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

safe.”
    “We will be safer in the house.”
    “No place is truly safe.” She held out a hand. “Come. Let us see what is to become of my husband.”

    Dabir stood near Prince Nahid’s cushioned chair while the prince paced the length of the antechamber outside of the audience chamber in the Hall of Justice. That the prince was angry and irritated worked well with Dabir’s goals, but he did not tell him so. Time enough to unveil his plans. Now was the time to appease and to convince the prince to undo the mercy he had shown Gamal last week. What a travesty that had been!
    Dabir clenched his hands into fists behind his back, telling himself at the same time to calm. One wrong word could tip the prince’s decision in the wrong direction, costing more loss to the throne and, most importantly, costing him more than his weight in fine gold.
    “The crowds are growing restless, my prince. Shall I bring in the ungrateful wretch?” Dabir unclasped his hands, crossing them instead over his chest in a relaxed pose. He hid a smile when Nahid slowed his pacing and collapsed into his chair.
    “I canceled his debt, Dabir. I showed Gamal more mercy than any man in this kingdom, and he repays me by throwing another man in prison for a much smaller sum? How could he do this to me? He’s made me look like a fool.”
    “Nay, not at all, my prince. Gamal’s actions only make him look foolish and worthless, not you. If you hang the man and release the prisoner, you will be a hero to your people.” And grow richer taking all that belonged to Gamalin the process. But Nahid would care more about his image than his coffers.
    “I cannot hang Gamal.” He stood again, walked to a window, and pushed the curtain aside to peer into the outer court. “The crowd keeps growing. I have to do something or we will have a riot to contend with.”
    Dabir moved a step closer to the prince, still keeping a distance. “Then you must do something to appease them. If you will not hang Gamal, then send him to the torturers until he pays the last amount.” Nahid did not answer, but Dabir recognized this as his way of thinking, of deciding his best course of action. “Assyria is said to have perfected the art of torture.”
    “I cannot send him to such torturers.” The prince turned on him. “The man saved my life!”
    “Then sell him to the wealthy merchants of Syria who frequent our town. You would never have to see him again, and they would pay a high price for one so large and young.”
    “Gamal limps in pain. What good would he be to them?”
    “I believe, my lord, that Gamal does not hurt nearly as much as he claims.”
    The prince held his gaze, assessing. “You think he lied to me?”
    “Without doubt, my lord.”
    The prince turned to gaze again at the crowd. “I will sell him at auction to the highest bidder. What the Syrians do with him is of no concern to me.”
    Dabir nodded. “A wise choice, my lord.” He paused for effect. “Might I add that you should consider that to gain the full benefit from the man, you must sell his wife and all that he has, as you would have done if you had not canceled his debt.”
    The prince let the curtain fall closed and slowly turned to face Dabir. He stroked a hand over his clean-shaven chin. “You are right as usual, Dabir.” He straightened his back and walked with purposeful strides to the door of the audience chamber.
    Dabir stepped forward. “My lord, if I may.” He waited as the prince turned.
    “What is it?” He looked slightly irritated, but not impatient.
    “I would like to buy Gamal’s wife.”
    Nahid lifted a brow but said nothing.
    “She and I . . . that is, I will be glad to pay her part to cover Gamal’s expenses, if she is willing to please me.”
    Nahid courted a slow smile. “I underestimated you, Dabir. I would have not thought you capable of such . . . delightful unfaithfulness.”
    Dabir took a step back and touched his temple. “I would not have thought so