Daughter of Deliverance (11 page)

“He would have been my choice, but it's not for a soldier to question his commanding officer. I've got to go.”

Leaning over, he kissed her on the cheek and left.

She called out after him, “He'll probably get you killed!”

****

“I never saw anything like that!” Othniel stared at the massive wall that surrounded Jericho. The two young men had traveled mostly by night to keep themselves hidden. Now dawn was breaking and the city rose up before them. “How will our army ever get over those walls?”

“There are ways,” Ardon said grimly. His nerves were on edge, for there were patrols out. They had already encountered one of them, and there had to be others. Jericho was on its guard! “I've heard there are ways to knock down walls. Soldiers build platforms with roofs on them and shove them up against the walls. The roofs protect them from the enemy's arrows raining down from the top of the wall.”

“But we don't know how to do that. Nobody in the whole camp does.”

“God will help us find a way.”

Othniel studied the wall despairingly. “That wall is at least wide enough for two chariots to go around side by side. I saw one only a moment ago. It so big there are houses built on it, Ardon.”

“I see that, Othniel, but you may as well be quiet.”

Othniel fell silent. The two hid in a stand of scrubby trees and watched as the sun continued to rise. After several hours Othniel could stand it no longer. “How are we supposed to judge the army and what it's like? They're on the inside and we're on the outside. All we'll ever see out here are small patrols.”

“I know it. We've got to get in there.”

“There must be a way.”

They planned to wait until darkness before making an attempt to enter, but as the afternoon crept by, they decided to do some scouting. “Let's circle the wall,” Ardon said. “Surely there is a gate, some way to get through the walls.”

Circling the city of Jericho turned out to be a difficult task. It was a large city and there was little cover. They dared not move out in the open for long, because they were close enough that watchmen on the wall could spot them. They had to dart behind boulders, shrubs, and stunted trees to hide. It was tiring, dirty work, and their water was soon gone. When they came to a creek, Ardon said, “We'd better fill up our water flasks here.”

As the two filled their flasks, Othniel said, “You know, this creek runs right through the city.”

Ardon blinked with surprise. “You're right. It does. It goes right to the wall.”

“We could go into the city through that opening, couldn't we?”

Ardon considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I haven't seen any other place we can try. What we'll have to do—”

A voice cried out, “You two stay right where you are!”

The two leaped to their feet and saw four soldiers headed straight for them. They had appeared out of a clump of stunted trees “It's too late to run.” Ardon said. “We'll have to fight them.” He cast a quick glance at Othniel. “Draw your sword and do your best.”

“Throw down your weapons!” The guard was a burly man, short and thick-armed, and he wore a brass helmet that glittered in the sun. His lips turned up in a cruel smile. “Where are you two from?”

“We're just passing through,” Ardon said. His eyes studied the four as he calculated their odds. He wished fervently he had brought a real soldier with him instead of Othniel.

“Put your weapons down. You're coming with us. We have questioners here who will know how to get an answer from you.”

Instead of throwing down his sword, Ardon swiftly drew his weapon and charged straight into the four. “Kill them, Othniel!” he shouted.

Othniel drew his own weapon. He had been almost paralyzed with fear, but as he saw Ardon tear into the leader, he forced himself forward. He was yelling as loudly as he could and found himself engaged in a hard-fought battle with one of the guards.

The battle did not last long. Othniel managed to kill one of the men while Ardon swiftly killed the leader with one blow and easily dealt with the other two, and then there was silence.

The Israelite men stood breathing hard. Othniel looked down at the dead man at his feet. Crimson blood spattered across his throat, for Othniel had nearly decapitated him. He felt sick but he had no time for that.

“We've got to get out of here. We can't hide them.”

“What should we do?”

“It's almost dark. We'll follow the creek and get through the wall that way.”

Othniel saw that Ardon's arm was covered with blood. “You're wounded!” he cried out.

“Yes, but there's nothing we can do about that.”

“At least let me bind it up before you bleed to death.”

“All right, but be quick. We can't wait here.”

Hurriedly Othniel bound up the wounded arm. “That's a bad wound,” he said. “It needs to be sewn up.”

“Never mind that. We've got to find a good hiding place before they find us.”

As they began to walk away, Othniel looked again at the man he had killed and wondered if he had a family. It was the first man he had ever killed, and Othniel felt sick as he followed Ardon into the stream.

****

“…and so, Your Majesty, the patrol were all killed, all four of them.”

“Who killed them?” The king of Jericho glared at the officer who stood before him trembling.

“We're searching for them, but we haven't found them yet.”

“Well, I know who they were!” the king screamed. “They were Israelites, mighty warriors and giants.”

“No, we saw their footprints. They were not—”

“I tell you the Israelites are here. They are going to kill me like they did Og, king of Bashan. Call out every man. Find them. Kill them or you'll all die!”

****

The man—whose name Rahab did not even know—came over, put his arm around her, and gave her a kiss with his thick lips. He was dirty and smelled terrible, but she forced herself to smile.

“Here you are, sweetheart. You're an armful for a man.” He fished into his purse, handed her a coin, and winked wickedly. “I'll be back again. You can count on that.”

Rahab smiled and said something. She had learned the stock phrases that women in her trade had to say to men. She had learned to smile and to pretend feelings that she never had. So, now as the man turned, she had a sudden impulse to fling the coin after him. But instead she held it in her hand, and when he turned and made another crude remark, she simply smiled. As soon as he closed the door, she walked over to the wall, put her arm against it, placed her forehead on her arm, and began to weep. Not wanting the other women to hear her crying, she kept her sobs muted. Women in her position had no right to tears. Most of the other women, perhaps all of them, had chosen the life that had been forced on her. But as the days and weeks and months had gone by, she had found herself considering doing away with herself. Suicide sometimes seemed preferable to enduring this horrible life and the awful men who came to her, but thoughts of her family kept her from actually doing it.

Shalmanezer, of course, took the money from the men, but many of them gave her gifts—some coins, some perfume, some scarves. She turned it all into cash and gave it to her family. She was not able to see them often, but she always found a way to get the money to them.

Wearily she straightened up, went over to a wash basin, and washed as well as she could. After each customer, she always wanted to bathe in warm, clean water, as though the cleansing of her body would purge the terrible stain that rested in her spirit.

When she was clean, she changed her clothes and stepped out into the hall. She was going to the well to get fresh water when she passed by the door of Shalmanezer's room. He had a visitor, a man whose voice she did not know, and she heard the man say, “And so the whole army of Israel is camped out there, just waiting to swallow us up.”

Shalmanezer's voice came clearly. “They'll never do that.”

“I don't know why you should think so. They haven't been defeated yet.”

“They never had to take a walled city before. They have fought all their battles in the open. They're no more than a bunch of wild men, shepherds. What do they know about warfare?” Shalmanezer's voice was filled with contempt. “This wall was built for such a time as this. You know how hard it was to build. It took so many slaves that nothing else in the nation counted, and now it can't be knocked down—at least not by the riffraff out there.”

“They say their god will do it for them.”

“Their god! We've got gods enough here to stop them.”

Rahab listened for a time, and when it appeared that the man was about to leave, she ducked outside. She filled her jar with water and waited until the man had left. When she went back inside, she stopped in front of Shalmanezer. “The monthly time of women is on me,” she said. “I need to visit my family until it's over.”

Shalmanezer stared at her. He had wanted to break her spirit, but he never had. There was something indomitable in the woman that sometimes caused him to watch her with awe. “Go, then. Be back in three days or I'll send for you and it'll be worse for you.”

“I will be back.”

Promptly she went into her room and made her preparations. The day was gone now and night had fallen, but she was not afraid of the dark. After all, what could happen to a harlot that was worse than what she was already enduring? She left the house of Shalmanezer wrapped carefully against the cool air. She carried several items she had managed to take from Shalmanezer's kitchen. She had no compunction about taking whatever she could get out with. He was the man who had ruined her life forever, and it gave her pleasure to think that he was paying for it in some very small way.

As she walked quietly, she heard the voices of the soldiers on patrol. One troop of them came running along in order, their officer rapidly calling out commands. The walls were alive with soldiers, and she prayed,
God of the Israelites, destroy this evil place!
The prayer shocked her. She had not prayed like this before. All of her prayers had been for her family, but she knew that somehow the god of the Israelites was different from the gods of Jericho. She knew the gods of that city were futile and helpless, mere fragments of clay or stone or wood.

The moon was still in its quarter stage and cast little moonlight down, barely enough for her to see her way along the wall. The voices of the soldiers echoed from a distance, and she knew they were going all around the wall searching for something. It had to be for an enemy. She had never seen such activity. The man had mentioned that there were spies in the land, yet the thought did not cause her any fear.

She was within a hundred yards of her house when something moving caught her eye. Even in the dark she could see two men, one of them leaning against the other, limping along the street. Narrowing her eyes, she studied them and wished that the moon were brighter.

As she waited quietly, one of the men nearly fell, and the other had to hold him up. She stepped forward cautiously. When she got close enough to hear their whispers, she knew that these men were not from Jericho. Their speech was quite different.

These are the spies from Israel!

Even as that thought came to her, she heard the feet of soldiers approaching from the opposite direction. Without hesitation, she stepped forward, and the man who was holding the other one up drew his sword.

“Stop,” he cried in a hoarse voice, “or I'll kill you.”

“You must hide. The soldiers are coming,” Rahab said. Moving closer to them, she could see that one man had a bandaged arm, and the bandages were soaked with blood. “Quick, this way.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Rahab. You are Israelites.”

“How do you know that?” the wounded man gasped.

“Everyone knows there are spies in the area. I know everyone in Jericho, and besides I can tell by your voice and by your dress. The soldiers are coming. My house is right there. I will hide you.”

“Who are you?” the wounded man gasped.

“I told you my name is Rahab.” She hesitated, then said, “I will not lead you into harm. I am…a harlot.”

The wounded man laughed weakly. “Wouldn't you know it, Othniel, the only help we have and she's a harlot.”

“I don't care what she is,” Othniel said. “They're coming. I can hear them.”

“We won't go with a harlot!”

“Yes we will. Why would you hide an enemy, Rahab?” he said.

“I have heard of your god. He is a strong god. He's going to destroy this place.”

“How did you hear of our God?” Othniel demanded.

“Everyone has heard of him. He is the unseen god, isn't he, the god of Moses?”

“Yes.”

“Quickly, come quickly to my house. You must or you will be taken.”

“I won't go into the house of a harlot,” Ardon said stubbornly.

“Shut up, Ardon, you're dying! You've lost so much blood you can't even walk, and you certainly can't think right.” Othniel was frightened but also angry. “This is no time for your self-righteousness.” He turned to Rahab and said, “We will be most grateful for your help, Rahab.”

“This way,” she said. “I will help you. Put your arm across my shoulders.”

“I won't touch you,” Ardon insisted.

“Don't be stupid, you fool!” Othniel said. “Let her help you.”

At this point Ardon was so weak from loss of blood he had little will left. He was just barely aware that the woman was bracing him up on his side and also that she was being careful of his wounded arm.

The three could only move slowly down the street. When they finally arrived at her doorway, she said, “Here, let's go inside.” She opened the door and helped the wounded man in. As they closed the door, Ardon slumped to the floor unconscious. Rahab and Othniel stared at each other. The feet of the soldiers pounded by, and the officer's voice said, “Find them. They're here somewhere. Find them!”