RAHAB HAD BEEN IN JERICHO FOR SEVERAL DAYS. THE only cities she had ever been in before were the seaports of Gaza and Ramac, and she was brimming with excitement at the prospect of being able to see all of the sights of Jericho.
This did not happen immediately. The first day of their residence was spent unpacking what they had brought and cleaning the house that belonged to Mepu’s brother. The following day Rahab, Kata, and Atene went shopping for food supplies, so it wasn’t until the third day of their residence that Rahab was able to tour the city.
On this day the three women, with Shemu as escort, got an early start, beginning their exploration with the Lower City where they were residing. Jericho had two main streets, both of them rising in a series of wide, cobbled steps from the gate in the outer wall to the second wall that encircled the Upper City. The streets in this area of the town were lined with closely packed houses, many of which served both as shops and residences, the shops on the ground floor and the rooms upstairs for family.
The three women barely glanced at the various foodstuffs that had been brought in from the surrounding farms; they had shopped at those stalls yesterday. What interested Kata, Atene, and Rahab were the crafts: the pretty woven baskets; the elegant pottery; the imaginative wooden bowls; the linen and woolen cloth that other women had woven and dyed. Most fascinating of all was the jewelry. They all owned a few bronze pins, but here there were belts and necklaces and broaches and earrings— some even made of gold.
Atene ventured to ask one of the shop owners if the gold was real and received an outraged stare in return. “Of course it is real, madam. Do you think I would sell fakes?”
Atene flushed with embarrassment and began to apologize, but Rahab took her hand and drew her back onto the street. “Don’t pay any attention to him,” she advised her sister-in-law. “I’ll bet there are a lot of fake items being sold in this market. People like us are probably easy marks; when have we ever seen real gold to be able to make a comparison?”
Kata had been outside the shop waiting for the girls, and the three women stood talking while they waited for Shemu to come out of the farm implement shop that had caught his attention.
Kata said, “I heard a few women talking as they passed by and they said there is a meat market on the west side of the city. I was glad to hear that. We certainly don’t have room at that house to have our own sheep and chickens.”
Kata had not said much about Mepu’s brother’s house, but she had managed to make it abundantly clear to the rest of the family that she was not pleased with it.
Rahab said, “It seems to me the whole well-being of this city depends upon the work of us farmers. Without us, the people here would starve.”
“They most certainly would,” Kata said.
Shemu, who had just come up to them, responded to Rahab’s remark. “They might need us but we need them too, Rahab. They get our food, but we get our money from selling them our produce. Father always says that is why Jericho is such a prosperous kingdom: the city and the countryside help each other.”
Rahab thought about that, then smiled at her brother. “That is a true thing you have said.”
Shemu said, “Ready to move on, Mother?”
“Yes, my son. I think the girls would like to look at the shop that is selling statues.”
They bought bread and fruit in one of the shops on the way home. Kata had been noticeably unenthusiastic about cooking in the small indoor kitchen area of the house, so, under instructions from his father, Shemu bought them their main meal at one of the food shops along the way. The spring day was delightfully warm and dry and Mepu, who had spent the day conducting some business with his brother, suggested they sit on the front steps to eat and watch the world go by.
Mepu’s brother’s house was actually bigger than many of the other houses on the street because it had a third floor. The main problem with the house was that the first two floors smelled, and the space on the third floor was filled with a collection of junk left by the previous renters. After their meal was finished, Kata announced that tomorrow the women were going to once more clean the first two floors, which still smelled, and that the men were going to empty out the third floor so they could use it as another bedroom.
No one opposed her scheme. With only two bedrooms available, the women had been sleeping in one and the men in another. If they had a third bedroom for Rahab, the married couples could be together. Shemu was particularly pleased by his mother’s scheme and even volunteered to clean the third floor room once it was emptied. He didn’t even complain when Mepu said he had an engagement the following day and could not help. Instead Shemu assured his mother he would be happy to do the work by himself.
The family worked hard, and on the following day they were rewarded when Mepu said at breakfast that he would take them all to the Upper City, home of Jericho’s royalty and nobility. Normally it took a special pass to be allowed through the gate into the Upper City, the wealthy of the town having no desire to clutter their streets with riffraff. This rule was relaxed at the time of the festival of the New Year, which was a feast for all the people of the kingdom. For two weeks the subjects of the king were allowed to enter into the Upper City to view the sights.
The sky was blue and the sun bright on the morning Rahab set off for the Upper City with her family. As soon as she passed through the gate that separated the two parts of Jericho, it was clear to Rahab that she had moved from one world into another. The houses that lined the streets here were large and built of stone, not mud bricks. These were the homes of the rich nobility and the priests who, together with the king, governed the small kingdom of Jericho.
The royal palace was the largest of all the houses in the Upper City. Rahab had never seen anything like it. Fronted by a courtyard paved with flagstones, the entrance to the building itself was approached by shallow steps flanked by two wooden columns set in circular stone bases. There were two floors to the huge building and it spread over so wide a space that Rahab could not begin to guess at how many rooms must lie within.
“The king surely lives well,” she murmured into Atene’s ear.
Her father heard her. “Remember, Rahab, the king is his people’s connection to Baal. We only flourish if he flourishes. It is right for him to live as befits his sacred role.”
“Yes, Papa,” Rahab said, her eyes still moving around the extensive stone edifice.
Eventually they moved away from the other visitors, who were gaping at the palace, and continued along the street. Mepu pointed out a particularly large house and told them it belonged to the high priest. Atene whispered to Rahab, “He does not live too badly either.”
Mepu said importantly, “If you will look ahead, you will see the great Temple of Baal itself.”
Rahab kept her eyes on the building as they approached it. It was not nearly as big as the palace, but it was still an imposing sight. The street before it was crowded, and when they reached the gate that led into the courtyard, Rahab realized they would have to wait until those inside the courtyard cleared out before they could fit in.
No one would be allowed into the temple itself. That was only for the king and the priests to enter.
They waited patiently in the hot sun, with Mepu and Shemu exchanging polite comments with the men around them. Rahab, like the rest of the women, was silent, but her eyes flicked with interest around the many faces in the crowd.
When finally it was their turn to go in, Rahab found the courtyard was even larger than it had looked. A massive sacrificial altar stood before the shallow stone steps that led up to the great closed door. The other remarkable thing in the courtyard was a tall standing stone, off to the left of the stairs. When Rahab finally got close enough to see it clearly, she saw that the engraving etched into the stone was a picture of Baal himself.
Rahab had never seen anything so perfect. She looked with wonder at the long legs with their long, slender feet, the raised arms holding the spear of lightning and the club that was a thunderbolt, the kilted skirt and bare upper body, the long-nosed profile.
I wonder how the stonemason knew what Baal looks like? Rahab thought. And she remembered Sala’s words about his god who could not be contained in a picture because the god who created the world was too great to be known by the mind of man.
“Aren’t you ever going to move?” a woman next to her complained. “There are other people who want to see the picture too.”
Rahab turned away, murmuring apologies, and went to join Atene, whom she spied standing in front of the temple building. Atene acknowledged her with a glance and said in an awed voice, “Just think, in a short time the king will be making the sacred marriage in the sanctuary inside.”
Rahab nodded. There was one time when someone else was allowed within the temple besides the priests and the king, she remembered. It was when the hierodule, the woman picked to represent the goddess Asherah, made the sacred marriage with the king at the festival of the New Year.
A woman standing beside them said in a friendly voice, “Your first time here?”
“Yes,” Atene said.
“Well, take a good look. You have no chance of getting into this courtyard on the day of the festival.”
“I didn’t think we would. Do you know who is to be the hierodule this year?”
The woman shook her head and her gaze slid past Atene to Rahab. “You’re a beautiful girl. The Lady Asherah would be proud to have you take her role, I think.”
Rahab flushed with embarrassment. “I am not high born enough for such an honor.”
Truthfully, she could think of few things she would like less than taking part in the sacred marriage. That role was for the priestesses, who had devoted themselves to the service of the Lady. She was just a simple farm girl, a status that felt comfortable to her.
Eventually Rahab and Atene met up with the rest of the family and they began to move along the cobbled street that descended toward the Upper City wall. Suddenly the crowds began to push and Rahab was shoved against her father. Then she heard someone yelling for everyone to get off the street, to make way for the king.
Her father grabbed her arm and the family pressed back against the house wall along with everyone else on the street. Standing on tiptoe, Rahab could see a contingent of guards carrying bronze spears lining up along the street to make certain no one moved. Then, after a few minutes she heard the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the click click of wheeled bronze chariots coming down the street.
The first chariot to pass was driven by a handsome young man. He wore a white tunic with the purple belt allowed only to royalty around his waist. His hair was combed away from his face, kept in place by a purple headband. Gold bracelets ringed his strong bare arms. He held his horses to a slow trot as they pranced along, almost dancing in their impatience to move faster.
The beauty of the horses awed Rahab. The sheen on their reddish coats glinted in the afternoon sun and their nostrils flared as they held to the slow pace the driver was enforcing. How wonderful it must be to have an animal like that!
The people around her began to shout a name: “Tamur! Tamur! Tamur!”
The handsome driver turned toward the crowd and lifted a gracious hand. His eyes flicked over the assembled people, then stilled when he saw Rahab. Deeply surprised, she found herself looking back.
The charioteer turned to the man who was riding behind him and said something. The man nodded, jumped out of the moving chariot, and waited by the side of the road next to one of the soldiers.
“Who was that?” Atene asked her father-in-law.
“That is Prince Tamur, the king’s eldest son. I have heard talk that he wants his father to turn the kingship over to him, that he thinks Makamaron is too old and feeble to answer for the welfare of the city.” Mepu snorted. “These young men who cannot wait to take their turn at power!”
“How old is Makamaron, Father?” Shemu asked, a teasing note in his voice. “Your age, I should think.”
At this point the second chariot came into sight. The purple cloak of the occupant and the gold filet that circled his bald head clearly announced that here was the king.
There was no loud cheering, as there had been for his son. Instead people bowed their heads in silent respect as his chariot passed by. The two horses pulling it were not prancing and fighting to move faster; their pace was slow and, to Rahab, they almost looked bored as they passed with listless dignity.
The king himself was a disappointment. He looks older than Papa. And his belly is as big as a woman’s when she is nine months gone with child. Rahab looked closer. He’s sweating like a pig. She remembered the elegant picture on the stone in the palace courtyard. How could anyone think this king is at all like Baal? After the king passed by, the soldiers fell in behind him and people began to surge back into the street. Kata said in her gentle way, “I am thirsty, my husband. Is there any place where we might get some water?”
The man who had been standing next to them during the procession turned toward them and spoke to Mepu. “There is a shop on the next street where you can get wine, fruit juice, and honey cakes. It’s called the Sign of the Olive.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mepu said.
Rahab saw the man’s eyes move to her.
“Your daughter?”
“Yes,” her father replied, his pleasant tone surprising Rahab. Usually her father scowled at men who noticed her. Perhaps this man’s fine tunic and expensive sandals made the difference. Then her father added, “We have come into the city from the countryside for a visit.”
The man’s eyes raked Rahab from her head to her toes. She felt herself flushing and she moved a little so that she was partially concealed by Shemu.
“You must have just arrived,” the rude stranger said to Mepu. “Your daughter would not have gone unnoticed if you had been here for any length of time.”
Rahab stared in astonishment as her father actually smiled. “I wanted to show my daughter the wonders of our city.”
The man’s mouth quirked knowingly. “And no doubt you wished to show the city the wonders of your daughter.”
Her father shrugged. “As you say, my lord. She has lived all her life on our farm, and now that she is of marriageable age, I thought it was time we made a trip into Jericho.”
“A wise decision,” the man said. “And you are?”
At this point a young man came up to their small group and said to the rude man with whom her father was being so surprisingly forthcoming, “That is a good question, Lord Hasis. I, too, would like to know who this lovely young woman is.”
Rahab felt Shemu put a reassuring hand on her arm, and she flashed him a quick look of gratitude.
The rude man didn’t look at all pleased to see the newcomer. He said, “Farut. I saw you jump out of the prince’s chariot.”
The young man turned his back on Lord Hasis and addressed himself to Mepu. “I am Farut, friend of Prince Tamur. The prince saw your beautiful daughter from his chariot and would like to meet her.”
Rahab felt as if someone had just punched her in the stomach. The prince! What could someone like the prince want with me?
For the first time her father looked uneasy. “We are farming folk, my lord, from the village of Ugaru. My daughter is but a simple maid, here to see the sights of Jericho. We are not fit company for the likes of the prince.”
Farut waved a dismissive hand. “You must let the prince be the judge of that. What is your name and where do you reside?”
Her father answered the questions. Rahab understood he had no choice, but for some reason she didn’t want these men to know where she lived.
“Good. Perhaps I will visit you there.” Farut turned to Lord Hasis. “I do not see what your interest is here, my lord.”
“Perhaps it is the same as yours.”
The two men stood staring at each other in unnerving silence. Rahab felt her heart begin to pound. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she knew it concerned her and she was frightened.
Finally Farut lifted an amused eyebrow, turned, and made his way back through the crowd that had lingered to hear the exchange between the two nobles.
Lord Hasis’s face was white and tense. He shot one more look at Rahab and then he, too, moved away.
“I think we should go back to the Lower City, my husband.”
Kata’s soft voice was a welcome relief after the hostility that had crackled between the two men.
“I’m hungry,” Shemu said. “Why don’t we go to that wine shop we noticed on our way. The food certainly smelled good as we passed by.”
“A good idea.” Rahab saw her father glance at her mother for confirmation. Kata nodded.
Rahab heaved a sigh of relief. She wanted to be gone from this place.