Deborah's Story

by Ann Burton

  “My master does not speak the truth,” Hlagor said. “I will offer sworn witness against him.”

  I saw Ybyon go very still. “You have no business speaking to my visitors, steward. Return to the house.”

  “No.” Hlagor stopped and pointed at the master. “The Hebrew has spoken the truth. Adon Ybyon sent me to town to find the Hebrew last night. He gave me herbs to drug him—”

  “Silence,” my master hissed. “Not another word, or I will have your head.”

  One of the king’s guard lifted his long hereb, as if he meant to do as Ybyon threatened and strike the steward. “You speak against your own master?”

  “If I do not, he will have me killed to conceal his crimes,” Hlagor said. “I am a slave. I had no choice but to follow his orders. Ybyon wished to cheat this Hebrew, and see him dead. He despises his kind, and told me to kill him.”

  My master took a step toward the steward, his hands knotted into fists. “You lie. I know nothing of what you plotted. Whatever you did in town last night was of your own accord, not mine.”

  “If you know nothing of his acts,” another of the guards demanded, “then how do you know he was in town last night?”

  My master’s mouth worked for a moment. “I gave him permission to go. It does not prove I knew what he intended to do to this poor merchant.”

  The king’s men regarded the steward, and the oldest said, “How can you prove what you say, slave?”

  “The Hebrew was not the first man my master wanted dead,” Hlagor said. He did not sound the least frightened, and glared at Ybyon with open hatred. “There were many others, some wealthy traders from cities to the east and south. I killed them and put them in the river. The master took all their silver and animals for himself—“

  Ybyon shouted and rushed at the steward, but two of the guards caught him and held him. He cursed and struggled between them. “He is a slave. He lies. I have had no one killed. Whatever he did was none of my doing, do you hear? He is a lying, murdering slave who should be executed right here for daring accuse me.”

  Tarn came forward. “A year ago the master came to wake me in the night. In his wagon were three bodies: that of a farmer who would not sell him the pastureland he wanted, as well as the farmer’s wife and young child. My master had blood on his hands. They were not Hebrews. I will show you where I buried their bodies.”

  Ybyon stared in disbelief at the old slave. “You dare cross me.”

  “I know the farmer the old one speaks of,” Hlagor said. “The master desired that man’s land and livestock, but he would not sell. After the farmer disappeared, he sent shepherds to bring his sheep here and add them to his flocks. He also went to the magistrate and was given the land as payment for a debt that never existed.”

  “I will have both of you hanged from that tree for the crows to devour,” my master said through his teeth.

  “My old master tried to choke the life out of me.” Tarn touched the mark on his throat. “He, too, failed.”

  I closed my eyes as the slaves began to shout, and Ybyon was dragged off by the king’s guard. Whatever happened to me now, at least some justice would be taken.

  PART TWO

  Song of Barak

  CHAPTER

  11

  Later I would learn that Jeth himself carried me away from the whipping tree. Time passed as I lay in darkness, until I woke in a cool, quiet place. I thought I might be in the barn until I opened my eyes and saw that I was on a blanket-covered mat, surrounded by brick walls. Someone had stripped off my clothes and draped my hips with another blanket, leaving my torn back bare. I turned my head and tensed as pain stabbed through me, and then I saw Wadina standing over me. Remembering her hatred of me, I cringed a little, but she did not strike me.

  “The Hebrew merchant has gone into town to fetch the healer,” she said, and carefully put the warm, wet cloth to my bare shoulder.

  “The master?” I gasped, for even the gentle pressure sent fresh arrows of agony through me.

  “Taken away by the guard for more questioning, as well as Tarn and Hlagor. The entire family has gone to beseech the king for his release.” She turned and brought back a cup. She lifted my head and held the brim to my lips. “Drink,” she urged. “Seres prepared it. He said it will ease your pain.”

  I was so thirsty, I did not care if it was poison, and so I drank. The tea was flavored with strong spices and something slightly bitter, and sweetened with honey. The drink made me feel very sleepy, and as Wadina administered to me, I closed my eyes and drifted away.

  How long I slept after that first waking, I could not say. Several times I roused enough to drink what was held to my lips, whether it was weak broth or more of Seres’s strong tea. Damp, cool cloths regularly moved over my unmarked skin, and some sort of numbing salve was spread over my back. Sometimes I thought I heard someone speaking to me, but I was too tired to answer with more than a mumbled word. Once I was lifted into strong arms, and placed on a softer blanket.

  Dawn played over my face, finally waking me, and I opened my eyes to see its pale golden light streaming in with cool air from an open window. For a moment I simply lay there and watched the sun rise, an orange-red jewel that painted the long, thin clouds on the horizon pink and gold.

  I live another day.

  “She wakes at last,” a wry and familiar voice said. “I had thought she might hibernate until spring.”

  Another man laughed. “That sounds a tempting prospect.”

  Carefully I lifted myself onto my elbows, and my eyes followed the sound of the voices. I was astonished to see Parah and Jeth sitting on a bench by a wall decorated with fine tapestries.

  “Where am I?” I grimaced at the dry sound of my voice and my own discourtesy. “Please, would you tell me?”

  “The king granted me use of Ybyon’s home until his judgment is passed,” Jeth said, rising and coming to crouch beside the sleeping mat upon which I lay. “His family has also been arrested. I thought you should not sleep in the barn.” He held out a wooden cup. “Here, drink.”

  Parah grinned at me before rising and leaving the room.

  I recalled Wadina saying Seres had mixed something into a drink to ease my pain. “Will it make me sleep again?”

  “No, it is only water.” He watched as I drank, and smiled when I emptied the cup. “You are feeling better.”

  “Yes.” I was no longer naked, but dressed in a long middo made of thin, loosely woven linen. My back pained me, but not as it had when last I spoke to Wadina. “I have been sleeping, all this time?” He nodded. “How long?”

  “Since the healer came, about eight days ago,” Jeth said, shocking me. “He thought you should be kept sleeping. Does your back still pain you? He has returned to town, but I can send for him again.”

  I moved my shoulders gingerly. The length of my back felt sore and stiff, and I could feel the itch of newly scabbed skin, but it was nothing compared with my memories of writhing under the fiery whip. My hair had been washed and brushed, however, and felt much better than it had full of Meji’s thick, smelly dye.

  “I do not need a healer.” I wanted to ask why Parah had come, but more pressing needs made themselves known. I eyed the chamber pan nearby, but did not wish to make use of it. “Is there a privy I can use?”

  Jeth helped me up from the mat and kept my arm tucked in his as he led me from the room and into another, smaller chamber.

  I saw to my needs, and left the chamber to find Jeth waiting in the other room. “I saw Parah. Where did he go? And what did you mean about judgment—who is being judged? Did the king’s men allow Tarn to return? Has Hlagor been imprisoned?”

  His teeth flashed white against his short beard as he laughed. “You would have me answer all of that at the same time?”

  “I have been sleeping for eight days,” I reminded him, and then went to sit on the bench because my legs were not yet so steady. “In the master’s house, which I would not believe myself, if I did not see
it around me with my own eyes.”

  His smile turned grim for a moment. “You should be given this house as his punishment for the abuse he inflicted on you.”

  I shook my head. “Even if it were to come to pass, a slave cannot hold or own property.”

  He came and sat down beside me. “I have no right to be angry when it is you who have suffered so much. It is just that you were so weak when I brought you here, and I feared the wounds would fester and fever would take you.”

  “I am still alive.” But for how much longer? “Were any of the other slaves punished in my place?”

  “No, they are all well, and being cared for. Ybyon and his family remain in town, under close guard. Tarn led the king’s men to where the bodies of those your master killed lay buried.”

  “So he spoke the truth.” I had wondered if it were so.

  He looked sad and disgusted. “One of the other farmers was able to identify the man by a protective amulet he wore under his clothing. Today Ybyon will be judged for that crime, as well as several others, before the town magistrates and the merchant guild of Hazor. They might not care that he tried to cheat a Hebrew out of silver and sheep, but the man he killed was the cousin of a powerful advisor at the king’s court.”

  “What of Hlagor?”

  “The king has exonerated him,” Jeth said, shaking his head. “But I am sure it is because he stands as witness against Ybyon.”

  I thought of my vision of his future. “His time will come.” I looked up as Parah came into the room. “Adon, I thank you for helping Adon Lappidoth.”

  “He is a very troublesome houseguest,” Parah assured me. “Now, you must be hungry. I know I would be if all I had for eight days were a few bowls of watery broth. Shall we dine together?”

  “I cannot eat here.” When his face went blank, I added, “I must return to my place in the barn. I will eat with the others.”

  “That is completely ridiculous.” Parah seized my arm and helped me up from the bench. “You will eat with me and Jeth, and we will entertain you with tales of our daring as we rushed here to rescue you and have your master chained like the mad dog he is. Men as brave as we deserve a chance to boast of our heroism.”

  I went along with them to the kitchen, where Seres was directing the women to set bowls and platters on the family table. He barely glanced up from his own work carving a large chunk of mutton roasted with herbs, but said, “Sit down. Wadina, bring the men something to drink. That fresh milk will do for Deborah.”

  I sat on the long bench seat that had only ever been occupied by my master and his family. Despite the many delicious-looking dishes crowding the surface of the table, I could not relax. I dared not touch anything.

  “It is only food,” Parah said from across the table. “I am sure the cook has killed everything properly.” He gave Wadina a serene smile as she brought him wine. “This time.”

  Seres put a bowl of soup thick with beans and herbs before me. “You may be able to scribble words on parchment, but you know nothing about properly preparing meat,” he growled at the scribe. “Rare mutton is more tender and flavorful than overcooked mutton.”

  “Tender indeed,” Parah pretended to whisper to me, “for when I pierced last night’s mutton with my fork, it baaed, got up, and walked off the table.”

  Jeth chuckled, and I could not help my own smile. Satisfied at having needled Seres and amused me, Parah broke off a chunk from a round lehem and used it to fish some beans from his broth, while Wadina poured wine for Jeth and gave me a cup filled to the brim with fresh, cool milk.

  I looked down at the steaming bowl Seres had placed before me and swallowed. Hunger made my stomach clench, but I was sitting at the master’s table, and I had never eaten among anyone but other slaves. We were not given our own bowls or permitted cups. I did not know what to do with my hands.

  “Is the soup too hot?” Jeth asked. “Would you prefer something else?”

  I stared at him. “No, it is fine.” There was more food on the table than I had ever been near, and I would eat a little of it without going at it like a hungry dog. Then I saw Jeth carefully cradle his bowl between his hands and blow a breath across the surface of the broth before sipping from the edge.

  I picked up my bowl and did exactly as he. The hot soup burned my lips and tongue, but it tasted so marvelous that I didn’t care. The strange, savory taste of the herbs enlivened the blandness of the beans, and there were other flavors that I did not know.

  Jeth put down his bowl and took up a piece of bread, and like Parah used it to take beans from the broth. I put down my soup and reached out for a round lehem sitting on a plate near my hand.

  “Deborah!”

  I nearly knocked over my cup of milk as I jumped from the bench and assumed a humble position, bowing my head and clasping my hands.

  Seres came to stand beside me. “Must you scare the very life out of her, old man?”

  I looked up and sighed. “Tarn.” His face and garments were so clean that I hardly recognized him. “You are well?” Obviously he was, but my heart was pounding so that I could not think.

  “Well and very pleased to see you up on your feet.” He came and gave me a gentle but affectionate embrace. “Sit and eat. I did not mean to disturb your meal.”

  Shame made the soup I had eaten form a lump inside me. Here I was, gobbling up the best food from the master’s kitchen while Tarn and the others had to make do with the stingy portion given to the farmworkers.

  “Could Tarn”—I dared to address Seres directly—“share some of my soup?”

  “If he is still hungry,” the kitchen steward said. “All the food I sent down to the barn for the morning meal may have filled his belly.” Of Tarn, he asked, “Did your men enjoy the new grapes and cheese?”

  “Very much.” Tarn grinned. “I think Chemesh’s sickness has finally gone, thanks to your herb tea. We had thought we might need to build him a shelter next to the privy. We will keep him inside for another few days, though, as he is still weak and should rest.”

  I sat down, feeling very confused. Slaves were never given much fruit, only that which was not fit for the master’s table. Never were we given cheese or medicinal teas. Slaves who worked the herds were not permitted to stay inside or rest unless it was time for all of us to sleep, and we were allowed precious little of that.

  Obviously much had been done while I had been sleeping, but what would be the price? When the master returned and learned of this, he would be furious.

  Tarn sat next to me and studied my incredulous expression. “You look astonished, child, but it is true. All has been much improved for us since Adon Lappidoth came to save you.”

  “But cheese, Tarn?” I whispered, afraid to say it any louder. “Seres gives you cheese?”

  The old slave laughed. “Cheese, and more good things to eat than I can count. The men are becoming so fat, they will soon be wishing to nap during the noon hour.”

  Knowing Ybyon as I did, I could not be amused. “Do you know how angry the master will be? When he returns and finds his stores have been shared with slaves, he will starve us for months.”

  “I do not think that will happen, Deborah,” Parah said. “King Jabin views the murder of free Canaanites, especially innocent women and children, very seriously.” He sighed. “A pity he does not feel the same about Hebrews, or your master might face true justice for causing your mother’s death.”

  “He will do that soon enough, when he stands before Jehovah to be judged in the kingdom of heaven.” So I hoped.

  Jeth noticed I had stopped eating and touched my arm. “Perhaps you would care to take a walk with me? The fresh air will do you good, and there are new lambs that came while you were resting.”

  I nodded and rose, following him gratefully out of the kitchen. Try as I might, I could not imagine the farm without Ybyon’s harsh presence. He had always been there. If he was imprisoned for the killings, who would take charge in his place? None of his family had
ever shown any interest in running the farm or doing work; they were plump, pampered folk who spent so much time idling indoors that they were as pale as the strange traders who came from the far northern countries. Their pale skin would surely burn red if they stepped outside for longer than a few minutes.

  Thinking of them made me consider the other slaves, who were really my only family. If the king seized the master’s property, what would happen to us? Every town had an auction block for slaves at market. Would we be sold off, one by one? Would I have to learn how to please a new master? Would he be as Ybyon had been, or worse?

  “Has living here been as bad for you as I have been told?” Jeth asked, startling me from my thoughts.

  “I do not know what you have been told.” I stopped by the lamb pen and counted ten new little ones. They were larger and healthier-looking than any I had seen, but I did not spot the small ram I had taken from the ewe the master struck just after his birth. “Do you know, have we lost any of the lambs?”

  “I do not believe so. Tarn has reported every birth, and you can see for yourself how they are thriving,” he said. “We are bringing their mothers to this pen each night, and three times each day, so they can have enough milk. It will help them grow into stronger animals.”

  That was not how the master treated lambs—more to worry about. “No wonder they are so fat. It would be wise to watch how much they nurse after the first week they are born—if they grow too heavy, they will have belly problems. The ewes, too, can become too thin from giving too much milk, or develop sores and lumps in their bags.” I would have to tend to the ewes this evening and see they were not ailing.

  Jeth leaned against the pen fence and regarded me. “You know a great deal about sheep.”

  “I have cared for this flock since I was little.” I reached down to scratch beneath a fuzzy chin, and earned a low baa of delight from the lamb. “Sheep are perhaps not the cleverest of animals, and they can be stubborn, but they will show much affection to a kind hand. They play, too, as Tarn says the little children of free men do.” I gave him an apologetic look. “I have never spent much time with free people.”