Deborah Calling

by Avraham Azrieli

  Once in a while, Kassite left the tannery on his horse, always in the direction of Aphek, either accompanying one or more oxcarts loaded with new products, or alone, returning later with skins of slaughtered animals or large quantities of food supplies. She never saw Orran of Manasseh visit the tannery he owned. Was the foul stench too much for the rich man? Was that the reason Orran entrusted all aspects of the operation to Kassite, rewarding him with a lifestyle befitting a free man? Did Orran know that the old slave managing the tannery was the mythical Elixirist from the land of Edom?

  Drenching was the second-to-last phase in the preparation of the hides for final finishing as leather products. The group spent two days washing and scrubbing the skins in the river to remove all remnants of the lime, feces, and urine. Petro assigned Deborah to drain the tubs and refill them with fresh water. Lugging the cart with barrels from the river to the tubs was not as hard as the first time, and she didn’t have to smear mud on her arms, legs, and face, because dipping in the river did not remove the layer of muck that had bonded with her white skin and gave her the dark complexion of a Philistine.

  They put the hides in the fresh water and left them to soak. The next day, they shook the hides, spread a thin layer of salt on both sides—the final phase, called pickling—and pegged the skins to the inside of the perimeter fence.

  That evening, the group ate together, sitting in a circle. Petro chanted a Philistine song as the men sipped their minty hot drinks. Deborah went to sleep with a smile.

  Chapter 5

  In the morning, the group picked up a new batch of animal skins and began the process all over again. This time around, Deborah was able to keep up with the men. Her hands and feet had healed, her muscle cramps had faded away, and her body had grown stronger, giving her the resilience to work long hours before exhaustion slowed her down. Her Philistine coworkers treated her with bemused indifference, much as older brothers would with a skinny teen eager to do a man’s job, except for Petro, who took time to show her how to perform each task more efficiently and nodded approvingly when she succeeded.

  Deborah began to count the days, something she hadn’t done during the first cycle. When the group finally pegged the treated hides to the perimeter fence, they had been working on this batch for eighteen days. That meant that her stay in the tannery so far had amounted to more than a month. She was pleased with the bulging muscles of her arms and legs, as well as the rough skin on her hands and feet, and continued to follow Kassite’s advice to imitate the men’s posture and mannerisms. Overcoming her own habits, especially with regard to personal hygiene, was challenging, but she resisted, and a layer of filth thickened on her skin like crusty armor.

  That evening, Deborah picked up her food, bowed to Kassite, and lingered for a moment, making sure he couldn’t miss the obvious changes in her physique. She remembered his strict rule not to speak to him unless spoken to first and hoped he would speak to her. He didn’t.

  She joined the group, and as they had done at the conclusion of the previous batch, there was relaxed camaraderie as they ate together and sipped the minty hot drinks from their cups while Petro chanted the Philistine tune, which was becoming familiar to her.

  After the meal, Deborah saw Kassite walk to his house and cross the short bridge to the front door, which one of his servants held open. As if sensing her gaze, Kassite paused and glanced in her direction. For a moment, she expected him to beckon her over, but he turned away and entered his house.

  The third batch of animal skins was slightly bigger, and the work had become more monotonous. Deborah knew what needed to be done and took initiative without waiting for Petro to instruct her. The foul odors of fresh feces and urine being stomped on no longer made her sick, and she was able to step in when the others needed help. When the group completed the process yet again and pegged all the hides to the fence for the third time, her satisfaction and sense of achievement overwhelmed any remaining physical pain and anxiety.

  That night, after the meal, the group sat together and enjoyed the minty hot drinks and Petro’s quiet chant. He smiled at her, showing broken teeth, and one of the other men patted her on the shoulder and said something in Philistine, which she now understood to mean: “Not bad for a silly boy.” The others cheered, sharing the credit of training her. Deborah realized that she was the last of the group to accept herself as Borah, the new boy-slave, who had to learn the work and acclimate his young body to the hard labor and harsh conditions of the tannery. In fact, she was looking forward to tomorrow, when they would start to work on a fourth batch of hides together.

  The next morning, Kassite summoned her immediately after he rang the bell at sunrise. She was still sleepy, wiping her eyes with one hand while holding the folded mat in the other.

  “Good morning, Borah,” he said.

  She bowed.

  “Have you learned the stages of preparing the skins?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Put away your mat and follow me.”

  Kassite limped to the riverbank and waited until she joined him.

  “Do you have any questions about the work?”

  Deborah wanted to ask if he had noticed how far she had progressed in her transformation from girl to boy, but he clearly allowed only questions about the work.

  “I have one question,” she said. “I’ve lost count of the days of the week, but surely the Sabbath has passed several times, and yet we kept working.”

  He seemed surprised by her question. “We work every day, all year long.”

  “But the seventh day is the Hebrew day of rest.”

  “None of the slaves here are Hebrews. We have a few Edomites like me, but mostly they are Philistines, caught in battle and sold into slavery.”

  “Orran of Manasseh is a Hebrew. Our God, Yahweh, gave us Ten Commandments, and the fourth one is to observe the Sabbath.”

  “And?”

  “A Hebrew must give all his slaves and livestock a full day of rest on the Sabbath.”

  “Rotting skins cannot rest,” Kassite said. “We must keep the process going, or they will spoil.”

  “We could do the minimum required to prevent spoilage while most of the slaves rest on the seventh day. Isn’t Orran concerned about God’s wrath?”

  “Our Hebrew owner gives generous gifts to other gods, who are less concerned with slaves than your Yahweh.”

  “And you?” She kept her voice quiet to avoid being overheard. “Don’t you care about these people?”

  “I feed and protect them.”

  “As any jailer would.”

  Kassite raised his eyebrows. “You like to argue.”

  “I like to find out the truth.”

  “Seeking the truth is a dangerous habit for a slave.”

  “I wasn’t born to be a slave.”

  “Neither was anyone else here.” He gestured at the slaves, rising from their sleep under the pavilion and getting ready for work. “But their gods were too weak to protect them from their enemies. The last thing slaves need is a weekly day of idleness to sit around and commiserate.”

  Having experienced the excruciating tannery work for weeks on end, she was shocked by his cold words, which implied subjecting the slaves to perpetual, nonstop hard labor for the remainder of their lives.

  “Do not think of me as a brutal man,” he said. “One day, when you are responsible for the lives of others, you will understand the first rule of governing men: idle hands trigger irritable souls.”

  Deborah wanted to ask him why he assumed that she would one day be responsible for the lives of others. Did he believe in the truth of her father’s dream, which she had shared with him, that she would grow up to become Yahweh’s prophet to her people?

  He held up his hand to indicate the end of the discussion.

  Despite her efforts to control herself, she blurted out the real question. “How long until I complete the transformation from girl to boy?”

  Pursing his lips, Kassite didn’t an
swer.

  She bent her arms to show him her bulging biceps. “The work has made me strong and resilient. My tolerance for pain and capacity for hard labor are as good as those of any boy my age.”

  “I will be the judge of that. Besides, the path ahead is long: the transformation you seek requires three phases.”

  “I remember your explanation about the phases. This place has made me physically strong, but the next phase is about changing my character from female to male. How would this mind-numbing, monotonous labor of the tannery help me develop a man’s character?”

  “Do you doubt me?”

  “No, Master, but I want—”

  Kassite raised his hand again. “Enough with the questions.”

  “I only want to know how soon I can leave—”

  “You cannot leave.”

  “Why? I already drank the Male Elixir, so it’s only a matter of going through the process—”

  “Only the first dose,” he said.

  Deborah wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “What?”

  Around them, the tannery came to life as slaves began the day’s work in earnest.

  “Master!” She raised her voice. “What do you mean?”

  “You heard me.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “The Male Elixir also has three parts, corresponding to the three phases of transformation—physical strength, character, and body parts. When I determine that you have achieved the necessary physical strength, you may begin the second phase of transformation, evolving your character from the passive, temperamental, small-minded, and anxious female to the superior male character, which is—”

  “Proactive, even-tempered, adventurous, and logical.”

  “There you go.” He smiled.

  “But you gave me the Male Elixir!” She remembered the foul smell and lumpy texture of the dark, bubbly liquid in the goblet. “I drank it!”

  “That was only the first dose.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me it’s divided into three doses?”

  “I am telling you now.” He held up three fingers.

  Her rage ignited like a clutch of dry leaves. “You lied to me!”

  “Keep your voice down.” Glancing around to make sure her outburst hadn’t attracted attention, he pointed a finger at her. “Never accuse me of lying. You are an ignorant Hebrew girl, and if I had to tell you everything you do not yet know, I would be talking nonstop for ten years.”

  Deborah wanted to argue that hiding a crucial fact amounted to lying, but his expression told her that further argument would be futile. He had tricked her, but there was nothing to do about it. She was totally dependent on his willingness to continue helping her.

  “Do you remember your vow of total obedience?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Wait here.” Kassite turned and limped away. He passed among the slaves and selected six men, pulling them away from their groups. They followed him back to where she stood by the riverbank.

  “This is Borah.” Kassite placed his hand on her shoulder. “From this moment, he will be your group leader.”

  Deborah was shocked, but if they were wondering why Master had put them under the authority of a boy, none of them showed it.

  Kassite pointed at a pile of fresh animal skins that had arrived the day before. “Get started.”

  With that, he left them.

  The men looked at Deborah expectantly.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “Carry the skins to the river.”

  The men did as she told them, and a new cycle of work began, only now she assigned tasks to a group of slaves in addition to doing her share of the work. It felt very strange, almost like a dream, but she fell into the role with surprising ease.

  Unlike the Philistine men in Petro’s group, who had dark skin and a strong, compact stature and ranged in age from twenty to about forty, the men in her new group were mature, at least over thirty years old, and shared a light complexion, with blue or gray-green eyes, reddish or blond hair, and milky skin wherever the sun had not weathered it. Their sleeveless shirts revealed furry arms, reminiscent of Sallan, Kassite, and their servants. They spoke in a mix of Hebrew and Edomite words. At first, she worried about being the odd man out in this Edomite group, but from the moment she directed them to start moving the skins over to the riverbank, they showed her nothing but respect and diligence. She knew it wasn’t her own authority that generated such obedience, but Kassite’s directive that Borah was their group leader. Master’s word was sacrosanct.

  That night, sleep refused to come. Deborah was still resentful of Kassite for failing to tell her about the two additional doses of the Male Elixir she needed before reaching her goal. Could she trust him to provide the next dose when the time came? She was further puzzled by his decision to appoint her as group leader immediately after their argument. Did he believe in her capability, or was he setting her up to fail?

  Deborah reflected on her first day as group leader, which had passed without incident. The Edomite men had followed her instructions and said very little. By sunset, they finished cleaning the skins and placed them in five tubs of fresh water. She could find no shortcoming in her performance as group leader. Perhaps Kassite did believe in her ability, but if he didn’t, she would prove him wrong.

  The man to her left snored heavily, and the one by her feet mumbled Philistine words in his sleep. She no longer noticed the odors of rotting skins and festering lime, but her sense of smell remained acute for other smells, which a hundred men, packed tightly together under one roof, produced aplenty.

  Lying on her back, she tried to calm her mind by counting the long wood beams in the faint light from the single torch at the end of the pavilion. The beams supported a thick layer of thatch above but were exposed underneath. They were fairly straight and even, about twenty steps long, which was the width of the pavilion. Leather straps and ropes secured the ends of the beams to a frame of thick planks, which rested on top of stone pillars that were fixed into the ground every ten steps all around the rectangular pavilion.

  Deborah counted fifty beams from end to end, the whole length of the pavilion. About halfway through the second round of counting, she fell asleep.

  Part Two

  The Slingshot

  Chapter 6

  The eagle took off from the roof of the pavilion, passed over Kassite’s house, and turned toward the setting sun. The giant bird easily soared, rising high above the Yarkon River, whose dark water and mild curves resembled an uncoiled snake. The high altitude gave Deborah sweeping views of the land, with checkered fields ready for harvest, orchards heavy with fruit, and lush pastures dotted with grazing cattle. The air didn’t rush at her face, but stroked her like a gentle evening breeze. Over the distant horizon, the land and the sky merged into a belt of hazy azure, which she guessed was the Great Sea.

  Deborah let go of the eagle’s neck and extended her arms sideways, closing her eyes and surrendering to the sensual pleasure of weightless gliding in complete freedom and peace. But her pleasure was cut short when the air turned wet and chilly. She opened her eyes in alarm. The clear sky and setting sun were gone, replaced by a thick cloud. Had they reached the haze over the Great Sea, or had this cloud materialized suddenly out of nowhere? She could see nothing through the dense fog, which chilled her bones. A sense of doom overcame her. She leaned forward, her chest against the eagle’s neck, her arms around it, and wished for the sun to return. At that moment, a bell rang nearby, and she woke up.

  It was morning, and the commotion around Deborah chased away the ominous chill of the dream. She rinsed her face in the river and joined her group at the tubs, where they pulled the hides out of the water for the next phase of treatment.

  The day passed in a frenzy of hard work, followed by similar days that varied only by the succession of tasks required to tame the rough animal skins into fine leather hides. Deborah worried constantly that she might commit errors and cause damage to the hides, or lose credibility wi
th the men in her group. The nights were dreamless, though she kept hoping for the eagle’s return and imagined going on another flight, enjoying the sun and warm air, not the cold, wet fog that had blocked off all of the view the last time.

  The bleak ending of that recent dream continued to bother her. Had the fog been a warning of an impending disaster? Life in the tannery was hardly pleasant, but she was getting stronger and more resilient. Kassite had said that the Male Elixir would accelerate her transformation, and she could feel it happening with every additional day of hard labor. At the same time, she worried whether the dream had meant that her clear path would soon become foggy, or that her destination might not be a happy one, but a cold and dark place. She hoped that wasn’t the case, but what else could the dream foretell?

  One hopeful possibility was that the eagle’s flight had been cut short by the ringing of the bell, and that the dream’s true meaning would have become clear had it continued to its intended conclusion. Where would the eagle have taken her, had she not woken up? Deborah imagined flying out of the chilly fog to a warm, bright place, perhaps the coast of the Great Sea, where she would have rested on the warm sand while the rays of the evening sun soaked her muscular arms and legs—the arms and legs of a boy like Barac or Zariz, a boy on the cusp of manhood.

  The days passed quickly as the group went through the liming and scudding, followed by the bating, which was still disgusting but no longer sickening.

  One day, after the midday meal, while Deborah and her group were busy washing human waste off the skins in the river, Kassite summoned her.