Daughter of Deliverance (20 page)

“When someone we love falls, our first impulse, Rahab, is to rush in to save them. To fix whatever situation that they're in so that they'll be all right.”

“Isn't that a good thing?”

“It can be,” Phinehas said, nodding. “But sometimes it doesn't succeed. People have to be ready to accept help. If they're not, there's no helping them.”

“But is there nothing you can do?”

“Yes, there is, and you can help me.”

“How can I do that?”

“We can pray together that God will watch over this young man until he finds himself.”

“I am but a stranger in Israel. You are the high priest.”

“Do you think God hears only priests? No, no, my sister. You must learn that our God is everywhere and He's always listening. He is searching for a humble and a contrite heart, and when He finds it, I promise you, He listens.”

“I will pray, then.”

“Let's pray together right now.”

The two prayed silently, and finally Phinehas said aloud in a firm voice, “God, put your hand upon Othniel. Let him not come to harm. If he must be hurt, so be it. But we pray together that you will redeem him.”

Rahab smiled shyly at the priest. He was almost angelic to her, so holy and good and righteous, while she had had a terrible life. She could not understand how he could be so kind and loving and others could be so judgmental. Still, she said, “Thank you, sir.”

“Will you believe that Jehovah will help our friend?”

“I will believe.”

****

After her visits with Phinehas and Ariel, Rahab tried to do as Phinehas had said. She tried to believe that all would be well for Othniel. Finally, however, after two days, she found herself more anxious than ever. She determined to speak with Ardon on his next visit. He always came two or three times a week under the orders of Joshua to be sure that all was well with her and her family. When he came next, she did not hesitate. “Ardon, have you thought about going to see Othniel?”

“For what purpose?”

“Tell him that he's ruining his life.”

“He knows that.”

“You could tell him that you love him.”

Ardon snorted and shook his head. “That's woman talk. No, I won't go. He knows I'd be ready to help him, but he doesn't want help. He wants to stay drunk and live with those evil men and women.” As soon as he had said those last words, Ardon could have bitten his tongue off. “I didn't mean to say that.”

“It's what you think, though, isn't it?”

“I think he's given up. I don't think he'll ever amount to anything.”

“But will you go to him and try to help him?”

“No, I won't. It would be foolish.”

“One day you'll have a problem and you'll fall, Ardon. And when you fall, who will pick you up? Who will love you?”

Ardon was stunned. It was almost exactly what Ariel had said to him. But then he dismissed it as merely weak, womanish thought and answered roughly, “He knows where his family is. He knows we'll take him back if he comes. Until he does, there's nothing I can do.” He turned and walked away, but the words of the woman stayed with him.
“When you fall, who will pick you up? Who will love you?”
He could not get away from it, and it disturbed him so greatly that he threw himself into the activity of getting ready for the battle to take Ai.

****

Rahab found her way to the tents of the Amorites, who sometimes traded with the Israelites. They were a rowdy, sinful people, a type she knew well. When she approached the camp, several men tried to approach her, leering at her, but she cut them off sharply. “Where's Othniel?”

“You need a real man. Not that drunk.” A big, burly man approached her and put his hand on her arm. Swiftly she drew her knife and raked the blade of it down his arm.

“Hey—ow,” the man said. “Why, you vixen, you cut me!”

“I'll cut your throat if you put your hands on me again.”

The man grinned. “Well now, you've got some temper. Come on. I'll take you to Othniel. He's drunk, though. I doubt if you can get any sense out of him. What's the matter with him, anyway?”

“He's had troubles.”

“So what? Who hasn't?”

The burly Amorite led her into a tent. She found Othniel sitting up but obviously drunk. He had a bottle of wine in his hand, and a sluttish-looking woman stared at her.

“What do you want?” the woman said.

“Get out,” Rahab demanded. “I need to talk to this man.”

The woman started for her, but at the sight of Rahab's knife she changed directions, and with a curse she left the tent. Replacing the knife in her clothing, Rahab went over and stood before Othniel. “You must leave this place, Othniel.”

“Why?”

“This place is not for you. These are not good people.”

“I'm not going back.”

That was the beginning of a conversation that went on for a long time. Othniel drank steadily, and finally in desperation, Rahab cried, “God still loves you. He understands.”

Othniel drank the last of the wine and threw the leather flask away. He turned to face her. “Don't talk to me about God.”

“Don't say that, Othniel. Jehovah is the God of love.”

“Then why did He let my friend Achan get killed?”

That was the essence of Rahab's visit. No matter how she pleaded, Othniel stubbornly refused to go. Finally she rose and went over to him. She laid her hand on his head and prayed, “God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, this is one of your children. Do not let him perish.” She looked long and hard at Othniel, then turned and left the tent.

Othniel stared angrily at the entrance of the tent, trembling. Then he fell forward, and great sobs racked his body.

Dawn was just breaking, and as always, Zayna was pleased with the world. As she walked along with Oman beside her, she lifted her eyes to where high in the sky a flight of birds made their way steadily toward the south. Their V-shaped formation pleased her and made her wonder,
How do they know to make that kind of shape?
The thought stayed with her as she glanced at Oman, who had stopped to poke a frog with a stick.

“Leave that frog alone, Oman!” Zayna said. “We've got to hurry and get the water and get back.”

“I wonder if anyone eats frogs?”

Zayna laughed. “I don't think so. I wouldn't want to eat one.”

The two hurried along toward the stream, invigorated by the fresh morning air and the pink glowing light. Just a few minutes ago it had been quite dark, and the stars had been clear in the sky. Now as Zayna watched with delight, the eastern horizon was pulled apart, and long waves of light rolled out of the east. It was her favorite time of day.

When they reached the stream, Zayna dipped her pot into the water and let it fill. She set it down on the bank and smiled as Oman splashed noisily in the shallows. His health had improved greatly since they had left Jericho, much to the delight of his family.

Glancing back toward the camp, Zayna thought about the weeks that had passed since she had been taken away by the two Hebrew soldiers. She remembered her fear when she and her family had been thrust into the life of a people they did not know. Zayna had been terrified of them, for she had seen their soldiers kill without mercy, and at times she would curl up at night and have bad dreams of men with swords and spears coming to kill them.

Now, however, as the fresh sunlight flooded the earth, she thought of how different it had been from what she had expected. The man called Ardon had seen to it that they had a large tent to share, and he had also made certain that they had plenty of food. The food was different from what Zayna and the others were accustomed to; nevertheless, both Rahab and Romar were excellent cooks, so they had actually fared better than they had in the city.

“Come on, Oman. It's time to get back.”

As the two made their way back to their tent, they suddenly noticed two boys who were evidently on their way to the stream. One of them was a heavyset individual with blunt features and piggish eyes. The other was just the opposite, skinny and with the face of a fox. The foxy one said, “Hey, look. There's the harlot's sister.”

The pig-eyed boy laughed crudely. “Yeah,” he said, “let's make her tell us some stories of what it's like to be a harlot.”

The fox-faced boy laughed and the two came at once to stand before Oman and Zayna. “Hey, girl, my name's Ezibal. This is my friend Kon.”

Kon was the brutal-faced one, large and hulking. He grinned rudely and grabbed Zayna's arm.

“Let me go!”

“Don't be that way,” Kon said with an unfriendly grin. “We're going to show you a good time, aren't we, Ezibal?”

“Sure. We heard about you and your sister.” He took her other arm, and they began pulling Zayna toward a clump of underbrush. “Come on. We've got something to show you.”

Zayna cried out, and Oman ran quickly and threw himself against the smaller of the two. Ezibal knocked the boy flat on his back. “Stay out of this. You better go on back,” he warned.

Zayna was fighting, but the brute strength of the large boy was painful. She could not pull away, and as she continued to cry, he laughed. “Go on. Nobody's out here to hear you.”

“What's going on?”

Both Kon and Ezibal turned quickly to see who had spoken. Zayna turned her head also and saw a boy no more than two years older than herself come out of the brush. He had evidently been hunting, for he had a bow in his left hand and a quiver of arrows on his back. In his free hand he held a brace of rabbits. His clear gray eyes watched the two carefully. “Better let her go, Kon.”

“None of your business, Elam,” Kon growled.

Elam dropped the rabbits and with a quick movement pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and drew the string. “You know I didn't have much luck today, just two rabbits. I need a little practice. Maybe I'll have better luck with you.”

“Watch out what you're doing with that thing!”

“You two just get on your way.”

For a moment Zayna was afraid that the two bullies would challenge Elam, but his hands were steady, and he was smiling as if he hoped they would do exactly that.

“Aw, come on, Kon. Let's go get those fish.”

The burly Kon stared at Elam. “I'll see you later, Elam.”

“Always glad to see you, Kon. A real pleasure.”

Kon released Zayna, and she rubbed her arm and watched as the two stalked off toward the river. She turned and whispered, “I'm so glad you came.”

“Well, they're not very mannerly. My name's Elam. What's yours?”

“I'm Zayna, and this is my nephew, Oman.”

“Don't know you, do I?”

“No, I don't think so.” Zayna hated to let the young man know about her family, for he might feel the same way as the other boys felt. “We lived in Jericho, but we live with your people now.”

“So you're the family that helped the scouts.”

“Yes,” Zayna said quickly. “That was my sister Rahab.”

“I heard about that. That was a great thing you did.” He looked down and said, “Oh, you broke your pot. You'll have to go get another one. Come on. I'll go with you.”

Zayna fell into step with the young man, and Oman came and cast glances at him. “Are you a soldier, Elam?” he asked.

“I will be one day. Maybe you will be too.”

“I'm too little.”

Elam laughed. “Well, you won't always be little. You'll be big and tall and strong like me.” He winked at Zayna, and she smiled back at him. “How do you like it here with our people?”

“We like it fine, but some people don't like us—like those two.”

“Don't judge all our tribes by them. They just need to have their heads soaked. I like you fine.” He turned and winked at Oman. “Say, I found some good berry bushes. Do you like berries?”

“Yes!”

“Come on. We'll go fill up on 'em. And then we'll pick some. Maybe they'll make good cakes. Can you cook?” he asked Zayna.

“A little.”

“Well, we'll pick the berries, and you can bake a cake, and I'll eat it. How does that sound?”

Zayna felt much better now. “That sounds wonderful.”

****

As the three youngsters approached the tent, Rahab glanced up and said, “Look, Romar, it appears that Zayna and Oman have found a new friend.”

Romar had been grinding some grain in a rounded-out stone with a rounded rock. She stopped and looked up and her eyes narrowed. “I don't think I've been him before.”

“Fine-looking boy,” Rahab observed.

“I broke your pot,” Zayna said as they approached. “I'll have to go back for more water.”

“Who is your friend, Zayna?” Rahab smiled.

“This is Elam. Two boys were bothering us, but Elam ran them off.”