The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story by Jill Eileen Smith Page B

against him, given the chance. If she had the prince’s ear . . . he would have to tread lightly and appease her, slave or not. He needed her to play her part well. Threats alone would not garner her favor. He must sweeten his coffers with honeyed words if he were to add gold to them as well.
    “However,” the prince said, interrupting his thoughts,“I want her exclusively for a month.” He held Dabir’s gaze without flinching. Dabir would get nowhere if he attempted to argue against him.
    “Your presence will make her all the more appealing, my lord.” Dabir smiled.
    “I thought you’d see it that way.” The prince accepted another goblet of wine from a passing servant. “I assume you have her well protected.”
    Dabir fingered a date pastry but did not eat it. “I have given it consideration.”
    “Have you someone in mind?”
    Dabir shook his head. “I thought to use one of the eunuchs I employ, but none are impressive enough to attack a would-be nemesis. There is the man her husband accused who started this whole mess.”
    “The Nubian?”
    “The same.” He’d forgotten the man’s name, but it would take little trouble to discover it.
    Prince Nahid’s brows drew close in a frown. “I don’t like Nubians, Dabir.” He touched the place where his beard hid the scar that had nearly ended his life in Jericho’s last war, fought against Canaanite rivals and mercenary Nubians.
    “I realize that, my lord, but from what Rahab has told me, this one fought on our side. He was Gamal’s friend.”
    “Gamal had a strange way of treating his friends. ” The prince stood then, and Dabir rose with him.
    “Shall I pursue the Nubian then, my lord? He seemed strong enough, and at least his kind would have little interest in Rahab.”
    “He could not afford her.” The prince laughed, a derisive sound. There was definitely no love in the man’s heart for the darker race.
    “All the more reason he could be a good protector. And he knows where he could end up if he crosses us.” Dabir waited the space of many heartbeats and watched as conflicting emotions crossed the prince’s face.
    At last he nodded. “All right, Dabir. Do as you wish.”
    Dabir bowed his thanks.
    Prince Nahid strode away without acknowledgment.

10
    T endaji hefted his irrigation sickle and hoe over his shoulder and strode through Jericho’s gates with the rest of the field workers. Some of the men around him whistled as they walked, no doubt thinking ahead to a good meal prepared by a wife, surrounded by children. Others, he knew, sang or whistled in anticipation of the drink that would drown their sorrows for another day.
    Tendaji kept to himself, hanging back from the crowd as they allowed the king’s guards to inspect their seed baskets. Fear hung in the city’s air, hovering just above the songs of the men. And the guards’ nerves were heightened. Tendaji read it in their hardened faces beneath heavy leather helmets.
    “Any news of the Israelites?” Tendaji asked as the guard sifted through his limp goatskin sack that had carried almonds and cheese for his midday meal.
    The guard sized Tendaji up, then shrugged. “Nothing notable to report. The last merchants that came through here said the Israelites had moved their camp closer to the Jordan.They’ll never get across during flood season, but come the heat of summer, we could see some action against them.” The guard waved Tendaji through with a nod. “They won’t get through these walls, though.” He laughed, but Tendaji sensed the bravery was forced.
    He continued into the city, walked past the closed-up merchant stalls, and passed several more blocks until he turned to the poor section and his crumbling home. He entered the courtyard and lit the lamp from the torch that burned continually near his gate. The house was cold and dark, and the heaviness he always carried with him when he returned here hit him like a fresh, overpowering wave. His mother was gone, and he