The Prophetess - Deborah's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “He had to have stopped to rest,” Keshet said, breathing heavily beside him, his chest heaving from their rapid pace. “We’ve been running and fighting for a day and a half, and look at us.” He pointed to himself, but his look told Barak he was also noticing the disheveled and exhausted mess he had become.

  “If he’s alone, he could get farther than we can trying to keep the group together.” Barak raked a hand along the back of his neck, brushing away the sweat that had gathered there.

  “He could have holed up in a cave to sleep.”

  Barak thought a moment on that, but shook his head, scowling. “We checked every cave we passed. There was no sign of him.” He blew out a breath. “No. I think he went on to Hazor.”

  “He could have stopped in one of our villages along the way.”

  Barak’s thoughts moved to Kedesh-naphtali. “If Sisera wanted to taunt me, he would head to our home.” His gut clenched with a pain akin to fear. “We have to reach it before he does.”

  He took off at a run again, ignoring the ache in his side. If that man had laid one finger on his parents, his friends, or his relatives still living in that town, he would wish he had never been born.

  Jael stared down at the blood pooling on the mat beneath Sisera’s head. Her right hand still clutched the hammer so tight the muscles begged release. Her breath came in spurts, and a sense of shock rushed through her. Sisera was dead. Truly. Dead.

  She dragged in air, but it was tainted with the sickening smell of fresh blood. She forced first one foot, then the other, to move away from the man. Slowly, methodically, she trudged to the tent’s opening and dropped the hammer in the dirt. She inhaled the scent of oak and pine and air so fresh it nearly burned her lungs.

  Chest heaving with the weight of what she had just done, she bent forward, pressed her hands to her middle. Tears filled her eyes, and she could not stop them from running into her mouth, then dripping into the dirt.

  She had killed a man. She had only meant to detain him until Barak came, but in her fear, she killed him.

  Oh Adonai, help me. The prayer felt real this time, for it accompanied a deep ache for God’s forgiveness. She knew this was not murder, for it was an act of war. But she could not bring herself to feel anything but pain. How did one recover after watching the lifeblood seep from a person, enemy or not?

  She breathed again, her heart rate slowing with each intended breath. And as she breathed, truth dawned. She breathed. And her girls still breathed. Sisera, who could have done more than kill them all, was gone. Forever.

  “Daniyah, Nadia, Raja!” She shouted their names, suddenly needing to hold them, to see them, to kiss their cheeks. She faced Heber’s tent, waiting. And then there they were, running, tentative at first, glancing this way and that.

  She waved her arms, and they saw her, ran toward her.

  “Ima!” Daniyah was first to reach her and fell into her embrace. Jael wept, kissing her daughter, holding her close. “Is it over?”

  Jael nodded, pulling each girl into a tight hug that encased them all. “Sisera lies dead in my tent.” She angled her head to indicate through the opening. “Do not look.”

  Nadia stepped back and examined Jael. “Blood has spattered on your robe, Ima Jael. I will soak it and scrub it out for you.”

  Jael glanced down at her clothing, startled that she had not noticed the mess Sisera’s blood had made. She darted quick glances at each of her girls. “Have I spread it to you?” But no, the blood had remained on Jael’s clothing alone. “We will not wash it,” she declared, ripping the garment from her. “We will burn every piece of clothing that carries his blood. He does not deserve to live even in our memories.” She would have to wear an older robe and tunic until they could afford to weave more, but it mattered little.

  “Wait here while I fetch clean ones.” She held her breath and stepped into the tent, avoiding even one glimpse in the direction of her mat where Sisera lay. She quickly changed to clean clothes, then carried the bloodied ones outside, tossed them into the pit in front of her tent, and used her lamp to light them on fire.

  Barak turned a corner in the road, at last headed north toward the sea, where Kedesh-naphtali stood on the south end near the shore. Heber’s campsite lay an arrow’s shot from where his men were congregating before they took the last trek toward home and then on to Hazor.

  Weariness crept over Barak as he took a long drink from the sagging goatskin at his side. They needed to refill the skins, but it would have to wait until they reached the sea.

  Ghalib sidled up next to him and nodded toward the oaks ahead of them. “It would do us good to stop for a moment and let my mother and sisters refresh us with food and water, my lord. We would not stay long.”

  Barak pinched the bridge of his nose to forestall a headache, to no avail. “We cannot take the time, Ghalib. If you wish to go home, I cannot stop you. Your father and brothers aren’t far behind, and we do not expect any of you to continue on to Hazor. But we do thank you for your service to Israel.”

  Ghalib straightened, his look offended. “I was not suggesting we stay, my lord. I just know the men are weary. A short stop might help us all.”

  Barak studied him, wondering if it was his own jealousy of Ghalib’s interest in Talya that made him keep the man at arm’s length, made him question his motives and almost want to be rid of his presence. Almost. He couldn’t deny that Heber’s family had been an asset to them in every way during this fight, not just in providing the weapons but in wielding them.

  “We move on,” he said to Ghalib. He turned to do just that, when a woman appeared in the distance waving a scarf and calling out something he could not quite hear.

  “That’s Ima!” Ghalib took off at a run, and Barak hurried to follow.

  It was indeed Jael, standing in the road, composed and jubilant. “Come,” she said, smiling at Ghalib, but her gaze focused on Barak. “I will show you the man you’re looking for.”

  Barak’s heart quickened at her words. He glanced at Keshet, who had joined them. Could it be? But he did not speak, simply followed her as she had asked.

  They climbed down the berm and made their way through the trees until they came to Jael’s tent. Jael’s daughter and daughters-in-law stood to the side of the tent, and the guards Heber had left to watch over them circled behind them, looking chagrined.

  Barak pondered why they did not look as triumphant as Jael did, but still he said nothing. Jael lifted the tent flap and beckoned Barak to enter. The scent of blood hit him like a wave. Jael had rolled up the sides, but still the smell was strong.

  Barak entered, cautiously at first.

  “He’s on the mat in the corner,” Jael said from where she had stayed outside in the courtyard area.

  Barak moved closer, Keshet at his side. And there he lay. Sisera. Lifeless. A tent peg holding his head fast to the earth, his blood spilled and now dried to his hair and the mat beneath him.

  Barak glanced at Keshet, who simply nodded. They both left the tent together. Outside, Barak approached Jael, who was now surrounded by Heber, Mahir, Fareed, and Ghalib, along with her girls.

  “You did this?” he asked, unable to keep the awe from his voice. Hadn’t Deborah said Sisera would fall by the hand of a woman? Hadn’t Talya agreed that God would show His might over Canaan’s goddesses through the weakness of a woman who relied upon Him?

  “By your God’s help, I did, yes,” Jael said, her gaze glancing off him to study her feet. But a moment later she lifted her eyes and shrugged. “I cannot say I find it pleasing to kill a man. But I knew once he had rested, my girls would suffer at his hands. So I made sure his rest never ended.”

  “I am certain he does not rest even now,” Barak said, wondering what Adonai Elohim did with the souls of men like Sisera. Surely the Judge of all the earth would do right and make sure Sisera paid for all the evil he had done.

  “But he can no longer hurt us,” Jael said, her eyes searching his for some kind of affirma
tion.

  “He can no longer hurt us,” Barak agreed. “And you are blessed of Adonai, for He gave you the privilege of ridding us of such an enemy. And his humiliation is complete at having died at the hand of a woman.”

  “Talya wanted to be that woman,” Ghalib said, coming up and putting his arm around his mother. “But I’m glad it was you, Ima.” He kissed her cheek, and Barak felt a sense of kindness toward the man for caring so about his mother.

  He turned to the men behind him. “Gather up Sisera’s body and cleanse Jael’s tent,” he said to the troop under Keshet’s leadership. “The rest of you, replenish your skins of water, and if they can spare it, take some nuts for your journey and head north to Hazor. This war is not over until Jabin’s soul joins Sisera’s.”

  After bidding Heber and his sons to stay and rest a bit, then meet up with them again on Mount Tabor in three days, Barak took Lappidoth and Lavi and Elior and Deborah’s cousin Shet and continued north with the rest of the men.

  28

  Deborah stood again at the edge on Mount Tabor, shading her eyes against the last bits of color that filled the sky before the world became engulfed in blackness. Surely Israel had seen a great victory here. Surely they had. But the troops had yet to return. Barak was still out there searching for Sisera, and her sons, her husband, were with him.

  Please, Adonai, keep them safe. Why had Lappidoth seemed so insistent, so willing to fight? He was a farmer, a scribe. Could he even wield a bow or a sword?

  “I did not realize a war could take so long.” She startled at the sound of Talya’s voice, her nerves frayed, her trust waning.

  “Men grow weary in battle. They must stop to rest now and then.” Please, Adonai, let that be the only reason they grow weary. From fighting. Not from burying our dead.

  “You are worried.” Talya nodded in the direction of the valley. “Do you think Sisera lies among the horde of men down there?”

  Deborah’s gaze swept the area once more, then she shook her head. “If Sisera had been slain there, the men would have sent someone to tell us. No. I think he ran when he saw the battle turn against him.” She wrapped both arms about her waist and shivered. The uncertainty of waiting mingled with the surety of God’s words to her. He had never let her down in the past. She had no reason to doubt Him now.

  “The commanders of Israel offered themselves willingly among the people,” she said, noting Talya’s furrowed brow. “They had no shields or spears to guard them, only simple weapons of the shepherd or farmer.” She saw Lappidoth’s sure stride in her mind’s eye. “And yet they came at our summons. They obeyed the Lord.” She moved her arm in an arc over the swollen, bloody land, willing herself to believe her husband had been just as strong as the rest of the shepherds and farmers among them. “Look what God has done for us.”

  Talya followed where Deborah pointed, but Deborah did not miss the hint of sadness shadowing her gaze. “I could have helped them.”

  “You are more help to me here.” Though she knew her reasons for wanting Talya near were protective motherly instincts mingled with fear.

  “Abba seemed to think so.”

  Deborah looked from the valley to Talya, awed yet again that her father had stood up to the girl, had commanded her out of harm’s way for Deborah’s sake. I love you, Deborah.

  Guilt filled her. Why hadn’t she repeated the words back to him that night? What if she lost him and he never returned—like her father and brothers that long-ago day?

  Her stomach tightened in that dread feeling between fear and terror, and she felt suddenly faint. Her knees weakened. Blood drained from her face.

  “Ima, are you all right?” Talya gripped her arm, holding her steady.

  “I . . . yes, I think so.” Awake, Deborah, awake! She must pull herself out of this longing stupor. Lappidoth, Elior, and Lavi would surely come away unharmed, while the kings of Canaan, the rulers and leaders of their enemies, would rue the day they exalted themselves against the people whom Adonai Elohim had chosen.

  “I still hope it is I who kills Sisera,” Talya said, dragging Deborah’s thoughts from her musings. “If he comes up this mount, I shall not hesitate.” She held her bow in one fist and clutched it to her side.

  “I am certain you will.” Deborah touched her daughter’s cheek, suddenly grateful for this child’s obedience to her father. She could have defied him as she had defied Barak. “But I am glad you are here.”

  She turned away from the ridge to spend another night with only her daughter on the mountain’s heights. Talya’s quiet footfalls touched the earth as they walked side by side. Deborah entered the tent and Talya followed, but she did not remove her robe or weapons. She paced the floor as Deborah pulled nuts and dates from a sack and poured watered wine into cups.

  “Sit, my daughter. There is no reason to stand at the ready all night.” She held the cup out to Talya, waiting.

  Talya took it at last and sat cross-legged on the ground. “Why do some men exasperate us so?”

  Deborah sat on the floor and parceled out the nuts and dates. “Do you speak of your father or some other man?” How ironic to have such a conversation when war raged around them.

  “Barak exasperates me more than Abba does. Despite his nod of approval for my skill, I could tell he was not pleased with me. I cannot say a right thing to him, Ima. He feels the need to either reprove me or command me. He does not speak to me as an equal.”

  “When a man exasperates you, perhaps it is because he brings out both the best and worst in you. That can be a good thing, Talya. It makes you weed out the things that need to change and keep the things that don’t.” Deborah chewed on a date, her thoughts carrying to her own marriage, wondering how she could possibly change things with Lappidoth at this late hour of their lives. He had proven his love for her—more often than she had realized—but how was she to prove her love for him? She did love him. The thought turned over in her mind. It was not a perfect love, but surely the spark of it nestled within her.

  “Your thoughts are far away, Ima.” Talya reached for a handful of nuts but did not eat. “I know we do not always get along . . .”

  Deborah shook her head. “It is not that.” She looked into Talya’s innocent eyes. She could not share that she had not loved Talya’s father when they wed. That she still struggled to respect the man. “I fear I am not a very good judge of relationships, my daughter. It is easy to judge cases of the law for people I do not know. It is far harder to judge my own heart or to advise the people I love the most.” She sighed, knowing in her heart that she had much to ponder before this war was over.

  “I think you do an admirable job of showing the people you love the best way to live.” Talya lifted her chin and smiled. “Do not fret so, Ima. When the war is over, much will change. Sisera’s hold over our nation has changed us all, and not for the good.”

  “And yet there is much good,” Deborah said, realizing it was true. “Men have come willingly to fight. God has sent even the stars and rains to aid our victory. We have much in which to rejoice.”

  “Then we should set to doing so, to welcome our men home.” Talya chomped on the almonds in her hand.

  “A victory song,” Deborah said. In neighboring kingdoms it was customary for the women to welcome the returning warriors with songs of victory. Even Moses and his sister Miriam had sung a song of praise to Adonai after He got them safely across the Red Sea. Surely Sisera’s defeat deserved such a song.

  Once she was certain Sisera was truly dead.

  “You should write the song even before we hear the news, Ima.” Talya’s comment caused Deborah to meet her gaze. “It shows our faith in Adonai, that He will do this.”

  Of course it did. When had her daughter grown such faith?

  “You are right, Talya. He will do this. For our God is true.” Deborah rose to search for a small stick to write in the dirt the song that only God knew if she would ever get the chance to sing.

  Jael shivered and pulled he
r cloak tighter at the neck. Despite the men’s efforts in removing Sisera’s body and destroying by fire everything that he had come into contact with, the air still carried the pungent odors of smoke, of death. She swayed, her heart beating sluggish strokes.

  “It’s all right, Ima.” Ghalib’s arm came around her, and she fell into his strength. When had this boy become so much a man? “I’m proud of you,” he whispered against her ear.

  She nodded, unable to speak. A lump formed in her throat, and she feared she would break down in front of her men and weep. She glanced up, catching Heber watching her. Ghalib released his hold as Heber opened his arms wide. She stumbled toward him, grateful for his strong embrace. He said nothing as he rubbed her back. She breathed in the smell of him and fought the urge to give in to emotion. She gulped on a sob, then another.

  “It’s all right, Jael. It’s over.” Heber’s quiet words were a soothing balm.

  She hiccuped another sob. “I can’t enter that tent again,” she said against his thick chest.

  He continued to draw awkward circles along her back, then patted her head, her hair. “We will burn it as well and make you another.”

  Jael blinked hard against the threat of more tears. “I will have no place to sleep, to work, and such a thing would be too costly.”

  “You will stay in my tent. The cost is minimal.” He said nothing more, and she knew by his deep sigh that he would hear no argument. He turned to the guards and commanded Jael’s tent to be disassembled and taken outside the camp and burned.

  The women seemed to awaken from a stupor once the offending tent was gone.

  “Come, let us fix something to eat,” Raja said, aiming a look Nadia’s way.

  Nadia complied without comment, and Daniyah moved to help them. “Where will I sleep?” Daniyah said loud enough for Jael to hear.

  “You will stay with us,” Nadia told her, taking the girl’s arm. The three of them moved to work in front of Raja’s tent, while Fareed and Mahir approached their father.