon brought up the last of the men.

They came around from behind a large copse of trees, expecting to walk right through the open city gate. But as Othniel’s group approached, arrows shot down at them from the wall. Soldiers from Ai stormed through the gates, chasing them back.

Salmon commanded his troop to circle around the city, but Mishael’s group was caught in the chase all the way to the stone quarries. Seeing the gate shut up behind the warriors, Salmon and Othniel pursued the men of Ai. But more soldiers appeared, coming from the trees, and as Salmon reached the quarries where Mishael’s group was already trying to make their way down the slopes, Salmon ducked into a shallow cave with a few of his men, his courage drained.

“How is it possible they are striking us down?” This from one of his men. “We outnumber them two to one.”

Salmon shaded his eyes against the sun’s glare and looked down on the men trying to maneuver the slopes. His heart stopped, then went into a full gallop as he watched an arrow from a soldier of Ai arc and dip straight toward Mishael.

“Mishael, run!” But Salmon was too far away to be heard. Time seemed like a distant enemy as he broke free of the cave and raced down the hill toward his friend. As he reached Mishael’s side, saw his crumpled, broken body, he let out a war cry that shook the stones surrounding them. He readied his bow and shot back at the approaching handful of soldiers, shouting at his men to do the same.

But as each one looked around at their losses, they fled like children running to their mothers. Salmon took a bold step closer to the men of Ai and nocked another arrow. The men of Ai did the same, both sides standing there waiting for the other to strike.

“Go home, Israelites,” one of them shouted. “Your God may have given you Jericho, but you will not defeat us.”

Salmon glanced around him, wanting to shout back that their God could defeat them with twelve men instead of three thousand. But as the men of Ai turned back toward their city, he did not loose his arrow, and he did not say the words. He turned instead, defeat filling him, picked up Mishael’s body, and walked toward home.

“We lost thirty-six men,” Salmon told Joshua later that afternoon. “Including Mishael.” His voice broke, and silence followed the remark.

Rahab strained to hear more as she knelt in the women’s half of Joshua’s tent, crushing mint leaves and adding them to the water she had drawn earlier from the Jordan.

“We don’t know how they knew we were coming,” one of the other leaders said, “but somehow they were ready for us. They met us at the gate, and some were waiting in the forest.”

“We spent the afternoon looking for a cave big enough to bury the bodies.” Rahab could still hear the wobble of emotion in the timbre of Salmon’s deep voice.

The room grew quiet again, until at last Joshua spoke. “Send for the elders of the people. I will go before the ark of the Lord and they will join me. Perhaps our God will hear our prayers and show us why we were defeated.”

Salmon followed Joshua across the compound to the place where the ark of the Lord rested. Joshua tore his tunic, and Salmon and the rest of the elders did the same. They sprinkled dust on their heads and fell facedown on the ground before the Lord.

As dusk descended, Joshua’s voice broke the silence. “Alas, Sovereign Lord, why did you ever bring this people across the Jordan to deliver us into the hands of the Amorites to destroy us? If only we had been content to stay on the other side of the Jordan!”

Salmon’s heart felt like a heavy weight within his chest. Joshua’s doubt and anguish mingled with the scent of Mishael’s blood, which Salmon would never be able to wash from his hands. Such defeat seemed impossible with the God who had parted the Jordan and caused Jericho’s walls to tumble. And yet, here they were, fresh from the awful task of burying their dead.

“Pardon your servant, Lord. What can I say, now that Israel has been routed by its enemies? The Canaanites and the other people of the country will hear about this, and they will surround us and wipe out our name from the earth. What then will you do for your own great name?” Joshua’s voice wavered, and Salmon’s throat ached with the need to cry out, Why?

Stillness, unnatural and eerie, followed Joshua’s prayer, but moments later a rumble like thunder moved above their heads, and Salmon strained to hear above the roar.

“Stand up!” a deep voice said from the darkening clouds. “What are you doing down on your face? Israel has sinned. They have violated my covenant, which I commanded them to keep. They have taken some of the devoted things, they have stolen, they have lied, they have put them with their own possessions. That is why the Israelites cannot stand against their enemies. They turn their backs and run because they have been made liable to destruction. I will not be with you anymore unless you destroy whatever among you is devoted to destruction.

“Go, consecrate the people,” the voice continued. “Tell them, ‘Consecrate yourselves in preparation for tomorrow, for this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: There are devoted things among you, Israel. You cannot stand against your enemies until you remove them.’”

After a few more instructions, the clouds lifted and the voice departed. Salmon rose on shaky legs and looked toward Joshua, whose face was both aglow and hard as flint.

“Go among the people and do as the Lord commanded. Each one must wash their clothes and consecrate themselves. Tomorrow we will go through every tribe, every family, until we find who is guilty,” Joshua said.

Salmon did not wait for dismissal, nor speak a word to any man. Fear and anger mingled, rising like a storm within him. Mishael had died because some fool had disobeyed their God?

But as he marched toward the camp, he stopped short at thoughts of the temptations he had considered, of Rahab. Could the disobedient one be him?