A stranger in the night

Surprised at his own embarrassment, Salman smiled boyishly and returned to the window, “Thank you, we do feel welcome. I'm curious though, that field is completely bare. Your King leaves no crops around the edges for the poor?”

“Hunger makes slaves of us all,” Rahab answered.

Salman considered her reply while observing something else out the window. In the distance, a lone dark figure rode towards the city on a camel.

“Indeed it does. Some people are sold into slavery, but others sell themselves.”

“Either way, they’re both slaves,” said Rahab.

“True,” Salman chuckled, enjoying the game of cat and mouse.

“Still, you've done well for yourself,” Phinehas interrupted, “to live so close to the gate?”

“Nothing comes cheaply for a woman,” she replied.

Salman sensed Phinehas overstepped the mark, and his suspicions were confirmed as Rahab dutifully cleared the half eaten meal. Quick, change the subject, he thought.

“Is it common to open the gate after sunset?”

“Sometimes,” Rahab cautiously replied.

Salman turned again to the window and watched the camel rider approach the gate. He looked athletic but slender, about thirty years of age and carrying a long thin sword over his shoulder. Although a headpiece covered most of his face, a rope burn scar was clearly visible around his neck. Strange, Salman thought, that face looks familiar. The rider’s whispered conversation with the Gatekeeper aroused even more suspicion.

The sound of the gate opening put a wet blanket on the conversation. Everyone knew they should keep talking but nobody wanted to. The silence was all the more disturbing as they strained to hear what the guards were saying (without admitting they were eavesdropping).

“So you're from Egypt?” asked Rahab.

“We're tired, sorry,” Phinehas replied, in a manner that was really asking her to leave.

“Too tired to answer questions, but not to ask? I should leave you alone then.”

“Wait,” Salman interrupted, “how could you tell?”

“Your accent, of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Salman responded, strangely amused that for the first time in his life he was aware of this fact. How ironic.

Rahab politely bid the gentlemen good night and quietly moved to the other bedroom, by the window on the inner wall overlooking the city square. Through the wooden shutters, she watched the camel rider dismount and embrace Giddel like a brother returning from a long and dangerous journey. The two men walked off briskly into the palace, as the gate to the city shut with an ominous finality.

Trouble at the well

Jericho echoed with the sound of the Gatekeeper’s horn. It was time to shut the city for the evening.

Salman casually turned around and observed Adin close the iron-plated gates in his customary routine. Too late to turn back now, he thought, even if I wanted to.

“So we sleep in the square, or take our chances with the locals?”

“Water first,” replied Phinehas as he unpacked a goatskin water bag, “because you never know...”

CRASH. The sudden noise caught them by surprise. A second gate made of solid iron bars slammed shut about twenty feet behind the main one underneath the stone archway.

“Well look at that!” Salman noted. “A clever trap don’t you think?”

“A cage for rats,” replied Phinehas. “Boiling oil from above, archers from behind. Eeesh! No thanks.”

“Come on, lets find somewhere for the night.” said Salman.

“Don’t you listen? Water first. We may have to leave in a hurry.”

It was difficult to disagree with Phinehas when Salman's own mouth was parched from the long walk.

The two men promptly headed towards the middle of the square, where an entire caravan of camels were drinking from several large troughs. One of the smelly beasts was pulled aside by its keeper as a matter of courtesy, to make room for the men to draw from the well.

It was an ancient but remarkably solid construction, with a circular stone wall, perfectly round and reaching up to waist height. A sturdy wooden beam across the top secured a large bucket suspended on a rope deep into the water underground. It’s clever builder had even thought to seal the mouth of the well with two wooden shutters, to stop small animals contaminating the water.

Just as Phinehas was about to draw water, Salman noticed the Gatekeeper pushing his way towards them through the camels, short tempered and ready to pick a fight.

“Hey! You filthy foreigners. That's not yours, its for locals. You have to pay for water at the Inn. You think we want your diseases?”

“What diseases?” Phinehas replied angrily.

Salman motioned for Phinehas to calm down. The Gatekeeper was either too stupid to consider the camels, or else he genuinely believed the men were inferior. Either way, it was pointless arguing.

“Where exactly is this Inn?” Salman asked.

”Over there.” Adin pointed towards a staircase on the right side of the wall beside the main entrance to the square. “Don’t worry, you’ll be well looked after.”

On closer inspection, Salman realized there were many houses built into the wall - three levels in fact. This meant the walls were hollow, and not nearly as strong as they first appeared.

“We don't want to cause any trouble,” said Salman casually. “Please excuse my brother, he's a bit slow. Thanks for your help.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Adin replied with a disturbing politeness that seemed out of character for such a coarse man.

Naturally, Salman didn’t wish to reveal his deep ceded suspicions, nor allow Phinehas the opportunity for more trouble. So he promptly grabbed his arm and forcefully ushered his “brother” towards towards the staircase.

“Ok this dumb brother trick is really getting to me,” whispered Phinehas.

“No, I think it suits you,” replied Salman cheekily.

Phinehas scowled with displeasure. “And I won’t be the guest of a whore.”

“He didn’t say she was a prostitute.”

“Oh come on, ‘you’ll be well looked after.’ Whats that supposed to mean?”

“Well even if she’s a lady of questionable character,” Salman whispered, “please don’t kill her. Knowing your luck, all Hell would break loose.”

“Very funny,” Phinehas replied, gritting his teeth. “I’m bursting with laughter.”

Jericho - the fortress city

Forty years passed since the Red Sea crossing, and many sad stories filled the painful chapters of Israel’s wilderness wanderings. Difficult but important matters were left undone, while popular distractions occupied the Hebrews like a dog chasing its tail.

Except for Joshua and Caleb, an entire generation died without ever reaching the promised land of Canaan. But on one hot summer’s day, as the sun was setting over the bustling city of Jericho, something was finally happening, though no one seemed to notice.

The “City of Palms”, as it was known then, was surrounded by lush fertile fields bursting with crops, mostly barley, but also checkered with rows of dates, grapes, and olives. A long boulevard of palm trees lined the entrance to the fortress city, whose monstrous walls crowned a proud and prosperous kingdom. Its immense wealth drew traders of every description like bees to a honey pot, all hurrying to enter before the gates closed.

Approaching the large stone archway above the entrance, two such “traders” took careful notice of their surroundings. Phinehas, bearded and in his mid twenties, was tall and exceptionally strong, although modestly dressed in a plain brown robe to blend in with the crowd.

Alongside him was Salman, a slightly younger man of average build but blessed with such boyish charm that could barely hide beneath his scruffy unwashed appearance.

Along the road to Jericho, they had travelled with many merchants and farmers in a caravan trail of camels, cattle, and goats. Some made the short trip from Gilgal, a small town just near the Jordan river, to market their wares in the Jericho markets. Others travelled from distant exotic lands, bringing all manner of luscious fabrics, fragrances and spices .

There were numerous small conversations - answering questions about where they came from, what they were doing, and who they knew at Jericho. Salman did most of the talking, and enjoyed pretending to appear interested without really giving away any information. He particularly liked excusing his “dim-witted brother” from conversations because “he wouldn’t add any thing meaningful.”

Entering the city, they noticed the gates were constructed of large wooden beams plated with thick iron reinforcement. Enormous golden shields engraved with mysterious patterns hung from each interlocking cross beam. A cold shiver ran through Phinehas’ spine as he walked passed the sacred golden calf, the centerpiece of the stone archway above them.

What alarmed Salman the most were the walls - enormous stone mountains of defense, higher and thicker than anything they had ever seen. It made sense; a city guarding such fertile lands and reliable water would be too attractive for invading armies. He counted his steps through the archway, just to be guess the wall’s dimensons, although it was difficult to concentrate in the bustling crowd.

It was a strong and powerful kingdom. Phinehas could see it in the well crafted swords and bronze chest plates of the guards at the gate.

Salman saw it in the eyes of the traders lining the entrance to the city square. They were in it for money, and lots of it. Jericho was the place to set up business, and the city had grown rich by keeping things that way.

Across the bustling square, hundreds of soldiers marched out of the palace and marshalled in the forecourt. The King's palace towered over the whole city, casting a long shadow across all the people. Surrounding the square were countless narrow dusty streets lined with mud brick homes. It was the largest city Salman had ever seen.

But it was the soldiers that kept Phinehas' attention. They appeared to be combat training, although at first there was more shouting than actual fighting. But they seemed very disciplined, and that enticed Phinehas to press closer for a better look.

Walking further across the square, they came alongside dozens of Africans shackled in chains to large iron posts near the cattle yards. Salman tugged at Phinehas’ tunic.

“Look, slaves,” he whispered.
“What?” replied Phinehas, distracted by the soldiers.
“Poor souls,” Salman continued, “who knows where they’ll end up?”

The giant barrel-chested gatekeeper, Adin, rang the bell for the evening watch, sending traders packing up their stalls and heading home. He seemed to enjoy annoying everyone, barking orders and helping himself to whatever he wanted.

Salman observed the movement along the walls. Guards clamored to take their new positions as the day shift came down the narrow staircases. What type of soldiers were they? He would only know for certain in the heat of battle. Phinehas has the right idea, Salman thought. I should watch them train.