The Prophetess - Deborah's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  Deborah released a soft breath. Adonai did have power over evil, even through one as weak as a woman. Hadn’t He been using her to give His word to Israel’s leaders all these years? Surely if He could use one such as she, He could do as Talya suggested.

  But in the next moment she recoiled at the thought of that woman being her daughter. She stood and faced Talya, arms crossed. Then slowly the anger she’d been carrying toward the girl dissipated. How could a mother remain angry at her own child? She opened her arms, drawing Talya to her. “You are wise, my girl,” she said, holding Talya close.

  “Then you will let me fight, Ima?” Talya pulled back so that Deborah held her at arm’s length. “If Lavi goes, he will watch over me.”

  Deborah shook her head, fighting the onset of a sudden headache, and a sinking realization that life was about to change utterly. “I cannot.” She released Talya and turned. “Please, Talya, I cannot lose you. And though I know you are strong and capable, I cannot send one woman into a camp with ten thousand men!”

  Silence fell between them. Deborah expected Talya to stomp off, but instead she felt the girl’s arms come around her from behind. “It’s all right, Ima. If you do not have approval from God, I will not disobey you.”

  Deborah turned. Her tears fell as she cupped Talya’s cheeks. She swiped them away.

  “I want to help, Ima. I want to help Barak and you. But I won’t fight you anymore.”

  Deborah pulled Talya close once more and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, daughter. I do not have approval from God to let you go.”

  But where Talya was concerned, she later realized, she was not so sure that she could hear God apart from her own choices.

  20

  Barak shed his outer cloak and the quiver strapped to his back and carried them over his arm. The narrow passage between the rocks that led to Deborah’s village forced him to walk sideways for many cubits, and the less bulk the better. Sweat beaded his brow as he turned to take a tight turn at an angle between the rocks. He did not care for closed-in spaces, but this was the best way to reach Deborah’s village from this direction and avoid Sisera’s chariots along the main roads. He squeezed through, glancing back to make sure Keshet and Lavi followed.

  Two hundred had joined them from several cities along the way, with more giving promise to do so. Men were anxious for war, ready to do whatever it took to rid the land of their Canaanite nemesis. But they needed thousands, not hundreds.

  His heartbeat quickened as he emerged at last near a copse of trees and wiped the sweat away with the back of his hand. He breathed deeply of the pine-scented air and surveyed the area before him as he donned his cloak.

  “Just through these trees and over the next rise,” Lavi said, coming to stand beside him. “My mother will be waiting.”

  “She is no doubt anxious for your return,” Barak said, sizing the man up once more. He’d grown into a strong ox of a man, one Deborah was sure to trust well. But what mother wished to send her sons to war?

  “She is anxious to give you the word from the Lord,” Lavi said, his voice confident.

  “Let us not keep her waiting then.” Barak strode off, his mind filled with questions. Was God finally going to destroy Sisera? Would their land finally know peace?

  He could not recall a time of peace in his life. Too many years had passed since the days of Ehud or the brief victory Shamgar had garnered over the Philistines. It had not always been this way. Under Joshua’s leadership Israel had conquered kingdoms and taken possession of much of the land God had given to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But not all. And his people seemed powerless to oust those left living among them.

  Barak sent a twig flying and picked up his pace. Perhaps now things would be different. If men and women had listened to Deborah’s call to repent and pray . . . But he would not allow himself to dwell on the wherefores until he heard Deborah’s words.

  The village gate appeared before them moments later, shut to them as dusk had now fallen. Lavi strode close to the guard standing watch and called for him to open. The leather hinges creaked against the wood as the gates swung open just enough to let the men through.

  Barak followed Lavi, though he knew the way in his sleep.

  “She will be waiting at the palm tree,” Lavi said when Barak turned to take the street to Deborah’s home.

  “But it is late.” Barak tilted his head, hesitant.

  “She will be expecting us at the center of town.” Lavi headed straight toward the middle of the square. Barak followed in silence, surprised to see a gathering of the town’s men holding torches, standing near Deborah’s palm.

  Deborah stood at their approach and embraced her son, kissing each cheek. She smiled into his eyes, then faced Barak. “Welcome, my friend.”

  He nodded his assent, glancing at the men around her. Their expressions told him they did not yet know why she had summoned them, but eagerness shone in the eyes of the younger men. He looked at Deborah as she took her seat beneath the palm.

  “Has not the Lord, the God of Israel, commanded you,” Deborah said, her voice calm and sure, “‘Go, gather your men at Mount Tabor, taking ten thousand from the people of Naphtali and the people of Zebulun. And I will draw out Sisera, the general of Jabin’s army, to meet you by the river Kishon with his chariots and his troops, and I will give him into your hand.’”

  Barak swallowed. So this was it. The time truly had come. “You’ve had a vision then?”

  Deborah nodded. “God has clearly shown me that the time is now. You are ready?” The light in her eyes drew him, and her steady look made him feel as though she could see into his soul.

  He blanched at that thought and looked away. He glimpsed Talya standing near, bow at her side and a fierce light in her eyes. Why was it these women seemed more prepared to fight than some of the men in his own band? But they had not seen what his eyes had seen. They had not witnessed what Sisera could do.

  “How does God plan for us to destroy Sisera’s chariots? We are few in number.” It wasn’t an excuse, but he needed to know, to understand how he would accomplish this task. Surely God would fight for him, but how would he hear God’s voice or know that He was the one leading? Barak had no powers of insight as Deborah did. He did not hear God’s voice or see visions.

  “Is it not enough to know that God will deliver Sisera into your hands? He will reveal Himself to you once you are there. You must leave at first light to draw the men to Mount Tabor.”

  Deborah crossed her arms in that commanding way she had, and Barak knew he would get no more information from her. Perhaps she had no more information to give. And yet . . . something in him hesitated. He studied her, glanced about at his men, saw the uncertainty. Would God go with him as she had said? How would he know?

  He cleared his throat, rubbed a hand along his bearded jaw. “If you will go with me, I will go, but if you will not go with me, I will not go.” He planted one foot on the grass nearest her seat and crossed his arms in a stance of equality. He would not put the lives of his men at risk without knowing God was truly with him, and only Deborah had God’s ear.

  Deborah seemed to consider his words. Talya stepped closer and placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder, and in that moment Barak caught an exchange between mother and daughter he had not seen before.

  “I will surely go with you,” Deborah said at last. “Nevertheless, the road on which you are going will not lead to your glory, for the Lord will sell Sisera into the hand of a woman.”

  A knot formed as though a man had punched him in the gut, but Barak did not move, trying to keep his expression neutral, certain he was failing miserably. The words were a blow, especially when he saw the look of triumph in Talya’s dark eyes. Did she intend to go with them? Would God give Sisera to this slight of a girl when he, Barak, had spent the last many years of his life going after the man? To have a woman win the battle for a man would be humiliation.

  “To be struck dead by a woman’s arrow will be the ult
imate defeat for a Canaanite worshiper of Anat and Asherah,” Talya said, stepping closer to Barak. Her gaze held that alluring fire, the desire for vengeance that he had seen only in men.

  Barak ran a hand over his beard, still masking his expression and the shock Talya’s and Deborah’s words had evoked. He needed to sit, to drink wine and fill his belly and forget these women who had just upended his world.

  But one was standing a mere handbreadth from him, and the other watched him from her seat of judgment, waiting for his response.

  “Very well,” he said, dragging the words from some place beyond his conscious thought. “We will go and fight Sisera. May it be as you have said.”

  He would never live down the disgrace or the ribbing he would take from his men if Talya’s arrow pierced Sisera’s armor. He glanced at her as the men started talking in excited voices and dispersed to their homes, taking some of his men with them for the night. Deborah led the way to her home, and Barak fell into step with Lavi on one side and Talya on the other.

  “You can’t possibly have convinced Ima to let you go to war with all of those men.” Lavi looked at his sister but did not sound convinced or pleased. Good. How could they possibly keep such a beautiful girl safe in such surroundings?

  “I can only assume by her comments that she means just that,” Talya said, giving her brother a knowing smirk.

  “I do not like it,” Barak said, glancing over Talya’s head at Lavi. “How will you protect her?”

  “I can protect myself.” Talya held the bow high and pretended to reach for an arrow in the quiver at her back.

  Barak held up a hand to stay her actions. “As you did in the forest when one of Sisera’s men nearly killed you?” He studied her out of the corner of his eye as they walked. The air seemed sweeter in her presence, and he suddenly realized that she truly was beautiful.

  “That was then,” she said, lifting her chin in that defiant way of hers. “This is now.” She gripped the bow. “I am ready.”

  Barak shook his head but said nothing. What point was there in arguing with the girl?

  They reached the courtyard of Deborah’s home, greeted by her daughters-in-law and a young woman he did not recognize, whom they introduced as Yiskah. Lavi’s quick explanation told him that this was Deborah’s cousin, the Israelite Heber had rescued, as Barak had asked of him. Respect for the Kenite filled him.

  He accepted food and drink from the women and watched as Deborah and Talya slipped into the house, no doubt to talk about the coming battle. Lappidoth sat with his sons and Barak, but said little as evening waned.

  At last Barak had a moment alone with the man when most of the household headed to their mats. “Are you truly going to allow your daughter to go to war, my lord?”

  Lappidoth studied Barak a moment in silence. “I know God has given my wife a gift I do not possess, my son. And if God has told her it is right to go to war with you, as you seemed most certain my wife must do, and if God has given my wife direction to take our daughter with her . . .” He shrugged. “Who am I to argue with God, let alone two women?”

  Barak smiled at the mirth in his eyes. “I imagine they are equally difficult to win an argument against.” He could not recall ever arguing with Nessa. But Nessa was nothing like Talya.

  Footsteps made him turn. “Abba, Ima is asking for you.” Talya stood in the doorway, her arms wrapped about her in a protective gesture. As Lappidoth slipped past her into the house, she said, “Sleep well, Abba.”

  Barak would bed in the courtyard with some of his men, who had taken a short walk beyond the house. “If I stay here tonight, can I trust that you will remain on your own mat? Or should we seek refuge in the cave below?” He watched her expression, saw the way her gaze flicked beyond him.

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” she said, keeping her distance. “I will not interrupt your dreams.”

  Barak did not know how to respond to that, so he simply nodded. “But you have convinced your mother to allow you to travel with ten thousand men.” The idea still galled him. Deborah was different. She was like a mother to them all. But Talya . . . Talya would be a difficult distraction.

  “I want to kill Sisera,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “He deserves to die a humiliating death.”

  Barak studied her. “That he does.” But in that moment he realized that he did not want her to be the one to kill him.

  Dawn’s first light sprinkled faded pinks across Talya’s mat, as though the color alone could draw her to rise. She sat up, immediately awake, heart pounding, the sense of adventure filling her. She donned a plain brown robe over a tan tunic, strapped a pouch with ten smooth stones to her side, tied the sling to her wrist, and pulled a brown veil over her dark hair. The earthen colors blended well with the forests and fields, and she determined to keep as hidden as possible on this mostly male adventure.

  A small goatskin bag hung by a peg on the wall in her chambers. She snatched a fresh tunic and an extra veil to tie her hair up out of the way and stuffed them into the bag. When the time came to run as the men did, she would tuck her tunic and robe into her belt as had become her practice. By then no one in the camp would care what she looked like.

  She stepped from the room she now shared reluctantly with Yiskah, glancing back once to see that the girl had already risen from bed, no doubt to draw water for their trip. A twinge of guilt nudged her that she had blamed this woman for fears she had overcome long ago in an excuse to support Shet, and for thinking Yiskah the same woman she had been that day when Talya caught her in the olive grove. But since her return by the Kenite woman and her rescue from Jabin’s clutches, she had not been the same. Though Shet could not see it, nor did he attempt to try, Talya noticed. Yiskah walked stoop-shouldered, her head bowed, and rarely looked a person in the eye, face-to-face. Her shame seeped from her, her wounds deep like one caught in a hunter’s snare.

  Talya walked to the sitting room, pushing thoughts of Yiskah aside. Later, when Sisera was dead, she would confront Shet, see what she could do to convince him to give the woman another chance. Or a writ of divorcement so she could be free again. His indecision and bitterness had hardened in recent weeks, and the change was not becoming.

  She spotted her father strapping provisions to his belt, loins girded, ready for travel. “You are going too, Abba?”

  “You thought I would let your mother go to war while I stayed behind to guard the house? What is there left to guard if not her?” His tone held an edge, and Talya sensed he was also going as her own protection.

  “Elior and Lavi?”

  “Are both coming,” her mother said as she entered the room. She gathered a spindle and ball of wool and tucked them into a sack she would carry across her back.

  “But who will watch over Libi and Ahava and the children?” Her great-uncle Chayim?

  “Do not fear, my child,” Deborah said as they all headed to the courtyard. “The women will head to the caves until our return. God is giving Sisera into our hands, remember? We have nothing to fear.” She accepted flatbread from Libi, who passed some along to each of them, then handed them baskets of food to tie to the sides of one of the few donkeys they would take for provisions.

  Talya nodded and accepted the food in silence, then hugged each of the children and the women and fell into step with her mother as the men made their way toward the city gate. She glanced back once, catching sight of Yiskah slipping into the house out of sight.

  “What is to become of her, Ima?” She should have said something to the girl before they left, but there was no going back now. “She is broken and so wounded. I did not see it before, but I see it every time I look at her now. And though she thinks I’m sleeping, I often hear her weeping in the night.”

  Her mother also glanced behind, following Talya’s gaze, but said nothing. There was no sign of Yiskah now. Shet marched somewhere behind them in the throng leaving the village. But when she finally caught a glimpse of him, he was engaged in conversatio
n with Elior, seemingly oblivious to the woman he still legally called wife.

  Talya’s jaw clenched at the thought.

  The gates opened and the men surged forward. Talya was caught up in the throng, and they split up in different directions. She stood near her mother, listening as Barak spoke to the leaders he had appointed.

  He pointed to one group and motioned for them to head out. “You will go to Beth-shan, then travel on to Jezreel. Meet us in Kedesh in Naphtali in three days.”

  As the men set out, Barak gave commands to others, sending them to Shimron, Rehob, Beth-anoth, Shechem, Tirzah, Dothan, Taanach, and Megiddo. Elior and Lavi split up to take commands, though Shet remained with Barak and Deborah and Lappidoth. Even Barak’s right-hand man Keshet took a troop to gather more men, reaching every northern tribe in Israel.

  There was little time to talk after that until they had made camp for the night in the caves surrounding Shiloh. The men secured the area and were now making plans for the battle in the deeper recesses of the cave. Talya settled near the fire, warming her hands, then set to work mixing water and the grain she had quickly ground between two stones.

  “You mentioned Yiskah earlier today,” her mother said, taking some of the ground grain and pouring it onto the three-pronged griddle over the fire. “Is there something more you want to tell me?”

  Talya looked at her mother. “You refer to my conversation with Abba asking him to send her away.”

  Deborah nodded. “Your attitude is not as it was those few days ago.”

  Talya felt her cheeks heat. “I was wrong,” she said, glancing toward the cave. “But how can Shet be so indifferent to Yiskah’s needs? What is to become of them? How can they be wed but not be wed?” She stirred the grains, tossing in a few spices, then added more water for the griddle cakes.

  “Shet was wronged,” Deborah said softly. “Sometimes marriage is complicated when one person hurts the other so deeply.”