by Ann Burton
“I am not.” I turned and tried to run, but my legs would not move.
“In my nightmares, I see your face, almost every night now,” Ybyon said in his most pleasant voice. “I wake up crying out for my wife. I cannot see her anymore, for she was sold as a concubine to a fat sea trader. My children were torn from her and portioned off to some of my old business rivals. They are being worked to death on their farms.” He grinned, showing broken teeth. “Just as you were on mine.”
I turned slowly around and faced the ugliness of my father. “I did not do this to them. By your crimes, you did.”
“Of course I did.” He chuckled, and reached out to give my cheek a hard pinch. “I do not deny that. I deny nothing. Well, I did deny you a mother, and refused to see you as my daughter, but that is all in the past. You forgave me my sins, remember?” He began to laugh, a horrible, wrenching noise. “You forgave me. Do you know, that is the most amusing thing anyone has ever said to me?”
I did forgive him, and I was terribly sad to see him in such a state, but I could not bear to be near him another moment. I willed my legs to move, and when they did, I ran for the barn.
“Wait, Deborah,” my father called after me. “Do you not wish to give me an embrace? Your mother never denied me those. She made herself my whore to protect you.”
He was coming after me, and I knew I could not fight him. I ran into the barn and climbed the ladder into the hayloft. There I dragged the ladder up behind me and hid in the straw as he burst through the door.
“Come out, daughter,” he called. “For you cannot win against me.”
I buried myself deep in the hay and prayed that God would deliver me from this evil dream.
“Ybyon,” a soft voice called, silencing my father. “If you wish to hurt someone, come to me. I am here.”
“Dasah?” My father turned around as if looking for her. “Where are you, you lying witch?”
“I am where you left me to die,” my mother called. “Outside in the pens. Would you like me to see your future now?”
Ybyon cursed and ran out of the barn. I was swept from the hayloft by a terrible wind, but I landed on the ground below like a feather. I bolted outside to see my mother standing in the pen among the lambs where she had been killed, and my father climbing over the fence to get at her.
“Mother!” I shouted. “No.”
Dasah opened her arms as if welcoming Ybyon, who rushed at her like a mad dog. Between them the ground turned to mud, and Ybyon became caught in it and could no longer move. The mud widened and seemed to suck him down deep into the ground, inch by slow inch. He struggled and bellowed, but no matter what he did, he could not free himself.
“This is what you and your brother must do, my daughter,” Dasah said, her body fading from sight even as my father was dragged under the mud, his last scream swallowed just as he was. “This is how you shall prevail over the enemy.”
I woke up at that moment and saw my brother kneeling beside my mat. He was shaking my shoulders.
“Deborah, you were calling out for me.” He helped me to sit up and gave me a cup of water. “Sisera’s forces have arrived. They are encamped around the base of the mountain, but they cannot get to us. The southern tribes have sent their ten thousand, and they are just beyond the river, as you said.” He patted my back awkwardly. “I am sorry that I woke you so abruptly. Were you having a nightmare?”
“Yes.” I drank deeply before I spoke again. “And no. I have finally seen the end of this, and I know what to do now.”
“What is it?”
I rose from my mat. “Come and I will show you.”
The history scrolls would all tell the story of the next three days, in which my brother repelled Sisera from Mount Tabor, and the frustrated Canaanites were forced to wait below, helpless to draw us out, unable to attack us.
I waited for the final sign to be shown in the heavens before I left my brother on the mountain. “When the chariots head toward the Kishon, then it will be time to descend,” I told him as I dressed.
“I am putting my faith in you and God,” Barak said. “But if one of you is wrong, they shall turn back, and we shall be done for.”
“Have faith, brother,” I urged him.
I selected two of his trusted lieutenants to escort me to the river, but I took no weapons with me. As I prepared to leave, I joined my brother at his lookout spot, which showed most of the Canaanite army encamped at the base of the mountain. They had brought some captured Hebrew settlers with them, and had resorted to torturing them in the open, hoping to draw down some of my brother’s troops.
“I will be glad to get my hands on Sisera,” Barak muttered. “Before this is over, I want his head adorning my tent pole.” He took my hand in his. “Be careful, sister.”
“It will not be you who brings Sisera to the justice he deserves,” I said as a brief vision settled over me. “For God soon delivers him into the hands of a woman who shall slay him.”
Barak smiled. “You will kill him for me?”
I shook myself and tried not to look at the heavy dark clouds massing over us. “No, and watch your pride, brother, that it does not make you fall from this mountain.”
There was no way to leave the mountain without Sisera’s troops spotting us, but I wanted them to see me. So with my brother’s men I ran out of the brush and through the least concentrated area of camp, moving so fast that by the time Sisera’s men realized I had come through, we were already past them.
“Here is General Barak, and he cannot be caught by a Canaanite even when he runs through the midst of their camp,” one of the men with me called back in a taunting voice. “Nor do they see us leaving the mountain in the night when they are sleeping. Let us see if they can catch us at the river before we sail to freedom.”
The race was on. We could not stop now, for Sisera and his army gave chase, and we had to reach the Kishon before they did. I had never run so far or so fast, but my legs never faltered, and at last we reached the edge of the swampy land where the southern tribes had crossed the river and were camped.
“Sisera and his armies are coming,” the men with me shouted out. “Prepare to fight, but stay to the river side of the swamp.”
The southern forces were armed and ready, as they had been ordered to be, and spread out along the banks of the river. I retreated to a tree where I could see Sisera’s thousand iron chariots approaching from the base of Mount Tabor.
“They are almost here,” I called down to one of my men.
At that moment the black masses of clouds overhead began to shower heavy, pounding sheets of rain over us, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in every direction. I could hear the chariots slowing as they came to the swamp and then the shouts of their drivers as their heavy iron wheels met with the water and thick mud being made by the downpour.
Within minutes the sounds of the chariots were gone, and the shouts turned to battle cries as the Canaanites abandoned them and rushed on foot toward the river. They had almost reached our men there when another, more ominous sound came from behind Sisera’s troops.
It was the sound of ten thousand more men; my brother and his troops, who had followed Sisera into the swamp.
I had dreamed of battles, but the reality was an ugly and hideous thing. The Canaanites, trapped between the southern tribes at the river and my brother’s troops coming from Mount Tabor, were caught completely off-guard. The storm had ripped away the battle superiority of their iron chariots, and the dense showers blinded their infantry.
Many hours later, when it was finally over, most of Sisera’s army lay dead in the swamp. Sisera himself escaped on foot, but I had foreseen his end, and knew he would not enjoy his freedom long.
My brother came to stand beneath the tree where I had been sitting most of that long, terrible day. He was covered in blood and gore, some of it from the wounds that marked his arms and legs. “Deborah, come down from there.”
I climbed down the tree a
nd stood before him.
“It was as you said it would be. Everything was.” He went down on one knee before me and bowed his head, and suddenly every man around us did the same. “Bless you for saving us, sister.”
I had cried so much while watching and listening to the battle that my eyes were almost swollen shut. I wiped the last of my tears from my cheeks and asked him, “Have we won?”
“Yes.” He stood, and smiled down at me. “Israel is grateful for this victory, lady.”
“Thank the Lord God.”
“Our people are saved because of you, Deborah.” He touched my cheek. “Ask anything of me, and I will make it yours.”
I turned away from the sight of the battlefield. Jehovah’s will had been done, and now I wanted only one thing for myself. “May I go home to my husband now?”
When the wagon finally reached the farm road, I asked my brother to stop and let me walk the rest of the way.
“Everyone is sleeping by now,” I said, “and I do not wish to startle them. I will just slip inside. You are welcome to stay with us, too.”
“I am eager to go home to my wife,” Barak told me. “Now that there will be peace, I think I may raise some sheep and goats. After all you told me about caring for them on the journey here, I think I may be an expert.” He climbed down and embraced me.
“I shall see you in the spring, as you promised me, and you are to bring everyone with you.” I hugged him close. “Your wife, and my nephews and niece, and anyone else who would make the journey. We have room enough for them all.”
“I will send word as soon as the snows melt.” He kissed my brow. “God watch over you, sister.”
It was a long walk up to the house, but I was happy to cross land that was not stained with blood, or strewn with the bodies of dead soldiers. As we had left the swamp at Kishon, I had seen the body of Hlagor, Ybyon’s steward, dressed in a Canaanite uniform. He had been dragged out from an overturned chariot, and the rain had scoured the mud that he had drowned in from his face.
The wind was not so cold here as it had been in the north, but I kept the furs my brother had given me wrapped around me as I approached the house. There I saw a single lamp burning, and someone seated in a chair by the door. It was my husband, dozing by the lamp, in the chair where he had been sitting and watching the road.
I went to him and covered him with my furs, and as he opened his eyes I leaned over and blew out the flame of the oil lamp.
“Deborah.” He looked at me with drowsy surprise. “You are here.” He pulled me down onto his lap and held me close. “I fell asleep. I was just sitting here and watching the night and thinking that I should have carried you off during that hailstorm.”
“I think you should have,” I agreed, snuggling against him.
“You feel real to me.” He ran his hands over me. “You are here—or do I dream?”
“If this is a dream,” I said before I kissed him, as I had on our wedding night, “let us never wake.”
Discussion Guide
Human slavery dates back before recorded history, and only began to be universally abolished three hundred years ago. There are still some countries whose long-established cultures and customs perpetuate enslavement, especially for ethnic and religious minorities. Should more liberal countries take direct action to wipe out modern-day slavery in such societies? When, if ever, is enslavement justified?
Deborah has the gift of prophecy, and she uses it to help her people. What would it be like to have such an extraordinary power? If you had such a gift, would you conceal it, or use it? Discuss what the consequences might be.
Ybyon, the Canaanite farmer who owns Deborah, lost most of his family during the fall of Jericho. This results in his hatred of Hebrews, his abuse of his slaves, and ultimately his plot to rob and murder Jeth Lappidoth, a Hebrew merchant. How does Ybyon’s situation compare to that of other vengeful figures from the Bible? Does suffering tremendous personal loss entitle someone to take revenge?
Deborah’s prophetic powers elevate her to become a judge of Israel, and to direct General Barak and his army during a battle with the Canaanites. Yet Deborah lived during a time period when women were never permitted to serve as government and military leaders. Why do you think God chose to give Deborah the gift of prophecy when He could have bestowed it on a man? Can women function as well as men in positions of authority? Should women have the same opportunity as men to provide spiritual guidance to others?
Barak believes in Deborah’s power of prophecy so implicitly that he refuses to go into battle without her leading his army. What do you think inspired him to put such faith in a former slave? Should so many men’s lives be entrusted to experienced strategists, or to inspired visionaries?
Doubt and fear plague Deborah throughout her story, and yet when she is called upon to serve God and her people, she willingly puts herself in danger to save others. In today’s world, terrorists and other extremists pose a constant threat to everyone. What do you find threatening about living in this time? How do you cope with your doubts and fears? If you had to risk your life to save many others, would you feel willing or obligated to do so?
The Book of Judges tells how some Israeli losses during their war with the Canaanites were God’s punishment for violation of holy law. Do you believe God only favors the righteous during wartime? Are there parallels between the ancient invasion of Canaan and more modern invasions?
Barak and Deborah faced Sisera’s army, which was supported by soldiers driving nine hundred iron chariots. The Hebrews, who had no chariots, were at a distinct disadvantage, and yet with the help of God and nature, they prevailed over the Canaanites. What are some other instances in history when chance seemingly turned the tide of battle? How significant a role does weather play during warfare?
Despite all the suffering and deprivation Ybyon inflicted on his slaves, and the fact that he murdered Deborah’s mother, Deborah chooses to forgive her former master. Would you be able to do the same? How can we extend the same kind of forgiveness to the people who cause us the most harm?
The ancient Hebrews invaded Canaan on the strength of a belief: that God had given them the land by divine right. Three thousand years later, their descendants are still fighting with the descendants of the ancient Canaanites over the “Promised Land.” Do you believe this ongoing dispute will ever be settled peacefully? Does faith justify using displacement and violence to settle territorial feuds?
Glossary
Author’s note: The terms used in this novel were derived from Hebrew and Canaanite. I have removed certain punctuation and spelled them in such a way to make them reader-friendly.
adasim: lentils
Adon: a term of respect for a man, lord, or master
bayit: literally “house,” place of business
bet bama: a shrine or holy place
ezor: a kiltlike garment worn by men
gerum: outcasts
hagora: a belt used to hold the ezor in place
hereb: a sword
himmesim: chick peas
hitta: wheat
isi: husband
isti: wife
keli: jewel
kesut: outer robe
kuttonet: tuniclike boy’s garment
massebot: standing stones
middo: a tuniclike garment
pol: fava beans
qali: parched grain
qemah: flour
seba: literally “gray head,” used as a casual address for an older man
shofar: trumpet
simla: kiltlike garment
siqma: sycamore
tahan: meal made of ground grain
ugot: grain cakes
zaqen: literally “elder,” used as an address of respect toward a superior or older man
zetim: olives
Recommended Reading
Herzog, Chaim, and Mordecai Gichon. Battles of the Bible. Mechanicsburg, PA: Greenhill Books/Lionel Leventhal Limited, 2002.
Pot
ok, Chaim. Wanderings: Chaim Potok’s History of the Jews. New York: Fawcett Books, 1990.
Sawyer, John F. A. Prophecy and the Biblical Prophets. New York: Oxford University Press, 1993.
Weems, Renita J. Battered Love: Marriage, Sex, and Violence in the Hebrew Prophets. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1995.