In the Promised Land

Chapter I

The feast in the palace was over. Zodan the King, with his guest the King of Ai, had come forth from the banqueting room to breathe the cool night air, and to listen to the music of chosen minstrels beneath the shadow of the arcade that ran round the open court where the fountain splashed and sparkled. The night was very still, and the songs of the minstrels were sweet and dreamy. Fragrant odours of orange-trees, citrons, and oleanders, were wafted inwards from the southern side of the court, where between alabaster pillars supporting the palace roof, glimpses could be seen of the more distant Royal garden, all white and silent in the moonlight. The foremost of the dancing girls sat beside the fountain in the centre of the court, and the five damsels who were with her had grouped themselves around her.

They were bidden to await their sovereign's pleasure, and as they thus sat in idleness, more than one of them glanced with some interest towards the spot where the two Kings reclined. Rich B rugs of varied colours had been spread there upon the ground, and the elaborate tracery which adorned the palace wall behind, was half hidden and half revealed by the cunning drapery of silken hangings. Attend ants, light of foot, and quick to divine unspoken wishes, passed to and fro, while the great lords of Zodan's household stood around with the followers of the King of Ai, or were seated by their master's command at a befitting distance. Between the waiting dancers and these mighty ones of the earth lay a broad expanse of marble pavement, whereon the moonbeams, penetrating a screen of lattice-work, had wrought fantastic patterns.

The waters of the foun tain were cool and clear, and soon the leader of the little band of dancers turned her eyes towards the shower of crystal drops which fell with a gentle and ceaseless murmur. Almost as if she had forgotten the purpose for which she had come there, she looked thoughtfully downward into the water at the trembling reflection of a brilliant star shining high above her in the far-off blue of heaven. Presently the minstrels ceased their singing, and after an interval of silence, word was given out by the King's desire, " Let the damsels from the city stand forth to dance ! " So the girl, rousing herself from her meditations, rose up with her companions to fulfil this command, and all six stepped out into the moonlight, and made obeisance before Zodan. Their limbs were veiled in transparent folds of a yellow fabric, light as gossamer and their hair was wreathed with the scarlet flowers ■of the pomegranate.

Throughout the land it was counted that for the like of them there could be no such thing as shame, and they had long since learnt to regard but little that which to any other woman would have been an abomination. The musicians took their instruments, and the dance began. To the damsel who led the dancers the sense of joyous movement in harmony with sweet cadences had always for its own sake been a sur passing delight, and she would often become so engrossed by the pleasure of it as to grow heedless of the presence of onlookers. Even on this night, though it was at the wiU of two sovereigns that she was present, the music, the moonlight, and the breath of the evening air soon lured her into forget fulness of everything except the fascination of her art. It was only when the other damsels had, one by one, according to their custom, withdrawn into the background and left her to conclude the dance alone, that for the second time since she entered the court of the palace she looked towards Zodan and his companions.

And there, at her sovereign's right hand, she beheld the face of Ishtar, the man she least thought to see. So he had come back at last, in health and high honour, and the ears of Baal were closed against all her prayers ! In the long months of the year which had elapsed since the King despatched him on a distant mission, there had been found no weapon point keen enough to reach his heart, no plague or pestdence to lay him low. It seemed as though the b gods had combined to keep him under the shadow of their protection, and to bring him safe through countless perils and many wanderings in a far country. The cry of surprise and of bitter disappointment which had well-nigh escaped her lips at sight of him had need to be suppressed. In such a place as that there could be no open sign of recognition between herself and him.

But the anger which blazed up in her heart seemed to set her blood on fire, and it found for itself an expression, though a poor one, in the mazes of the dance. She could not have sat stdl and held her peace. The rapid motion alone gave her sufficient mastery over herself to keep her silent tdl her task was done, when with burning cheeks, amidst an outburst of applause, she dropped panting upon her knee at the feet of her King. Zodan inclined his head graciously towards her. Every one present knew how high she stood already in the Royal favour, and it was plain to all that her star was still in the ascendant. " Excellent as ever, Rahab ! " said the King ; and then turning to his guest, he asked him : " Can any of thy dancers equal this in Ai ? " " Not one," replied the King of Ai readily. " The damsel is very fair, and in her art she hath attained perfection."

And therewith, amidst many further words of commendation, he bestowed upon her a purse of gold. At the same moment Zodan threw around her neck a golden chain of fine workmanship. " See to it that thou art here again to-morrow at the self-same hour," he said. The lords of the two Royal households were not slow to add their praises and their gifts to those of their masters. It was with the echo of their flatteries stdl sounding in her ears that the girl was at length permitted to withdraw from the King's presence, and to take her way homeward. The other damsels had already left, and at first she walked quickly, in the expectation of overtaking them. But ere she had traversed half the length of the palace garden, a hasty footstep came up from behind, and the voice of Ishtar made her pause and tremble.

" Greeting, Rahab ! " he said. " Thou seest I have come back. I would fain hear thee say that I am not forgotten." "Forgotten ? Not for an hour !" she made answer. "Whatsoever else may be blotted out from my re collection, the memory of Ishtar must evermore abide." " That is kindly said," he replied. " Rest assured that remembrance hath not failed on my side either. I rejoice to see that thou hast prospered since I went away." " I have but followed in the path where thou didst set my feet," she said. " What wonder that it leadeth me lower and lower ? " "Higher and higher, methinks, were a more fitting term," he answered, with a sound of laughter. " It hath been told me that all this city hath run mad because of thee, and that gold is poured out into thy lap like water. Even now thou wearest the King's chain about thy neck."

" And everything that hath befallen me — all the mingled splendour and bitterness — I owe to thee, Ishtar," she said. " In thy estimation, perchance, the cost which I have paid for the attainment of these things is a light one. It is only that, as thou knowest, my father laid his curse upon me, and to this day my mother passeth me by as though I were a stranger." " Therein they do but testify theh own foolish ness," he answered. " Had they chosen to act otherwise, they might have shared in thy prosperity. Thou hast naught to regret in being rid of them." " So it may seem unto thee," she replied, " there are many moments when I think otherwise." " Thou art greatly changed," he said ; " not in thy face, but in thy disposition." " I have had time to think since last I saw thee," she answered, " and I know thee now for the enemy of my peace of mind."

" Then thy remembrance of me is no longer that of love ? " he asked. "There was never any love at all," she said vehemently. "There was nothing but the folly of ignorance and vanity on the one side, and the selfish ness which knoweth no mercy upon the other. Oh, I have prayed that some misfortune might befall thee, Ishtar ! I have laid gifts before the altars of Baal and Ashtoreth in the hope that they would suffer thee to fall into the hands of thine enemies. But the gods have grown deaf, or they will not listen." " Thou speakest way wardly," he answered, " but I will not suffer thee to provoke me. The time may come when thou wilt be glad to show me greater courtesy. At present thou standest upon the highest point of thy fame, such as it is, but triumphs like thine do not last for ever. When Zodan and the princes of his house have grown weary of thee, per chance thou wilt find it to thine advantage to spare a word of graciousness to a friend of former days."

" Never," she answered. " There shall no word pass from me to thee, save such as is not wanting in honesty. My heart is so full of bitterness against thee, that I will neither strive to conceal it nor to lessen it. If it be thy purpose to remain in this city, I pray thee do not seek me out again." " Of a surety I shall remain," he said. " The King hath but newly appointed me to a post in his own household. As for the rest, thy welcome is not so warm that I must needs be in haste to force myself upon thy company. Yet if it be the will of the gods that we meet, neither thy wish nor mine can serve to keep us apart." With that he saluted her by a ceremonious inclination, and turning about, he went back to the palace by the same way that he had come. She, returning slowly to the dwelling which was built upon the city wall, and where she lived alone, mused over her unexpected meeting with him, and upon some of the things which he had said.

The thought of them was still in her mind when she had washed away the paint that was upon her eyelids, and when she sat down to rest in her chamber with the two Kings' gifts upon her knee. The precious links of Zodan's chain were the outward symbols of her success, but she knew that Ishtar spoke truly in saying that such conquests are not abiding. She had had plenty of opportunities of discovering, as she watched the career of others, that the favour of the great is full of caprice ; she was aware, also, that the beauty which for a season has power to sway the hearts of men, may perish in a day ere the sun be set. In her heart Rahab now felt that she cared but very little how soon her downfall might come about. She had grown tired of the praises and rewards which were so lavishly given her, and had become wearied with the glitter that was naught but tinsel, and the laughter that was only feigned.

Amidst the excitement of her life a profound sadness at times gained possession of her, and she was tormented by an always increasing discontent. In former days she had had dreams of better things, and had felt a strong desire for knowledge and instruction. She would have liked to learn something of the mysteries wherewith our daily life is surrounded, and had been accustomed to listen to the talk of some who had pondered deeply upon the countless wonders of nature. But misguided ambition and the desire to reach some sphere in which her beauty and her talent might find room to shine had, with the aid of Ishtar, led her into swamps and quagmires ; now, even though she wished it, she knew not how to go back. Instead of sitting as a disciple at the feet of some learned priest that her ignorance might be illumined by bright rays from a store of wisdom, she found that she had drifted into the companionship of fools and triflers.

It humiliated her to know that though idolised while the fashion of the moment lasted, she would presently be disregarded and forgotten. In the city of Jericho there were women who envied her, and others who, like the members of her own family, held aloof from her, but perhaps amongst them all there were none who guessed that the dancer, so highly honoured by the King and his courtiers, would gladly have changed places with any one of themselves. That night, lying upon her bed, Rahab dreamt a dream. She fancied that she was wandering alone across one of the waste places of the earth, where sharp stones and rocks cut her feet at each step for ward, and where noisome reptiles crawled forth from secret haunts. Black darkness was all around and above her — a darkness that could almost be felt, and which enshrouded her as with the weight of a pall.

Suddenly, from the midst of this utter blackness there shone forth a pale aud trembling ray of light ; it was very faint at first, and scarcely more than a feeble glimmer. But Rahab followed the light, stumbling often as she did so, yet heedless of her own weariness, and of her bruised and bleeding feet. And as she followed, the ray which guided her onward grew steadier and clearer, until presently it became a broad white radiance. It led her away from the valley where she had wandered, and upward unto heights where the ground was soft with moss and flowers, and where the winds of heaven blew freshly upon her brow. A new sense of security entered into her soul, and she was content to walk unquestioning and untroubled. But in a moment this guiding light changed, and became a blood-red glow, now shooting upward into tongues of fierce forked flames, or anon sending forth showers of crimson sparks.

Yet some impulse in Rahab that was stronger than her will, forced her to follow it unhesitatingly still ; and as it drew her on, far from those happy heights where the flowers bloomed and the soft, mossy carpet was spread, she struggled still over crags and boulders, and amidst the countless difficulties of trackless hills. Then, at length, the red light stood still, and she, pausing likewise, perceived that it had brought her to the edge of a precipice. Below lay the depths of a fathomless abyss, and as she, shuddering, strove vainly to draw back, the lurid light began slowly to sink down into the bottomless gulf beneath. Downward and always downward it sank, while the unknown influence which had prompted her to follow it till now, urged her to fling herself from the giddy height where she stood, and thus to follow it still.

She struggled with passion ate efforts to withstand it, but, as the crimson flame descended further and further yet, the impulse within her grew still more forcible. And whether in the end she resisted it, or whether it overpowered her, she n ever knew, for with a cry she woke. The influence of this dream was strong upon her when she rose, and through all the day she could not shake it off. The scene had been so real, and the struggle upon the brink of the gulf so agonising, that it appeared to her that this vision ought not to be classed with the ordinary fancies of sleep. Another woman might have considered that the excitement of her interview with Ishtar, and the serious thoughts to which that interview had given rise, afforded quite sufficient explanation of any mental disturbance in her dreams.

But Rahab was of an emotional nature, and had a firm belief in the close intermingling of the natural and the supernatural. In the age in which she lived, when the powers of witchcraft and magic were never doubted, the readiness to accept manifes tations of signs and wonders was by no means regarded as evidence of intellectual weakness. It was, therefore, in no way extraordinary that Rahab, after vainly endeavouring to find out for herself the meaning of the dream which had agitated her, resolved to seek its interpretation at the hands of a priest of Baal. When the heat of the day was over, she went forth to the sacred grove which surrounded the chief of Jericho's rich temples. It was not very often that she sought the grateful shade of those cool, dim thickets, which seemed so far removed from the turmoil of the daily life outside, and where majestic cedars, dwarf oaks, and sombre olive-trees combined to form a shelter from the glare of the Eastern sun.

The place was quiet and solitary ; complete silence reigned all around. It was difficult to realise that these dark recesses of luxuriant verdure lay really in the heart of a great and stirring city. Rahab approached the temple, but she did not enter. Turning somewhat to the right as she drew near the principal entrance, she wandered for a little while among the depths of the sacred grove, and pre sently, sitting upon the ground, she beheld an aged priest engaged in silent contemplation beside a graven image of his god. Rahab seated herself at a little distance from him, but she did not venture to inter rupt his meditations. While waiting for him to take notice of her presence, she could not help speculating somewhat curiously as to the nature of his reflections. Was he absorbed entirely in the cultivation of his spiritual gifts, she wondered, or did any share of regret for the wickedness and sorrow of the world mingle with and mar the beatitude of his holy calm ?

She would have liked to be able to read his thoughts, nnd to possess the capacity of understanding them when she had done so. She must have sat there for fully an hour before the old priest spoke or stirred. At last, slowly turn ing his head in her direction, he motioned with his hand to her to approach. He looked at her with eyes that seemed either too weak or too weary to notice much. " My daughter," he said, " why seekest thou me?" Rahab prostrated herself before the image of Baal, with all the prescribed forms of reverence held necessary to be observed ; then, rising, she replied to the priest's question. "Sir," she said, "I have come to ask the interpre tation of a dream." The old man signed to her to sit beside him. " What is thy dream ? " he asked. And Rahab told it to him from beginning to end.

When she had finished, he was silent for a little while, apparently musing over what she had said. " My child," he answered, at length, " the inter pretation which thou seekest is neither hard nor obscure. Thou hast been vouchsafed a foreshadowing of thine own future. At the present time thy spirit dwelleth in a region of solitude and misery. How or wherefore this should be thou knowest thyself, though I do not. For thou art a stranger to me, and I am ignorant of all concerning thee. Nevertheless, as I have said, so it is." Rahab bowed her head in assent. " It is true," she answered. " Into thy life," continued the priest, " there will come an influence which shall raise thee and help thee towards the attainment of a better nature and a higher spiritual standing. Thou shalt be lifted up, and shalt be cleansed from the imperfections with which thou art burdened now.

But this new force which thus entereth into thy being, and which is destined to be thy chief blessing, shall suddenly be transformed into thy greatest curse. It will lead thee to the brink of everlasting destruction." " And shall I escape therefrom ? " she asked. " Thy dream hath not told thee ; neither can I," he replied. Rahab sat still, thinking. ""What is this influence?" she inquhed presently. " I cannot tell with any certainty," he said ; " it may perchance be the decree of fate — the effect which the turn of circumstance may produce upon thy mind. Or it may be some other thing more personal to thyself." " I do not understand," she answered. "The power of love is one that hath great in fluence for good or for evil upon the life of a woman," he said. Rahab did not reply. She knew that as yet she had met no one whom she had really loved.

The complete surrender of all her heart — the sense that no thought, no hope, no pleasure could be perfect unless shared by him to whom that heart was given — this, she had heard, was the happy experience of some women, but it had certainly never been her own. The priest lifted her hand, and held it open, palm upwards, before him. He bent over it, striving iu the obscure light of that shadowy place to decipher the course of the lines which marked the smooth, soft skin. " There is written here," he said, " a great love which shall be transformed into as great a hate. And the twain are so entwined together, so blended, as it were, until the one becometh a part of the other, that I cannot separate them. Nevertheless, the two are there, and they shall bring thee to the edge of that abyss of wickedness whose depths thou sawest in thy dream."

Rahab drew back her hand, and shivered. She was not often timorous, but the old man's words had startled her. " Pray thou to Baal and Ashtoreth," he continued solemnly, "that when that hour cometh, they will give thee grace to withstand the evil that lieth within thine own heart." " Wilt thou not pray for this, likewise ? " she a,sked him. "Alas! my daughter," he answered, "it is not that which will avail thee. In the time of temptation look not for help to the prayers of others. Put thy faith in the gods, and fight thine own battle unto the end."

Chapter II

Neaelt three weeks had elapsed since Rahab's meeting with Ishtar in the palace garden, and during that interval they had again met more than once. While Ishtar occupied his present position in the Royal household, and while Rahab's proficiency in dancing brought her continually into the King's presence, it was unavoidable that they should thus be thrown together. But Rahab did not alter her attitude of hostDity towards him, and he, on his side, made no further effort to regain her good will. One evening, when sitting alone in her dwelling, she was startled by a sudden knocking at the door. Going out to see what visitor might desire admittance at an hour like this, when no guests were expected, she found herself face to face with two strangers. Both of them were dusty and travel-stained, and both, as she perceived at the first glance, were persons of a superior standing.

While she was looking at them in great surprise, being inclined to think that they had made some mistake in coming there, the elder of the two, a man some five-and-forty years of age, addressed her with great courtesy. " Pardon our boldness in thus venturing to sum mon thee," he said, " but we are strangers from afar, and crave shelter for the niarht." "And who hath bidden you ask shelter of me?" she asked. " No one," he answered, " and if in so doing we offend thee, forgive our ignorance. We did but knock here because the whole city is new to us, and thine was the first dwelling wherein we descried a light." Rahab looked from the speaker to his companion. This latter was considerably the younger, and pos sessed a comely countenance and the unmistakable bearing of a soldier. "We are willing to pay for such hospitality as thou canst show us," he said.

Rahab was satisfied with her brief examination of them. She opened her door wider, and motioned to them to go in. " Enter, sirs," she said ; " ye are welcome as my guests, and payment is not needed." So saying, she conducted them into a chamber upon the ground floor, and at once busied herself in setting before them such provisions as she had ready at hand. The stranger who had first addressed her looked around him in evident surprise at the richness of the hangings upon the walls, and the various objects for use and ornament which the chamber contained. His friend, on the contrary, took but little apparent heed of these things, and contented himself with looking at Rahab. " Is it your purpose to sojourn long in Jericho ? " c she asked them, after some time, when they had rested and had partaken of the meal she had spread out.

" Only to ensure the accomplishment of the business that hath brought us," said the elder. " Meanwhile, receive our thanks for this unlooked-for hospitality. Food and rest are both welcome when a man is footsore and weary." " Tarry, and I will bring you some more wine," she said, and going out into another room, she drew forth from a store which she kept there, a small skin containing a similar quality of vintage to that which was often served at Zodan's table. But while she was returning to them with the wine in her hands, it happened that she glanced carelessly outward through the lattice of a window, and at the upper end of a street where two ways met, she perceived a company of the King's guards. In an instant, quick as a lightning-flash, she understood the truth. She had dwelt too long in the vicinity of the Court, and had held too much converse with the captains of Zodan's body-guard, to remain ignorant concerning the nation whom the King of Jericho feared.

Week by week, and day by day, word had been brought in from the districts beyond the Jordan, that the Children of Israel were advancing towards the land of Canaan, and that the God whose Ark of the Covenant they bore with them in their wanderings, had surely declared that the kingdom should be given them for an inheritance. Doubt and anxiety had long prevailed in the heart of the ruler of Jericho, more especially when the fate of two Kings of the Amorites had become known to him; and amongst his bravest captains and most skilful men of war there was a strong conviction that the time was not far distant when their valour and devotion would be put to the proof. This spirit of appre hension had spread insensibly downwards from the palace to the market-place, and its influence had been felt amongst all ranks of the people.

If any of the Chddren of Israel were rash enough to trust themselves within the walls of Jericho at such a time as this, there was little probability of their being suffered to go forth again alive, when once their presence should be discovered. Conscious that moments were of value if these men who had sought her hospitality were to be preserved from a horrible death, Rahab ran hastily into the chamber where she had left them. "Sirs," she exclaimed, "the King's soldiers are without, and they advance towards this dwelling. You yourselves best know whether they have any cause to search for you." The elder of the strangers started up, his hand upon the hilt of his javelin, and the younger sprang to his feet with an unspoken thought so clearly written in his face, that Rahab could not choose but answer it.

" Not by treachery of mine ! " she cried. " Before all the gods of Canaan I swear that I have not played you false ! " " Far be it from me to accuse thee unjustly," he said ; " the day's chance hath gone against us, that is ill. Joahaz, we must fight." c " How can ye fight, two against fifty ? " exclaimed Rahab. " I will not have you slain upon the floor of this chamber that your blood may be on my head for ever. Come with me while there is yet time, and I will strive to find for you some place of concealment." But even whde she said this, she pressed her hand upon her brow, half-distraught by perplexity. Her house was small, and in all its rooms there was no lurking-place where any man might hope to evade the eyes of those who came to search. She stood in sdence, and the two strangers, noting her hesitation, glanced first at one another and then at her.

She felt that they misdoubted her good faith, and that at all costs it behoved her to save them, if only to clear herself in their eyes from the suspicion of foul play. Her pride was roused, and for her own sake, as well as theirs, she was resolved that they should not die. Then, while the sound of voices outside and the trampling of many feet grew nearer and clearer, she remembered on a sudden what she had hitherto forgotten. Ranged in order upon the flat roof of her dwelling, there lay in heaps the stalks of flax which she had purchased but three days before for her own use in spinning. There, in the darkness, she might hope that they would escape discovery ; there, and there alone, lay their one chance of safety. Upon the parapet of her house facing the public way, some flowering shrubs and myrtles formed a kind of screen.