Free This Scarlet Cord by Joan Wolf Page B

product you will supply. I can provide the caravans to move the food from Jericho to Gaza so you need not concern yourself with that expense.”
    Sala remained silent as the bargaining went on, but inside he was growing more and more angry. These rich scoundrels were planning to sell the harvest right out from under the people of the city! They would pay their usual amount to the farmers and then turn around and sell the fruit of Jericho’s farms for more than twice the price to his father.
    Sala held his tongue, but when the discussion appeared to be winding down, he could not resist. Leaning forward, he said, “Excuse me, my lords, but what will you do if you sell the early harvest and end up with not enough food to feed your own city?”
    Three pairs of dark eyes stared at him with veiled hostility.
    “We will take care of our own people, you can be sure of that,” the high priest said stiffly.
    Hah , Sala thought. You will take care of yourselves, you mean .
    His father reached over and touched Sala’s arm lightly. He said to the others, “I think we will be able to do business.”
    The three Jericho nobles relaxed.
    “I just have one more concern,” Nahshon said.
    “And what might that be?” Edri asked genially, certain he had gotten what he wanted.
    “I am a little worried about the stability of your government. I have been hearing rumors that there is a movement to dethrone the king and put his son into his place. Is there any truth to this gossip?”
    Lord Arazu flushed red all the way up to his bald head. “It is true there is a group of troublemakers trying to stir up dissent, but Makamaron has ruled successfully for thirty years now. He has the admiration and respect of the citizens of Jericho. This upstart son of his will be king when his father dies, and not one day before.”
    “I am glad to hear that,” Sala’s father said. “With the advance of those Israelites who escaped from Egypt, a divided government in Jericho could lay you open to an attack. They are close enough to be a concern—just across the Jordan, or so I have heard.”
    The treasurer, a skinny man with a long thin nose, gave a short laugh. “Have you seen our walls, sir? And the spring that lies within them? We can hold out against a siege for years. I would not worry about Jericho falling to any enemy.”
    “A siege would destroy your commerce, though,” Sala pointed out.
    Arazu glared. “There will be no siege. That ragtag crowd cannot come against well-armed troops, such as we have in Jericho. Put that thought out of your mind, sir. It will not happen.”
    Sala looked at his father, who said mildly, “I am glad to hear that.”
    After a little more discussion, and a plan for them to meet again to discuss amounts, Sala and Nahshon made their way out of the impressive house that was at least three times as large as theirs and walked in silence to the gate that would admit them back into the Lower City.

    The three Jericho nobles who were left alone immediately broke into discussion.
    “So visitors who have been in the city only a few days have already heard of the discord between Makamaron and Tamur,” Arazu said.
    “Do we know who is spreading this nonsense?” Edri wanted to know.
    The high priest gave the treasurer an impatient look. “The prince himself, of course. And that group of malcontents who hang around him.”
    Edri steepled his hands and looked grave. “I was there when the king and the prince drove down the main street today. The crowd cheered Tamur as if he were some great military hero.”
    Arazu let out a long frustrated breath and the three of them sat for a while in silence. The servant came in with the wine jug but Arazu waved him away. Finally he said, “If Tamur succeeds in deposing Makamaron, then we are done. The prince will appoint the members of his own circle to take our places.”
    Edri, the treasurer, slammed his hand down on the wicker arm of his chair. “There must be something we can do