Somewhere in the distance, nauseating cries of slaves broke the silence of dawn. Rahab feared she might grow numb to their suffering. Not that she had, but that she could. It had become so routine, so perversely monotonous, everyone acted like it was normal. A new “normal” for a city under siege.
In the dark storerooms beneath the wall, Rahab heard the faint jingling of coins filtering through the narrow ventilation holes in the stonework. Merchants were preparing for another days trading to a captive, hungry market. War was good for business, and though the judgement of God stood at the very gates, Jericho did not repent.
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