The Prophetess - Deborah's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “What happened to you after Shet sent you away?” Months had passed since that long-ago moment, and there had been no word. More troubling to Deborah was Shet’s lack of concern or any obvious desire to seek out his lost wife.

  Yiskah did not respond for many breaths. “I went to Hazor. I thought I could find refuge there.” The girl would not meet Deborah’s gaze, and her cheeks grew pink beneath Deborah’s lengthy stare.

  “And did you?” Deborah asked. “Find refuge?”

  Yiskah slowly shook her head. “No, Prophetess.”

  Deborah shifted in her seat, praying for wisdom. She looked at Jael. “Why have you brought her to me?”

  Jael took a step back, one brow lifted in surprise. “I thought . . . that is, my husband thought that if she belonged to your family, it would be best to return her to you.” She lifted her chin, but no defiance warmed her gaze. “If she is not pleasing to you, Prophetess, I will keep her as my servant.”

  Deborah clasped her hands in front of her. She looked beyond Jael. “These people belong to you. Your guards?”

  “My sons. And my daughter.”

  Deborah nodded and rose slowly. “This situation is not entirely mine to decide,” she said, holding Jael’s gaze. “Yiskah’s husband sent her away for worshiping Asherah. She was to stay in the hills seven days to pray and repent of her sin. Since she had not attempted to cause others to follow her rebellious ways, her husband thought it the prudent thing to do. Had she caused others to follow Asherah, he would have been forced by law to stone her.”

  Deborah stepped from beneath the palm and pointed to the grassy knoll around it. “Wait for me here. Since Yiskah did not return to Shet as she was supposed to do, it is up to her husband to decide what to do with her now.” She walked off, but Jael’s words stopped her.

  “If her husband would put her to death, I will not wait for him. I will take her back with me at once.” Her tone held a fierce edge.

  Deborah turned to face her. “He will not seek her death,” she said quietly. “But he may not wish to keep her.” She motioned again to the grasses. “Wait here.”

  She walked to the city gate, her mind whirling. Shet’s response was not one she could foresee. But Yiskah’s return had also been hidden from her, as were so many things. The dreams came often, but they normally hinted of war. What had happened to Yiskah during her stay at Hazor? Deborah was not sure she wanted to know.

  She climbed the steps of the gate where Shet’s grandfather sat with the elders. She came and knelt before him. “Uncle Chayim, I need you, Amichai, and Shet to come to my house when they return from the fields.”

  Her uncle squeezed her hands. “Ah, my Deborah. But of course we will come.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “Something troubles you, my daughter.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Visitors have come bringing Yiskah. I will not send her away until I know what Shet would do. Will he cover her shame and embrace her once more, or write her a writ of divorcement? She has abandoned him, and he must decide.”

  Her uncle sat up straight, his eyes wide. “Yiskah has returned?”

  “Yes, Uncle.” Deborah waited, patient while the shocking news took hold.

  “Shet will accept her, of course. He must.” He still seemed taken aback, but his eyes lit with a determined gleam she had not seen in him since Yiskah was sent away. Yiskah was her uncle’s only granddaughter-in-law, as Shet was his only grandson. Her loss had been a blow to the entire family.

  “I will send someone to find him now. There is no sense in keeping your guests waiting.”

  “Thank you, Uncle.” Deborah rose and hurried down the steps.

  The courtyard buzzed with the usual pleasantries and an underlying awkwardness. Deborah’s aunt and uncle and Ilana had come to welcome the Kenite clan before Amichai, Shet, and the rest of the men returned from the fields. The women offered almonds and cheeses and watered wine to the guests, but Deborah could not eat. She glanced continually toward the street that led to the city gate for her men.

  At last she spotted them. She jumped up and hurried out to meet them, accepting Lappidoth’s kiss on her cheek. “Your grandfather is here,” she said to Shet, waiting until he fully met her gaze. “I asked him to come.”

  “I am sure he was pleased to visit,” Shet said, his bearing stiff. “But what purpose is this that needs both me and my father to come home before the day’s work is over?”

  Deborah studied him, then glanced at his father Amichai. “Your wife has returned,” she said. “There is no sense entering our courtyard until you tell me what you will do with her.”

  Shet’s surprise surpassed that of his father’s. He rubbed a hand along his bearded jaw, his dark eyes rimmed with sleepless shadows. Yiskah’s disappearance had not been handled well by any in Chayim’s household. “At last she returns? Where has she been these many months?”

  Deborah touched his arm and gentled her tone. “She did not stay in the hills. She followed the roads until she came to Hazor. She sought refuge with the Canaanites.”

  Shet reeled back. “She what?”

  “They did not treat her well,” Deborah said, trying to appease the heat of anger in his eyes.

  “She deserved whatever she got.” He cursed and spat in the dirt. “Let her rot in Sheol.” He turned on his heel and stalked off.

  “Do not leave yet, cousin.” Deborah’s tone halted him, and she knew he would listen out of respect. “Your grandfather is waiting for your decision. You know they love Yiskah. You owe it to him, to them, to hear your wife’s tale. Before you would cast her out, hear what she has to say.”

  Shet’s back remained to her, but he slowly turned to his father, who simply shrugged. How could he act so indifferently? Deborah realized yet again how glad she was that she had never married the man.

  “I do not wish to hear her tale,” Shet said. “She betrayed me with other gods. She betrayed our marriage and my trust.”

  “You have every right to think so, Shet,” Deborah said softly. “She is as guilty as you say.”

  “Then why do you care what becomes of her?”

  Deborah sighed deeply and glanced quickly at Lappidoth and each of her sons before facing her young cousin once more. “She was brought here by Kenites who purchased her freedom from Jabin. When they learned she was related to me, they brought her here.”

  “Then forgive me, cousin Deborah, but you keep her.”

  “I will decide her fate, but only after you have heard all. Then if you would still cast her aside, you must give her a writ of divorcement so that she will be free.”

  “No other man would have her.”

  “Probably not.” Deborah looked beyond him a moment, and in a flash she saw a vision of what Yiskah had endured. Energy seeped from her, causing her to stumble.

  “What is it?” Lappidoth caught her arm. He knew the look that took her away to places she did not want to visit.

  “She has endured much.” She took a steadying breath. “Come,” she commanded Shet, turning to walk back to the house.

  Shet obeyed, though he was the last to enter the courtyard.

  “Yiskah,” Deborah said sharply, bringing silence to the gathering. “Come here.”

  The girl stood and came trembling, hands clasped tightly in front of her, head bowed.

  “Tell your husband what was done to you in Hazor.” Deborah paused a moment. “In private,” she amended, the vision still too vivid in her mind. She pointed beyond them. “Take her to the palm tree, Shet. I will come in a few moments. Then you can give me your decision.”

  Shet stared at his wife. His dark eyes held no warmth.

  “Be merciful, son,” his grandfather said, pleading.

  Shet glanced up but did not reply. He whirled about and walked quickly toward the palm. Yiskah hurried to catch up.

  Deborah looked the group over. “The images are not seemly to repeat to you.” She caught Jael’s gaze. The woman nodded. She knew. “I will give you Sh
et’s decision in a few moments. For now, rest and eat. You are welcome to stay with us as long as you are able.”

  “We will be leaving at dawn,” Jael said.

  17

  Jael accepted a clay plate of flatbread and a dipper of stew from Deborah’s daughter, but she could not eat. She watched the prophetess, saw the uneasy exchanges with her daughter and the way the men obeyed her word. Deborah held power here, though Jael did not see arrogance in the woman’s gaze. The men obeyed her because of the visions, they said. And since Jael had not told Deborah what Yiskah had lived through, nor had Yiskah been alone with her to tell her so, the woman’s visions must be true.

  The thought comforted Jael, and yet . . . this village even with its hidden walls and barred gates could be easily scaled by Sisera’s men. Daniyah would be safer in Judah with her uncle Alim, even if it meant wounding Heber’s pride to return home. None of them would live long with Sisera so easily invading their camp.

  Jael glanced at her daughter eating in silence, then looked at her two sons. Uneasiness crept into Fareed’s gaze. Did he sense something she did not? But a moment later one of Deborah’s sons engaged him in conversation, and he seemed to relax. She nibbled the end of the bread, listening as Deborah’s daughter spoke to Daniyah.

  “Did you travel far?” Talya asked as she sat near, holding a clay cup of water.

  Daniyah looked at her mother as though she was not sure whether to respond.

  “A few days’ walk,” Ghalib answered in Daniyah’s place. “We kept to the side roads, so the trip took longer than it would have if the highways were safe to use.” He gave Talya that crooked grin Jael had always loved. He scooted closer to his sister, which put him closer to Talya.

  “Did you take the path through the woods?” Talya’s interest seemed piqued as she looked at first him, then his sister, and Jael leaned slightly forward to better hear the answer. “Sometimes Sisera’s men hide in the woods,” she said.

  “We stayed clear of them,” Ghalib said, straightening, his bearing one of a man of confidence. “Fareed and I felt it would be too easy to get lost there, as we are not familiar with these lands.”

  Talya nodded and took a sip from her cup before she spoke again. “Tell me about the place you are from. I have never been far from these hills.”

  Jael glanced at Daniyah, who seemed to have been excluded from the conversation, as Talya’s gaze now met only Ghalib’s. Conversations of the other men came in low waves around her. Her stomach knotted each time she glanced toward the palm tree. How long would it take Yiskah to tell all to her husband? Would he forgive her?

  “We come from the Negev of Judah, but in recent months we moved to the oak in Zaanannim. Our families still live in Judah’s desert.” Ghalib’s tone held its usual longing and hint of scorn, and Jael did not miss Talya’s questioning brow.

  “You are not happy with the move?”

  Jael watched her son’s narrowed gaze, wishing he could adjust and get past the hurts he still clung to, but also knowing he was more right than she gave him credit for. They had been foolish to leave, and she would do all in her power to remedy that if she could. But how to save Heber’s pride in the process?

  “I would not have left,” Ghalib said, pulling Jael from her musings, “if the decision had been mine to make.”

  “He misses our cousin Parisa,” Daniyah said.

  Ghalib cast his sister a withering look. “Mind your own business, little one.”

  Talya stiffened and her dark eyes narrowed. She looked Daniyah’s way, seemed to assess her, then faced Ghalib. “It is rude to call a woman ‘little one.’ Anyone can tell your sister is not a child.”

  Ghalib glanced from his sister to Talya. At last he shrugged. “It matters little now. A cousin was nearly promised to me in marriage, but we left before the betrothal could be pursued.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” Talya said, her gaze suddenly drifting beyond Ghalib. “Good men and women are hard to come by in these difficult days.” She faced Daniyah and Jael, her expression suddenly awkward. “Forgive me. I did not mean to pry into your personal affairs. If you will excuse me.”

  She stood and walked into the house.

  Jael watched the girl go, puzzled by her sudden change in tone and interest. Was there someone she also pined for who had been lost to her?

  She turned at the sound of voices and squinted to better see into the gathering dusk. Deborah emerged from the shadows alone. Jael released a relieved sigh, but a moment later Yiskah came behind, her feet dragging in the dust. Her husband did not follow. Yiskah staggered, then righted herself. Jael jumped up, then sat back down as she realized it was not her place to interfere.

  Yiskah came into better view, tears falling freely from her dark, sunken eyes.

  “He refuses to give her a writ, but he will not accept her return.” Deborah looked at an older man whom Jael had learned was Shet’s grandfather. “She will stay with us in the meantime.”

  “I thought you said he had to give her a writ,” Shet’s grandfather said, slowly standing. “He must either take her back or let her go. He cannot just turn her out.”

  “And he will not, Uncle,” Deborah said, taking the girl’s arm. “I promised to give him time.”

  “How much time?” Her uncle came close to the girl, and Jael sensed he wanted to pull her into his embrace. There was still love in this place, in the girl’s home.

  “Enough to accept what has befallen her, what her choices have caused.” Deborah’s tone said the matter was finished. “She will stay with me until next week. Then if Shet will not take her back, you must decide whether to stand by this woman”—she pointed to Yiskah—“or your grandson.”

  She ushered Yiskah into the house, where the girl’s weeping grew louder, though muffled. Deborah’s uncle looked at his wife as though someone had pierced him with an arrow. The men crowded around them both, taking his arms and that of his wife’s and seeing them safely home. Another woman, probably Shet’s mother, walked in silence behind them.

  “We should leave first thing, before dawn,” Fareed whispered close to Jael’s ear.

  “Yes, I agree.” Jael handed her uneaten food to Talya, who had returned to see if she could offer them anything else. She left just as quickly with no further comment to Daniyah or Ghalib. Jael studied Ghalib’s expression as the girl walked into the house.

  “So soon?” Ghalib said once Talya was out of earshot. “But . . .” He met Jael’s gaze and did not finish his sentence.

  “Your brother is right. The prophetess will handle the matter. It is why we came. We leave in the morning.”

  Daniyah would not be staying.

  The following morning, Jael stood at the courtyard gate with Deborah. She caught Ghalib talking quietly with Talya, and Fareed standing nearby tapping his foot. Daniyah stood at Jael’s side, silent, watching.

  “Thank you for bringing Yiskah back to us,” Deborah said, her smile genuine. But her gaze held a hint of regret. “I wish you could stay longer.”

  “My husband will worry if we don’t quickly return.” Jael put her arm around Daniyah and bowed toward Deborah. “I am grateful that you will see to Yiskah’s safekeeping.”

  Deborah studied Jael a moment, but Jael did not flinch. “Your husband paid money to retrieve her, yes?”

  Jael nodded. “In a manner of speaking. He took her in trade.” It would do no good to tell the prophetess exactly what Heber had traded for the girl. Better the Israelites not know of her husband’s dealings with Canaan.

  Deborah pulled small silver nuggets from a pouch at her side and placed them in Jael’s hand. “This is to cover some of what was lost on her account. I am sure it is not sufficient, but I hope it pays at least part of what we owe.”

  “You owe us nothing.” Jael glanced at the silver and nearly returned it, then thought how pleased Heber would be to regain some of his earnings. She hesitated.

  “Keep it,” Deborah said. She offered Jael a knowing smile.
“I will not ask why your husband has business with Jabin, and you will not refuse me to offer you payment in kind.”

  Jael flushed, certain the woman could read her very thoughts! “Thank you, Prophetess.” She glanced again at her sons. “We should go.”

  Deborah bid them farewell, and Jael turned to her sons. “Come,” she said, despite Ghalib’s pleading look to stay a moment more.

  “Perhaps we will meet another time,” Ghalib said to Talya as he hurried after Jael.

  When they passed through the gates of Deborah’s village, Ghalib fell into step with his mother. “Ima, what would have been so wrong with getting to know the prophetess and her family? Father would not have minded if we had stayed another day or two.”

  “You were too taken with the girl,” Fareed said, jumping in before Jael could speak.

  “And what is wrong with that?” Ghalib’s voice rose, and he took a step closer to Fareed. “She is beautiful.”

  Fareed chuckled, further incensing Ghalib. Jael moved between them. “Enough. You are acting like children.” She stopped and faced Ghalib. “I am not sure you would be happy married to an Israelite.” She glanced back at the village gates, now small in the distance. “Besides, I doubt very much that such a woman, a prophetess who hears from their God, would allow her daughter to marry outside of her tribe.” She touched his cheek. “Just as we do not marry outside of our clan.” She clucked her tongue and sighed. “What am I to do with you? We should have married you off before we left your uncle’s home.”

  “Yes, you should have.” Again scorn riddled his words.

  Jael looked into his hardened eyes. “Your father will find a wife for you. We will send to Judah for Parisa if you still want her. Are not your sisters-in-law of our own family?” She huffed and continued walking. “Come now. We will go home and I will speak to your father. But you must forget the prophetess’s daughter. Beautiful or not, she is not Kenite, and that is more important.”

  Barak startled at the sound of scraping in the courtyard and struggled to pull himself from the sleepy haze he had wrapped himself in since the day he had sent his men home. How long had it been? A week? A month? Time seemed to meld one day into the next.