The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story Read Online Free PDF

but the yellow anemones for the golden threads winding through the garments should add to the color’s lack.
    A sigh lifted her chest, and she tightened the scarf over her nose to mask the smell of the dye combined with the leftover scent of the retted, drying flax coming from the roof. Weaving had its happier moments, but these were not her favorites. Her only consolation came in knowing she could provide food for their table, to feed Gamal’s belly, even if she could not console his moods. She watched him from the corner of her eye, a caged mountain goat, always butting his head where it didn’t belong.
    “I’m going out,” he said after his third look into the pot that held the dye. He scrunched his face and whirled about,no sign of his limp, and stomped toward the gate. “I’ll be back in time to break bread.”
    He slammed the gate and turned toward the center of town. Toward the gaming houses. Did this city never sleep? The seedier businesses stayed open long past the sun’s setting and opened shortly after dawn. If a man wanted to drown his worries in barley beer or strong drink, they were more than happy to comply.
    She turned from stirring the dye once more to step into the house, away from the sun’s glaring heat. Gamal had known not a moment’s peace in the week since the prince’s pardon.
    If he was not careful, he would ruin everything.
    “Rahab?” She startled at the sound of Gamal’s voice. Back so soon?
    She hurried from the house to the courtyard and met him near the gate.
    “Is something wrong, my lord?” She glanced at the bubbling dye and grabbed the stick to stir it once more.
    He snatched his staff from where he had left it leaning against the wall. He couldn’t very well pretend to limp without it.
    “I need silver. Where did you put the coins you earned from your last sale of these things?” He pointed to the loom in the opposite corner, where a wide swath of cloth stood partially finished.
    “I spent it on food and on flax to make more linen and baskets. I gave you the rest last month.” As much as she would tell him of it.
    His nostrils flared with thinly veiled anger. He walked into the house, stomping about, moving furniture, rummaging through their things. There was nothing left worth selling.He had already bartered away their wedding gifts, and though he won a few gambling matches now and then, he would lose even more the next night, always digging his hole and theirs a little deeper.
    Please, don’t let him look under the mat. She had taken to offering silent prayers to the air around her. For though the moon god had apparently freed Gamal from the prince’s anger, he had not changed Gamal. Her husband was as difficult as he’d ever been, all gratitude lost within the first day of his reprieve.
    Gamal’s curses reached her ears. She poked the wooden prong into the bubbling dye again and lifted the threads. Satisfied with the shade of crimson, she carefully pulled the dyed flaxen threads out of the simmering pot and placed them in a similar pot of tepid water to cool. The tapping of Gamal’s staff stopped behind her.
    “When will you be done with that? How soon until you can sell more of it?” His desperate tone revived the worry she had unsuccessfully laid aside. She lifted the last of the fiber into the cooling pot.
    “Why do you need silver so badly, Gamal? Our debt is canceled and we have food to eat and a house to live in.” She straightened, facing him. “We have each other. What more do we need?” She gentled her tone, but a chill worked through her at his suddenly charming smile.
    He took a step closer and reached for her hand. “A man wants to provide well for his family.” His gaze swept over her, and the flicker of sudden longing filled his gaze. He hadn’t forgotten a man’s need for sons, but the reminder only added to her ever-increasing guilt. “And this house is too small.”
    She stared at him, but words failed her. She had failed him.To