The Prophetess - Deborah's Story Page 11

  Memories of her own past and her compliance to her parents’ wishes caused another wash of anger to rush over her. She had been obedient all of her life. Why could her children not be the same?

  She moved slowly over the cobbled stones of the large courtyard, past the open hearth and toward the open gate, when her eye caught the outline of someone sleeping on the stones. She squinted, drawing closer. Not one person, but two.

  Her heartbeat slowed. Talya’s bare feet came into view, her body nearly touching that of a man. Of Barak. Deborah closed her eyes, certain they had betrayed her, but when she opened them, Talya’s form lay still beside Barak’s. Barak’s even breathing drifted toward her, but as she moved carefully closer, she did not hear Talya’s steady breath, which she had so often listened to as the girl slept.

  She bent and touched her daughter’s arm. Talya did not move, but Deborah sensed she only feigned sleep. Deborah tightened her grip and nudged her with her knee. Still Talya remained still. Exasperation rose so swift she had to force herself to remain calm. Talya was too good at these silly games she played. Was she so foolish to think she could force a man to marry her by staying beside him while he slept?

  Deborah winced, imagining Barak’s response if he found the girl still at his side come dawn. All thoughts of offering her hand to him in marriage fled. Talya was a good girl, had a good heart—surely she did. But she simply could not be allowed to defy her mother and force her way in life. Her father might be caught in her games, but Deborah could not allow Talya’s future husband to feel so obligated. Talya needed a man who was able to refuse her.

  A sigh she could no longer hold escaped. Adonai, what do I do with this girl?

  She released her grip on Talya’s arm and slowly stood. Perhaps Barak should be the one to decide Talya’s fate. If he wanted her, good. Deborah would no longer have to worry or wonder what to do with her. He would be the one responsible for his wife’s decisions. If he refused her . . . then Talya would learn a valuable lesson.

  But she could not wait for dawn to give the man the choice.

  She glanced heavenward, silently praying for strength. Emotion rose close to the surface. Sleep would heal so much of the pain now piercing her heart. Talya, too, needed rest. She was not thinking clearly and would surely regret her actions come dawn. But if the girl would not move now and come with Deborah, then there was nothing to do but “wake” them both.

  She knelt again, this time closer to Barak, and touched his shoulder. He startled, as she expected he would. Warriors did not sleep deeply, though somehow he had managed to stay thus even with Talya beside him. Was he part of this?

  Doubt filled her. Surely she could trust him.

  “Who’s there?” Barak’s hushed voice filled her ear.

  “It is I, Deborah,” she said. “And I think, my lord, that you should arise.”

  He scrambled to his knees, jolting again when he looked down at Talya, who quickly moved away from him, her wide eyes still carrying a frightened doe expression. Was she acting on his account, or did she truly fear?

  “What is going on here?” Barak’s commanding whisper brought Deborah’s thoughts up short, and she knelt in the darkness beside her daughter, who to her surprise said nothing.

  “I believe my daughter has had trouble sleeping, my lord, and somehow ended up beside you here in the court. I tried to get her to move, but she did not stir.” She glanced at Talya, whose gaze had moved to study her clasped hands. “I felt it best to wake you before others caught you like this at dawn.”

  Barak ran a hand along his jaw, his gaze clearly troubled. “Talya?” His voice gentled as one who speaks to a child. “What were you thinking to come out here?” He touched her chin, coaxing her gaze to meet his. “Tell me the truth.” There was a set to his jaw that told Deborah he was not a man so easily manipulated.

  “I . . .” Talya could not hold his gaze. “I felt safer with you,” she said.

  “We are not in the fields, and this is not appropriate for a capable woman.” The last words were said with emphasis, and Deborah wondered at his meaning.

  Talya shifted and faced him. “I want . . . that is . . .” She seemed suddenly at a loss for words. “It doesn’t matter now.” She pulled away from his grasp, and he crossed his arms, studying her.

  “You put me in a position that some would find disturbing,” he said, his dark eyes suddenly flashing fire. “Do not pretend I do not know your intent.”

  She placed both hands beside her, glanced at Deborah, then leaned closer to him. “Think what you want,” she whispered. “It was a foolish thought. Forgive me.” She rose, and he did not stop her. She did not look back as she hurried into the house.

  Barak looked at Deborah, one dark brow lifted. “Your daughter put me at great risk, Prophetess. A man alone with a virgin . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “She wants to become your wife.” The admission seemed right, though Deborah could not read the expression in Barak’s suddenly masked gaze.

  He looked away and shifted uncomfortably. At last he stood and offered Deborah a hand. They faced each other in silence. “Is this your wish as well, or is it entirely her doing?”

  Deborah met his gaze. “I will admit,” she said, “I have considered seeking a match between the two of you. But not yet. And not this way. And now I don’t know what to do with her. I am certain her ordeal and the lack of sleep has caused this rash act. But you know yourself that Talya is a strong woman who wants her way. She saw her chance to wed . . . and she wants that man to be you.”

  Barak studied her in silence.

  “Say the word and I will seek a different man for her, my lord. No one need know of tonight’s incident.”

  He looked down at her, his expression softening. “She is nothing like Nessa.”

  “No, she is not.” Deborah searched his gaze until Barak looked away.

  “I will not be forced into such a decision, Prophetess.” He took a step back from her, toward the court’s entrance. “I think it is best if I return to my men.”

  She nodded, her heart sinking. Had she just ruined Talya’s best chances for marriage? And yet . . . what else was a mother to do? This was not the time to think of marriages. It was nearly time for war, and Barak had too much on his mind to add the worry of an immature girl to his thoughts.

  Deborah sighed, glancing back at her home where everyone still slept, where peace awaited. If only that were the truth.

  [Deborah] sent and summoned Barak the son of Abinoam from Kedesh-naphtali and said to him, “Has not the LORD, the God of Israel, commanded you, ‘Go, gather your men at Mount Tabor, taking 10,000 from the people of Naphtali and the people of Zebulun. And I will draw out Sisera, the general of Jabin’s army, to meet you by the river Kishon with his chariots and his troops, and I will give him into your hand’?” Barak said to her, “If you will go with me, I will go, but if you will not go with me, I will not go.”

  Judges 4:6–8

  12

  Deborah’s heart burned like fire, a flame seized yet not quenched. Sweat dampened her hair, and she could not take a breath. She dragged air and thrashed about.

  Lappidoth touched her shoulder. “What is it, beloved?”

  She jerked free of him, still seeing the vision in her mind’s eye.

  “You are safe, Deborah. It is all right.” His soft voice brushed her ear.

  She stilled, slowly facing him. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to waken you.” She sat up, heart still pounding, rubbing her eyes, wishing she could rub away the memories along with the sleep.

  “Tell me what you dreamed.” He stroked her hair, and she felt a sense of gratitude for him, despite the continual feeling that he could never be all that she wished he would be.

  “I saw Shamgar killing the Philistines with an oxgoad.” She drew a breath. The dream mirrored the memory of what she had witnessed as a child. “And I saw your village the day your family was killed by the Canaanites.”

  Lappidoth pulled
her close and kissed the top of her head. “They are dreams of terror and not worth remembering.” He stroked her back as though she were a frightened child.

  Deborah listened to the silence of the room, wondering why Adonai had reminded her of these things now. Though Shamgar had killed six hundred Philistines that day, he had not stayed to save Israel from the hated Canaanites. Only Philistia remained subdued.

  “Shall I fetch you some milk?” Lappidoth asked, holding her at arm’s length, his head tilted, his eyes half glazed with sleep.

  She touched his arm. “No. Go back to sleep. I can get it myself.”

  His look held uncertainty, and she knew his sense of helpfulness urged him to please her, but she could not allow herself to be so selfish when he had a full day ahead of him in the fields.

  “I am fine,” she assured him.

  He looked at her again but at last gave in and lay down, his even breathing soon filling the room. She rose, her heart a tight fist within her, no longer able to bear the trauma her mind battled in sleep.

  What do You want of me? The prayer filled her mind as she moved to the sitting room, past the place where Talya slept. Were the dreams a result of her worries? She stopped to listen for the girl’s even breathing through the curtained door. She must stop fearing that Talya might slip away unnoticed and unprotected.

  But as she moved into the courtyard and faced the heavens, willing her racing heart to still, it was not Talya’s face she imagined but Barak’s. Months had passed since she had seen him, yet Barak remained one of the few men left in Israel who could lead a host of warriors against the enemy. Barak was not Shamgar. But he was strong and he feared Adonai.

  Shall I send for him? How often had she prayed thus?

  But still God remained silent.

  Jael heard the chariots long before their dust filled the air. “Go to Nadia’s tent and hide behind the stacks of wool. Hurry, Daniyah!”

  The chariots were fewer in number this time, but they stopped in the road just opposite the camp. Jael looked to make sure the girls were in their tents, then ducked into hers behind the curtain. She glanced at Ghalib, who had just finished mending her loom, and nodded. He stood and came to her side, and they both waited, one ear pressed to the fabric, listening.

  Sisera’s men laughed and jostled each other as they stomped over the berm and crunched the underbrush in the trees. “They are a reckless lot,” Ghalib whispered in her ear.

  “They are beasts.” Fear slithered down her spine at the memory of Sisera’s bold arrogance with Daniyah. “Let us pray they leave quickly.”

  Ghalib placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. One of the guards near Heber’s tent spoke loud enough for them to hear.

  “What do you seek, my lord? How can I help you today?”

  “I seek Heber the Kenite. Or his wife and daughter will suffice.” Sisera’s words sent Ghalib from Jael’s tent before she could stop him.

  “I will send for Heber, my lord,” the guard said.

  Jael watched Ghalib, wanting to yell for him to stop, but she held her tongue, relieved to see him slip around the back of Heber’s tent. He would find his father and brothers. Pray God they would return before Sisera began to search the tents of the women.

  She leaned closer to the fabric opening, carefully pulling the flap aside to see. The impatient Canaanite soldiers tapped girded feet and talked among themselves. She took a step back into the tent. She should have kept Daniyah with her.

  Voices grew louder outside her tent. Fear rose, along with a sick feeling in her gut.

  “Please, my lord, those tents belong to our women.” Their guard’s voice held alarm. What was taking Heber so long? These men would not be kept waiting, and her girls were not safe.

  Jael straightened her shoulders, forcing courage into her heart. She covered her head with a scarf and wrapped it about her face, then grabbed the staff she took with her when she tended their few goats and stepped from the tent. “What seems to be the problem, Musa?” She addressed the harried guard, who looked half afraid, half relieved to see her.

  Footsteps drew closer, and she caught Sisera’s scent as he stopped near, assessing her. “Ah, Jael. We meet again.” He stepped closer. Too close, and before she could stop him, he rested a possessive hand on her waist.

  She gasped, her face aflame as his hand moved higher, probing, as though he had full rights to do as he pleased. She jerked, trying to free herself, but his other hand snapped like a snake, wrapping around her neck. “Ah, my sweet Jael. Did you think my threats held no weight?” He bent forward, his breath fanning her face, his meaning much too clear.

  Jael’s heart hammered, and she nearly choked on his stench. Where was her husband? Ghalib? Fareed? Mahir? Why did the guard not step forward to defend Heber’s women? But one glance told her Musa was surrounded by Sisera’s laughing men.

  “Shall we take this inside your tent while we await your husband?” By his tone and the way he pulled her possessively closer, Jael did not think his words were meant in jest.

  Her stomach revolted in the wake of the fear seizing her. His eyes roved over her body, his lust a living fire.

  “If you do such a thing, my lord,” she finally said past a suddenly dry throat, “how will my husband possibly continue to work with you? For you would have broken his trust. Unless, of course, you have found another metalworker who does finer work?” The words were a risk and she knew it. She could tell by the grip he had on her neck that he was too strong for her and could snap the bones in her wrist or neck with little effort.

  “A woman that would bargain for her purity is all the more desirable, my sweet.” His lips brushed hers then. She fought the urge to spit in his face.

  At that moment Heber and her sons emerged from behind Heber’s tent, their arms loaded with heavy baskets of weapons, swords, daggers, spears, and shields.

  Sisera released her and whirled about.

  “Your order is complete, my lord.” Heber motioned to the baskets their sons set on the ground at Sisera’s feet.

  Sisera pointed to several of his men, who dragged the baskets away. Jael’s limbs began to tremble as she watched them count the articles, no doubt to make sure Heber had kept his end of the bargain.

  “It’s all here,” one of the men called out when the last weapon was counted.

  Sisera pulled a pouch from his belt and dumped gold coins into Heber’s hand. “I will bring more ore for you in a few days. I will need the order by week’s end.”

  Heber did not show the slightest surprise, nor did he say a word to Sisera for what he had surely seen, with Sisera standing so close to her. But Heber feared Sisera with good reason, and Jael realized in that moment that even her husband and sons could not protect her or her daughters from these men.

  13

  Barak stood on the ridge looking down on his city, Kedesh-naphtali. He had spent the night in the home of his parents, not far from the one he had built a short distance away, the home he once shared with Nessa. But fitful memories filled his dreams until he had flung the covers from him, donned his clothes, and snuck past his sleeping parents and his men to escape the stifling reminders. Even here, her presence still lingered in every corner of the house she had often visited to be with his mother, though her scent of wild roses had long since dissipated.

  Grief gnawed at him in the pit of his very being. Shouldn’t he be past these feelings by now? But coming home always brought them back.

  “You’re up early.” Keshet climbed the hill and met Barak at the ridge, his face too cheery for such a morn.

  “Couldn’t sleep. At least not well.”

  Keshet nodded. “I expected as much. Perhaps it is time to bid your parents and the town farewell again and be off to Hazor.”

  Barak stared into the distance. Hazor was north of Lake Kinneret, about two days’ walk if they took their time getting there. They had already delivered what little ore they could come by to Heber, and except to keep trying to anticipate Sisera�
��s next move, they needed to spy out the capital of Canaan, where the king lived.

  “I’m not sure how we think our small band will slip past the guards at the gates of such a fortified city. Hazor is nearly as defensible as Jericho was.” Keshet blew on his hands in the cool dawn air.

  “And look what God did to Jericho.” Barak glanced at his friend. “What’s the point of your question?”

  “Only that we don’t have a directive from Adonai to fight Hazor as Joshua had with Jericho.” Keshet’s tanned face carried the lines of a frown along his brow.

  Barak dug his toe into the packed earth. “We won’t be attacking. We are simply going to circle the city, and perhaps one or two of us will slip in and mingle with the people. If the time ever comes to destroy King Jabin, I want to at least know how to access the palace and where the prominent buildings are located.” Surely it was a wise strategy, though Barak wondered if in their current state the people of Israel would ever follow him into such a battle.

  “Then let’s get going,” Keshet said, his normal smile suddenly replacing the frown. “If our God is for us, who can be against us?”

  Barak nodded, his thoughts distant. Was God for them? Or had they gone too far this time? Would God forsake His own people?

  Hazor sat in the hills of Upper Galilee near Lake Huleh. A mountain range bordered its west and south sides, making it hard to reach without notice. But Barak and his men managed to keep to the caves and skirted the edges of the mountains, sometimes walking single file or crouching low to keep from being seen by the guards that kept watch along the city walls.

  On the morning of the third day, Barak called his one hundred men together. “Two of you must join a merchant caravan and scout out the city.” He looked into each face, choosing two of them quickly. “Go and bring me word. I want a full report by nightfall.” He itched to go with them, but his face would be recognized.