The Prophetess - Deborah's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “Oh, Ima!” Talya hiccuped and leaned back, swiping errant tears. “I got lost in the woods, and the farther I walked trying to get out, the worse it became. If Barak hadn’t found me, I would still be wandering among the trees.”

  A great weight lifted from Deborah’s chest as she cupped her hands about her daughter’s tear-stained cheeks. “You are safe.” Praise be to You forever, Adonai! Thank You for hearing the prayer of Your humble servant.

  Talya’s breath came in short spurts, as though she had too many words to say all at once. “I found Yiskah worshiping in the olive grove, but then she ran off, and when I chased after her I could not find her.”

  Deborah pulled her close once more. “Hush now. Yiskah has returned and told us everything.” She patted Talya’s back. “You did well,” she whispered against her ear.

  Talya drew back as male voices grew closer, but a small smile ghosted her lips. Deborah turned to see Barak and Keshet leading a contingent of men. Talya stepped away from Deborah at their approach.

  Barak stood before her, his appearance disheveled and dusty, as though he had not slept well in days. Deborah lifted a hand in greeting, and Lappidoth came from the house to wrap Talya in his arms. Deborah heard the soft weeping and the reassuring words of her husband to their daughter. She turned, thinking to join them, but Lappidoth’s eyes were closed, Talya huddled in his arms as though she were a small child. Deborah faced Barak alone. Talya needed her father, and Barak seemed in no mood to wait on them.

  “Thank you for rescuing her,” Deborah said, looking into Barak’s haggard gaze. “Please, come and stay with us. There is much to tell you.”

  Several hours later, after Talya had relayed the story of her entire ordeal while the women and servants prepared a meal for the men, Deborah called the man from Shechem to stand before Barak and give every detail of the kidnapping of the virgins of his city.

  “We don’t know how they got beyond our walls,” the man told Barak, repeating what he had told Deborah. “But the mothers are dead, the virgins are gone, and the elders have lost all hope. Please, help us.”

  “Sisera’s tactics change from city to city,” Barak said, running a hand along his jaw. “In Arumah, they broke through the gates and killed the men. There was no sign of the women or children.”

  “Why would Sisera not do the same to Shechem as he did to Arumah?” Lavi’s question mirrored Deborah’s own thoughts.

  “Sisera does not want us to get used to his plans, lest we figure out a way to stop him.” He looked at the messenger. “Did this all happen on a single day?”

  The man nodded. “When the men and their sons left for the fields or merchant stalls, they returned later to find their women murdered and their virgin daughters missing. Only the children were left crying and alone.”

  Barak glanced at Keshet, then looked at Deborah. “Has our God given you any word?” His eyes flashed, his anger barely kept in check beneath the frustrated lift of a brow.

  Deborah shook her head. “The only word I have received from Him of late is to pray. To remove the foreign gods from among us, repent, and pray.” She glanced at Lappidoth, recalling Yiskah’s so recent behavior. “I fear we are as guilty as the next village,” she said as her thoughts sought some solution. “One of our own was caught worshiping a goddess of Canaan in the olive grove.” She turned her palms up, her heart defeated. “I have yet to deal with the girl.”

  Barak’s look said he had already heard the story. “This is the woman Talya came upon.” It was not a question, but Deborah nodded regardless.

  “When new gods are chosen, war comes to our gates.” Deborah’s words were a mere whisper, the source coming from a place she knew was beyond her.

  “Shechem does not worship false gods, Prophetess,” the messenger said, his voice nearly breaking. “Why would God allow our women . . . ?” A sob escaped and he sank to his knees. “We are faithful to Him.”

  Deborah watched the man weeping, her heart aching for answers she could not give. At last she spoke softly. “Only God knows the heart of any man, whether it is true and right.”

  Silence fell like the dread before a storm.

  Finally Barak cleared his throat. “If I am going to rescue Shechem’s daughters,” he said, his voice low, uncertain, “I will need weapons and more men.” He glanced at Keshet again. “We will leave at first light.”

  “What is your plan?” Lappidoth asked, hands clasped in his lap.

  “We have secured the willingness of a Kenite near Kedesh-naphtali to make weapons for us if we can supply the ore. I intend to find the ore he requires, and perhaps recruit more soldiers to join us along the way.”

  “I will join you now,” Lavi said before Deborah could respond. “If there is to be a battle, I will not back away.”

  Deborah looked into the eyes of her youngest son, her emotions a mixture of pride and fear. Dare she tell him not to fight if they were ever to stop Sisera’s men? And yet . . . she had no word from the Lord. Nothing to indicate that Israel was ready for such a war.

  “I will gladly accept your help when we are ready,” Barak said, looking from Lavi to Deborah. “When our God tells the prophetess it is time, then we will go.” His gaze shifted to the door of the house, where Talya stood. Deborah saw something pass between them, but she could not read the man’s expression.

  “In the meantime,” Barak said, setting his clay cup on the floor at his feet, “we should leave your family in peace and plan how to execute our next move.” He nodded to the Shechemite messenger. “I want to know every possible entrance to your city, and the name of every man.”

  The man’s gaze held a fresh hint of hope, and Deborah prayed Barak would be successful in finding the virgin daughters of the men who had lost so much. She stood and waved an arm over the large court. “You and your men are welcome to stay with us as long as you need. You may sleep in the courtyard, or the cave beneath our house is spacious and you will have privacy there.”

  Barak stood along with the rest of his men. “Thank you, Prophetess. We bid you farewell then until morning.”

  Deborah set the oil lamp in the niche in the wall of her bedchamber and sank down among the cushions, every muscle tense. The voices of her sons and husband drifted to her from the sitting room, but Deborah’s strength needed reviving, away from the opinions of men.

  She stretched out on the bed she shared with Lappidoth, for the house was not large enough to afford separate rooms, and released a heavy sigh. Talya was safe. Relief seeped through her, and she slowly felt herself relax. Sleep flitted at the edges of her mind, stopping short at the sound of soft footsteps.

  “Ima?” Talya’s voice broke through the fog. Deborah sat up and beckoned the girl closer.

  She came without comment, and Deborah’s arms wrapped around her. She breathed deeply and sensed that Talya did too. “What is it, my daughter?” She patted the girl’s back as she had when Talya was a child, before conflict had arisen between them.

  Talya straightened and pulled away from Deborah’s embrace, her dark hair falling gently over one shoulder, no longer bound up as it often was during the day. “I want to marry,” she said softly. “If I marry, I will not be vulnerable as one of Sisera’s victims. I could not be captured as a virgin and sent off to be one of his slaves.” Her conviction seemed to grow in strength as she spoke.

  Deborah studied her, fighting the exhaustion of the day. “I’m not sure tonight is a good time to discuss this, Talya.” She touched her arm and smiled. “Perhaps after we both get a good night’s sleep in our own beds.” Hadn’t Talya complained earlier about missing her bed on the nights she slept on the forest floor? But by the look in her eyes, Deborah sensed she was not ready for sleep.

  “I only thought,” Talya said, glancing at the door, then back at Deborah, “that perhaps a husband could be found among Barak’s men. There is no one in town whom you have found suitable, and Barak will leave again in the morning. At least if we could secure a betrothal . .
.” Her voice trailed off, her look uncertain.

  “Is there a man you have in mind?” Deborah eyed her daughter, her gaze probing, trying to read her thoughts. “I do not know Barak’s men, Talya. They may all have wives and children waiting for them. This is not a decision to make lightly, even to protect you.”

  Talya looked away from Deborah’s scrutiny and kneaded the belt of her robe with both hands. Talya never acted nervous like this. Surely her encounter with Sisera’s men had rattled her confidence.

  “Barak is not married, Ima.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “I know he may think he does not need a wife again, but I would be good to him.”

  Deborah shifted to better face her daughter and reached for her hand. Talya met her gaze and did not pull away. “Barak is a fine man,” she said, touching Talya’s cheek. “And we are most grateful to him for finding you, for keeping you safe.” She paused, waiting for Talya to insist that she had also protected herself, but the argument did not come. “But Barak is not interested in another wife yet. He still grieves his Nessa.”

  “I know that.” Talya glanced away. “He told me as much.”

  Heavy footfalls drew her attention. Deborah looked toward the door, surprised that Talya did not do the same as Lappidoth entered the room. He met Deborah’s gaze.

  “Should I wait?” He took in the scene, his expression softening at sight of their daughter.

  “We were just discussing something,” Deborah said, not sure whether to be grateful for or irritated with the interruption.

  “I want to marry, Abba.” Talya pulled her hand from Deborah’s grasp and went to her father. “I have asked Ima to give me to Barak.”

  Lappidoth looked startled, but a moment later he seemed to recover his composure. He pulled Talya close. “You have had a difficult ordeal, my daughter. There is still plenty of time to find you a proper husband.”

  “But Barak is here now, and I don’t want just any man. I want him.” She lifted her chin in that defiant way that Deborah found hard to fight, especially tonight when all she longed for was a chance to rest, to forget the past few days. “What if that man who tried to capture me returns? Barak could keep me safe.”

  Lappidoth’s eyes narrowed.

  “Your father will keep you just as safe,” Deborah said, catching Talya’s barb before it sank into his thoughts to cause him shame.

  “Barak is not looking to marry anyone so quickly.” Lappidoth held Talya at arm’s length.

  Good. Don’t give in to her. Deborah willed Lappidoth to look her way, but he kept his eyes focused on Talya.

  “Did he say something to you on the way home? Has he given you some indication of his interest?” Lappidoth asked.

  Why was he pursuing this? Talya was delusional, as she had been when she thought herself strong enough to kill Sisera. Had her near death at the hands of one of Sisera’s men taught her nothing?

  “He did not say so exactly. But I was alone with him, Abba. Is that not reason enough?” Talya lifted her head and gave her father her most coaxing, pleading expression, the one that had always gotten her what she wanted from him.

  “Was Barak ever unseemly toward you?” Deborah interrupted, certain now that a marriage between the two was the last thing she wanted to see happen. Talya was not ready to wed if she thought she could coax her own way without a valid reason.

  “He did not act unseemly, Ima.” Talya turned to face her once more, her gaze moving from mother to father. “But Abba, I am not safe as a virgin alone. Did not Barak say so? You saw how they nearly caught me. If I marry, I will not be as easy a prey for Sisera.”

  “Marriage cannot protect you, Talya,” Lappidoth said softly. “Did you not hear how Sisera killed the wives of the men of Shechem? He also killed Barak’s wife Nessa. Virgin or married—it matters little to him—no woman is safe as long as Sisera lives.” He drew a hand along his brow. “Barak is not ready for another marriage, Talya.”

  Deborah stood, relieved that Lappidoth had not given in to Talya’s pleading, and walked toward her daughter. “It is late,” she said, taking the girl’s arm. “You must go to your bed and sleep.”

  Talya dragged her feet even as Deborah guided her toward the door. “But you will ask him?” She aimed the question at Lappidoth.

  “Tomorrow your father and I will discuss it again,” Deborah said, gently nudging Talya out of the room.

  Talya glanced back at her father, but for once in his life, Lappidoth stuck to his word and did not give her the answer she wished to hear.

  After a lengthy discussion in the recesses of the cave, Barak returned to Deborah’s courtyard, feeling a sense of need to protect the prophetess and her family. He did not explore what prompted such a thought and slept fitfully in his cloak on the hard stones.

  Dreams of Nessa mingled with the sight of Talya’s wild-eyed fear in the forest until he could not distinguish one from the other. He awoke with a start, sweat coating his skin.

  He rolled over again, trying to block the memories, but sleep would not come. At last he stood and moved silently toward the court’s open gate to gaze at the stars. Would they find the copper and tin they needed? Worse, would he be able to gather enough men, even if he had the weapons, to take on Sisera and his chariots? There were not even enough horses in Israel, let alone chariots.

  The crunch of stones set his heart pounding. He looked around, hand on his dagger, but it was just one of his men leaving the cave to walk the streets. Sometimes sleep eluded them too, and Barak relaxed, recognizing the man’s need for space. He turned slightly toward the house as the man passed out of view and glimpsed a woman standing at the window of her room, her gaze lifted heavenward. Talya. She did not glance his way. Did she sense his presence? Had she seen him? He held his breath, not daring to move. With her hair down and combed and the swath of moonlight bathing her face, she was beautiful. His stomach twisted as he was gripped with a feeling of unfaithfulness. Nessa was beautiful. Talya was a child.

  He breathed a sigh when she turned away from the window and took a step farther into the shadows, out of his line of sight. He had no time for such foolishness. He found a different spot against the court’s half wall and laid beside it, his back to the house, blocking his memories as well as his wayward thoughts.

  Movement caught Talya’s eye, and she looked from the heavens to the courtyard. An animal? No. The outline of a man. Talya’s heart skipped a beat, the memories of the man from the forest still vivid in her mind’s eye. The only time the vision of that man left her in peace was in Barak’s presence. Even her father had not been able to erase the image from her heart. Nor the fear.

  She smoothed the linen night tunic that draped softly over her body and squinted, trying to see in the moonlight. The man moved to the edge of the courtyard and lay down along the bricked half wall. Barak often slept in the courtyard on his visits. But wasn’t he in the cave with his men?

  Curious, she donned her robe and padded on bare feet to the sitting room, then to the outer court. Her heart thumped in an excited rhythm as a new thought turned in her head. If she slept at Barak’s side and he found her there in the morning, Ima would insist he marry her. He would not be able to refuse her. She drew a breath, steadying herself. Her feet moved forward of their own accord.

  Whispers of night breezes tickled her legs beneath her tunic as she stood over the man. How he intrigued her! How commanding his voice, and how strong his arms. Memories of the way he’d held her to keep her from fleeing, then the gentle way he held her once he realized all that had happened to her, quickened the beat of her heart. She ached with sudden longing for that feeling again, for that sense of protective warmth, something her father, for all of his love, could not supply.

  Would Barak accept her? Surely he would. Despite his feelings for his first wife—only wife, her thoughts corrected—he would not reject her. He was too brave and kind to do such a thing.

  And besides, she needed him.

  If she waited until d
awn, it would be too late to discuss anything. Barak would leave and they would be forced to wait until he decided to come their way again. But if she could get him to betroth himself to her now . . .

  She knelt beside him, holding her breath lest he awaken to the sound of it. His even breathing did not change. Talya’s heart thumped harder, her mind warring with the decision. Her mother would be furious. Her father would eventually smile and promise all would be well.

  She drew nearer and laid close enough to touch him without actually doing so. Eyes open, she waited, but she did not sleep.

  11

  Deborah lay awake, unable to sleep despite her body’s cry for rest. Talya had managed to stir her emotions to the point of complete exasperation once more, and she fought the urge to awaken Lappidoth and complain profusely to him. Complaining did no good, for he always sided with their daughter.

  But she could complain in her prayers, though she wondered whether Adonai ever grew tired of hearing from her. She grew weary of herself, so why shouldn’t the Almighty feel the same way? If He could grow angry with Moses, He could most certainly grow angry or frustrated with her. Much as she did with Talya.

  The thought was sobering, but the need to pray intensified. She rose quietly, careful not to awaken her husband, snatched her robe, and walked softly toward the courtyard. She needed no lamp with the moon’s glow so bright, and with few trees to block the path from here to the center of town, she might even visit the palm tree. Then again, perhaps it would be better if she waited until dawn. Even in a village as close-knit as theirs, a woman alone . . . She refused to finish the thought.

  She stopped at the entrance to the court, looking over the village, and lifted her face to accept the kiss of the night breeze, feeling as though God was surely aware of her angst, her heartache. Why is my daughter so difficult, Adonai? I teach her, try to mold her to see things the way she should, and yet she battles me at every turn.