He sat opposite her, keeping his peace, but she looked up at his approach. “Is everything secure?” She looked at him, and it seemed to him the fire had moved from the pit to her brilliant gaze.
He nodded, staring. “You have been praying. Have you seen another vision?” He had never been near her at such a time. “Your eyes are aglow.”
She blinked, and the light in them slowly dimmed. “I did not realize,” she said softly. “Sometimes Lappidoth tells me my face is like the sun when I awake from one of the dreams. And twice he has seen fire surround me.” She released a deep sigh. “All I see is a warm light, like a swirling blanket.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “And my dreams are always of danger and war.”
He studied her, this woman whose hair shone dark as night, with the slightest tips of bright white along her temples as though she had been scorched by God’s flames. Though she was not a warrior, she had the look of unbending strength.
“I would that your dreams be peaceful, your life surrounded by good, Deborah.” He rubbed a hand over his beard, at a loss for more to say.
Her smile held distance, but a moment later she looked at him full on. “You are called to destroy our enemies, those who have plotted our harm for these past twenty years. God has put you in this place for this time, and the faith you carry now is that which will win the day. Forget any doubt you faced until this moment, my son. Forget your past failures. You can trust Adonai to keep His word.”
Barak studied his hands now in his lap, then rested them on his knees. “I know that. I know that what you have said is true. But can I request one thing of you?” He held her steady gaze.
Silence followed his remark, as though she was not sure whether to allow him to question her, but after a moment she nodded. “What do you request?”
He glanced beyond her to the tent she would share with Talya. “I want you to keep Talya in the camp on the mountain when we go after Sisera. If she is to kill the man, God will make a way for her to do so. But if she runs down the hill with those men”—he gestured to the surrounding tents—“when she is not accustomed to battle, she will be hurt, perhaps killed. And the injury may not even come at the hands of Canaan.”
“She is capable of using her weapons,” Deborah said slowly, assessing him. “But I share your concerns. My daughter has lived a protected life in our village. Except for that one time when she was lost in the woods, she has never been alone. I, too, fear for her safety.”
Barak lifted a brow. “But you allowed her to come. And you yourself said that Sisera will die at the hand of a woman.”
“I do not know whether that woman is Talya.” Deborah’s matter-of-fact tone caught him up short.
“I thought that was why she came.” His pulse quickened as the realization dawned that the girl had probably persuaded her mother and father, rather than God Himself doing the sending.
“I thought so too, my son.” Deborah’s voice held sorrow. “I fear I do not always discern the voice of the Lord from my own thoughts. But this I know. God did not give me a vision of Talya killing Sisera. Perhaps I will be the one to do so. Perhaps she will have the honor. Perhaps another woman entirely will pierce Sisera’s armor with a final blow.” She twisted the belt at her waist. “I fear I do not know.”
“Then Talya should stay behind until you do.” All she had to do was walk among his men, passing out bread, and they couldn’t take their eyes from her. No. She was better to stay.
“I will tell her, but she will not obey me,” Deborah said, suddenly sounding like a defeated mother rather than Israel’s judge and prophetess.
“Then I will tell her,” Barak said, straightening. “She is a distraction to my men. She will be a hindrance to the battle. I should have insisted before, but I thought . . .” He paused.
“You thought God was sending her to join us.”
“Yes.” He stood, and Deborah did the same. “I will tell her in the morning.”
He bid Deborah good night, then went to his tent, all the while wondering if Talya was a distraction more to his men or to him.
23
Dark, ripe clouds rose in great stacks, churning what little was left of the morning’s blue. Dampness clung to Barak’s skin, and his hair stood on end. Rain would come, as Deborah had predicted. They had little time to climb the mountain and pitch their tents before the onslaught.
“Wouldn’t we be better off waiting in the valley or hiding in caves until the storm has passed?” Keshet glanced at Barak out of the corner of his eye. “The tents on the mountain will be fully exposed. There is no reason not to wait it out.”
Barak trudged on, one weighted foot in front of the other. “Deborah said to meet on Mount Tabor by this day. We will do as she says.” Yet even now he questioned the wisdom in bringing her. Keshet was right. They would be drenched and their tents blown apart by nightfall if they were caught in this storm on the mountain’s peak.
“You know I’m right though.” Keshet raised his voice above the rising wind. “This is madness.”
Barak paused in his climb, glancing back at Deborah and her men not far behind. Where was Talya? He needed to speak to that girl. Deborah looked up at that moment and caught his attention. She motioned him to wait for her.
“Perhaps she has changed her mind,” Keshet offered, stepping aside to allow Deborah and her family room on the narrow mountain road.
“Do me a favor and go find her daughter.” Barak spoke without meeting his friend’s gaze, then offered Deborah a hand to help her up the incline.
“She is walking with Ghalib the Kenite and her brother Lavi.” Keshet’s words caused Barak to face him.
“Get her for me.”
The man walked off without a word.
“I heard Keshet’s comments,” Deborah said without preamble. She glanced at the sky, then into Barak’s eyes. “He is right . . . if this was a normal storm. But we have nothing to fear. Do not stop.”
Barak studied the prophetess’s earnest gaze. “We will do as you say,” he said, then turned to continue taking the road that zigzagged upward. Lightning sparked in the distance, not overhead, but no furious thunderclap followed. Perhaps they would arrive at the summit in time to seek shelter. He found himself questioning yet again.
Why is it so hard to trust her, Lord? Was it because she was a woman, one whose husband was too passive to take charge of his own village? Lavi and Elior could handle themselves, of that he had no doubt. Even Talya could probably take down a warrior or two. But Lappidoth seemed more interested in penning Deborah’s words or working the fields than in fighting this war. He should have left the man in the village, but he couldn’t go that far to show such disrespect. The man had come to protect his family, whether he was capable of doing so or not.
A kink settled in Barak’s shoulder, and he rubbed it a moment as he walked. Keshet found him as he was taking a bend in the road, Talya in tow. Ghalib was nowhere in sight.
“Here she is, my lord.” Keshet bowed in uncharacteristic respect, then strode on ahead to join his other men.
Talya looked at him, then beyond him. He followed her gaze. Her mother and father and brothers were several paces behind. Barak started to walk once more and Talya did the same.
“You had need of me, my lord?” Talya said at last, breaking the silence.
Suddenly, seeing her like this, dressed for battle, he doubted the wisdom of telling her to stay with her mother. Hadn’t God said a woman would kill Sisera? Perhaps she was strong enough to outshoot Canaan’s warriors.
But as quickly as that thought entered his mind, he banished it. “Yes,” he said, glancing her way, increasing his pace. “When we reach the summit and set up the tents, I want you to stay with your mother.”
“Of course I will stay with my mother. Who else’s tent did you think I would share?”
Her ire made him feel like a fool. He shook his head. “No, no. You misinterpret my meaning.” He stopped abruptly, facing her. “I don’t want you going w
ith the men into battle. It may be that God will bring Sisera to you and you will have the chance to pierce his heart with your arrows. But you are a distraction to my men, and I will not have you cause us defeat because they are more worried about protecting you than fighting the enemy.” He heaved a sigh. There. He’d said it.
But by the storm brewing in her gaze, he knew he had not said it well.
“You think I cannot handle myself. You think I need protecting like a child.” Her voice rose, and color heightened her cheeks.
“Not like a child. How you twist my words.” He raised both hands in a defeated gesture. “Like a woman.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth.
“And a woman is too weak to defend herself, is that it?” She stomped off, and he shook his head. This was harder than he expected.
He jogged after her. “I have no doubt you can wield a bow, Talya. I have no doubt you can use a sling and never miss.” How it irked him to admit such truth! “But I see the way my men look at you every time you pass them a plate of bread or walk through the camp. Women do not belong in war!” He heard the edge to his voice and cringed, for he feared by the shock in her eyes that she would cry. What on earth would he do with her then?
“You would not even go to war without my mother.” She lowered her voice and leaned close. The scent of her skin brushed his nostrils, and one look into those large round eyes was nearly his undoing. “Who is the coward now?”
His jaw clenched and he gripped her shoulders, gently but firmly pushing her back from him. “Your tongue has the sting of a viper, woman. You would be wise to learn to curb it.”
Anger flared as he met her defiant look. How was he supposed to get her to listen? If she wouldn’t obey her mother or him, she would risk her life just to prove a point.
It was his turn to walk off, fully determined to keep his distance until he could gain the backing of her brothers at nightfall. He did not like the confusion she stirred in him. Confounded woman!
“I am sorry, my lord.” Her voice sounded close at his heels.
He whirled to face her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” How had he managed not to hear her footfalls? He looked down at her feet. Her slight build would not weight the earth. She did have stealth on her side.
“You are by no means a coward, Barak. I spoke out of turn.” Her use of his name caused an uneasy feeling in his middle.
“Forget about it,” he said, perturbed with himself. He drew another breath. “But listen to me, Talya. You should not have come. It has nothing to do with your ability. It has everything to do with the way the men see you. I can’t change the hearts of ten thousand men on the eve of war. And I can’t have them looking over their shoulders worrying about you, the daughter of our prophetess. How would they live with themselves if you were killed? How would I face your mother and father?” His chest heaved as though he had run to the summit and back again.
Thunder clapped nearby, making them both jump. Talya looked heavenward, and Barak followed her gaze, though he allowed himself a slow glimpse of her as he did so. With that rich dark hair peeking beneath the tan scarf she wore, the wide dark eyes a man could lose himself in, and the determined flaring of her nostrils set among flushed pink cheeks, the girl was too beautiful for her own good. No woman should be so sharp tongued and pleasing to the eye at the same time. No man could live with such a woman!
“I will not promise to obey you,” Talya said, drawing his attention to their conversation once more.
His eyes narrowed to slits. Stubborn, willful child.
“But I will give it consideration,” she said, as though she had a right to do so.
His hands clenched in and out. If he had married her, she would have no choice but to obey him. But then he would have to deal with her confounded stubbornness every single day.
“I do not wish to cause you worry,” she continued, pulling him from his thoughts, “nor do I wish to distract your men, my lord.” Her tone suddenly sounded humble, submissive even.
Barak lifted a brow, searching her wide eyes for some sign of guile or misleading. “I hope you understand,” he said, giving his tone a commanding edge, “that it is within my right to command my troops. You came under that command the moment you joined this band. It is not your right to question my judgment, Talya, prophetess’s daughter or not.” He could not tamp down the lingering anger her challenge had evoked. He needed time to put it aside, and with her standing here looking at him, he found the ability to do so extremely difficult.
Talya bowed her head a moment and twirled one sandaled foot in the dirt. The voices of her family drew closer and still she did not speak.
“I expect an answer from you,” he said, taking her arm and leading her forward. He did not want this conversation to carry to the rest of the men. Not when his heart was pounding with anger . . . and a feeling he did not wish to explore.
She shook his hand off and crossed her arms over her chest, as though she would protect herself from him, from everyone.
“You can desire an answer from me all you want, my lord, but I am not ready to give it.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I am not my mother. I do not hear God’s voice or see His visions. But I know His passion in my heart, and I have wanted to destroy Sisera since the day I found my cousin caught in the lies of Asherah, worshiping her. As I destroyed that idol of clay that day, so I will destroy Sisera tomorrow, should God allow.” She hurried ahead. “But I will not obey you like one of your men. I am not a man for you to command.”
Barak watched her stalk off. She had rattled him, frustrated him, and he did not know what to do with her. But she also posed a good argument, one he found difficult to refute. At least for now, while his anger, his fear of what foolish thing she might do next, warred with feelings for her that he should not possess.
He raked a hand along his neck, aware of the stiffness in his shoulders from clenching so hard so as not to lash out at her. Or to do something even more foolish such as to strike her, which he would never ever do. No. It was not his wrath he feared, but his attraction and the overwhelming desire he’d just avoided by a hair—to pull her close and kiss all sense from her.
Deborah stood hours later on the summit of Mount Tabor, near the edge that overlooked the Jezreel Valley. The sun remained hidden behind clouds that darkened with each passing hour, their ominous black billows stretching fingers of whirling grays to dip and touch the earth. Sisera’s chariots stood in rows so numerous they seemed like fields of grains standing tall in the wind.
Deborah shaded her eyes, squinting into the darkness. Men too numerous to count or see clearly at night seemed to fill the valley, in addition to those who manned the chariots. They were seriously outnumbered here.
She glanced heavenward, but the sky held no comfort, only the dread of an overwhelming storm. Did You lead us here to slaughter, Lord? What can we do against so many?
She looked back again at the valley, the men below bathed in darkness. But as she stood watching, praying, the sudden familiar light of vision encompassed her, its warmth both frightening and comforting.
Her heartbeat quickened as she gazed on the valley now teeming with men and horses far greater than Sisera’s numbers. Lightning flashed in terrifying brightness, and thunder, powerful and deep, rumbled from one end of the sky to the other. Her knees buckled beneath her, but before she could plant her face to the earth, the heavens split as one rolls back a scroll.
Her breath held, frozen. Lightning flashed again and again, as though in a continuous arc over the skies. The blast of a shofar sounded, its sound unending. And then it stopped as a white winged horse burst upon the clouds, its rider tall, his eyes flames, his head burnished gold. A horde, an army clothed in blinding white robes, followed. A sword flashed from the mouth of the blazing man, and in an instant the men on the valley floor fell where they stood, their blood rising, a rushing current beneath them. Carrion birds whooshed in to gorge on their flesh.
“Deborah.” Lap
pidoth’s voice resounded in her ear, and suddenly the vision vanished. She blinked, heart pounding, unable to rise. She sank to the earth, hands outstretched, breathing shallow. She had not witnessed Sisera’s destruction. These were not Canaanite or Philistine or any army she had seen in her lifetime.
What is it, Lord? Who was the rider upon the white horse?
But she knew the answer would not be given her. The battle she had witnessed was for another time, another place. And yet, the Lord was in both battles, and He would win them. A sense of peace filled her.
“Deborah,” Lappidoth said again as he slowly approached. He offered his hand, and she allowed him to help her up, though she barely looked at him. She turned instead to gaze once more on the valley below. All light had disappeared from view, the men in Sisera’s camp cloaked in shadow.
“What did you see, beloved?” Lappidoth’s voice drew her to face him.
“A vision of war, as always.” Somehow she could not tell him the truth, and she resented his intrusion into what she had seen. Might God have shown her more if he had not come upon her and spoken?
Lightning flashed above them, its fingers pointing downward, illuminating her husband. She noted the bow still slung at his back, and he stood before her a warrior.
“So you truly plan to join them?” She could not bring herself to imagine him capable of battle.
“Did you expect me to stay behind?” He tilted his head in that curious way he had, his gaze kind. He touched her cheek as the first pelts of rain hit them.
“I don’t know what I expected,” she admitted, wishing she had always seen him as courageous, the kind of man who would follow the rider on the white horse.
“I will do my part, Deborah.” His tone held an edge, and she knew in that moment that whatever he did, he did for her, to gain the respect she seemed incapable of giving to him freely.
Rain came heavier now, and he took her hand and ran toward the tents. He paused in the awning of the place she would stay with Talya and cupped her cheek. “I love you, Deborah.”
The Prophetess - Deborah's Story Page 19