34

Rahab stirred the lentil stew with an olive branch, listening to the heated conversation going on in front of Joshua’s tent.

“Why did you deceive us by saying, ‘We live a long way from you,’ while actually you live near us?” Joshua’s voice held uncharacteristic anger. Rahab glanced at Eliana, who met her gaze with a worried one of her own. “You are now under a curse,” Joshua said.

Silence followed his comment, and Rahab’s heart beat faster. She stretched as far as the stir stick would allow, straining to hear. At last one of the men of Gibeon spoke.

“Your servants were clearly told how the Lord your God had commanded His servant Moses to give you the whole land and to wipe out all its inhabitants from before you. So we feared for our lives because of you, and that is why we did this. We are now in your hands. Do to us whatever seems good and right to you.”

The crowd seemed to speak all at once, until one of Israel’s men shouted from the back. “They deserve death for their lies. If Achan died for his, how can you allow these heathens to live?”

Joshua held up a hand for silence. “We dare not anger the Lord by breaking our oath to them. It is our sin of trusting them without consulting the Lord that will be judged if we break our word to them now.” He addressed the Gibeonites again. “You will not die, but rest assured, you will be woodcutters and water carriers for the assembly, to provide for the needs of the altar of the Lord at the place the Lord chooses from this day forward.”

“May it be as you have said,” the Gibeonite spokesman said.

Rahab returned to her stirring, half listening as the men of Israel divided the Gibeonites into groups and assigned them specific work. A contingent of men returned to Gibeon with the foreigners to make sure Joshua’s instructions were carried out.

“Will Adonai be angry with us for this?” Rahab asked Eliana some time later, after the men had been fed and the leftover food tucked in baskets to hang from poles in Eliana’s tent. “How hard it is to keep His laws. There are so many.”

Eliana turned from covering the basket and gave Rahab a thoughtful look. “Keeping the whole law of Moses is impossible. It is why Adonai has allowed us the sacrifices, to cover our sins and our failures.”

Rahab nodded. In the distance, she could hear the bleating of lambs kept in pens near the tents when they weren’t out foraging in the fields with the shepherds. “A lot of blood must be spilled because of our sins.” The image of the spotless lamb Salmon had chosen for them filled her mind. “Why could God not accept a different type of offering? Why must an innocent animal be killed?”

“I do not know,” Eliana admitted. “All I know is that from the beginning God expected animal sacrifice. Adam’s oldest son Cain tried to bring an offering of the fruit of the ground, as though he could choose which way to worship our great Creator. Elohim did not accept him, and in the end, Cain killed the brother God accepted out of jealousy. I think the blood reminds us of how grievous sin is to God.”

Rahab pondered the thought. “I don’t suppose a pomegranate or a fig as an offering would have the same effect on our hearts. To see an innocent life taken in our place is much more humbling than offering Adonai fruit.”

Eliana laughed, then quickly sobered. “I never thought of it that way.”

Rahab smiled. “This God of yours is hard to understand.”

“None can. Even our leader Moses, who spoke with God face-to-face, did not always obey Him. We are made in Elohim’s image, but we are not to take His place.”

Rahab pondered Eliana’s words over the next few weeks. Her hair continued to grow, along with her sense of gratitude and peace.

More than a month had passed since Salmon had gone off in search of Gamal. He should return soon, and the thought caused her heart to skip a beat.

She glanced at Eliana, whose presence in her life had become a steadying force. Her friend offered a smile as she lifted a heavy pot of stew and carried it to the central court in front of Joshua’s tent.

Dusk had settled over the camp, and the sound of men’s voices grew louder. She stepped closer, squinting to see who approached in the gathering darkness.

“Joshua!” the voice called. Rahab’s stomach did a soft flip. Salmon.

Eliana returned to the cooking area. “Bring the bread and a flask of the new wine,” she said, her eyes alight.

Rahab nodded. “He has returned.” Her hands shook, and she gripped the edge of her skirt, forcing herself to be still.

Joshua emerged from his tent and gripped first Salmon then Othniel in a fierce hug, kissing each of their cheeks. “Come in at once. Tell me all that you learned.” He stepped back and motioned them forward. A servant took the donkey’s reins, leading it to one of the pens.

Rahab hung back, feeling suddenly awkward and unsure of what to do. She deposited the food she had gathered at the door of the tent, then followed Eliana to the cooking area once more.

Eliana handed Rahab several clay cups and bowls. “You must come with me.”

“But . . . please, not yet. I didn’t—that is, I did not expect him today. I am not ready.”

Eliana studied her for a brief moment, then nodded. “Tomorrow then.”

Rahab breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” As much as she longed to see the man, surprising herself that she did, she wasn’t ready. Not until she had time to seek the Lord alone, to be sure she was truly clean enough to join His people.

She turned to leave when a new thought struck her, and her heart caught in her throat. “Eliana?”

“What is it, dear child?” Eliana put an arm around her, apparently aware of the fear in her tone.

“Will you let me know if they found Gamal?” Why had she not thought of it sooner? He was not with them when they entered the tent, but that did not mean arrangements had not been made for her to return to him. The thought sent shivers down her spine.

“I will tell you as quickly as I hear something.” She kissed Rahab’s cheek. “Now don’t you worry. Things will be all right.”

“I hope so.” But as she walked to her tent alone, she did not think so, and hope was a long time returning.

“Tell me everything,” Joshua said as he took a seat across from Salmon and Othniel. “Did you find Rahab’s husband?”

Salmon accepted a cup of wine from Eliana as his gaze held Joshua’s. “No.” He looked at the swirling liquid, wishing his answers were more conclusive.

“The man Salmon spoke to told him that Gamal is dead.” Othniel nodded at Salmon, then drank deeply from his cup.

“Is this true?” Joshua’s gaze could be felt, though Salmon sensed in it intense compassion and hope.

“It is. We spoke to guards at the city gate, but they had not heard of the man. They allowed us to walk the streets, and we spoke to many merchants, winding our way through the city until we came upon a building project being put together by slaves. I approached a man who appeared to be an overseer, though a slave himself, and he said he’d shared a prison cell with Gamal and that Gamal is dead.” Salmon ran a hand over his beard, the words taking the last of his energy. “I could have checked the Hall of Records, but something about the man, perhaps, or the city itself made me uneasy. I feared being taken captive and made into slaves like the rest of those men.” He hung his head at the admission. Fear was the last thing he should let consume him if he truly trusted Adonai.

“So you left without checking the man’s story.” It wasn’t a question, but Salmon nodded at Joshua anyway. “I don’t blame you and, in fact, am glad you had sense enough to leave before something happened. These nations do not like us. They may fear us, but they also hate us. We must always be on our guard against their attack.”

Salmon glanced up. “What do we do about Gamal then?”

Joshua sipped from his cup. “There is nothing to be done. The witness told you the man is dead. Did he have a reason to lie to you?”

Salmon thought on that a moment. “No. And I made sure the overseer did not carry the scar Rahab had described. He took plenty of silver to obtain the answer, but he did not have the scar.”

“Then though it is only one witness, there is no reason to doubt him. Did not Rahab say she was told of Gamal’s death soon after he was sold into slavery?” Joshua folded his hands across his knees.

Salmon nodded. “Yes, she did.”

“Well then, there is nothing more to be done. He abandoned his wife long enough ago that he has no right to claim her again. If he were to one day show up looking for her, I will deal with him.”

Salmon studied the older man in heavy silence. At last he cleared his throat. “So then, if someone wanted to marry Rahab . . .” He let the thought go unfinished.

“I would give you my blessing, my son.” Joshua smiled.

A throat cleared, and the men turned, surprised to see Eliana step forward from a dark corner of the tent. “My lord, perhaps Salmon should be told of Rahab’s choice.”

Joshua gave a nod of understanding, while Salmon felt heat rush to his face. “What choice?” The words felt choked. Had she made a vow never to marry while he was away?

“Rahab succumbed to the rite of a captive bride. In sight of all, Eliana shaved her hair and clipped her nails and burned them in the fire. Rahab did this to fully become one of us.” Joshua smiled, and Othniel grinned in that annoying way he had. Salmon scowled at him.

“That does not mean she wishes to marry,” Joshua added. “She simply wanted to show Adonai her allegiance and repentance.”

“Has she chosen not to marry then?” Disappointment coiled in Salmon’s middle. He didn’t realize until this moment how eagerly he longed to return to her, to make her his.

“She has made no decision at all of which I’m aware.” Joshua glanced at his wife, who shook her head.

“She has said nothing to me either, my lord.”

“It seems then, my son,” Joshua said as he stood to bid them farewell, “that when her time of mourning is past, you must ask her. If you love her, do not hesitate to show her.”

Rahab awoke the next morning to the feel of soft whiskers tickling her cheek. She opened her eyes and could not help but smile at the purring cat. “Well there. Are you here to make sure I don’t oversleep today?” She petted his soft fur, awarded by a louder purr and an arched back, as though he was asking for more. She laughed. “You sure are a friendly thing.”

She rubbed her eyes and forced her stiff limbs to rise. What she wouldn’t give for the plush bed she once owned in Jericho. And yet, no. She would not wish that life back, even with its comforts. She would get used to sleeping on the ground until she could afford to sew a thicker cushion—perhaps one she would share with Salmon. If he still wanted her.

She patted the cat’s head once more, rubbed his back, and then stood. She took hyssop, soap, fresh linen, and a clean tunic into her arms and tucked them into the empty water jar, the cat nearly tripping her on her way to the tent’s opening.

“What? Are you trying to stop me?” She glanced down at the black and brown striped animal, wondering at how quickly he had become a pet, as though he needed her as much as she needed him. “Well, come along then, if you must. But I’ll warn you, the river is fast and wet, and I guarantee you won’t like it.”

She lifted the flap and left the tent, fully expecting the cat to follow, half disappointed and half surprised when he didn’t. She really ought to name the poor thing, but so far, nothing seemed to come to her or stick to him. What did it matter with an animal, after all?

She moved through the quiet camp, passing Joshua’s still dark tent, and felt the dew tickle her feet as she padded softly toward the river to greet the pink light of dawn. No other women appeared along the river’s edge, the only sound that of mourning doves singing greetings to her from the trees.

Eliana had taught her a woman’s purification ritual, but that would come later, after she had washed her whole body in the river. For a brief moment, she wished she had brought Eliana with her to protect her privacy, to hand her the hyssop and soap as needed, but another part of her relished the time alone.

She removed her soiled clothes and left them by the bank, then quickly ducked under the frigid waters, her breath catching from the cold. She lifted her gaze to the brightening sky as she rubbed the soap and hyssop over her skin, her heart yearning heavenward.

Do You find me clean in Your sight, Adonai? After all I have done? Is it possible for one like me to be accepted as one of Your people? You know I believe in You, but my heart is stained by so much wrong. All the hyssop in the valley cannot make it new.

She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her tears with each heartfelt word. You are holy, Adonai. You are pure and just and right, whereas I am not. Please forgive Your servant her many sins. Let me find favor in Your eyes.

She ducked beneath the surface again and opened her eyes to the dark, swirling waters. And in that moment, she sensed the silt and dirt of the river carrying the stains of her soul with them to the bottom and down the river’s path to the sea. Carried away from her forever.

She pushed up from under the water and raised her arms overhead, her short hair not long enough to cover her exposed skin, her heart bare before the Lord.

Thank You, Adonai.

Whether Israel ever accepted her or not, she knew she was finally clean before the only One who really mattered. Her Maker.

As she quickly dried her body and donned fresh clothes, she vowed in her heart to do her best to please only Him all of her days.