29
Shortly after the morning meal, Rahab listened in the shadows of Joshua’s tent as he addressed his family, the elders, and all of his servants. “We will take three days to consecrate ourselves and gather whatever we need to travel to Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim. There we will offer sacrifices to the Lord, as Moses the Lord’s servant commanded us to do.”
He dismissed them then to do what apparently they already understood must be accomplished, but Rahab stood still, not knowing whether to go or stay. Was she to accompany all of Israel on this trip? Or was she an unwelcome guest who would stay behind with the tents?
As the elders, including Salmon, filed out of Joshua’s tent, Rahab sought Eliana. “What would you have me do?”
Eliana turned to face Rahab, her smile sober. “Forgive me, Rahab. I should have explained this to you sooner.” She took Rahab’s arm and led her to the women’s area. “We are to travel to the valley between the mountains, where Joshua will build an altar to the Lord according to the law of Moses. Joshua will write a copy of the law and read it to the whole assembly. It is a solemn process, and one we must prepare our hearts to accept.” She touched Rahab’s shoulder. “Everyone is to come, even the foreigners among us.” She smiled, her gentle eyes warming.
“How does one prepare their heart?” Was not faith in this God enough?
“We ask God to search our hearts for any hidden sins and confess any known sins to Him. The priests will offer sacrifices on the altar on our behalf, and we shall be clean.” Eliana’s brows knit in a slight frown. “I know this probably does not make much sense to you. It is our way of humbling ourselves before our God and asking Him for mercy. But blood must be shed, the blood of lambs and goats, to cover the wrongs we’ve done. Otherwise there can be no forgiveness.”
“So the innocent animal pays for our guilt.”
Eliana nodded. “Yes, in a sense.”
Rahab stared at her feet for a long moment. “I doubt even the blood of a lamb could wash away all the things I have done.” She turned and walked abruptly away before Eliana could offer her another look of pity.
She hurried to her tent, wondering what she could possibly do to prepare for the upcoming days of sacrifice and atonement. She stopped abruptly near the threshold as Salmon drew near.
“May I speak with you?” He looked slightly nervous, which did nothing to help her own tattered emotions.
“About what?” She was not in the mood to talk of insignificant things. She had questions that needed answers. Answers that went deeper than what Eliana had given her.
He stared at her. “I just want to talk.” He looked at her as though she ought to be able to read his mind—so typical of the men she had known all of her life.
She motioned to the space beneath the awning. “We can talk here. I will get you a cushion if you like.” There was no way she was going to invite a man into her tent, no matter how much she wanted to trust him.
“I thought perhaps we could take a short walk.”
She glanced around at the crowded camp with people rushing to and fro, where their words could be easily overheard. She picked up her water jug. “You can accompany me to the Jordan if you like. I need water to attend to the ritual cleansing.” Eliana had instructed her on the laws of cleanliness when she first entered her service. She could do at least that much, though her heart was not sure it could do much more.
Salmon nodded and fell into step beside her. Neither spoke as they walked through the camp, and Rahab suddenly realized how alone they were once they passed the last tent and continued to the water’s edge. A woman could be waylaid on such a walk if she were not careful. She took a step away from Salmon, suddenly wary.
“You don’t need to fear me, Rahab,” he said, glancing into her eyes. “I will not let any man hurt you.”
She held his gaze, unable to keep the hurt from her tone. “Can you keep me from yourself?” She glanced beyond him. “I’ve seen you watching me. I know what you want.” She continued walking, heat filling her cheeks. How bold she had become! What possessed her to say such things to him?
He caught up with her in two long strides. “You are mistaken,” he said softly, the only other sound coming from the buzz of insects and their sandals brushing the grasses as they drew closer to the Jordan. “I will admit you intrigue me. But not because I want to lie with you. I want to understand.”
She stopped mid-stride, her heart beating fast within her. “Understand what? Why I became a prostitute? Why I didn’t go with my family? It is not a story you would want to hear.” Her gaze held challenge. “Even Eliana does not know the things hidden in my heart.” She lowered the jar from her shoulder to her arms, her protection between them.
He studied her, lifted a thick dark brow. “Forgive me then. I only meant to show you kindness.”
She laughed, surprised at its brittle edge. “Kindness for yourself or for me?” She met his gaze but lowered her voice. “You want to find a reason to stop thinking of me as dung under your foot. You want to understand why your God would save a woman like me and not spare your closest friend.” Remorse filled her at the look in his dark eyes. Her words had hit their mark.
When he simply stared at her but did not speak, she straightened, suddenly emboldened. “You judged me from the start, my lord.” She studied him, her heart burdened with the sudden death of a longing for this man to care. “And yet you are attracted to me. And you hate yourself for it.”
He winced and became suddenly interested in something behind her. She avoided following the direction of his gaze. Silence fell, and the air grew as thick as the insects in the bushes.
“Yes,” he said at last, his voice a whisper. He looked up, sorrow in his eyes. “I have despised what you were. But as I have observed you, I know there is a heart of kindness in you, and I don’t think you would choose such a life again.”
It was her turn to look away. “You do not know me. And the truth of it is, you do not really want to understand. Not in a way that would change anything.”
“Did I not say the very opposite only moments ago?” The slightest hint of anger tinged his tone. So typical! “Pardon me, mistress, but you do not know my thoughts either.”
She hugged the jar tighter, wishing for the soft fur of the cat rather than the hard press of the jar. “Don’t call me that.” Her voice was a whisper, and she could not look at him.
“Forgive me. What is wrong with mistress? It is a common address among women.”
“It is also a profession.” She turned a half circle away from him. “It is what I thought mine would be one long-ago day.”
“Forgive me. I did not know.”
She faced him again. By his look he did not understand a lot of things.
“I am sure as a pure, faithful, God-fearing man, there are many things you do not know.” She swallowed, searching her mind. How to make him see. He would want nothing more to do with her once she said it plainly.
“I assure you, Rahab, there are things all men understand. We just keep those things between ourselves.” His face seemed to darken as if he were embarrassed by his confession.
“Well then, it will not surprise you,” she said, drawing a breath for courage, “to know that I have known more men than I care to remember. I married a fool. Was mistress to another fool. Was used by countless fools. But I played the part of consort well . . . and sometimes . . . I enjoyed it.” There. She’d said all she would say to the man. “Now let me retrieve the water and go.”
She walked past him to the river, lowered the jar until it bubbled to the top, and climbed the bank, fully expecting to be alone. But he stood there waiting, watching.
“I am sorry for all that has happened to you,” he said as he fell into step beside her.
“I don’t need your pity, Salmon.” Heat seared her cheeks beneath her headscarf, and she could not hold his gaze. “But thank you for your kindness.”
They walked on in silence until they neared the edge of the camp. He touched her arm, bidding her to stop. “I want to explain something to you.” He paused until she nodded for him to continue. “Whatever is in your heart is between you and our God. If you have sinned, as all of us do, it is for you to confess it to Him.” She watched the Adam’s apple move in his neck and felt suddenly sorry to have made him nervous.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said, taking a step forward, assuming he had finished.
He stayed her with another touch to her shoulder. The gentle pressure sent the slightest tingling through her, shaking her. How was it possible that this man could both exasperate and attract her? She must have some strange attraction to fools . . . or she was one herself at the very heart.
She looked at him, praying he could not see the way his barest touch had affected her—again.
“The purpose of the sacrifice Joshua is about to offer to Adonai,” he said, breaking into her wayward thoughts, “is to bring atonement for the sins of all Israel.” He offered her a rueful smile. “I find myself the most in need of this for my anger with God for letting Mishael die through no fault of his own. I question the goodness of our God for allowing hurt and evil and pain in my life, in this world. I don’t understand it.”
He ran a hand through his hair and released a deep sigh. “Rahab, I loathed myself for my attraction to you because of what you were. But I made excuses for my own pride, which was just as despicable in the eyes of our God.”
She did not answer for the space of many breaths. “Even a sacrifice will not wash the memories from my heart.” She looked away, too aware of him and the sudden emotion that brought. She was still a prostitute at heart if men could so easily sway her. Repulsion filled her. “I must go.”
She hurried ahead of him and fairly ran all the way to her tent.
The journey to Mount Ebal took two days, and the building of the altar was a process such as Rahab had never seen. No iron tool like those used in quarries touched the uncut stones that the men of Israel carted up the hill. Rahab stood with the women, her gaze often straying to Salmon as he hefted heavy stones with apparent ease and put them exactly where Joshua indicated.
At last, the altar completed, the priests came forward with bleating lambs and lowing oxen. Rahab stood beside Eliana, transfixed one moment, stricken the next. Every time a lamb’s throat was slit and its blood caught in a bronze basin, she felt the weight of her past, memories she thought long hidden flooding her mind. The blood became each man who knocked on her door, the lambs the babe she had lost.
Her vision blurred as she watched the innocent die for the guilty. Despite Salmon’s attempt at explanation, she still did not grasp how this could free her or make her clean. Even if she spent the rest of her life punished for her sins, she would not feel clean. Why should a lamb suffer on her account?
She felt a sudden presence beside her and turned to see Salmon looking down at her. “I did not ask this of you, and you do not have to comply.” His hand lightly touched her shoulder. “But Joshua has set aside a lamb for you, Rahab. And if you are willing, I will share in the sacrifice.”
Her breath hitched, but no words would come. Would they force this upon her? But no, he said she did not have to comply with it.
“Do not underestimate the power of our God,” he said softly, bending close. “A God who can topple Jericho’s walls can also offer forgiveness.”
Tears came. Rahab nodded and allowed him to lead her to the altar where the priests stood. Smoke from sacrifices already offered rose in a thick column on the burning wood, scorching the stones.
Salmon left her standing near Joshua and the priests, then walked to a makeshift pen where lambs waited. He moved among them, inspecting each one, until at last he lifted a year-old ewe in his arms, carried it toward Rahab, and set it down in the place of the outpouring of blood.
He placed his hands on the lamb’s head and glanced at Rahab, his expression telling her to follow his lead. The tears flowed freely now as her fingers explored the soft fur of the glistening white lamb. Take me instead. Don’t make this sweet animal die in my place.
Joshua’s voice interrupted her silent prayer. “Most Holy Adonai, blessed be Your name. We come before You asking for Your great mercy and forgiveness for the sins of this young woman, Rahab, and for the sins of this young man, Salmon. Fill them with gratitude for Your great kindness to both of them. And when the time is right, bless them both with children to honor You.”
Rahab’s head snapped up after Joshua’s prayer, but she quickly lowered it again as the priest spoke a prayer and blessing over them as well. Why had Joshua included the blessing of children? She was barren and had no desire to wed ever again.
Her fingers rested against the lamb’s woolly neck, and she sensed its terror, felt the beating of its heart. She barely heard the last words of the blessing of the priest, but then, too soon, another priest slit the lamb’s throat. She felt its heart stop in an instant. A sob escaped her. “Oh God, oh God!” She fell to her knees, rocking back and forth, as the priest caught the lamb’s blood and lifted its limp body to place on God’s altar.
Why did You spare me? The lamb did nothing wrong. It was I, God of Israel. I alone who sinned against You. Why did the innocent animal have to take her place when she was fully willing to die instead?
You didn’t always want to die. You risked your life to save the spies so you could live.
The thought came unbidden, the realization filling her with a sudden, urgent desire to live, to start life anew.
Her tears wet the blood-soaked dirt until she felt Eliana’s touch on her arm. Rahab slowly rose, unable to even look Salmon’s way. Her gaze instead met Joshua’s, whose fatherly kindness told her immediately why he had prayed as he did.
The next day Joshua took a stylus and pushed it against the wet clay to write a copy of the law of Moses on several large stones in the presence of all, from the smallest child to the oldest man. When the task was finally completed several hours later, Joshua stood and faced the group, took the first stone, and began to read.
Rahab listened, her heart stirring with a new desire to follow each of the laws God had given to Moses. Help me to be worthy.
Her mind wandered during some of the blessings and curses, but when Joshua spoke about captive brides, her heart beat double time.
“When you go to war against your enemies and the Lord your God delivers them into your hands and you take captives, if you notice among the captives a beautiful woman and are attracted to her, you may take her as your wife. Bring her into your home and have her shave her head, trim her nails, and put aside the clothes she was wearing when captured. After she has lived in your house and mourned her father and mother for a full month, then you may go to her and be her husband, and she shall be your wife. If you are not pleased with her, let her go wherever she wishes. You must not sell her or treat her as a slave, since you have dishonored her.”
He continued on about a man having two wives, but Rahab’s mind could not get past the previous words. Shave her head. Trim her nails. The exact thing Joshua had told Adara she must do to marry an Israelite, what Rahab would not have to do because she had no intention of marrying again. Besides, she had no firm proof that she was truly free of Gamal. What if he still lived in Syria or somewhere else?
And yet . . . She glanced at her hands. The nails, once clean and decorated in colorful henna patterns, were now broken and scarred from turning the millstone and working long hours on her baskets. Someday she hoped to make a small living from the trade.
She touched the scarf covering her head and tucked back a wisp of the silky strands from where it had strayed to her forehead. This God made no sense to her. Even though Joshua had assured her she was not a captive, in a sense she was. A captive who bargained her life for the Israelite spies. But why put a captive woman through such humiliation? And then, after the man had taken her, he could send her away if he wasn’t pleased with her? She would never marry!
The words of the law droned on, and Rahab tried to concentrate on the rest. She should be grateful, not angry at such things. But she understood Salmon’s frustration better now.
The sun dipped low in the sky, and Joshua ended his reading for the day. Tomorrow they would finish the book of the law and return home. In the meantime, she must seek out Joshua or Eliana and ask if the law of a captive bride applied to her. For if she was Salmon’s captive because of his promise to her, then she was not truly free. He could cast her out of Israel on a whim. She could not live with that.
The evening meal was simple unleavened bread, herbs, and the fruit of the land. Though it was not Passover, there had been no time to bake normal bread during the lengthy reading of the law. Despite Rahab’s desire to speak with Joshua, she found he had retreated early to his tent to pray. She walked to the tent she shared with Joshua’s wife and daughters and collapsed on a low mat.
“You look as exhausted as I feel,” Eliana said, coming to sit at Rahab’s side. “I’m sorry we have had no chance to talk, but it would be rude to speak during the reading of the law.”
Rahab nodded. “I understand. Adonai had much to say to your prophet Moses.”
Eliana chuckled. “Yes, and there is more tomorrow.”
Rahab sat cross-legged, facing her new friend. “How does one possibly keep such impossible laws? And why are men allowed to give up their wives if they are displeased with them? What if a wife is displeased with her husband? Is there no recourse?”
Eliana pulled the scarf from her head and picked up an ivory comb and started to work it through her long hair. Rahab lifted a hand toward her. “Let me.”
Eliana smiled and turned her back to allow Rahab to pull the comb through her thick strands. “The law does have protections for women. A man cannot divorce his wife and then decide he wants her back and marry her again. He also cannot falsely accuse her. It is why the bride’s father saves the nuptial sheet, to prove his daughter is a virgin.”
Silence followed her remark, and Eliana turned. “Forgive me. I suppose that would not apply to you.”
“No. And my father is not here to keep such a thing for me in any case.”
Eliana met Rahab’s gaze. “That does not mean you cannot marry. Widows marry all the time.”
“I am not a widow. At least I do not know if I am.”
Eliana swiveled to face her, and Rahab stopped combing. “Perhaps it is time to see if he could be found.”
Rahab shook her head. “It would be impossible to find him or what has happened to him now.” Not that she cared to marry anyway. Perhaps this was exactly what she needed to keep Salmon and Joshua from pressuring her. Relief filled her at the thought. She would not need to shave her head or do anything else to become some man’s captive bride.
“The fact that he abandoned you might mean you are free to marry,” Eliana said after a lengthy pause. “Joshua should know.” She took the comb from Rahab’s slack fingers and quickly finished the job. “We’d best get some sleep now, though. Joshua will begin the reading again as soon as we break our fast at dawn.”
Rahab simply nodded, her thoughts once again jumbled, as Eliana made her way to her own pallet. The brief relief she had felt disappeared, replaced by a new fear that she might be free to marry after all.
She wasn’t sure what troubled her more—suspecting that Joshua wanted her and Salmon to wed, or knowing Joshua wasn’t likely to let her stay as a widow the rest of her days. Which meant she would have to pretend to love a man all over again. And be humiliated as his captive in the process.
Salmon heard Othniel moving inside the darkened tent just before dawn. He groaned, rolling onto his side, longing for a few more moments of blessed sleep. But they had carried few tents with them to Mount Ebal, and only Joshua stayed in one alone.
“Did I wake you?” Othniel stepped closer to Salmon’s pallet. “I’m sorry. I meant to keep quiet, but I accidentally kicked my gear in my haste to relieve myself.”
Salmon peeked from beneath hooded eyes. “Is dawn upon us already?” He blinked, wanting desperately to find he was mistaken.
“Almost. Joshua is already at the campfire. I think he wants to get an early start on the reading today.” Othniel knelt beside his mat, rolled it up, and tied it with leather strings. “We will start back toward camp before the noon repast.”
Salmon forced himself awake and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t much for excessive talking upon first awakening, but Othniel obviously did not notice that fact. Mishael would have. The thought pained him still.
An hour later, their tent disassembled and readied in one of the baggage carts, Salmon joined the rest of the elders near Joshua’s campfire. Women and children crowded around, all eager to get started. Joshua rose, straightening to his full height, and held the last of the stones before him.
Laws regarding the festivals they were to keep were followed by laws regarding vows of men and women. Salmon listened even as he glanced across the compound to where Joshua’s family stood with Rahab. Confusion and curiosity filled her beautiful face. What thoughts tumbled through her head? Did she realize that Joshua’s prayer was like a betrothal blessing on them, in the midst of seeking forgiveness for their sins?
The thought had troubled him most of the night. He stifled a yawn. Definitely not enough sleep once he had finally succumbed. But he could not change what was past or what had been said. Joshua was Adonai’s spokesman, and Salmon could not lightly throw his words aside.
“When you cross the Jordan into Canaan,” Joshua read, his voice rising, carrying to the farthest reaches of the group, “drive out all the inhabitants of the land before you. Destroy all their carved images and their cast idols, and demolish all their high places. Take possession of the land and settle in it, for I have given you the land to possess. Distribute the land by lot, according to your clans. To a larger group give a larger inheritance, and to a smaller group a smaller one. Whatever falls to them by lot will be theirs. Distribute it according to your ancestral tribes.”
He paused in the utter silence, taking in each one closest to him with a grim look. “But if you do not drive out the inhabitants of the land, those you allow to remain will become barbs in your eyes and thorns in your sides. They will give you trouble in the land where you will live. And then I will do to you what I plan to do to them.” He stopped and set the stone on the ground beside the others. Levites came quickly and gathered each one up, carefully placing them in leather sacks for the journey back to Gilgal.
“As the Lord commanded His servant Moses, so He commissions us to fulfill those commands.” Joshua lifted his hands to the sky. “You have all heard the word of the Lord, and we now know exactly what He wants us to do. Let us return to camp and set out to quickly obey all that our God has commanded us to do.”
He dismissed the group then to pack up all that remained. Salmon found his way to Rahab’s side. “I have already packed my gear in one of the carts. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
She glanced at him and shook her head. “Thank you, but no. Eliana and I did the same before dawn.”
The command went down the line of men and women to head out, and Salmon fell into step with Rahab as they began the long walk.
“Am I a barb in your eye and a thorn in your side?” Rahab asked after they had walked too long in silence.
Salmon glanced at her, sensing confusion behind the question. “Despite the sacrifice, you still do not feel worthy?”
“Is anyone worthy of forgiveness and mercy?” She cinched her cloak carefully around the cat, which slept against her heart, and avoided his gaze.
Salmon studied her, drawn to her protectiveness of the small animal. “No,” he said softly. He glanced around. Eliana walked ahead of them, and men and women surrounded them, but thankfully most were engaged in conversations of their own. The buzz of their voices drowned out his own.
“Why did Joshua pray such a prayer over us? Why include the blessing of children? We are not betrothed.” She gave him a surreptitious glance, then looked ahead, picking her way along the uneven path.
“Because he wants us to wed. He has said as much to me more than once.”
“I can’t wed. I am still married to Gamal.” She carefully crossed her arms as though warding off a chill.
Her words sank into him, a knife to his gut. “Gamal abandoned you and was sold into slavery. Do you think you are still bound to him?”
“He did not give me a bill of divorcement. If he still lives, I am his wife. I cannot marry another.” She lifted her chin as though glad of a reason to push him away.
“Does Joshua know this?” If Joshua had prayed such a blessing, surely he knew.
She looked away. “He knows less than you do.”
Salmon searched for something to say, but words would not come.
She looked at him. “Some men in Jericho told me that Gamal was sold to torturers, others told me he was dead. But I had no proof other than their word, and they were liars.” She turned her gaze to the path ahead.
He could not marry her if she was not free. That thought troubled him more than it should. Why should he care? He was not interested in marriage to her any more than she was to him. But he glanced at her anyway, saw the hint of vulnerability in the way she held on to the cat and seemed to draw into herself.
“Where did they take him when he was sold into slavery?” He stopped walking to look at her. “Tell me everything you can recall.”
She studied him, a hint of worry creasing her brow. “Why? What good will it do?”
“If I can find him, I can either bring him back to you or bring you a writ of divorcement.” He wondered briefly at his own good sense at making such a statement.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she started walking again. “All I know is that a merchant from Syria, a man named Qasim of the house of Ratib, paid Dabir a handsome amount for him. What they did with him after that, I do not know. They could have sold him to another kingdom along their travels, or he could be a slave in Damascus somewhere.”
The possibility of finding him did not sit well with Salmon. And the chances of doing so were like looking for a single piece of broken flax among an entire field.
“If Gamal had lived in Jericho, he would be dead.” Couldn’t they just assume such a thing?
“If Gamal had lived in Jericho, I would not have lived as a prostitute. And if by chance you had still found my home and I helped you escape, Gamal would have stayed in our home and been spared. We would not be faced with any of this.” Her chin held a defiant tilt, and yet he saw how uneasily she clenched and unclenched the fabric holding the cat.
“Well, the truth is, Gamal is not here. We can presume he is dead, or I can go and look for him.”
Silence followed his remark, and he wondered if she would speak again. “I don’t want Gamal,” she whispered. “I don’t want any man ever again.”
“You do not want children?” Every woman wanted children. Didn’t they?
She looked at the crowd surrounding them, eyed him warily, then took a small step closer. “I cannot bear children. So you see, Joshua is wrong to want you to marry me. And he was wrong to pray such a prayer over me.” She clamped her mouth shut, blinked, and looked away from him. Her tears were nearly his undoing.
A sudden urge to protect her from anyone ever hurting her again rose up so strong in him he did not know what to do. His hands were wooden at his sides, and his words seemed to stick in his throat. How could his feelings for her change so quickly, so drastically? She was a prostitute. And yet somehow, hearing her story and seeing her tears as the lamb died to pay for their sins had changed something in him. Childless or not, she mattered.
He breathed deeply. She continued to walk in silence. He swallowed . . . twice. “Rahab.” Her name came out like a soft caress. His arms found their ability to move again, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “If you will have me, I would marry you.”
She shook her head and would not look at him.
“You won’t have me?”
He could feel her tremble beneath his touch, her tears her only response.
He patted her shoulder and slowly moved his hand away, hating to break the contact. “I will go to Damascus, if Joshua will allow it, and search for Gamal. When I return and can put your mind at ease, then you can answer my question.”
She looked at him but did not speak. At last she nodded and wiped the tears from her flushed cheeks. “If Joshua allows it,” she whispered.
He wondered if she hoped he wouldn’t.