Daughter of Deliverance (5 page)

“Yes, sir, he has.”

“Fine fellow, your father.” Shalmanezer's eyes glittered as he smiled. “Have you changed your mind about becoming a part of my establishment?”

Establishment—that's sure a fancy name for a brothel,
Rahab thought, then said, “No, sir, I will remain where I am. Thank you very much.”

“Well, we will see. Give your family my best wishes.”

****

When Shalmanezer arrived back at his home, Lamile greeted him. He smiled and said, “Well, the noose is tightening around the neck of our little pigeon.”

“Who is that?”

“Rahab. You remember.”

“What have you been doing?”

“I'm laying a trap for her. It's a little trouble, but I'm enjoying it.”

Lamile shrugged her shoulders with disgust. “Why take so much trouble? There are plenty of beautiful girls to choose from.”

Shalmanezer shook his head. “No, she shows too much pride.” A touch of anger smoldered in his dark eyes. “She'll have little enough of that when we get her…and we will get her, you know.”

****

Everyone was shocked at Makon's unexpected appearance in the middle of the afternoon. He was arrayed in a silk robe and a new turban that fairly glowed, and he had been to a barber, for his beard was neatly trimmed and he smelled of fragrant oil. “How do you like this outfit?” he crowed, turning around for them, eliciting their admiration.

“You look very nice,” Zayna said. “Where did you get such fine clothes, Father?”

“Why, I bought them. I'll buy you some too, Zayna. All of you are going to have to keep up appearances a little better, and I think we're going to have to find a better house. This one's not worthy of us anymore.”

Rahab did not speak. Something about this frightened her. She knew deep in her heart that Shalmanezer was using her father, but there was nothing she could say. She simply sat there and listened while the others surrounded the old man and flattered him concerning his new raiment.

“Well, I'm going out to win our fortune tonight.” From an inner pocket Makon pulled out a thick pouch. He rattled it, and the clink of coins was clear. “I've got a stake, and I intend to finish the game with enough money to do anything we please. Wish me luck.”

Dutifully, most of the family wished him good luck—all except Rahab.

Kadir had been watching Rahab. He had noticed that she showed no pleasure at her father's new prosperity. “What's wrong, Rahab? Aren't you happy about your father's winnings?”

“They're letting him win.”

Kadir blinked with surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“They're letting him win. You know Father's no gambler. Those men spend all their time at it. They're smart and they're wicked.”

“But Shalmanezer's been so good to us,” Romar exclaimed. “He sent the doctor for Oman, and he's been a friend to Father.”

Rahab knew she could not keep the secret any longer. She lifted her head, and they all saw the despair in her eyes. “He runs a brothel, and he wants me to be a part of it,” she said bluntly.

A dead silence filled the room, and Romar exclaimed, “You never told us that!”

“I hoped he would leave us alone. He's been after me for some time now. It angers him when I refuse to do what he asks.”

“You should have told your father this!” Kadir exclaimed. “He doesn't need to be with a man who's out to ruin his daughter.”

“He wouldn't listen,” Rahab said in despair. She turned away and fled.

After she had left the room, Kadir exclaimed, “What can we do about this, Wife?”

“Nothing. You know my father. He's stubborn. He won't listen to anything we say. The best we can hope for is that the man will give up and leave Rahab alone.”

****

Four men—Makon, Shalmanezer, Joar, and a merchant named Magite—sat around the table playing a game with colored stones of different values. The players kept the stones they had won hidden in a box in front of them. The object of the game was to accrue the greatest value in stones. No player ever knew exactly how many stones the others had unless he was very sharp.

Makon's face was flushed—not only because he was half drunk, but also because his box was filled with stones. He had tried to keep track of what the others had in their boxes, but they had been playing now for a long time and the varied-colored stones had been exchanged many times. The game also involved a bone-white die that helped a player win when he threw the highest number.

“Here, Makon, my friend, have some more wine,” Shalmanezer said smoothly. He himself had not drunk very much, and neither had the others. He smiled as Makon accepted the goblet and drank deeply. “You're lucky tonight,” he said.

“Yes, I am, and it's about time!” Makon exclaimed. He always grew reckless when he won, and although he knew he could cash out now and go home with more money than he had ever seen at one time in his life, he still gazed avidly at the stones and the boxes of the other three players. “I feel like I'm going to make you all sorry you let me in this game.”

“Oh, you're a gambler, you are!” Joar laughed. “Never seen better.”

The man called Magite was tall and thin with glittering eyes. He shook his box, then said sadly, “You just about cleaned me out, but I've still got hopes of beating you, my friend.”

“You can't beat me—not tonight. I feel it,” Makon cried out. “Let's get on with the game.”

The game proceeded until the stakes had grown so high that each player had to put up an equal amount, and now it was time to make the bet. Makon peered cautiously in his box, guarding it so that the others could not see. He saw that he had four red stones, and any game could be won with only three. Greedily he shook the box and leered across the table. “Let's bet.”

The betting went on until Shalmanezer raised it so high that Makon was taken aback. “Why, you know I don't have that kind of money!”

“You'd better drop out, then. Of course you'll lose what you've put on the table.”

“No, I won't do that. But you've got to give me a chance.”

“Why, of course. We're friends, aren't we? I'll tell you what. You put up some security. I'll be glad to take that if you lose.”

Makon tried to think clearly, but his mind was cloudy. “I don't have anything. I don't own any land and I don't even own the house I live in. You know that, Shalmanezer.”

“Well …” Shalmanezer shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “You have a family.”

“I have. What about it?”

“You could put them up for security.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why, people are worth a great deal for slaves, don't you know.”

“Are you crazy?” Makon shouted, his eyes inflamed. “I wouldn't let my family become slaves.”

“Of course you wouldn't,” Joar said smoothly. “But you're almost sure to win. I can see the way you peered into that box. If you do, you're set for life. You'll never have to work another day.”

“That's right,” Magite said, nodding encouragement. “You've won all night. Why shouldn't you win once more?”

“I don't think there's really much risk. I don't have much, to be truthful,” Shalmanezer said, peering into his box. “But it's up to you.”

A silence fell on the room, and the other three players saw greed struggle with honor in the old man's face. None of them had the least doubt about the outcome.

With a sudden gesture, Makon struck the table with his fist. “All right, then. Let's play.”

“Right enough.”

The play went on, and when it came time to show what was in their boxes, Makon laughed with exultation. “See here, see this!” Makon was trembling with excitement. He had never been so sure about anything in his life. “Four red stones. It can't be beat.”

Shalmanezer's thin lips drew into a cruel smile. “Ordinarily that's true, my friend, but five red stones beat four red stones.” He upended his box, and the five red stones rolled out across the table.

A dead silence filled the room. Makon stared at the five red stones, then let out an agonizing cry of grief and ran from the room.

Shalmanezer laughed and was joined by the other two. “The fool! He'll probably kill himself, and I'll be out one slave.”

“You don't need him. You have the girl. That's all you wanted.”

“True enough,” Shalmanezer said. He picked up one of the red stones and smiled fondly at it. “Men are fools,” he said. “That old man had nothing, and now he has even less.”

Rahab had brought home a good portion of a lamb that a butcher had let her have cheap. The family had filled their stomachs with the meat and a few vegetables, and had even enjoyed a bottle of cheap wine Rahab had managed to find. Now they were sitting around enjoying one another's company.

“Sing another song, Rahab,” Oman pleaded.

“Oh, you've heard me sing enough.”

Kadir put his arms down and pulled the boy up onto his lap. “How about if I sing a song?” He winked at his wife and Rahab.

“No, you can't sing as good as Aunt Rahab,” Oman said.

“Well, I'll sing one more, but that's all,” Rahab conceded.

Rahab had a beautiful singing voice, and she knew a great many songs. This one was a song she had learned as a child that told the story of two rabbits trying to get away from a hungry wolf. As always, the rabbits escaped and the wolf fell into dire difficulty.

“I love that one. Sing it again!” Oman exclaimed, his eyes bright.

“No, that's enough singing for one night,” Kadir said. “It's time for you young ones to go to bed.”

“That's right,” Romar agreed. “Come now.” She left with Oman and Zayna and came back soon. “They're exhausted, but it's been a good day for them,” she said.

Kadir was feeling very happy, and it showed in the brightness of his eyes. He had found a job he could do sitting in a shop for a potter. It did not pay much, but it was steady work. “Let's have some more of that wine,” he said, “to celebrate my new employment.”

Romar went to get the wine, but before she could get to it, the door swung open. They all turned expectantly.

Rahab's heart sank as she saw her father. Tears were running down his face as he blubbered incoherently and stumbled into the room.

“What is it, Father?” Romar cried, going to him without hesitation.

“Lost…lost…lost!”

“What's lost?” Kadir demanded. “What's wrong, Makon?”

Makon shook his head. Then he began weeping uncontrollably and flung himself into a chair. He put his arms down and buried his face in them.

Rahab went and put her hand on his shoulder and waited until the paroxysm of weeping had stopped. “What is it?” she said, but somehow even before he spoke, a sense of doom touched her.

At last Makon straightened up and stared about wildly. “We're lost!” he wailed. “We're all going to be slaves.”

“What are you talking about?” Romar whispered, fear showing in her eyes. “What do you mean we'll be slaves?”

“I had the game all won, but something went wrong. I bet all of us against Shalmanezer. If I'd won, we'd have enough money to do anything right now. But I lost!”

“You bet all of us, your own family?” Rahab cried. “How could you do such a thing?”

Makon could not answer for a while. Then he cried out wildly, “It's all my fault. Give me a knife. I'll kill myself.”

“No need to talk like that,” Kadir snapped. “Now tell us what happened. Straighten up. We must know.”

Rahab and the others listened as her father related the details of the game. He was such a foolish man he could not see how the other three had ganged up on him and cheated him. Now it was too late.

“Maybe he'll have mercy on us,” Romar whispered.

“No, he won't.” Rahab's face was pale. “He'll make slaves out of us all. Especially me.”

“He's sending his servants tomorrow,” Makon whispered. “We'll all be his slaves forever.”

****

Rahab approached the front door of Shalmanezer's fine home. Her face was set, and her lips were drawn into a straight line. She knocked on the door, and Lamile greeted her. The woman stared at her and understood everything all at once. “I see he got you.” Disappointment tinged her voice. “I thought you might be the one to stand up against him. How did he do it?”

“He tricked my father in a game of chance into risking the whole family as security, so now we'll all be his slaves.”

Lamile was a hard woman, and there was little compassion or concern in her for anyone else. But something about the defenseless young woman before her touched a part of her she thought was long dead. She came over and put her arm around the girl and said, “You'll just have to do the best you can, Rahab. Don't cross him. I'll protect you as much as I can.”

She waited for the girl to speak, but when she got no answer, she said, “He'll want to see you right now. Time to get it over with.”

Numbly Rahab followed Lamile down the hall and into the chamber of Shalmanezer. As she had known he would be, he was waiting for her. He did not rise this time, nor ask her to be seated. “I'm here to ask you for mercy,” Rahab pleaded.

“Well, of course you are, and I'm prepared to give it.”

A shock ran through Rahab. “The gods would bless you, master, if you would show mercy to my family.”

“I myself need all the mercy I can get. A man in my trade can't expect much,” Shalmanezer said. He got up and came over to her and ran his hands across her face and down her body in the manner of a man inspecting a new horse he had just bought. “I'm prepared to be merciful. Of course I would expect something in return. After all, I must have a little consideration.”