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

“Forget it. Just come inside.” She gripped Rahab’s wrist to tug her forward, but Rahab gently broke her hold.
    “I can’t. Gamal will surely be up by now, and he will wonder where I am.”
    Cala shook her head. “No he won’t.” She looked beyond Rahab toward the street.
    “Why not?” She followed Cala’s gaze. “Are you expecting someone?”
    Cala reached for her wrist again, her grip firmer this time. The look in her eyes sent a shiver through Rahab. “What happened?”
    “You need to come in and sit down.”
    Rahab numbly obeyed. The walk to Tendaji’s house had taken longer than she thought, but the sun was not even halfway to the midpoint yet. She could not have been gone long. What could have possibly happened in such a short time?
    She walked with Cala into the sitting room, and Cala shut the door. “You’ll be safe here.”
    “Safe?” Fear shot through her. “What are you talking about?”
    Cala motioned to a pair of cushions and took a seat beside her. She clasped Rahab’s hand in her own. “Tzadok heard what you said.”
    Rahab frowned. “I told you that you could tell him. So?”
    Cala looked briefly away. “So I told him . . . and it made him so angry I thought he would burst something inside of him.” She released Rahab’s hand and tucked a strand of light brown hair behind one ear. “You know Tzadok hates Gamal, but worse, he likes Tendaji. He just kept pacing and saying Gamal’s actions were unconscionable.”
    “They are,” Rahab whispered, the memories of Tendaji’s home singeing her conscience.
    “Tzadok is a man of action. You know this.” Cala looked away as though the truth about her husband shamed her. “I asked him what we should do, thinking he could go privately to the authorities. But Tzadok, he . . .”
    “He what? Just tell me, Cala.” Rahab felt her fear and impatience rising with each beat of her heart.
    “He went immediately to the authorities, telling some of his friends along the way. By the time he got to see the magistrate, a large crowd was with him. The chief financier, Dabir, listened to Tzadok, and, well . . .” She glanced toward the door. “He just left here a few minutes ago after coming to warn me. The king’s guards are at your house now, apprehending Gamal.”
    Rahab touched her trembling lips. Her mind whirled with images of her husband weeping before the prince, of Dabir’s scowl as he watched. They would not have mercy on him a second time.
    “I must go to him.” She slowly rose, holding her sister’s gaze.
    “You can’t. Please, Rahab.” She put a hand to her back and pushed up from the cushion. “If they punish Gamal, they could come for you too. Tzadok will tell us what happens. Please, wait with me.” Her pleading tone made Rahab waver.
    “I shouldn’t have told you.” She looked at Cala’s stricken face. “Why didn’t Tzadok work this out quietly?”
    “He told me it would not have mattered. Once he told Dabir, the thing Gamal has done would not remain quiet. You know this. He sees the way Gamal treats you, Rahab. Tzadok is not without feeling. He is doing this to protect you.”
    “He can’t protect me, Cala. Dabir knows where we live, where you live. He knows everything about this kingdom. And if he knows, the prince does too.” Memories of the night Dabir had wooed her filled her mind. The familiar guilt quickened her heart, but in the next moment a thought kindled. Perhaps Dabir could be convinced to release Tendaji and Gamal . . . if she gave him something of value in return.
    “I have to go. There may be something I can do.” She released a shaky breath, knowing full well that she was walking toward all that she despised.
    Cala gripped her arm once more, clinging to her. “Please, listen to me, Rahab. Nothing good will come of you going.”
    “I have to know. I have to see for myself.” She paused, meeting Cala’s gaze. “If you would support me, come with me. Together we will be