AFTER THE MIDDAY MEAL WAS FINISHED, MEPU, ALONG with Rahab, Atene, and Shemu, returned to the Upper City, leaving Kata behind to clean up the kitchen. Rahab’s father had decided he would take the bold step of calling upon Lord Arazu, who had always been one of Mepu’s best wine customers. Of course, Mepu had never transacted his business directly with the noble—he dealt with Arazu’s steward—but he hoped a surprise visit might get him an interview.
Mepu had two reasons for wanting to see Arazu personally. He wanted to find out if the noble was involved in Lord Nahshon’s scheme to sell Jericho’s farm products to the supposed Gaza merchants, and he also wanted Arazu to see Rahab. Since arriving in the city, Mepu had realized that to succeed in finding a husband for his daughter he was going to need a formal introduction into the city’s wealthy community, and he was hoping Arazu might provide it.
When Mepu stated his name and his business about the wine to the servant who opened the door of Lord Arazu’s grand house, the servant raised his eyebrows and said condescendingly, “You mean you wish to see my lord’s steward. You may inquire after him at the servant’s entrance. Lord Arazu does not deal directly with farmers.”
“Lord Arazu will wish to speak directly to me,” Mepu returned firmly. “Just go and tell him who is here and why I have come.”
The servant hesitated, not really believing Mepu but concerned not to make a mistake. “One moment,” he murmured, and closed the door in their faces.
The family waited in silence. When the door reopened, the same servant told Mepu woodenly that Lord Arazu could spare him a few minutes. Mepu stepped through the door, followed by Rahab, Shemu, and Atene. Startled, the servant held up his hand. “My lord expects to see only the man Mepu. The rest of you must wait outside.”
“This is my daughter and my son and his wife,” Mepu replied. “We are together today and I never leave them alone. They will be no trouble.”
The servant started to object again, looked at Rahab, then said, “Very well, you may come in. Lord Arazu is in the courtyard.”
Rahab followed her father into the same inner courtyard that Sala and Lord Nahshon had visited just days before. Two men were sitting there, and one of them, who must be Lord Arazu, addressed Mepu, asking him to state his business.
Rahab glanced at the other man and blinked. He looked exactly like a rodent. She looked quickly away, feeling badly for having such a thought. The poor man could not help his looks, after all. He was probably quite nice.
She looked back at Lord Arazu to find that his eyes were fixed on her. “Who are these people you have brought with you?” he asked her father, his tone of voice more pleasant than it had been.
“This is my son, Shemu; his wife, Atene; and my daughter, Rahab.”
Rahab nodded politely to Lord Arazu and gave an especially nice smile to the man who looked like a rodent, to make up for her unkind thoughts.
The friend’s name was Lord Edri and his nose twitched when he looked back at her. Just like a rodent.
Suddenly Lord Arazu became a considerate host. He commanded the servant who had escorted them to bring other chairs so they could all be seated. He asked Mepu if he wished something to drink and, when her father refused, he turned solicitously to Rahab and asked the same question. She refused as well.
Rahab took her seat, folded her hands politely in her lap, and listened as Mepu broached the reason for his visit. The two men spoke for several minutes and it soon became clear to Rahab that Arazu was indeed interested in purchasing far more wine than he usually did. She glanced quickly at Shemu. His mouth was set in a grim line.
So, what Lord Nahshon and Sala had said was true. These nobles were going to buy up the produce of the local farms and sell it out from under the noses of the city population. How horrible, Rahab thought, that rich men could have so little concern for the welfare of people less fortunate than themselves. What they were planning to do was . . . well, evil.
When the discussion had concluded, Mepu made as if to rise. Lord Arazu motioned him back into his chair. “I am wondering how a lovely girl like your daughter is still unmarried. She is unmarried, I take it?” He was speaking to Mepu, but his eyes were on Rahab.
“Yes, my lord, she is unmarried, although not for lack of suitors. But she wants to live in the city, not the country, so I have brought her into Jericho to see if she might find a man more to her liking.”
Rahab almost jumped out of her chair in outrage. Not want to live in the country? She would far rather live in the country than cooped up within the walls of this city. The longer she stayed in Jericho, the more Rahab realized she didn’t like it here at all.
“That is perfectly understandable,” Lord Arazu was replying silkily. “Such beauty should not be worn out by the hard life of a farmer’s wife. She is a gem who needs the adornment of a rich man’s home to show her off.”
Mepu smiled for the first time during the interview. “That was precisely my own feeling, my lord. It is why I brought her with me to Jericho.”
Rahab’s clasped hands were now clutching each other tightly. She knew if she said anything to alienate this noble, her father would be incensed. She bit her lip to keep her mouth from opening and the furious words from pouring out.
She was so angry she hardly heard the rest of the conversation. There was one thought only in her mind: I am not going to marry some boring old noble. I am going to marry Sala. I am not going to marry some boring old noble. I am going to marry— “Rahab!”
Her head jerked around to meet her father’s eyes. “It is time we were going.”
Rahab jumped to her feet. She couldn’t wait to get away from here. Atene was gracious and Shemu was polite and manly. Rahab didn’t say a word, she just followed her family out of the courtyard, out of the front door, and into the street, where she finally felt as if she could breathe again.
After Mepu and his family had left, the two nobles sat in silence, waiting until the front door closed behind the visitors. When the faint echo of wood settling into wood reached them, they both sat up a little straighter. They were ready to talk.
The first part of their conversation dealt with Mepu.
“I wonder what precipitated that visit?” Lord Arazu said. “Was it just that he wanted to show me his daughter or has he met those Gaza merchants? He might have been trying to discover if we had spoken to them too.”
They both thought about this possibility.
Lord Edri said, “If he has, it’s not good for us. He might alert the farmers not to sell to us, that they should sell directly to the merchants for more money.”
Arazu’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I find it hard to believe a simple farmer like that could have come into contact with the merchants. He is so clearly beneath their social level.”
His words trailed away and he lifted his hands as if to say such a meeting would be impossible.
Edri frowned. “Merchants are clever about money, though. They must realize they could buy directly from the farmers more cheaply than they can buy from us.”
Arazu thought about this. “That may be so, but merchants like the two we met want to do a transaction with as little fuss and bother as possible. They don’t want to travel around from farm to farm haggling with peasants.”
“True.” Edri steepled his fingers. “Also, there may have been a reason for that visit that had nothing to do with wine.” His little black eyes glittered in the sunlight.
Arazu nodded. “The girl.”
“Yes, the girl.”
Arazu moistened his lips with his tongue. “A daughter like that can be worth more to a father than a thousand barrels of wine.”
Edri’s nose quivered. “Quite so. And he has brought her to Jericho to show her around. Peasants may be stupid in some ways, but they are shrewd in others. What did you think of her?”
Arazu lifted his eyebrows. “I thought exactly as you did, my dear Edri. She is astonishingly beautiful and delicious as a ripe fruit. No man could see her and remain unmoved.”
The two men looked at each other, the same idea in both their minds. It was Arazu who spoke the thought out loud.
“She may be just what we need for the king.”
Edri stood up and began to pace around the courtyard, his hands behind his back. “If any woman can rouse Makamaron’s manhood, that girl is the one.”
Arazu leaned back in his chair and watched his colleague pace. “And even if he fails, we can make sure she never tells. What we need to do is buy all of her father’s wine. We’ll offer him an extravagant price. Even if we don’t make a profit selling it on to the merchants, we can still afford it. We’ll be making huge profits on the grain and olive oil harvests.”
Edri swung around, frowning. “Why overspend for the wine? The man should be thrilled his daughter has been chosen to be the hierodule. It is the greatest honor a woman can attain; to be the goddess herself in the sacred marriage.”
“That is so.” Arazu looked over his shoulder at his friend and complained, “Will you please sit down and stop pacing? My neck hurts from trying to follow you.” After Edri had resumed his place, Arazu went on. “Will we have a problem because she’s not a priestess?”
Edri waved his hand, dismissing the notion. “Not if the high priest says she is called to the office, which of course he will. And there have been precedents. Don’t you remember the time Makamaron fell in love with one of Salu’s daughters and insisted she be the hierodule? The priestesses were not happy, but once the high priest said it was all right, there was nothing they could do.”
“The prince will complain,” Arazu said. “He is counting on Arsay to expose Makamaron’s inability.”
“He may complain, but there will be nothing he can do.”
Arazu nodded. “Good, then. We discredit Arsay, then bring this girl forward. We can buy the father off if necessary, but he should be delighted. He wants her to make a good marriage, and once she has stood in the place of Asherah, no woman will be more exalted. She will have her pick of the young men of the nobility.”
“It’s a good plan,” the treasurer agreed. “But we must show the girl to Makamaron first. He is the only one who can name her as his hierodule.”
Arazu nodded. “What was the girl’s name again?”
“I believe the farmer called her Rahab.”