“Shall we try to enter the palace itself, my lord?” asked one of the men.
Barak glanced at Keshet. “If you can pull it off without getting caught. Yes.”
He watched as the men scurried down the hill into the valley out of sight. How he longed to go with them, to get a look at Jabin’s overfed face and do as the judge Ehud had done that long-ago day when his two-edged sword had killed King Eglon of Moab, freeing Israel of their oppressors. But Ehud’s eighty years of peace had long since passed. Barak faced a different threat. A mightier, terrifying foe in Sisera.
A man who not only had every advantage but also had no conscience.
“The city is well fortified,” Keshet said as they circled Hazor and rounded the bend from the front gates to the back. “At least this part is.”
“There has to be a weakness somewhere.” Barak motioned for Keshet to follow him north toward the spring that came from Lake Huleh. “Cities need water, and this one must be fed by the lake’s runoff.”
They moved in silence, weaving their way behind outcroppings of rocks and heavy brush. Barak glanced at the wall. “There are fewer guards at this end.” He raised a brow at Keshet. “Curious.”
Keshet nodded, then slid down the embankment toward the edge of the spring where it entered the city. “The way is blocked.” He indicated the large boulders ahead. “But water can easily run beneath.” He looked up, pointing. A lone guard stood halfway down the wall toward the main city gates. “They put too much faith in these rocks,” Keshet said. He leaned close to Barak’s ear. “It will take more than rocks to keep our God and some strong men from entering this city.”
“Surely the guards would hear our grunts and the scraping of stone on stone, even if we do manage to lift them with ease.” He cast a wary look at the wall. The guard turned, heading their way. “We should go.” He scrambled up the bank, Keshet on his heels, and landed with a soft thud behind a copse of trees.
“We could distract them,” Keshet prodded. “Perhaps start a skirmish from the opposite way. It is worth considering.” He gave Barak his most convincing grin. “If God is in it, we cannot fail.”
“Is God in it?” He met Keshet’s gaze.
“The prophetess would know.” But Keshet’s look now held a hint of uncertainty.
“If she knows, she has not said so.” Months had passed since he had heard from Deborah, nor had he returned to visit her. He had not been able to bring himself to look into her eyes, knowing what he knew about her daughter’s wishes, which seemed to match her own. He could not give Talya or Deborah what they wanted. So he stayed away.
“I am sure she will summon us when she does,” Keshet said, moving away from him to continue the trek around the city.
“I’m sure she will.” But the fact that there had been no word troubled him more than he cared to ponder.
“Tell me what you learned,” Barak said hours later when his men joined him in a cave outside the city. The two men who had infiltrated Hazor sat nearest the fire.
“The palace is in the center of the city, surrounded by temples, city buildings, and rows of small rooms that house servants and prisoners. The areas are well guarded,” the first man said.
“The king rotates prisoners that he puts on display at the four corners of the city square.” The second man drew a likeness of the prisoners in the dirt of the cave floor. Two men and two women, each indiscreetly exposed for all to see.
“Israelites?” Barak already knew the answer, but when both men nodded, his heartbeat quickened and the blood rushed thicker through his veins. “How are they displayed? Is there no way to secretly release them and take them away?” The question held an imploring tone, and he knew it was pointless to ask or they would have done just that.
The first man shook his head. “No, my lord. They are lifted onto a round platform, their hands tied behind them. They remain there, pleading to be released.” He paused. “It was hard to watch, my lord.”
Barak stood abruptly, anger fueling his footsteps. He paced to the back of the cave and returned. “How often do they change the prisoners?”
“One of the guards said every few hours a new batch takes their place. But they are there at Jabin’s pleasure, and he often delights in making a spectacle of them, even worse than we were able to see. Some are sent to the ring, where they lose their life.” The man averted his eyes as he spoke. These men were not squeamish or easily rattled, but whatever they had heard and seen had shaken them.
“When we destroy Hazor, we will save the prisoners. That will be our first obligation.” Barak spoke with conviction, though his heart felt hollow even with his strong words. How could any man of the earth treat his fellow man or woman so atrociously?
He strode off again, clenching and unclenching his fists, digging his nails deeply into his palms. What he wouldn’t give to face Jabin and Sisera right now, blade in hand, and put an end to them both. His breath came faster, matching the pace of his feet. Adonai, why do You allow this? Surely these men and women had not done such evil as to deserve this punishment.
The prayer made him pause to listen, but if he expected an answer, he did not receive one.
Deborah strode back and forth over the length of her sitting room while the man from a neighboring town visibly shook in the seat they had offered him. “Tell me again,” she said, though he had already recounted the unbelievable tale.
Talya offered the man a cup of cool water, and he drank greedily. He sat straighter, but his hands, held tightly between his knees, belied his attempt to keep his composure. “Prophetess, it is like I told you. Sisera came to Endor. I wouldn’t be here to tell you if I hadn’t been away trying to sell my wares to a passing caravan.” He cleared his throat. “While I was gone, Sisera charged through the gates in the short amount of time they are open, rounded up all the men and all the virgin maids. He killed the elders and took the virgins into his custody. The men he left are barely men, not yet twenty years old. Some might be strong enough to fight, but with their fathers dead and their sisters taken, they’ve no strength within them.”
“Young men should be hot-blooded and angry, ready to fight Sisera.” Deborah could not believe such a horrific story could end with men losing heart. Unless . . . “Did Sisera harm the young men in any way?”
The man started shaking again. This part he had obviously left out in the first telling, and Deborah only now thought to ask the question. “Some of them, yes.”
Deborah did not need to know how. “That explains it then.” If Sisera had maimed some of the lads, the others would fear he would come back and do the same to them if they ever crossed him, even to rescue their sisters. They would be of no use to Barak in his army, strengthening Sisera’s hold on Israel.
Deborah sank onto a cushion and leaned against the limestone wall. Lappidoth spoke to the man for more details, but she had heard enough. She blinked back tears, as a mother would for her children. Oh Adonai, Adonai, how long? Will You forget us forever?
Sisera was using every tactic he could to destroy them from the inside. He was cutting to the heart of their morale. He was making them weak.
She stood and left the house, walking in the cool night air toward her palm tree, grateful for the breeze that tugged at her headscarf. How long until Sisera found their little village and came to pillage them? Would he kill Lappidoth and their sons, take Talya and the other virgins? Who would stop him? They had so little defense.
She looked up at the night sky now dotted with stars, a fresh reminder of her Creator. Had not God promised Abraham, “Your descendants will be as the stars in the sky”? And yet they were being systematically decimated by a tyrannical murderer and his ruthless king.
Even if Barak went to war against them, who was left among the clans of Israel to join him? She lifted her gaze to take in the whole of the sky. Are there any left who have not worshiped Anat or Baal or Asherah or Molech or others I can’t even name? Am I and my family the only few who would tear down such alt
ars and idols and banish or destroy those who worship them?
Memories of Shet’s wife surfaced. Talya had destroyed the idol, but not everyone in their village truly obeyed Yahweh. Deborah sensed it in her heart. At least for Shet’s sake his wife had not enticed others to worship the idol she sought in secret. She had acted alone. But her husband had still sent her away for a time until she could return fully repentant. Deborah wondered if the woman would ever come home—or would she maintain her defiant attitude against Yahweh and run off to Canaan?
The skin prickled along Deborah’s arms as the dusk deepened. The very thought of Yiskah in Canaan chilled her. What happened to the women Sisera kidnapped and used for pleasure? Did they die giving birth to illegitimate children? Did he toss them aside and enslave them after he stole the one precious thing they owned? Did God not care for the souls of Israel’s daughters?
If God were a Canaanite goddess, Deborah would have her answer. Anat the warrior goddess stood behind Sisera’s success. Asherah stood behind Canaan’s fertility. Baal stood behind Canaan’s king.
You are greater, Adonai Elohim. You can defeat them with a word. She paused and tilted her head, listening for some sound, some word from him. If You but ask, I will obey.
A stirring grew within her, a certainty that had not been there during the nightmares of late. Sisera may have conquered Endor, but he had not conquered all. God would answer soon. There was still hope.
14
Barak made his way slowly down the hill as the moon lit the field below but kept him in shadow. Five men followed him, Keshet among them. He questioned his own good sense about trusting his friend’s idea, but in the end he knew that Keshet was strong and smart and quick. They would do their best or die trying.
When his feet touched the valley floor, he signaled for his men to go in opposite directions and meet at the spring behind the city. If one group was noticed by the guards, they could alert the other with signals they had planned months before on previous raids. One hoot of the owl meant danger lurked. Two and it was imminent.
But as they neared the spring and nothing unusual happened, Barak glanced heavenward and thanked God for blinding the eyes of the guards. Reaching the spring and then moving the stones without notice, however, was another matter.
Laughter and singing spilled from the city at their approach.
“They must be celebrating. They will be more easily distracted if they are,” Keshet said.
Barak nodded but held his peace. When they reached the spot he and Keshet had found earlier that day, the strongest men used every tool they carried to dig out the pitch and mortar from between the stones attached to the wall above the river and loosen the rocks below. Hours passed and the moon went in and out of the clouds.
“How much longer? Can anyone fit through and swim to the surface?” Barak glanced toward the wall, but no guards seemed interested in this part of city.
“We’re through,” a man whispered.
Barak came to the opening. “The prisoners are held to the right?” He pointed a little northwest of where they stood.
One of the spies spoke. “Yes. But the servants are there too. It is too dark to tell, but there is a small gate that separates the two. I expect that is because servants aren’t much different than prisoners, but for the humiliation and public torture.”
Barak stared at the slowly moving water and the narrow opening the men had dug. The water came waist deep to the man standing there.
Keshet touched his shoulder. “I will go,” he whispered. But he could not swim.
Barak shook his head. “No. I’ll go.” He looked to his small band of men. “Who will go with me?”
Keshet stayed behind to stand guard while Barak led the other men into the icy water, dunked beneath the surface, and slowly waded toward the opening in the city. They came to a wide cistern the height of at least two men rising out of the water, with walls that would be difficult to scale. Probably a place where the women came to draw water, but no rope hung low to grab, no steps to climb. When Barak placed a hand against the surface of one wall, he winced and pulled back, stifling the urge to cry out. Barbs of sharp metal and rock and thorns from thistle branches had been imbedded into the cistern walls.
“No wonder the guards pay so little attention to this part of the city,” whispered the man closest to him, who had also cut his hand on the wall. “They know once an enemy breaches the passage, the cistern will stop them.”
Barak lifted his gaze, searching for some place, something. But there was no obvious area visible in the darkness that would allow a man to climb. The icy waters of the spring seeped deeper into his bones with every passing moment.
There would be no rescuing prisoners tonight.
“Retreat,” Barak whispered, praying their voices would not be heard in the cavernous room. After each man had ducked beneath the water and swam back toward the opening, Barak followed, feeling more defeated than he had ever felt in his life.
Two days away from Hazor, near the shores of Kinneret, Barak spied Heber the Kenite and his sons heading north. He stopped and waited as they approached.
“What brings you to this part of Naphtali?” Barak asked, taking note of the donkeys heavy laden with sacks. He glanced beyond them for some sign of the rest of the family. Were they trying to escape Canaan’s territory? But they wouldn’t be headed toward Hazor if they were.
“We have an order of weapons for King Jabin,” Heber said. By the look on his face and his clenched jaw, he was not happy to divulge this information to Barak.
“More weapons?” Barak walked to the donkey and peered into the sacks on its sides. Daggers filled one, shields the other.
“I am following orders from Sisera,” Heber said, his tone defensive. The man glanced at Barak’s one hundred followers. Barak’s men could easily take what Heber had made and leave him empty-handed. But to do so would surely mean Heber’s death, and the death of all he owned.
“Is Sisera holding something against you to expect you to do this thing?” Barak moved to face Heber, his men grumbling behind him. They would overpower Heber’s men if Barak did not stop them. He turned and held up his hand for silence. “You will stay as you are.”
He faced Heber again. “I have no reason to harm you, my friend. It does not please me that you make weapons for my enemies, but you are not of Israel. I cannot force your loyalties.”
Heber did not speak for a moment. “Sisera enters our camp, and he makes advances at my wife, my daughter. When I was off gathering his weapons, he nearly forced himself upon my wife, and his guards are armed, keeping my own guards from defending what is mine.” Defeat filled his voice. “Until I can find a way to escape, I have no choice.”
“How do you know Sisera won’t attack your women while you are here?” Barak crossed his arms over his chest, sizing up the man.
“Sisera does not know the timing of our mission. He thinks I am coming to Hazor next week. I decided it was best to come early, to keep him off guard.”
Barak did not comment that Sisera could be angry that Heber did not obey his commands to the exact letter. Perhaps Heber’s metalworking was too important to Sisera to risk truly harming the man’s family.
“Please, is there something I can do for you? We must be on our way.” A note of anxiety entered Heber’s voice.
Barak relaxed his stance. “We mean you no harm, but I have one request of you.” Perhaps Heber could succeed where Barak had failed. If the man was willing to take the risk.
“How can I help you?” He seemed uncertain and was probably unwilling.
Barak studied him but a moment. “We just came from Hazor, though the king does not know it.” He rubbed his beard, weighing his words. “My men did some spying on the town and found men and women of Israel who are kept there as slaves. I cannot repeat to you the things done to them, but you will notice them when you enter the market square.”
Heber waited, saying nothing.
“I want you to buy
back at least one of them, more if you can afford Jabin’s prices.”
Heber’s mouth dropped, but he quickly closed it. “Are you mad? To even ask the king such a question could cost us our lives.”
“Not if he is pleased with your workmanship. Tell him the slave is to help you in the ovens or in the making of molds. Or if it is a woman, tell them your wife has need of a slave, and could he spare one? He need not know you intend to free them.” Barak paced the short space between them. “Once you understand what that man is doing to our people . . .” He stopped, arms outstretched, imploring. “We tried to enter the city by night to rescue as many as we could, but the way is blocked by sharp rocks and barbs and a steep climb. I will try again, but I cannot do it without weapons, without further planning.”
“I don’t see how my purchase of one slave will help your cause, Barak,” Heber said. This time his voice held disappointment, perhaps in himself. “There are so many who have been taken. What is one among so many?”
Barak shrugged. “I don’t know. Hope, perhaps. I need to know it can be done, that we can rescue those who have been taken.”
Heber studied his feet, then met Barak’s steady gaze. “It is a hard thing you ask, my friend.”
“We live in an impossible situation.”
“I promise nothing,” Heber said.
“I expect nothing. I only ask you to try.” Barak nodded to his men to continue on down the path. “When you return, stop in Kedesh-naphtali and tell me what became of your visit.”
“I promise nothing,” he said again. He paused. “I will send word when your weapons are ready.”
With that the men parted ways. Barak’s sense of failure grew stronger with every step homeward.
15
Jael looked over the dark camp and glanced once more at the heavens. The moon had not moved since the last time she checked its place. Still there was no sign of Heber or her sons. She shivered, and with the chill came the fear she could not shake.
The Prophetess - Deborah's Story Page 12