TWO HANDMAIDS WERE AWAITING RAHAB IN THE ROOM to which Arazu brought them. He waved the frightened girls in, then closed the door behind them. Rahab could hear the sound of his feet as he walked away.
The room itself contained a stone basin set on the floor, a table with a large jug of steaming water, and a pile of linen towels. The two women looked stonefaced at Rahab and bowed slightly.
“Is that the bath?” Atene muttered, her eyes on the stone basin.
One of the women took Rahab by the hand and led her to the basin, motioning for her to step in. When they began to take off her robe, she pulled away and ran back to Atene’s side. “What are you going to do?” she demanded.
The older handmaid, a heavy-set woman with a hooked nose, said, “We are going to bathe you, my lady. Then we will dress you in clean robes so you will be fit to meet the king.”
Rahab and Atene exchanged alarmed glances. The only bathing they had ever done was in a stream during the summer and out of a small hand basin during the winter.
Atene said, “We bathed before we came to Jericho and I washed her hair myself. She is perfectly clean.”
The younger handmaid sniffed contemptuously.
“Her hair looks glossy enough,” the elder handmaid admitted. “We can leave it as it is. There is too much of it to dry properly anyway.”
Rahab considered refusing. If the king wanted to see her, then he could take her as she was. She had no desire to make a good impression on him. Suppose she didn’t let these women touch her? What could happen to her if she did that?
She looked longingly at the door. But she had to think of her family. If she angered the king, he was likely to take it out on them. Slowly she moved forward and stood once more in the center of the basin.
For what seemed like forever she stood there naked while the maids poured water over her and scrubbed her skin from her forehead to her toes. She had been brought up to be a modest woman, and standing nude before these strange women made her uncomfortable.
As the ablutions went on, Rahab began to wonder what all these preparations could be about? She could understand that she might need to wear nicer clothes to meet the ruler of Jericho, but why this bath? She asked the maids if everyone who went to see the king had to have a bath, and they looked at her as if she were a simpleton.
“Of course not,” the older maid said condescendingly, as if Rahab were a dairy girl and not a farmer’s daughter. Rahab looked at Atene. She was beginning to feel really frightened. There was something more going on here than a mere visit so the king could admire her beauty. She noticed Atene was looking worried too.
After Rahab was dry, the maids gave her a plain robe to put on and began the process of combing out her hair. Rahab had worn it braided, and the combing out was painful. The maids were not satisfied until it was falling down her back in a waterfall of shining black.
Then they took away the plain robe she had worn to have her hair done and gave her an exquisite linen tunic to put on. They placed a circlet of what looked like real gold on her head and slipped a pair of beautiful leather sandals on her newly scoured feet.
Both maids regarded her with satisfaction, pleased with their work. “You look like a noble woman,” one of them said.
Rahab scowled. She did not want to look like a noble woman. She wanted to look like herself.
“I will go and inform Lord Arazu that she is ready,” the younger maid said to the older.
Atene came to stand beside the transformed Rahab and took her hand. “Have courage, my sister.”
“But what can this be about?”
“I don’t know. It is certainly strange.”
“You are going to come with me, aren’t you?”
“I will if they will let me.”
The maid came back into the room. “I will take you now to Lord Arazu, my lady.”
Rahab said, “I want my sister-in-law to come with me.”
The maid shrugged. “That will be up to Lord Arazu. Come, now, and we will go to him.”
Rahab, with Atene beside her, followed the maid along the outside balcony. They walked for quite a distance before they came to another door. The maid knocked and a male voice answered, “Come.” The maid pushed the door open and stepped aside for the girls to enter.
Lord Arazu was alone inside. Rahab looked around quickly and saw that the room was small but richly furnished, with a beautifully woven wool rug, elegantly carved chairs, and a table with a lamp. Beyond it was yet another door.
Lord Arazu frowned at Atene. “The king only wishes to see Rahab. You should not be here.”
Atene replied in a steady voice, “Rahab’s father sent me as a representative of her family. If the king does not wish to see me, then I will wait here until Rahab comes out.”
Rahab felt a flash of admiration for Atene’s outward composure. If her sister-in-law wasn’t intimidated by these surroundings, then she told herself she wouldn’t be either.
Arazu turned his back on Atene and spoke to Rahab. “The king will receive you informally, but you must be certain to fold your hands at your waist and bow your head when you come before him. Do not look up until he speaks to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Then come with me.” Lord Arazu gestured Rahab toward the closed inner door, sparing only two words for Atene. “Wait here.”
Rahab’s mouth was so dry she didn’t think she would be able to speak at all, but she walked as straight and steady as she could through the open door that led into the king’s private reception room.
Makamaron was seated in a high-backed bronze chair with images of unusual animals on the feet and arms, in a chamber where he often met with his friends and advisors. When Arazu came into the room with the girl at his side, Makamaron was prepared to be disappointed. No woman could be as beautiful as his friend had promised. However, she might be pretty enough to give him an excuse to put aside Arsay, who was definitely a danger to him.
“My lord king,” Arazu said when the door had closed behind them, “may I present Rahab, daughter of Mepu, one of your faithful subjects.”
The girl folded her hands, bent her head, and was silent. The thin linen tunic showed Makamaron that she was slender but beautifully curved. The skin of her bare arms revealed by the tunic glowed with youth and health.
“You may approach me, Rahab,” the king said graciously.
As the girl came toward him, he noticed with approval the fluid grace of her walk. When finally she reached his chair and lifted her face, he was stunned. Vaguely he heard her say, in a charmingly husky voice, “I am honored to have this opportunity to meet you, my lord king.”
Makamaron was having trouble with his breathing. For the first time in many moons he felt his sexuality stir. This girl . . . this girl was amazing.
He cleared his throat in an attempt to get his speaking voice back to normal. He said, “Rahab. That is an unusual name.”
“It was my mother’s mother’s name,” she replied.
“I see.” Makamaron was still short of breath. He struggled for normality. “And your father, what does he do?”
“He is a grape farmer, my lord king. We live south of Jericho, near the village of Ugaru, where my father’s family has owned vineyards for many generations.”
The girl’s huge dark eyes were fixed on him. He watched her mouth as she spoke in that wonderful voice. His mind was already made up. This was his hierodule. If anyone could help him complete the sacred marriage it was this Rahab. She must have had some experience. He knew sometimes Canaanite girls slipped off into the dark with young men after the important nature ceremonies. They could not do such a thing after they married, of course, but when they were young it happened. A girl like this would have been much in demand.
He looked at his advisor and said simply, “She will do. Arrange it.”
“Yes, my lord king,” Arazu replied.
The king smiled at Rahab, showing his bad teeth. “We will meet again, Rahab. You may go now and Lord Arazu will make arrangements for you.”
The girl’s face went still. There was a watchful look in her eyes. “Arrangements, my lord king? What arrangements?”
Makamaron lifted his brows at being questioned. “I am bestowing on you the greatest honor a Canaanite woman can have, Rahab. You will be the goddess Asherah in the sacred marriage to take place at the New Year festival. We will notify your father and your family. Now, go with Lord Arazu, please. I have other engagements I must attend to.”
The girl was as pale as her tunic. “I do not deserve such an honor,” she said, not adding “my lord king” to her comment.
Makamaron frowned; he did not like having his pronouncements questioned. “You must let me be the judge of that.” He looked at Arazu. “Take her out.”
“Come, Rahab,” Arazu said commandingly, and he began to lead the girl toward the door. Before they left, Makamaron called his advisor’s name. “See to it that Lord Edri and the high priest come to see me.” He paused a moment, then added, “And you had better bring the head priestess as well. I will meet with you all in one hour’s time.”
“Yes, my lord king,” Arazu replied and almost pushed the girl out of the door.
The small group that gathered in the king’s private reception room an hour after he had met with Rahab was both serious and determined. There was only one day left until the sacred marriage, the most significant ritual of the New Year festival, and much had to be done. Makamaron sat in his bronze chair and the others sat on carved wood stools around him as they began to discuss the situation.
The head priestess, Umara, who had held her position for the last twelve years, understood what was being planned. Arazu had told her about their scheme to replace Arsay as hierodule and she was skeptical. Umara had been a priestess for twenty-five of her forty years and was well acquainted with the power struggles in Jericho. Her own main interest lay only in promoting the importance of Asherah and the goddess’s shrine in the life of the city.
She looked now at the king and said, “Arsay will not step down voluntarily. She will go to her brother, who will go to the prince, who will make a scandal if he can. We must do nothing that will taint the sacred marriage.”
Ratu, the high priest, answered in his sonorous voice, “We are all aware of the importance of the ritual, High Priestess. We wish to safeguard it, not to damage it. However, our king must complete the marriage act in order for the benefits of the ritual to bless the country, and we are convinced Arsay will do everything in her power to keep that from happening. She might even lie and say that the act had not been accomplished, that the king was incapable. Can you imagine the chaos the city would be thrown into should such a thing occur?”
“We cannot allow that to happen,” Umara returned immediately.
“We agree. That is why we have met here today. We must find a way to remove Arsay.” Ratu’s face was as hard and ruthless as his words.
“We cannot harm her,” Edri, the treasurer, warned. “There would be too much talk and the king cannot afford to be compromised in any way.”
Silence fell as the group contemplated their problem.
Arazu turned to the head priestess. “Can you announce that you have found some fault in Arsay that makes her ineligible to be the hierodule?”
Umara was dubious and said so.
Makamaron said decisively, “I have decided what I will do. I will announce that Arsay has displeased me and that I have found someone else whom I wish to be the hierodule. I have done it before, so it is not unheard of. And, since the time is so short, I do not think the prince will be able to organize any kind of effective protest. I am still the king, no matter what my son might think. And when the people lay eyes upon Rahab, no one will wonder why I chose her.”
The king’s advisors let out a silent breath of relief, but Umara frowned. “I will go along with this because I agree with you about Arsay. But why can’t you choose one of the other priestesses, my lord king? Why this outsider?”
Arazu said, “When you see her, Head Priestess, you will understand.”
“She is so beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“If she is truly to be the hierodule, I must see her immediately. She has to be prepared for her role and there is not much time. I must get to work right away.”
Makamaron said, “You may see her after I speak to her father, Head Priestess. I have sent some men to bring him to me. He is only a farmer, but he is her father and has some rights in her disposal. I doubt there will be any trouble. What man would not rejoice at having his daughter raised to such a height? But still, it is a courtesy that must be followed.”
Shocked, the head priestess stared at the king. “You have chosen a farmer’s daughter to be hierodule, my lord king? Surely not!”
“Wait until you see her,” Arazu said.
Umara knew when she was beaten. She tightened her lips and said, “I see you are determined. Very well, I will do my best.”
Makamaron stood and his advisors rose with him. “That will be all for now,” the king said. “I will send for you, Umara, after I have spoken to the father, and you may take Rahab into your charge.”
The head priestess bowed her covered head, and the advisors exited, leaving Makamaron alone with his thoughts.