The Bible is the divinely inspired word of God. It should be obvious to any reader that my story is only an extrapolation of an existing scripture and is in no way intended to be on the same level or accuracy as the sacred authors. In other words, no imprimatur or nihil obstat.

"Hope to see you again and soon!" Rahab said farewell to her customer, a wealthy Egyptian merchant. Yet another customer talking about the Israelites. However, this customer was different than most of the men who had been talking lately. He actually was from Egypt. He had heard the story of the drowned Egyptian army from his own grandfather. The merchant himself had been deeply impressed as a youth with the power the Israelite's God had displayed over the army and over death itself. He had even taken out one of his scrolls and read the story to her. Rahab couldn't read or write, but as she listened, had found herself really paying attention to his every word, not just pretending that the man's story was worth listening to.

At that moment, Rahab heard a scream coming from within her house. She whirled around and ran towards the sound. Then she heard another scream. It was Ishta. Rahab had seen her go with a customer earlier, and she ran towards the man's room.

Pushing her way into the room, she saw Ishta cowering in the corner, arms up to protect her face. The customer was standing over her, menacing her.

"Help me Rahab," Ishta cried, "He refused to pay me, then he hit me!"

"You hit one of my girls?" Rahab asked the man, who had turned to face her.

"She was impudent; she refused to do as I asked," he said haughtily. Rahab's hand moved casually towards the little dagger she kept hidden on her person.

"I did so do what you asked! Most of it anyway. But he wanted--" Ishta shrugged.

Rahab looked at Ishta and at the customer. Ishta was flighty and silly, but she was a hard worker and Rahab had never known her to lie. The customer was unarmed--he had left his possessions in the corner opposite where Ishta was standing. Rahab was in the middle of the room.

"Apologize to her," Rahab said to the customer.

"I will not."

"You will apologize and pay her, too." Rahab continued.

"And if I don't?"

With a sudden movement, Rahab pulled out her dagger and pointed it at the man. The man tried to lunge past her for his sword, but Rahab was quicker and she stuck him in the arm. He howled and grabbed his injured arm, and Rahab backed up to the corner and grabbed his sword. It was too heavy for her to swing, but she could lift it. As he made another lunge for her, she sidestepped him, hoisted the sword and shoved it through the room's one window, holding it precariously with one hand and pointing her dagger at him with the other hand.

"You will apologize to Ishta and pay her what you owe her, or this sword goes out the window. If I drop it, you will have to go outside the city walls to retrieve it. So. Are you going to do what I say?"

Muttering fearful curses, the customer sidled over to his bag and pulled out the required amount, even as Rahab kept the dagger pointed at him. He gave a very ungracious apology to Ishta, paid her, and then advanced on Rahab to retrieve his sword.

"Stop right there," Rahab said, "How do I know that you won't attack us as soon as you have your sword back in your possession? Fact is, I don't. So, you will still have to go outside the city walls. Call up to me and I will drop this to you. Then, I better not ever see your face in my inn again. Got it?"

The customer's face was contorted with rage at being tricked. He had fully planned on taking his revenge on both women when he got his sword back, but didn't think they would see that coming. Now he had no other choice but to leave the city entirely just to get his own property back. Calling both of them a bad name, he stormed out of the room.

"Rahab, I'm so sorry," said Ishta, starting to cry.

"In our line of business, sometimes you meet men like that. You just need the experience to know how to handle it."