Daughter of Deliverance (6 page)

Rahab stood motionless, although she inwardly recoiled at the touch of his hands. “What do you want, master?”

“You work here, Rahab, in my house, and all the rest of your family will go free.”

At that instant Rahab knew she had absolutely no choice. She had thought about her poor crippled brother-in-law being enslaved to a cruel master. She thought of her beautiful sister Zayna, only twelve, being sold to a brutal man who would abuse her. And Oman—what would happen to him and to her sister Romar? Strangely enough she did not think about what would happen to her father.

“I will have to do it, sir,” she said. She held her head high, and although her face was colorless, there was a pride in her that even this could not extinguish.

“Fine, fine. You may not like this, Rahab, but your family won't suffer.” He hesitated, then said, “In the event you had decided not to give in, I had already planned to take your younger sister into my house. A lot of men like young girls like that.”

Shalmanezer waited for Rahab to reply, but she did not speak. He lifted his voice and called out, “Lamile.” When the woman entered, he said, “Show Rahab the ropes.” He thought for a moment and added, “You'll be in my bed tonight. I'll see what you have to offer our customers.”

Lamile led the young woman outside and did not speak. She showed her to the quarters where the other harlots slept and introduced her. One of them, a woman with dyed red hair, winked at her. “Shalmanezer will try you out tonight. He always does. Do the best you can—that way you can make a better deal.”

“That's enough,” Lamile said. “Let's see about your clothes now.”

“I have to go home and tell my family what's happened.”

“Of course. When you come back, I'll have everything ready for you.”

Lamile watched the young woman leave, and once again the strange sense of pity she had thought dead long ago stirred within her. “I can't be feeling sorry for her. We've all got our problems,” she muttered, then turned to her affairs.

****

The family was waiting when Rahab walked in. “What did he say?” Makon cried out. He had felt hopeful when Rahab had agreed to go plead for mercy, but now as he saw her pale face, his heart sank. “He's not going to have any mercy, is he?”

Rahab gazed into their faces, then slowly scanned the room that had been her home as long as she could remember. When she spoke, her voice was as steady as she could make it. She had wept all the way home but had paused outside to clean her face and pull herself together. “You will all be free. You won't be slaves,” she said.

Cries went up from the entire family, but Kadir, who had more discernment than the others, was watching Rahab. “What about you, Rahab?”

“I will be a …” She tried to say the word, but it was hard. “I will have to remain in Shalmanezer's house.”

“In a brothel?” Romar cried out. “You can't do that!”

“I have to—otherwise, all of us will be slaves.”

Romar turned to her father and slapped him across the face with all her might. The blow drove him backward, and he stumbled. She came to stand over him and when he tried to get up, she struck him again. “This is all your doing, you old fool!” she screamed. “I don't ever want to hear another word from you as long as I live. You sold your own daughter into harlotry!”

The old man crept away, crawled into a corner, and pulled himself into a fetal position.

Kadir came over and put his arm around Rahab. “Is there no other way, my sister?”

“There's no other way.” Rahab knew she could not stand to be at home any longer. She went over and kissed Oman, holding on to him tightly, and then embraced Zayna. The two clung to her. They were both weeping, although Oman did not understand what was happening.

She hugged her older sister, who clung to her, and then hugged her brother-in-law.

“You will see me again. I will see to it that you have no wants.” She whirled and left the house, and when she stepped outside, the night was dark, but not as dark as her heart.

From the top of a high ridge thrust up from the level plain, Joshua stood, taking in the wonderful sight of the tabernacle of God, amazed, as always, at the structure. He had, of course, been there when the tabernacle was constructed under the guidance of Moses, and he thought back to those early days of glory. He remembered crossing the Red Sea on dry land and seeing the armies of Pharaoh drown in the same sea. He thought of the many miracles God had done to bring the children of Israel through the desert. Bitterness gripped him when he remembered how he and Caleb and ten others had gone to scout out the land. When they returned, Israel had defied the word of God and refused to believe that the land could be conquered.

“Forty years of wandering in this forsaken desert!” Joshua muttered. He was not a tall man but was strongly built, and even in his eighties he still had the full strength of his young manhood. He felt the burden of leadership that Moses had thrust upon him. Joshua had tried desperately to avoid the task, but Moses had insisted that God had appointed him, and who could argue with God?

Below him he saw the Israelite camp surrounding the tabernacle, which was itself surrounded by a wall of cloth held up by many pillars. The brazen altar was sending up a column of white smoke, almost like a pillar in the windless air, and between the altar and the tabernacle was the brass laver in which the priests washed their hands and bodies to purify themselves.

Joshua's eyes shifted then to the surrounding tents, and a smile of satisfaction spread across his face. They were camped exactly as God had instructed them from the very beginning. The twelve tribes were each divided into three smaller tribes, and within those divisions they were further separated. God had chosen to keep the identity of the tribes pure.

Joshua's eyes went to the north, where the tribes of Dan, Asher, and Naphtali were set in order. To the south, the tribes of Reuben, Simeon, and Gad flanked the tabernacle. On the east stood the tribes of Judah, Issachar, and Zebulun, and to the west were Ephraim, Manasseh, and Benjamin.

Joshua took pleasure in the order of the encampment, but then he lifted his eyes toward Canaan on the far side of the Jordan River and a cloud crossed his face. He was not a man of fear but of faith. Still, the commandment to conquer a land filled with strong kings, some of them within walled cities, was daunting.

“God will do it,” Joshua said loudly. Raising his eyes and his hands to the heavens, he entreated, “God, you are the Almighty One. Nothing is too difficult for you, but you must help me, for I am weak.”

Joshua's hearing was still keen, and he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning, he saw Caleb rapidly striding toward him. Joshua smiled at his old friend, whom he so greatly admired. At the age of eighty-five, Caleb was still tall, lean, and strong. His piercing hazel eyes could see farther than anyone in all the tribes of Israel. Joshua noticed the missing forefinger on his left hand, remembering how it had been bitten off by a bear. Caleb had slain the bear with only a knife but had lost his finger. It was a story Caleb loved to tell to his children and grandchildren.

“Good morning, Joshua,” Caleb said. His voice was high-pitched and could carry for miles, and his face was expectant. “Am I disturbing you?”

“Not at all, old friend,” Joshua replied with a smile, “but we must face up to some facts. The big fact is that Moses is leaving us.”

Caleb glanced at Joshua's face and saw the lines that the years had put there. “Are you worried about leading Israel?”

“Of course I am!”

“Don't be.” Caleb shrugged his shoulders. He had sinewy arms and fingers, and by his side was the sword with which he was an expert. A knife hung on the other side. He was also an expert with a sling, able to bring down a deer at an unbelievable distance. “Jehovah will be with us,” he said.

“He'll have to be,” Joshua said grimly. He gazed down again at the camp. “Does it seem strange to you that we are the oldest ones who will enter the Promised Land?”

“Yes, I suppose it does. But God commanded that the old generation would have to die off in the wilderness. Only those who were twenty or younger when we came over the Red Sea are left now.”

“Except for you and me. We're the old men.”

“I'm as strong as I was when I was twenty, and so are you.”

“Well, you don't lack confidence.” Joshua dropped his face and studied the ground for a long moment, then said, “I miss those who are gone.”

“So do I, but I love the new Israel. The men are strong and lean. They're ready for a battle. It's not like it was when you and I first brought back the news of the land that is to become ours.”

“I was just thinking about that. We could have already been there for the last forty years if it hadn't been for the unbelief of the people.”

“Well, that's all done,” Caleb said with a shrug. “Now what?”

“When Moses leaves, we'll cross over the Jordan, and that's when the battle will begin.”

“I'm ready for it!” Caleb replied. “We'll go forward in the power of God and watch Him give us the victory.”

The two old men stood for a moment, bound by their past history, trusting and loving each other as only warriors who have been in battle together can. Then they turned and walked slowly back down the trail that led to the camp.

They parted, and Caleb went directly to the section of the camp occupied by Judah, of which he was a member. He found his own tent and his daughter Ariel, and his face brightened as always. Her real name, one given to her by her mother, was Acsah, but Caleb had chosen his own name for her. Legally she might be Acsah, but she was Ariel to him. He paused to study her for a moment, and a rush of pride filled him. She was, to him and to many of the young men of Israel, the fairest woman of all. She was as tall as he was, with a beautiful complexion. Her hair was as black as a raven, and she had almond-shaped, wide-spaced eyes of a peculiar gray color that was sometimes almost green. She had a provocative figure, which had drawn the young men. But despite her physical attractiveness, Caleb knew that Ariel had some severe faults. One was her pride. Pride was a good thing in some ways, but sometimes Caleb worried that his daughter, whom he loved so deeply and completely, was headed for trouble.

“Hello, Father,” Ariel said, running up to him and kissing him on the cheek, her eyes sparkling. “You're the handsomest man I've ever seen.”

“You must want something.”

“Why must I want something?”

“That's the way you always begin when you want something you don't have.”

“Well, I didn't want anything, but I'll think of something now.”

“Where's Ardon?”

Ariel shrugged her shoulders and tucked her hair back up under the kerchief she wore. “Oh, he's over with the Levites. He and Phinehas are studying Moses' book, as always.”

“I worry about your brother,” Caleb said. “He's a fine soldier, but he thinks too much. That can be dangerous for a man of war.”

“You think soldiers must be stupid? Why, you're not, and he's like you.”

“No, he's more interested in the Lord than I am, I'm ashamed to say. He wants to know everything about God, and no man can ever know that. He just wants to be so righteous that I worry about it.”

Ariel laughed. “I suppose you think I'm not religious enough.”

“It wouldn't hurt you to have a little more religion.”

Ariel slipped her arm in his, and the two walked together toward the tent. “I'm too much like you.”

Caleb laughed. “I suppose that's true. That's why I call you Ariel. It suits you better—‘the lioness of God.'”

“You think I'm vicious like a lion?”

“A little.” As the two entered the tent, he turned and asked, “What about young Zuriel? Are you going to marry him?”

“I doubt it.”

“Why not? He's a fine man. He has plenty of large herds. He'll have more when his father dies.”

“He's boring.”

“What do you want, to marry a dancer to keep you entertained? You're too choosy. I'm going to find Ardon.”

“Don't take too long. We killed a lamb, and I'm cooking it the way you like best.”

****

Caleb started toward the tents of the Levites, who were the keepers of the Law, but a thought came to him. He changed direction and threaded his way among the tents until he came to the tent of Achan, a man of his own tribe. He found Achan sitting in the shade of his tent eating, which was not unusual.
The man's a glutton and a drunkard,
Caleb thought,
but even so he's well liked. I don't understand it
.

“Achan, I'm looking for Othniel,” Caleb called out. “Is he here?”

Achan scrambled to his feet. He was a short, chubby man with a red, good-natured face and a wealth of curly black hair, both on his head and on his chin. “I don't think he is.”