WHEN THEY HAD LEFT THE KING’S RECEPTION ROOM, Lord Arazu did not take Rahab back to Atene. Instead he turned her over to two women who were dressed in the flowing white garb of priestesses.
“Where is my sister-in-law?” Rahab demanded of Arazu as the two priestesses moved in on either side of her. “I am not going anywhere without her.”
“You will see her soon,” Arazu replied. “Go now with these women. Your father will be meeting with the king shortly and then you may see him and your sister-in-law as well.”
Relief flooded Rahab when she heard her father was coming. Papa would not let them do this to her. She—the hierodule! It was madness. That was for a priestess, not for a farmer’s daughter. Even if the king did want her, her father wouldn’t allow it. She had not been brought up to do such a thing. She had no experience of the fertility rites of the goddess. How could anyone expect her to be the goddess and make the sacred marriage to the king? She thought of Makamaron’s wrinkled face and brown teeth and spotted hands and shuddered. It couldn’t happen. Her father would save her.
The priestesses took her to the women’s part of the palace, which was largely empty. Makamaron had not had a queen since his third wife had died some years before. There were two young princesses who still lived in the palace, but they were rarely seen. A royal daughter’s life was important only because of the marriage that might be made for her. It had long been tradition for political alliances to be cemented by royal marriages, and that was what daughters were good for. Nothing else.
Rahab walked between the priestesses, looking carefully at her surroundings. If she managed to get away, she would have to know which way to run. They finally stopped at a room that had two palace guards in front of it. One of them opened the door and held it for the three women to go inside.
The priestesses led Rahab through an antechamber and into a large luxurious room clearly furnished for a woman. There was no stately bronze chair here, just slim, elegant cushioned furniture and a thick soft rug. Near the roof there was a line of small openings to let the air circulate.
Rahab stared at the openings with dismay. She had been thinking of how she escaped from the slavers, but she would never be able to reach those air vents. Even if she could, she didn’t think she would be able to fit through them.
“Sit and make yourself comfortable,” the older priestess said. The woman’s icy voice echoed the cold expression on her face. The priestess was not happy. Well, neither am I, Rahab thought.
“Why am I being called to be the hierodule?” she demanded as soon as she was seated. “That position is for a priestess, not for someone like me.”
The priestess exhaled a long hissing sound. “So, it is true. The king is putting away Arsay and making someone else the hierodule.”
Both women glared at Rahab.
Rahab glared back. “Believe me, this was not my decision. I have no desire to take your friend’s place. I don’t want to be the hierodule. I can’t understand why the king should want me to do this.”
“Stupid girl,” the older priestess muttered. “Do you think we will believe you? Of course you want to be the hierodule. Every woman in Jericho would leap at such a chance.”
Rahab spaced her words for greater emphasis. “I. Do not. Want. To be. The hierodule. Besides, my father will never allow it. He will tell the king I belong at home with my family, and that will be the end of this ridiculous plan. Your priestess will be the goddess. I certainly don’t want to be!”
The younger priestess looked at her with pity. “You are a stupid girl. Your father will never defy the king.”
But Rahab trusted her father. He loved her too much to make her do something as big as this if she did not want to. She could always count on her father to keep her safe.
When the soldiers arrived back at Mepu’s house and told him the king wished to speak to him, he felt sick with fear. First they had taken Rahab away and now they wanted him. What could have happened to bring his family to the attention of the king? Had he said something on his visit to Lord Arazu that had insulted the lord? Did they perhaps suspect Mepu was aware of their plans to buy up the whole wine crop? If that was the case, what were they going to do to him? To his family?
Mepu was not given the privacy of a litter. Instead he was forced to walk in the midst of a foursome of guards through the streets of the city so everyone could see him. By the time he reached the palace, Mepu was sweating profusely and trying not to show his terror.
Like Rahab, he was brought through the king’s anteroom into his reception room, where he found Makamaron sitting in his imposing bronze chair. Mepu fell to his knees as soon as he passed into the room, bowed his head, clasped his hands so tightly his knuckles went white, and breathed in a trembling voice, “My lord king.”
“You may rise and approach me, Mepu,” the king said. His voice sounded genial. Mepu peeked at him uncertainly, then rose to his feet and came forward a few steps.
He had never been this close to Makamaron and he was surprised the king looked so old. The flesh sagged on his heavy face and his stomach swelled under the perfect folds of his tunic. His color looked pale and unhealthy.
The king said, “I have just had an interview with your daughter, Rahab. She is very beautiful.”
“Thank you, my lord king,” Mepu replied cautiously. Perhaps this was not about the wine after all.
“She is so beautiful, in fact, that I am going to make her the hierodule for the sacred marriage in the coming New Year festival.”
Mepu’s eyes stretched wide and his mouth fell open. “The hierodule?” he repeated, wanting to make certain he had heard right.
“Yes. It is right that the goddess be represented by the most beautiful woman in the city, and your Rahab is undoubtedly that.”
Mepu’s head was reeling. Did the king know he was only a farmer? His mouth was so dry that his voice came out like a croak. “It is true she is beautiful, my lord king, but I do not want you to choose her under false pretenses. My family, my daughter’s family, is not noble. I have large vineyards in the countryside that are profitable, but we are not noble.”
The king smiled graciously. “This I know, and I have thought for some time that such an honor should be extended beyond the temple priestesses and the nobility. It will be good for all my people to see that I view them as valuable and important.”
Mepu was stunned by this astonishing reply. So stunned that he couldn’t think of an answer.
Fortunately, the king was continuing, “Let me make it clear that you needn’t worry about your daughter’s future after the festival is concluded, Mepu. I shall see to it that she marries a man of stature in the city, a man with the financial means to keep such a beautiful creature as she deserves to be kept. Once she is seen, there will be a crowd clamoring for her hand.”
Mepu moistened his lips with his tongue. It was true; this was really happening. The king wanted Rahab to be the hierodule in the sacred marriage. Mepu went down on his knees again. “Thank you, my lord king. This is beyond anything I had ever dreamed of. To think that my daughter should represent the goddess herself, that she should participate in the sacred rite that will bring life and prosperity to the kingdom. I am overcome.”
Makamaron smiled, showing his stubby brown teeth. “You may see your daughter briefly to assure her of your blessing. One of my guards will take you to her. And I will send men to escort you and your family to the palace tomorrow so you may have a good viewing place for the festivities. Now you may go.”
The king picked up the gold-plated staff, which had reposed beside his chair, and thumped it once upon the floor.
Mepu rose to his feet and bowed deeply. “Thank you, my lord king.” He backed out the door that had opened behind him at the thump of the king’s staff.
Rahab and the two priestesses had been sitting in icy silence for over an hour when the quiet was broken by a knock on the door. It came so suddenly that Rahab jumped.
The younger priestess went to the door and opened it a crack. When she saw who was there, she opened it all the way and Mepu came into the room, accompanied by Atene.
“Papa!” Rahab ran to throw herself into her father’s arms. She started to sob with relief that he had come to take her home.
He patted her back. “Now, now, Rahab. There is nothing to upset you, unless you are crying for happiness.”
Happiness. Of course she was happy that he had gotten her out of this terrible situation. She controlled her sobs and pulled away so she could look up into his face. “You saw the king? You told him I could not possibly do this thing?”
A puzzled frown creased her father’s forehead. “Why would I say such a thing to the king, my daughter?”
Rahab’s eyes went from him, to Atene, to the two priestesses who still hovered by the open door.
“Please leave us,” she said to the two women. “I wish to speak to my family in private.”
The priestesses’ return look was openly hostile, but they went out and closed the door behind them.
Rahab turned back to her father. “Didn’t the king tell you he wants me to be the hierodule, Papa?”
“Yes, he did, my daughter. And it is a great honor, not only to you but to our entire family. I am still stunned. I never thought such a great thing would come of my bringing you to Jericho.”
Rahab stared at her father in disbelief. “You cannot mean that you agreed to it!”
The puzzled look returned to Mepu’s face. “Of course I agreed to it, Rahab. How could I possibly reject such an honor?”
Rahab looked to her sister-in-law, and the pity on Atene’s face frightened her even more than her father’s words. Atene said, “You are going to have to do this, Rahab. There is no way you can decline such a command from the king. Nor can your family decline for you.”
A sick feeling began to rise in Rahab’s stomach. She turned back to her father. “But I don’t want to do this, Papa! Didn’t you at least ask the king if you could speak to me before you agreed?”
Mepu was looking annoyed. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Rahab. You have just been offered the highest honor a woman can achieve. You are to represent the goddess Asherah in her marriage with Baal. Because of you, life and fertility will bless the lands of Jericho. How can you not be thrilled by such a great distinction?”
Rahab looked into her father’s genuinely bewildered face and did not know what to reply. What he said about the importance of the sacred marriage was true. But . . .
“I don’t want to do it, Papa,” she repeated. “The king is old and disgusting. I don’t want him to touch me . . .”
A wrenching sob tore through her body.
“Now, now.” He reached out and drew her back into his arms. “There is nothing to be afraid of. It will not be the king who comes to you, but the god. And think of this, Rahab, your future is assured! After the New Year festival the king has promised me that he himself will choose a husband for you from among the most noble and rich men in the city. Everything I hoped for you will come true—even more than I hoped for, because I never dreamed you would be chosen by the king to be the hierodule.”
He is not going to help me. He is going to let me be the hierodule and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
Was there something wrong with her that she was so horrified by this so-called honor? For her father was right—in the eyes of all the Canaanite people, it was a great honor. Yet her whole body and soul flinched away from it. She was not the goddess, she was Rahab, and she did not want to be with that old man. Even if he became Baal, she didn’t want him to touch her.
What will Sala think when he hears this? What will he think of me? I will truly be defiled in his eyes. I will be defiled in my own eyes. This is all wrong. They should not be asking me to do this against my will. What have I got to do with gods and goddesses?
Her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You are frightened now, my daughter, but the spirit of Asherah will enter into you as the spirit of Baal will enter into the king, and you will make the sacred marriage with triumphant joy. Believe me when I tell you this.”
But she didn’t believe him. He was a man—how could he know how she felt?
“Go away,” she said and turned her back on him.
She felt him hesitate, then Atene said, “Come, Father, let us give Rahab some privacy.” She felt Atene’s gentle hand on her shoulder. “Have courage, my sister.”
Rahab nodded and briefly put her hand over Atene’s. Then Mepu and her sister-in-law were gone and Rahab was left alone with her anger and her fear.