Is God Good?

Someone entered the tent. Joshua could tell by the flickering flame of his candle. He kept still, only his closest friends could get through the guards – especially at this hour.

“Let me guess. Caleb?” asked Joshua with his back turned.

“Everything's ready for tomorrow,” Caleb spoke with an air of resolution.

Joshua half nodded – lacking the stamina to hide the fact that his mind was elsewhere.

“Are you all right?” asked Caleb.

“In a strange way... yes,” replied Joshua, “This is God’s will.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?”

“Maybe. Every day I say my prayers, take a walk, read, write, drink, break bread with my family. Destroying a city doesn’t fit easily into that routine.”

“With respect,” Caleb answered, “every nation was born out of blood. You knew that forty years ago.”

“Well the older I get, the less I know,” Joshua echoed.

“Look, I’m tired and so are you. Get some sleep.” Caleb made his way to the door.

“Caleb. I feel like I don't know him, and I want to. I want to know God. That's all I want - nothing else. It’s all vanity.

“That's funny,” replied Caleb, “You want to get all sensitive now do you?”

“You mock me?” asked Joshua.

“You’re doing that all by yourself. You've known God all your life. He's always been there. If you're going to doubt anything, doubt your doubts.”

“It’s not that simple,” replied Joshua. “Lord knows I wish it was. If dealing with sin means killing the sinner, then what hope have we?”

“Plenty,” replied Caleb. “We’re children of Abraham.”

“Abraham? Don’t get me started.” Joshua searched for words to describe his anguish. “All that I was in my youth, all I've lived for, it’s already dead. Caleb, you’ve got to help me to believe.”

“You believed once. Believe again.”

“But it hurts,” Joshua cried. “It’s too much pain. Is it worth the bloodshed? Just for what, just for land?”

“This was never just about land!” Caleb slammed his heavy fist on the table. “It’s about the prophecy to Abraham - the land, the people and the Messiah. It's God’s word, and he will honor it.”

“What good is his promise? We’re mortal, he can do anything he wants.”

“Anything? You think he can lie, do you?”

Joshua buried his head in his hands and wept. The pressure was too much to bear.
“I want to know... I need to know that God is good. I need to know him, like I know you. If you told me that mass killing was worth it, you knew something I didn't - a higher purpose, a greater good, just maybe I could trust you. I would, but I know you. That changes everything!”

“You said yourself, every man must face his darkest fears,” Caleb replied. “Maybe this is yours. God is good. There's no darkness in him.”

“Dammit!” Joshua shouted. “You saw those babies massacred on the wall. How’s that different to Abraham killing Isaac?”

Caleb folded his arms and glared. “Your swearing I can deal with, but your thinking stinks.”

“Forgive me,” Joshua added.

“Is that it? Is that what this is about?” Caleb replied.

“My dear old friend, what kind of god would ask Abraham to kill his son?”

Caleb pondered for a moment, then smiled. “One who would raise him from the dead."

A farewell to remember

Salman racked his brain to think of a solution. A fast solution.

“Alright, that’s a problem. A big problem. Let me think about it for a minute. Our soldiers wont recognize know you. They might accidentally kill you in the heat of battle. You need a sign, or a secret password, or something.”

“That’s stupid,” Phinehas interrupted, “and impractical, especially if we’re under orders to kill everyone. And what if someone finds out about it?”

“You’re right. Secrecy is everything,” Salman continued. “Tell no one about us and we can save you.”

“Should we hide somewhere?” asked Rahab, “in the granary or...”

“No no - that’s too risky,” Salman interrupted as he paced the floor thinking out aloud. “If someone finds you they’ll ask questions. It’s too risky. But... if you stay here in your home, no one will suspect anything. Yes, you must be here when we attack.”

“Or you’ll die,” Phinehas added, “you and all your family. You can be certain of it.”

“Alright, I get it,” said Rahab, “ but what’s stopping your men crashing in here and killing us by mistake?”

Salman thought for a moment then rushed back to the window and grabbed the rope. “It’s too obvious.”

“What is?” asked Rahab.

“That rope, it’ll look like you’re trying to escape.”

He scanned the room and noticed some red cord wrapped around the bed posts. “I’m not even going to ask what this is doing here,” Salman chuckled as he hurriedly unravelled it.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I thought so. But if you hang this out your window on our soldiers will know where you live. Problem solved.”

Rahab embraced him hurriedly. “Thank you.”

“Salman, we've got to go. Now!” whispered Phinehas, as he climbed out the window and slid down the rope.

Salman reluctantly straddled the window's ledge. He wished he had more time to make sense of everything. Would Rahab be executed for helping the enemy? What about after the battle - would she flee the country? Would he even see her again? There was no time to think. No time to doubt.

Salman lingered for one last look, then began his descent down the wall.

“Come back quickly,” Rahab whispered, rushing to the window. “The Jordan will flood soon.”
Salman looked up at her. “I’ll never forget you.”

Rahab leaned further out the window and smiled. A million thoughts raced through Salman's head. She likes me? I could just reach up and impulsively steal a kiss. No one would ever know. It would be unexpected, uncalled for, and unbelievable! It would be the kiss of a lifetime.

But he was too far down the rope! Their lips missed by a few inches.

Rahab supressed her laughter. “Hide in the mountains. They'll come back in a day or two. Then you can cross the river safely.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“God be with you.”

He slid down the rope with ease, silently joining Phinehas on the ground below. Escaping into the night, they rain straight through the barley fields towards the palm trees beyond the reach of archers on the wall. Far in the distance, lightning and thunder awoke the black northern skies.

Rahab sat by her window looking out over the horizon, her tears of joy illuminated by flashes of lightning. For the first time in her life she prayed to the God of the Hebrews.

“God help them. Please.”

The Red Rope

“Then she let them down by a rope through the window, for her house was on the city wall; she dwelt on the wall.” Joshua 2:15

The King of Jericho’s guards rode their horses hard along the moonlit road to the crossing. With fire in his eyes and Hell on his back, their Captain Giddel was seething with fury. Hashum had followed the spies into the Jericho, the King had given simple instructions, and yet nothing was working as planned.

To make matters worse, the horses were tiring and his men were complaining. Giddel looked behind his galloping steed towards his brother Hashum, who was pointing to the sky; it was starting to rain.

“Don't even think about stopping,” Giddel yelled as he violently whipped his horse, “we're going to catch them.”

But catching spies who haven’t yet escaped is an impossible task. Salman and Phinehas were still hiding in Rahab’s house, safe in the knowledge she had sent Jericho’s guards on a wild goose chase. For it was not geese being chased, but rather geese doing the chasing.

At the very moment Giddel dug in his heels and cracked his whip, miles away in Jericho Phinehas awoke suddenly in a fright and grabbed his cloak beside the bed. He ran to the window to look at the eastern sky. It was still dark, with no signs of dawn on the horizon.

“Let's go, before it gets light,” he said pacing into the other room where Rahab and Salman were packing the last supplies.

“Please, just a moment,” Rahab begged, “we’re almost finished.” Turning back to Salman, she continued. “If God is good, why did he ask Abraham to do such an evil thing?”

“You don't understand,” replied Salman.

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“There's no time,” Phinehas interjected.

“Is it too hard to answer?” asked Rahab.

Salman looked at Phinehas and shook his head in amazement. He had never encountered such a feisty women. After hours of conversation, her audacity still surprised him.

“I already told you,” replied Salman, “God stopped Abraham because he had a bigger plan. Isaac didn't die.”

“What about me? I’m as good as dead, right?”

Salman looked at Phinehas again; both were completely speechless. Neither were quite prepared to face that brutal reality.

The awkwardness of the moment unsettled Rahab, so she nervously moved to the outer bedroom and began tying a long rope around the bed posts.

“Wait, what are you doing?” asked Salman.

“What does it look like? Saving your life.”

Salman rushed to help her loop the rope through the bed’s heavy wooden framework. Somehow, as they were working together his hands ended up holding hers. It was more than accidental; he needed to feel the warmth of her skin. He needed to look into her eyes and know she could be trusted.

Using the bed as an anchor for the rope, they dragged it beside the window. Salman watched her throw the rope out the window like an expert. She’s probably done this a hundred times before, he thought. How many other men have secretly escaped her home in less honorable circumstances? How on earth am I going to explain this to Joshua?

Salman noticed Phinehas smirking. He was thinking the same thing, but added a quick shrug of his shoulders like he had no idea what to do with her.

After all they had shared in those long hours of the night, it was no longer Rahab’s past that disturbed Salman, no nearly as much as her future.

“Please, I've shown you kindness,” Rahab blurted, “spare my life when you attack.”

“God forbid you die,” replied Salman, looking to Phinehas for reassurance.

“Our lives for yours, that's fair,” said Phinehas, “but I don’t know how we’ll explain this to Joshua.

“We’ll worry about that later. Why don't you come with us now?” asked Salman.

“I can't. I won't leave my family behind.”

Salman racked his brain to think of a solution. A fast solution.

Moses at Mount Nebo

The slaughter of the Midianites was long forgotten when the Children of Israel finally reached Mount Nebo. Joshua was burdened with other thoughts and responsibilities as Moses anointed him in front of all the elders. He was chosen not to be King, as some had wanted, but simply a humble servant. There could only ever be one true king over Israel; God Almighty.

This day was to be the last occasion for Moses to address the people. Joshua stood in quite reverence as the old prophet publicly read out the law and the commandments once again.

It was a sermon he had heard many times before. The words were etched in Joshua’s soul. Victory was assured to the Hebrews, if only they remained faithful to Almighty God. Their lives would be blessed with bountiful crops, healthy families and prosperous trade.

The curse of disobedience simply worked in reverse. Defeat at the hand of their enemies was certain. Their crops and fields would be cursed, their women would remain barren, and their life would be dogged by poverty and disease. Ultimately, they would be enslaved to their enemies and forfeit the land God had promised them.

“I set before you life and death,” said Moses, “blessing and cursing, therefore choose life.”

Life - fancy being told to choose it, thought Joshua. Yet we are that stupid. If Moses’ departure accomplishes only one thing, I hope it shocks us into remembering.

It was a mournful occasion, knowing that Moses would never inherit the promised land he had inspired so many to believe in. It was Moses who defied Pharaoh, the mightiest ruler of the world, and boldly proclaimed “Let my people go.” It was Moses who parted the Red Sea and carried the bones of Joseph across. It was Moses who sent twelve brave spies into the promised land only to have them all return as cowards.

All except Joshua and Caleb.

The two men embraced their elder prophet and escorted him up the arduous climb to Mount Nebo's summit. As the tears and wailing of a nation subsided in the valley below, Joshua couldn't help but notice the strength and vitality with which Moses tackled the climb. If this was the mountain where Moses would die, he certainly wasn’t acting like it. The closer he approached the summit the younger he appeared.

A quick glance from Caleb confirmed his suspicions. Although they were younger and fitter, both men struggled to keep up with Moses. Perhaps the angels were helping Moses to his final destination? Or maybe the cares of the world were lifting off his shoulders? What ever it was, Joshua sensed an unbridled joy in Moses’s spirit that he hadn’t seen in many years.

The higher they climbed Mount Nebo, the more they could see. Across the vast dry desert valley lay the greener lands of the river Jordan. They could see the crossing, one of several actually, but the main route through which Joshua would attack.

Further still, some twenty six miles away stood Jericho, known as the City of Palms (and for good reason). The straight road approaching the city was lined with tall palm trees. Rows of palms bordered the lush fertile fields - fields bursting with crops that could feed an army.

Hope

Salman stood up and paced the floor to stay awake. “Hope is all we had for four hundred years. Hope is what kept us alive.”

“Its amazing you even remembered where you came from,” Rahab interrupted. The Egyptians take people from all over the world and they never return. Children born into slavery don’t know any better.”

“We’re different,” said Salman rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. “We had a prophecy that we would return, and we had Josephs bones.”

“Who?”

“What?” replied Salman. “I’m sorry, I’m falling asleep. Help me to stay awake.”

“Joseph. Who was Joseph?”

“He was the first Hebrew sold into slavery - his brothers betrayed him. That’s how we all came to be in Egypt. Before he died he asked to be buried back home in Canaan. We’ve passed his coffin down through the generations.”

“So you still have his bones now?”

“Yes. We carried his bones from Egypt to bury in the land of our fathers.”

“The bones made you remember?” asked Rahab, listening intently on the edge of her seat.

“More than that. I believe his bones carried us.” Salman slouched back in his chair and slowly deliberated over his words to fight back the tiredness.

“Hope carried us. The hope of freedom in a land of our own. The promised land, flowing with milk and honey. Canaan.”

“You make this place sound better than it is!” Rahab laughed.

“That’s God’s plan - that it be much better, better than you or I could ever imagine.”

“Things normally turn out worse than I imagine,” Rahab replied. “I’m sorry, that’s how its always been for me.”

Salman sat up in his chair and thought deeply for a moment as he stared into the soothing glow of the fire. The similarities between Rahab’s life and the story of his people were strikingly obvious now. “But hope without courage turns to despair,” he continued. “And despair breeds rebellion in the hearts of men.”

His eyelids got heavier while still rambling on. “That was the beginning ...of many sorrows. Forty years of wilderness, neither slave ...nor free.”

A crackling spark from the fire reminded Salman of what the crack of an Egyptian’s whip might sound like. Although he had never felt its pain in real life, he had imagined it many times in his sleep. He flinched and stood bolt upright, almost as if to shake off his daydream. He desperately wanted to stay awake and keep talking with Rahab.

“Slavery and prostitution are very similar you know. Someone else owns your body.”

“I’m not a Hebrew,” Rahab answered abruptly. “What can your God do for me?”

Salman was lost for words, but wasn’t about to give up easily. “I don’t know. But I do know he made all people, and if I were Him, I would care for my creation. And I’m just a man, far from perfect - so he must love you more.”

“Well, that’s a nice idea,” Rahab replied, “but how did God love the Midianites? Surely they didn’t take too kindly to the news of their princess’ death.”

“No they didn’t,” replied Salman. “You’re right. It was a bloody and terrifying battle, and one best forgotten. Sadly, I still remember it all too well.”

Stay Awake

“...and that’s how Joshua became our leader - quite unexpectedly,” Salman concluded his story to Rahab. “Moses simply handed it to him not long before he died.”

Two or three hours passed since Giddel and his men were sent on a wild goose chase. The two Hebrew spies had made the most of Rahab’s hospitality and were now fully prepared for their escape.
So prepared, in fact, Phinehas fell asleep by the window, catching up on some well earned rest. The others talked about waking him up, but decided he was so exhausted the sleep would help for the long journey home.

Salman, on the other hand, had good reason to remain awake. Several hours of conversation with Rahab seemed just like a few minutes, and with every passing moment the two were drawn to each other’s fascinating stories.

“It’s strange God would do that to Moses,” said Rahab.

“I’m sure He has his reasons,” replied Salman, “but sometimes I feel like He can be quite dramatic, almost theatrical - just to prove a point.”

“What point?”

“I don’t know. That’t the funny thing, I don’t have a clue about Moses. So many things about Jehovah are symbolic.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Take the crossing of the Red Sea for example. He didn’t have to lead us into the wilderness - we could have travelled the direct route to Canaan, by the way of the Philistines.”

“You think he was showing off?” Rahab asked.

“Well, he doesn’t need to show off,” Salman replied, “but maybe we need him to.”

“The bread should be done now,” said Rahab as she leaned over towards the fire. “So this Midianite woman that Phinehas killed, how did Joshua know her? Did he sleep with her?”

Salman waited for Rahab to remove the bread from the oven before stoking the fire with a few extra pieces of wood. “No, although some people assumed that. King Hur had offered his daughter’s hand in marriage some months before, as a way of keeping peace between our people.”

“To whom?” asked Rahab.

“What?”

“Who did he want her to marry?”

“Didn’t matter - Moses, Joshua, whatever it took to mix the blood lines of our people.”

“So he was a man of peace?”

“No. He was a merchant. Everything has its price - or so he thought,” Salman answered apprehensively, realizing the nature of Rahab’s occupation.

“You should get some sleep,” said Rahab. “You look tired.”

“What if we all fall asleep? replied Salman. “I can’t risk it.”

“True,” said Rahab “I’ll stay up with you till the middle of the next watch - when the guards are drowsy. It’ll be safe to leave then.”

Salman gazed into her stunning brown eyes. He was too tired to think before speaking. “Thanks, I’ve never talked to someone like you before.”

“What do you mean? A prostitute?” Rahab replied, “It’s alright. You can say it. I don’t mind”

“Sorry. I think you do,” said Salman. “I think you do mind, or at least you used to mind. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t.”

“Maybe, a long time ago. When I was younger, it was like looking over the edge of a cliff. You know it’s dangerous but something draws you to it. And then once you’ve jumped, it’s easy. The deed is done. It can’t be undone.”

“I disagree,” replied Salman.

“What?” laughed Rahab, “you think I can be pure again? You’re more immature than I thought.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean there’s still hope.”

“Hope. I have long since forgotten the meaning of that word,” replied Rahab.

Rahab's story

“Many centuries ago, God made a covenant with our forefather Abraham,” Salman began. “He promised this land to all his descendants.”

“He takes his time,” replied Rahab.

“It gets worse - believe me,” Salman continued. “Abraham's wife Sarah was too old to have children, so he tried to fix the problem himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he slept with Sarah's handmaiden.”

“Ha! Big mistake,” laughed Rahab.

“Yes, a very big mistake. He had a son called Ishmael, whom he loved dearly but Sarah never really accepted.”

“Was he the first slave?” asked Rahab.

“No, that was much later,” Salman replied.

Their eyes connected briefly over the candle on the table, but Salman didn't look away this time. There was so much he wanted to know about her.

“So what's your story?” he asked.

“Nothing special.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Really?”'

“Yes, really,” Salman wasn't going to let her get off that easy.

“My family disowned me. No one will marry me, at least none that I trust. I was defiled as a young girl.”

“Who? Was he the one who came looking for us, the one who hit you?” Salman asked.

“Yes. But there's more,” Rahab replied. “When crops fail or enemies attack, the King sacrifices newborns on the wall.

“I’ve heard about this,” said Salman, “it’s disgusting.”

Rahab nodded. “I only held him while they cut the cord, then they took him away.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Salman sensed Rahab felt awkward as she rushed the first batch of unleavened bread into the oven. He wanted to change the subject immediately. Thankfully, Rahab beat him to it.

Rahab's heart

Rahab's habit of entertaining guests late into the night meant that the guards thought nothing of the smoke from her chimney when she began to prepare food for the spies journey home.

Phinehas stood watch by the window, looking out over the moonlit fields for sign of Giddel’s return while he repacked his leather satchel.

“Don't worry,” whispered Rahab. “He'll be gone for at least a day or two.”

“How do you know?” asked Phinehas.

“He’s as stubborn as a mule. Besides, the King doesn’t tolerate failure.”

Salman joined Rahab by the table, hastily mixing flour and water to form batch of dough.

“You seem to know a lot,” said Salman.

“That’s my business,” replied Rahab. “A shepherd knows his sheep, and I know men.”

“So why didn’t you hand us over to the guards?” asked Salman.

“You need a little more water,” answered Rahab, pointing to Salman’s batch of crumbling dough.

“I'm a Hebrew, I think I know how to make unleavened bread.”

“Doesn’t look like it. Your wife makes it for you, right?” Rahab asked.

“Nice try,” replied Salman, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

“What? So you have no wife?”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

“Ha, don’t flatter yourself,” Rahab joked, “maybe I should have handed you in.” Her smile barely covered a flashback of adolescent awkwardness. She hadn’t teased a boy she liked since she was fourteen.

“You’re avoiding the question!” said Salman.

“No I’m not.”

“So? Why did you save us?”

“Sit over here.” Rahab pulled up a chair and took Salman’s dough off him, “I'll do it.”
Salman obliged, if only because he was lost for words.

“You asked a fair question. The truth is, I knew I could save you.”

“But if the King finds out, you’ll die?” asked Salman.

“I already hate my life,” Rahab answered. “What’s there to lose?”

Salman looked at Rahab intensely. He never seen such courage, or was she just reckless?

“Anyway, enough about me. Your people left Egypt many years ago. Why has it taken so long to get here?

“Why do you want to know?” asked Phinehas, overhearing from the other room.

“If I was going to hand you over, I would have done it by now,” said Rahab.

“Maybe,” Phinehas replied.

“It's alright, we trust you,” said Salman.

“Well?” Rahab continued. “Tell me the story of your people, before they were slaves.”

“Alright, but you wont believe it.”

“Try me.”

Hiding in the hay

Salman and Phinehas were hiding on Rahab’s roof for what seemed like forever. Thankfully it was harvest time, and large bales of flax were stored on the rooftops of many homes until they dried for threshing. It was the perfect cover to hide from guards passing frequently during the night along the narrow walkway nearby.

Motionless, tired and scared out of their wits, Salman silently prayed for protection under a bale of itchy straw. Strangely, he was glad the freshly cut barley made his skin crawl, at least that way he would stay awake and alert. The last thing he wanted was to doze off and wake up with a sword at his throat - or not wake up at all.

The whole commotion at Rahab’s house earlier in the evening made the entire guard quite jittery, and many times they stood just a few yards from the spies arguing how they might have escaped.

“No one leaves the city at night,” said an older guard, “not without someone noticing. Only spies and thieves travel in the dark.”

“Maybe they bribed Adin?” the younger one replied.

“Unlikely. I heard they had magic powers to make them invisible.”

“What?”

“How do you think they escaped Pharaoh?”

“No, that was because their god sent plagues and horrible... well stuff you... wouldn’t want to happen here.”

The conversation hit a brick wall of deathly silence.

“Mmm. Nice weather.”

“Yes, it is nice.”

Neither of the guards enjoyed contemplating the Hebrew god, so they pretended to be distracted and continued walking the wall as if they never had that conversation.

An hour or so later, after the sounds of barking dogs and crying babies had long since echoed across the city, Jericho returned to its slumber. In fact, Salman and Phinehas were half asleep when they were disturbed by the sound of the wooden hatch opening next to them. They barely had time to reach for their daggers (not knowing who was coming) before they were relieved to see it was Rahab – and she was alone.

“It's safe to come down now.”

Salman sheathed his dagger and started moving towards the hatch.

“Wait,” whispered Phinehas, “how can we be sure?”

“Hasn't she done enough?” said Salman

“Listen, everyone’s afraid,” Rahab interjected, “even the King. He's heard about your victories in battle. And though he wont admit it, God has given you this land. Who else can part the Red Sea?”

“Thank you for helping us,” replied Salman, “but how can we escape?”

“Over the wall,” she answered, “but later when the guards are asleep. Come now and I'll help you get ready.”

Rahab lowered herself back down inside onto the table in the dining room. Salman looked at Phinehas, who still seemed too shocked to follow.

“What are you waiting for?”

“She’s a ... it just doesn’t add up.”

“She’s a human,” Salman replied, “nothing does.”

"I never asked for this life"

From the crack in the ceiling, Salman watched Rahab slowly rise to her feet in defiance. Who is this woman? He thought, and why does she risk her life for us? He felt humbled and ashamed as she wiped the blood from her mouth and turned to face her attacker. She’s coming back for more? Oh God! She’s pushing it too far. He’ll know.

Salman held his breath for what seemed like ages as Rahab stood there composing herself.

“I never asked for this life,” she forcefully replied, holding back her tears.

Rahab’s heart pounded visibly through her petite frame like a young deer frozen in a hunter’s sight.

Giddel stepped forward and clenched her face in his powerful hand, gazing fiercely into her eyes. The beast could not decipher such beauty.

“You'll get your reward. I’ll see to it myself.”

The soldiers stormed out of the room and down the staircase into the square.

Rahab watched from the window as Giddel marshaled his men and their horses - shouting orders left, right and centre, while cursing Adin for taking so long to open the gates. They charged out of the city down the moonlight road like a pack of ravenous wolves salivating on the scent of their prey. The gates closed behind them, and for that small mercy, Rahab was extremely grateful.

"Filthy whore"

Under the cover of darkness, Giddel silently mobilized his troops across the square to storm Rahab’s house. Two were stationed at the base of the staircase, and six on the door. Hashum provided cover with the archers on the wall, in case the spies managed to escape the ambush.

With sword drawn, Giddel thumped loudly on Rahab’s door.

“Rahab, open up.”

No answer - but patience wasn’t Giddel’s forte. He knocked again, more aggressively this time.

“Open up.”

Just as he was about to knock again, Giddel heard footsteps approaching. The door opened slowly - it was Rahab, gathering a shawl around her shoulders to shield her from the cool night air.

“What's the problem?”

“Where are the Hebrew spies?” replied Giddel.

“Spies?”

“Yes, you heard me. Don’t play games.” Giddel and his soldiers burst through the door, dropping all civility as they shoved Rahab aside.

“But there's no one here.”

“Really?”

“Look for yourself. Its just me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Giddel motioned his troops to be quiet, while he carefully inspected the room. He placed his ear up against the walls and listened for suspicious sounds.

There was nothing but silence.

Bending down onto the floor, he scanned his eyes across the room under the furniture.

Nothing.

Walking into the corridor, he cautiously entered the bedrooms and checked behind doors and under beds. He even jumped up and down in the floorboards to see if any were loose. Again, there was nothing.

The frustration finally got to him. He angrily lashed out, stabbing the beds with his sword and tearing the curtains down on top of himself - much to the surprise of the other soldiers in the house.

“Damn it.”

“Are you alright?” asked Rahab.

“The curtain rod hit me,” he replied, nursing the bruise on forehead.

At his wit’s end, and somewhat embarrassed, Giddel leaned out the window to check if they jumped. There were no signs of disturbance, either on the window frame or on the ground below.

While all this was going on, Rahab calmly played her part - not too smug to arouse suspicion, but not too annoyed to provoke Giddel’s anger. Thankfully, Giddel didn’t notice a fine piece of straw fall slowly from the ceiling and land on the floorboards. Neither did he notice Rahab casually step forward to cover the straw with her foot.

“Two Egyptians came for a drink this afternoon,” said Rahab. “Well, I thought they were Egyptians. They left before the gate closed. If you hurry, you could probably catch them before they get to the crossing.”

Rahab stared innocently at Giddel with her beautiful brown eyes.

“How unfortunate,” said Giddel in a soft mocking tone, “the King was going to reward you with his bed.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist tightly and kissed her softly. Rahab had long since felt any feelings towards him, but went through the motions while she carefully considered her answer.

“Then you must catch them,” she said abruptly, “I could do with the money”.

“Filthy whore!”

Giddel swiftly slapped her to the ground with astonishing power.

Rahab reeled with pain on the floor boards as blood trickled from her nose and lip. But it was worth it, every bit of it. He had taken the decoy.

Nowhere to run

The moment Rahab left their room, Salman and Phinehas tried to have a quiet argument. The whispers, sign language, and charades eventually made Salman burst into laughter when he finally realized how ridiculous they looked.

Phinehas slapped his hand over Salman’s mouth as he rushed to check the window. It was a long way down.

“We're in danger,” Phinehas whispered.

Salman signaled for Phinehas to let go of his mouth.
“From a whore?” he replied, “Unlikely. She thinks we’re Egyptian. She doesn't know who we are.”

Phinehas paced the floor, thinking aloud in whispers. “What if she does? She sells her body, she might decide to sell us. We’d fetch a handsome reward. Or maybe she’s been in it all along and the whole thing’s an act?”

“You really think so?”

“You're falling for her,” answered Phinehas

“No I'm not.”

“Sure you are,” Phinehas continued, leaning out the window for a better look. “Everything’s adding up.”

“Well you were never good with numbers,” joked Salman.

“Its not a game. Deception starts with denial, and ends with death.”

Salman crossed his arms and paced the floor. “Alright, suppose you’re right and I actually do think she’s pretty. So what? It doesn’t change our situation.”

Phinehas grabbed Salman’s face “You don’t get it, do you? We can't use the well, so we’re told to come here. And what better way to keep us here, than her? There's no time.”

Salman’s heart sunk. He checked the window for himself. That’s too far to jump, he thought, the fall would kill us, or worse - break our legs and alert the guards. We’d be captured, tortured, and jeopardize the entire invasion.

“We're gonna to have to risk it,” Phinehas muttered as he gathered his belongings.

“Wait a minute,” Salman interrupted, “I hear what you’re saying, but I still think she's harmless. Now the man they let in after dark, he’s got me worried. He looks familiar. Remember that arms merchant a few months ago?”

“The one who said he was from Damascus?” replied Phinehas.

“Yes. He asked for a copy of the Ten Commandments, but I thought nothing of it at the time.”

Phinehas stopped pacing the floor and froze. “How could I forget? We were followed.”

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.