RAHAB COULD HARDLY BELIEVE HER EYES. IT WAS SALA. Here in Jericho. Right now—right in front of her! She wanted to hug him but settled for a smile.
He looked so good. He was taller than his father now, and so handsome. She liked everything about his face: his thin curved nose, his warm brown eyes, his clean-cut cheekbones. He looked older too, more like a man than a boy.
She heard her father saying, “Who is this man, Rahab?”
“It’s Sala, Papa. Remember the time I was a kid—”
“Stop!” Sala’s voice was deeper than she remembered it, and he was staring desperately into her eyes. “Don’t say any more, Rahab, not until we can go somewhere private.”
Lord Nahshon stepped forward and spoke to Rahab’s father. “I am sorry to be so discourteous, but my son is right. We must not give out our names until we are sure we cannot be overheard.”
“What is going on here?” Rahab’s father sounded suspicious, and Rahab suddenly understood what Sala meant. They were Israelites, he and his father. What were they doing in Jericho?
“Father, I know these people too,” Shemu said quietly. He looked at Sala’s father and asked, “Where can we go?”
“The common room of the inn where we are staying should be empty right now.”
And so the two parties formed into one and together they left the cobbled main street of the Lower City and moved into the narrow dirt roads where the poorer people lived. Mepu made Rahab walk between him and Kata, Shemu and Atene followed behind them, and Sala and his father walked last. Rahab wanted so much to turn and look at him, but she restrained herself, knowing how unwise it would be to call attention to their party.
The old inn’s common room was indeed empty, and the seven of them sat on benches around two scarred wooden tables they pulled together.
Rahab’s father looked grimly at Sala’s father. “Now, will you kindly tell me who you are and what this is all about?”
“My son is the boy who saved your daughter when she was running away from the slavers in Gaza,” Lord Nahshon replied quietly, his mouth set in a grim hard line. “He should never have accosted your daughter the way he did. I am sorry for his bad manners.”
“Bad manners?” Kata rarely spoke up in company, and Rahab looked with astonishment at her mother. “If it was not for him my daughter would be a slave in Egypt!” She gave Sala a warm smile. “I am happy to have this opportunity to thank you myself, Sala.”
Sala flushed, said, “Thank you,” and shot a quick glance at Rahab.
She gave him a brief smile.
Lord Nahshon was going on. “It was not only bad manners, madam, it was dangerous. Dangerous for my son and me, that is. We are Israelites—you know this—and the mood in Jericho right now is not favorable toward my people.”
Rahab jumped as her father slapped his hand against the table. “Just exactly what are you Israelites doing in Jericho, if I may ask.”
Sala leaned forward. “It was because of me, sir. I have always thought your idea of shipping your excess products into Egypt was a good one; it would benefit you and it would benefit us. I talked my father into following up on this venture and that is why we are in Jericho. We did not realize when we set out that the Israelite army was so close.”
Mepu looked unconvinced. “If you wanted to follow up on my scheme, why did you not come to my farm to speak to me? Why did you come to the city?”
“We did not know where you lived,” Sala replied. “All we knew was that Rahab’s family lived on a farm within the territory of Jericho. So we came here to the city itself to see if we might find someone we could talk to who might be interested in the idea.” He looked at Rahab. “When I saw you, I was so surprised, I didn’t think.”
“I am glad you didn’t.”
Her father shot her an angry look and she lowered her eyes.
Shemu said, “What I don’t understand is how you expected anyone in Jericho to want to do business with Israelites. They have been systematically destroying every kingdom they pass through, and now they apparently have the deluded idea that they can take over Canaan. The last person anyone in Jericho would want to deal with is an Israelite.”
Sala gave her brother such a charming smile that Rahab blinked. “You see, Shemu, we haven’t told anyone we’re Israelites. We’ve said we’re Canaanites from Gaza. I assure you that our company can ship out of Gaza too, if we choose, so that part is not a lie.”
Silence fell around the table. Rahab sneaked a peek at Sala and found him looking at her. She gave him a quick grin, then looked down at the table and began tracing a deep scratch with her finger.
Finally Mepu said slowly, “So your presence in Jericho has nothing to do with the Israelite army that is almost at our door?”
“Nothing,” Lord Nahshon replied firmly. “I do not approve of war. It is bad for business.”
Mepu’s skeptical look made Rahab nervous. If her father should decide to report Sala, he would be arrested. She shivered at the thought.
She listened as Sala said, “The Israelites would be mad to try to attack this city, sir. The walls . . .” He lifted his hands and shrugged to demonstrate the uselessness of any attack on such a monstrous barrier.
“We know that,” Rahab’s father answered. “But do they?”
“They will once they get a good look,” Sala replied. “Believe me, sir, we are here to trade with Jericho, not to collude in her destruction. Jericho’s fall will hurt our business, not help us. Self-interest alone demands that we wish you well.”
This sounded like an excellent argument to Rahab and she nodded vigorously in agreement.
Atene touched her hand and frowned slightly. Rahab understood her sister-in-law was warning her not to appear to be taking sides, and she nodded.
Shemu was saying, “About your scheme to ship our products, have you had any success in finding a party interested in selling to you?”
Lord Nahshon said, “We have just had a meeting with several of the city’s lords and they have indicated they are indeed interested.”
Mepu’s glare was full of outrage. “The lords? What do they have to say about our harvests? It’s the farmers you should be speaking to!”
“I should be more than happy to speak to the farmers,” Lord Nahshon replied, his voice calm and decisive.
Rahab looked pleadingly at her mother. Kata turned to her husband and said softly, “There is no reason to give them away, my husband. They can help you to sell your extra wine and we owe them so much. They saved your daughter’s life, remember.”
Mepu stared first at Sala and then at Lord Nahshon, then he said irritably, “I suppose I cannot, in honor, repay them by turning them into the authorities.” He focused his hard stare on Lord Nahshon. “But I won’t have you buying farm products from the nobles. They’ll pocket all the money and we will get nothing.”
Rahab had to restrain herself from clapping her hands in glee. It was going to be all right!
Lord Nahshon said, “That most certainly appeared to be their plan.”
“We have some talking to do, you and I.”
“Yes, indeed we do. Where are you staying?”
“We’re renting a house from my brother—it’s only two streets away from here.”
“Good.” Lord Nahshon glanced around the deserted common room. “This is often a busy place. I wouldn’t feel comfortable discussing business here.”
“It is probably best to meet in a place where no one recognizes us, one of the wine shops perhaps. I will speak to you tomorrow.”
Mepu rose, and Rahab and the rest of the family stood up as well. “I will be in touch with you.”
Lord Nahshon lifted a hand. “One other thing. We have dropped our Israelite names. In Jericho I am called Debir and my son is Arut.”
Mepu’s look was sour but he said, “All right.”
As her family turned away from the table, Rahab sneaked a look at Sala. He was watching her.
“Rahab!” her father called, and she turned away.
Rahab was so excited that night she could not fall asleep. Now that the third floor had been cleaned up, she had the room all to herself so her wakefulness did not disturb anyone else. She crossed her arms behind her head, stared up into the darkness, and thought about Sala.
She couldn’t believe they had actually met. She had thought about him so often in the last few years, she had hoped she could find a husband who would be like him, and now here he was—in person—himself!
She wiggled with excitement. He had recognized her. Perhaps he had thought of her as often as she had thought of him. Perhaps . . .
Her father had brought her to Jericho to find her a wealthy husband. Sala’s family was wealthy, she thought. They had a big house in Ramac, and Lord Nahshon owned a whole fleet of ships.
The thought flitted across her mind that perhaps she might marry Sala. Then she thought of the things her father and brothers had been saying about the Israelites.
Everyone she knew hated the Israelites now that they had come back from Egypt and begun to terrorize the local nations. Her father had been outraged when he learned they had killed all the men, women, and children in Og. “They will never take Canaan,” Mepu had said. “Jericho will save us.”
All of the euphoria Rahab had felt at meeting Sala again came crashing down. Even if by some miracle her father would permit her to marry an Israelite, Sala was probably married already. Married to some Israelite girl of whom his mother approved. She had never approved of Rahab.
Rahab felt tears prick behind her eyes. She would be forced to marry some dull man who thought only about money. Some man whose eyes were cold, not full of warmth and understanding. Some man whose mouth was pinched and tight, not always ready to break into a smile. Some hideous, ugly person she would have to put up with for the rest of her miserable life.
She felt the vitality draining out of her as she thought about her future. But there was nothing she could do. Her father would choose her husband and she would obey. Sala would go home to his wife and have a wonderful life in his pretty town on the Great Sea. His wife would probably even get to ride in a boat!
But he had saved her life. Surely that created a special bond between them. When they had parted, she remembered asking him if they would meet again, and he had answered it was in the hands of Elohim. Perhaps this Elohim had brought him here to Jericho, at just the time when she was here too.
Suddenly Rahab felt how hot and airless the bedroom was. She sat up, lifting her hair off her neck to feel cooler. She wanted a drink of water but she didn’t want to go all the way downstairs to get it.
Was there any hope for them at all? If there wasn’t, then Rahab thought she might as well be dead.