FOR ALL OF HIS FINE WORDS TO ATENE, SALA FELT sick every time he thought of Rahab and what she was being forced to do. He had told Atene that if they prayed to Elohim, Rahab would be saved, but he could not ignore the trickle of doubt that crept into his mind as soon as he began to walk back to the inn. Rahab was not an Israelite and she was engaging in a pagan rite. Would Elohim care about her? Would He see in her some part of His plan? Or would He see in her only the false religion He hated? Elohim despised His people when they fell into the worship of pagan gods. But surely He must see that Rahab was different!
He began to pray:
She is a good woman, Elohim. She seeks to find the truth. She seeks to find You. I beg You to take pity on her and help her. She does not deserve to be defiled by this false religion that she is turning her back upon. Save her, Elohim. I beg You, save her!
That evening after supper he went out to the inn courtyard and looked up into the clear night sky. The brilliant stars seemed so close, but he knew they weren’t close; they were far, far away. They belonged to Elohim, not to men. Elohim had made the stars and the sky and the sun and the moon and the great water upon which his father’s ships sailed. How could people believe that such beauty and precision could have come into being through the quarreling of childish gods? Did they not understand the great gap that lay between men and the God who created them? When Elohim created the world, He had put into it the nature of plants to grow and the nature of animals and men to procreate. These ignorant Canaanites thought they had to imitate their gods in order to bring about what the One God had ordained to happen from the beginning of time.
Sala looked up at the beautiful, mysterious sky and prayed with everything in him that Rahab would be saved from this unclean act, saved for herself, and saved so she could know the One True God, Elohim, the God of Israel.
Alone in her room at Asherah’s Shrine, Rahab’s thoughts were on Elohim as well. The priestesses had explained to her what would happen at the festival and how she must conduct herself. As she listened, everything in her mind and heart and body had recoiled from the picture they were painting. She did not feel like an empowered goddess; she felt like a sacrifice. She wanted to fight. She wanted to scream at these white-clad priestesses that they were wrong, that there was no holiness in what they were doing, but the thought of her family and their vulnerability held her back. The priestesses believed in this ritual. That was the difference between them and her. They believed and she did not.
Rahab arose from the carved wooden bedstead she had been given for the night and walked over to the wooden statue of Asherah that was the room’s only decoration. As was usual with statues of Asherah, she was nude, with her hands tucked under her breasts. Instead of a torso and legs, her lower body consisted of a straight cylindrical column decorated with snakes, symbolic of the goddess’s power of renewal.
All of Rahab’s life she had revered and prayed to Asherah. The statue she was looking at now was the same as dozens of other statues of the goddess that Rahab had seen. She shut her eyes and felt with her mind for some connection to the goddess she had grown up with.
There was nothing.
“I am not going to become you tonight,” she said out loud. “I am going to be me, and whatever the king does with me is not going to cause the grain to grow or the beasts to bear.”
The empty eyes of the statue looked straight ahead, not seeing Rahab at all. The girl took one step back and then another. She had nothing in common with this blind wooden replica. It was not Asherah; it was just something that had been carved by men.
Rahab shivered in her thin white gown and wrapped her arms around herself to stop shaking. Once again she thought of Sala’s God, Elohim. There were no statues of Elohim because His greatness could not be captured in wood or stone. He did not even have a name. He was the Creator. Did that mean He had created her? If He had, if He had really created her, then wouldn’t that mean He cared about her?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that she was in the worst trouble of her life and she didn’t know where to go or what to do. Sala had said his God had done miracles for his people. He had sent plagues on the Egyptians so the Israelites would be freed from slavery. He had parted the waters of the sea so that they could escape from the pursuing Egyptian army. He had fed the Israelites in the desert. Surely, if this God could do all of these things, He could save her from the sacred marriage.
Rahab shut her eyes and whispered to Elohim that she would become His faithful follower and do whatever He asked of her, if only He would send a miracle to save her from the king.
Prince Tamur was furious when he learned about his father’s ploy to get rid of Arsay. He, his friend Farut, and Arsay’s brother Bari met in the prince’s apartment in the palace early that evening to discuss what they might do to rescue their plan.
“It’s too late. The news is all over Jericho,” Farut said grimly. “Makamaron had messengers go to every gathering spot in the city. No one is talking about anything else and everyone is agog to see this Rahab who has taken Arsay’s place.”
Bari said, “I have tried to speak to Arsay, but she is being kept somewhere here in the palace. I know she is not at Asherah’s Shrine; the new hierodule is there, being instructed on how to behave in my sister’s place.”
The prince cursed loudly and jumped to his feet. The two other men watched him as he prowled restlessly around the luxurious room like a giant cat, his stride long, his feet quiet on the carpet. Finally he swung around to look at them, his dark eyes flashing with barely contained fury.
“We had it planned perfectly. At the banquet the morning after the ritual, all Arsay had to do was stand up and announce that the king had been unable to consummate the marriage. It would have been the ideal moment for me to step in and demand that he come down from his throne so that I may take his place. An impotent king is not fit to rule. Everyone understands that.”
Farut said, “Makamaron has outmaneuvered us.”
“We can still protest that this sacred marriage is not lawful,” Bari argued. “No one has ever heard of this girl. She is not noble—someone told me she was the daughter of a shepherd! The spirit of Asherah will not enter into the body of such a low-born creature. We have every reason in the world to call this supposed sacred marriage a sham.”
Farut took a long drink of the wine in his cup before he turned to his friend. “Have you seen the girl, Bari?”
“No. I hear she is beautiful, but so is Arsay.” The young man slammed his hand down on a table in his rage. “Jericho is filled with beautiful women who are not the daughters of a shepherd! Why did this happen?”
“Her father is not a shepherd,” Farut said. “He owns large vineyards near the village of Ugaru. It’s true he is not noble, but he is a man of some substance.”
“He’s still just a farmer,” Bari protested. “My sister comes from one of the noblest families in Jericho. And I’m quite sure she is just as beautiful as this shep—farmer’s daughter the king has chosen.”
The prince said, “You are the one who saw her up close, Farut. How do you answer Bari?”
Farut smiled wryly. “Her beauty is not in question. The king chose her because he knew he could not trust Arsay. Is there any possibility of us getting to her so we can convince her to denounce the king at the banquet?”
The prince shook his head. “No. My father will have her tightly guarded at the shrine. We won’t be able to get near her.”
Farut put his wine cup down on the table. “Then we must hope Makamaron does indeed fail and that this new hierodule will say something.” His lips curled cynically. “Perhaps her farmer father has brought her up to tell the truth.”
It was the prince’s turn to slam his hand down on the precious inlaid table next to him, causing his wine cup to tip and the remaining wine to drip onto the luxurious rug on the floor.
“We were so close!” Tamur said furiously. “So very close!”
“Do not give up, my prince,” Farut said, getting up and walking toward the door. “Things may still resolve themselves in our favor.” He opened the door and called for a servant to come mop up the wine.
The three young men sat in silence while this chore was performed. After the door had closed behind the servant, Farut said to the prince, “Soon the Israelites will be coming against us. Many misfortunes may happen to the king if Jericho becomes a city under siege.”
Prince Tamur nodded slowly. “That is so, Farut. For certain, I will be better able to direct the defense against the Israelites than that old man will.”
“A true word,” Bari said.
Farut said, “Larger numbers of people are starting to come into the city from the surrounding villages. I’ve been told that many of the people who came in for the festival are planning to remain until after the Israelite threat is gone. We are now facing overcrowding and everything it entails, and Makamaron has done nothing to prepare for it.”
“He must be disposed of,” Tamur said forcefully. “The welfare of Jericho depends upon it.”
His two friends agreed, and they poured more wine into their cups.