Free This Scarlet Cord by Joan Wolf

looking back.
    The charioteer turned to the man who was riding behind him and said something. The man nodded, jumped out of the moving chariot, and waited by the side of the road next to one of the soldiers.
    “Who was that ?” Atene asked her father-in-law.
    “That is Prince Tamur, the king’s eldest son. I have heard talk that he wants his father to turn the kingship over to him, that he thinks Makamaron is too old and feeble to answer for the welfare of the city.” Mepu snorted. “These young men who cannot wait to take their turn at power!”
    “How old is Makamaron, Father?” Shemu asked, a teasing note in his voice. “Your age, I should think.”
    At this point the second chariot came into sight. The purple cloak of the occupant and the gold filet that circled his bald head clearly announced that here was the king.
    There was no loud cheering, as there had been for his son. Instead people bowed their heads in silent respect as his chariot passed by. The two horses pulling it were not prancing and fighting to move faster; their pace was slow and, to Rahab, they almost looked bored as they passed with listless dignity.
    The king himself was a disappointment. He looks older than Papa. And his belly is as big as a woman’s when she is nine months gone with child . Rahab looked closer. He’s sweating like a pig . She remembered the elegant picture on the stone in the palace courtyard. How could anyone think this king is at all like Baal? After the king passed by, the soldiers fell in behind him and people began to surge back into the street. Kata said in her gentle way, “I am thirsty, my husband. Is there any place where we might get some water?”
    The man who had been standing next to them during the procession turned toward them and spoke to Mepu. “There is a shop on the next street where you can get wine, fruit juice, and honey cakes. It’s called the Sign of the Olive.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Mepu said.
    Rahab saw the man’s eyes move to her.
    “Your daughter?”
    “Yes,” her father replied, his pleasant tone surprising Rahab. Usually her father scowled at men who noticed her. Perhaps this man’s fine tunic and expensive sandals made the difference. Then her father added, “We have come into the city from the countryside for a visit.”
    The man’s eyes raked Rahab from her head to her toes. She felt herself flushing and she moved a little so that she was partially concealed by Shemu.
    “You must have just arrived,” the rude stranger said to Mepu. “Your daughter would not have gone unnoticed if you had been here for any length of time.”
    Rahab stared in astonishment as her father actually smiled. “I wanted to show my daughter the wonders of our city.”
    The man’s mouth quirked knowingly. “And no doubt you wished to show the city the wonders of your daughter.”
    Her father shrugged. “As you say, my lord. She has lived all her life on our farm, and now that she is of marriageable age, I thought it was time we made a trip into Jericho.”
    “A wise decision,” the man said. “And you are?”
    At this point a young man came up to their small group and said to the rude man with whom her father was being so surprisingly forthcoming, “That is a good question, Lord Hasis. I, too, would like to know who this lovely young woman is.”
    Rahab felt Shemu put a reassuring hand on her arm, and she flashed him a quick look of gratitude.
    The rude man didn’t look at all pleased to see the newcomer. He said, “Farut. I saw you jump out of the prince’s chariot.”
    The young man turned his back on Lord Hasis and addressed himself to Mepu. “I am Farut, friend of Prince Tamur. The prince saw your beautiful daughter from his chariot and would like to meet her.”
    Rahab felt as if someone had just punched her in the stomach. The prince! What could someone like the prince want with me?
    For the first time her father looked uneasy. “We are farming folk, my lord, from the village of