“Yes.”
“Did you know her sister?”
“Yes.”
“Was her name Tamar?”
“Yes.” Seesya’s eyes turned toward the Weeping Tree up the road.
Kassite followed his gaze. “Are those her bones, hanging from the tree over there?”
“Yes. Those are the whore’s bones.”
“Answer only yes or no. Otherwise, the Truth Elixir may cause irreparable damage. Do you feel it burning inside you right now?”
Seesya rubbed his stomach and grimaced. “Yes.”
The crowd murmured as people shared the story of Tamar’s trial and stoning.
“Is it raining now?”
“No.”
“Very good. Was Tamar betrothed to you with a ring?”
“Yes.”
“That’s irrelevant,” Judge Zifron said. “What happened to that whore isn’t related to this trial. Finish up before my son is harmed, or you will be harmed worse yet.”
Kassite bowed. “I am almost done, but please refrain from interrupting if you wish your son to live through the next half hour.”
Judge Zifron opened his mouth to respond, but sat back, saying nothing.
“Next question,” Kassite said. “Was Tamar fifteen when you married her?”
“Yes.”
“Did she have orange hair?”
“Yes.”
“Did she stand trial here?”
“Yes.”
“Is this town named Emanuel?”
“Yes.”
“Did you testify against Tamar?”
“Yes.”
“Did you say that she didn’t bleed after you possessed her in your bed on your wedding night?”
“Yes.”
“Was she convicted as a whore based on your testimony?”
“Yes.”
“Was she stoned to death here?” Kassite pointed at the Pit of Shame.
“Yes.”
“Do you live in your father’s house?”
“Yes.”
“Back to the time of your wedding day. Was Tamar taken on a wedding procession?”
“Yes.”
“Did she come to your bed for the first time that night?”
Seesya turned to his father. “Make him stop.”
“Answer yes or no,” Kassite said, his tone sharper, “or you will burn from within. Did Tamar come to your bed that night for the first time?”
“Yes!”
“Did you possess Tamar in your bed as her husband?”
Seesya beat his chest as if trying to subdue it.
“I asked you a question,” Kassite said. “Did you possess Tamar in bed?”
“Of course!” Seesya bent forward, groaning. “I was her husband!”
“Do you want to burn from the inside?”
“No!” Shoving a finger in his throat, Seesya tried to vomit, but couldn’t.
“Do you want to die today?”
“No!” Seesya fell to his knees, folded in pain. “No!”
Judge Zifron pulled himself up again. “Prince Antipartis! I demand that you—”
Kassite ignored him and addressed Seesya, “Answer truthfully. Did you possess Tamar in bed? Yes or no?”
“No! I didn’t!”
The crowd rose as one and roared in shock, and the judge dropped back in his chair, the redness draining away from his face.
Deborah only smiled. She had already known Tamar’s innocence, but now the whole world heard Seesya admit that he had lied in order to have Tamar convicted and executed.
On the platform, Judge Zifron covered his face with his hands while Seesya leaned forward and swayed back and forth, moaning in pain.
Kassite raised a hand to quiet the crowd. “Have you ever possessed Tamar—on your wedding night, or on any other night?”
Seesya shook his head.
“Answer!”
“No.”
“Have you ever become Tamar’s husband, then? Yes or no?”
“No.”
The crowd again groaned, and several men cursed at Seesya.
Not waiting for silence, Kassite leaned forward against the edge of the platform and asked, “Did you take the ring from Tamar and put it on the finger of the accused?”
“Yes.”
“And when she ran away, you found her in Shiloh and married her, yes?”
“Yes.”
Members of the crowd hushed their neighbors, trying to hear.
“And did you possess her as a husband in your bed?”
Seesya mumbled something.
“Louder! Did you possess her as a husband in your bed?”
“Not yet.”
“She managed to stain the bedcloth with blood so that you couldn’t accuse her of whoring, correct?”
Seesya sat back, then forward again, clutching his chest. “Yes.”
“On your wedding night in Shiloh, later in your mother’s room, did you try to kill your bride?”
“Yes,” he yelled. “I tried to kill her, because she’s a witch like her sister and mother!”
The roar of the crowd was beyond control. Men flung pieces of food and trash. The soldiers rode over and took positions around the platform.
Kassite raised his arms and turned around, asking for silence. When it finally came, he turned back to face Judge Zifron. “The evidence is now clear,” he said. “This young man lied about his first wife, Tamar. His false testimony convinced the elders that she had whored with another man, and she was stoned here—an innocent girl. Then he betrothed the accused to himself with the same ring.” Kassite held up Deborah’s arm so that everyone could see the ring on her finger. “And he planned to do to her what he had done to her older sister. When that scheme failed to work, he went to her room to kill her.”
Kassite paused, letting the words sink in. “All this he has just admitted. Now, let me fill you in on what the accused had to do. She ran away to save herself from this man, and when he caught her and tried to kill her, she hit him hard enough to escape again. To evade capture, she had to pretend to be a man and carry weapons. Are we going to fault her for doing what was absolutely necessary to save her life from ending at the hands of this murderer?”
Many in the audience yelled, “No! No! No!”
“I submit to the elders of this town that the accused, Deborah, daughter of Harutz of Ephraim, should be declared innocent and set free.”
On the platform, Seesya sat with his head down, ignoring the soldiers who milled about on their horses glancing at him, waiting for orders.
Judge Zifron looked across the way at the elders and his voice shook when he spoke.
“You may decide the judgment now.”
The elders conferred in hushed voices, glancing at the judge. Clearly, they were too nervous to make a decision even with the irrefutable confession of Seesya.
The crowd shouted, “Innocent! Innocent! Innocent!”
The oldest elder addressed the judge. “We require more guidance.”
The crowd booed, and Obadiah pounded the platform with his staff.
“You may decide,” Judge Zifron said, “according to the evidence presented.”
With permission to do their job without fear, the elders conferred quickly and announced the judgment. “The accused is not guilty. She may be released from the custody of the soldiers into the custody of the man who betrothed her, so that he may possess her in his bed and consummate the marriage.”
The crowd roared in protest, but Seesya looked up and grinned.
Kassite raised his hand to silence them and addressed Judge Zifron. “Surely you would not sustain such an unjust judgment.”
“The trial is over,” Judge Zifron said.
Deborah stepped forward and held her hand up to Seesya on the platform. “Pull off this ring and release me,” she demanded. “Do the right thing, for once in your life.”
“Never!” He slapped her hand away. “You are betrothed to me, and I will possess you!”
&
nbsp; Deborah turned to the elders. “I accuse this man, Seesya, son of Zifron, of murdering my sister, Tamar, by falsely accusing her—”
“Be quiet,” Judge Zifron said. “A woman cannot make accusations against a man.”
Again the crowd yelled in protest, followed by a shower of food items.
“You all heard the priest,” Deborah yelled. “He recited the law: ‘A person who conspires against another, to murder a man by trickery, death shall be the punishment.’ That’s exactly what Seesya did to my sister!”
“Ha!” Seesya spat in her direction. “You remember the words like a parrot, but you’re too stupid to understand them. The law says, ‘To murder a man.’ A man. Not a woman, a goat, a sheep, a chicken, or a pig,”
When she turned back to Obadiah, he nodded sadly. “It’s true,” he said. “There is no murder under Yahweh’s law when the deceased is a woman.”
Seesya rose from his chair, grabbed the pole bearing Ra, and held it up victoriously. “Let’s go, girl. We have some business to conduct in my bed.”
Deborah saw the soldiers ride toward her. She turned and ran toward the Edomite men, determined to jump on Soosie and try to escape, even if she died in the process. But the soldiers sped up and blocked her way with their horses, encircling her. One of them threw a rope with a noose, slipped it over her head, and jerked on it, tightening the noose around her neck.
She was immobilized.
Seesya laughed, and the crowd groaned.
“I accuse him,” a thin voice yelled. “I make an accusation!”
Everyone looked around to find where the voice had come from.
Babatorr stepped forward from where he and his younger brothers were sitting near the platform. “I saw Seesya murder a Hebrew man!”
The crowd sighed collectively.
Judge Zifron got up from his large chair, tripped over the effigy of Mott, and fell.
Ignoring his father, Seesya threw aside the pole with Ra’s golden effigy, jumped off the platform, and rushed at Babatorr, who ran around the platform quickly, then up the steps, where he stood behind the priest.
Obadiah of Levi pounded his staff several times, but the noise was too great. He raised the ram’s horn and blew. The sound had the desired effect, and everyone quieted down. He lowered the ram’s horn.
“An accusation has been made,” the priest announced. “The law requires that a trial take place.”
Seesya got back on the platform, grabbed his younger brother by the neck, and led him to their father.
Judge Zifron got up with help from the soldiers and glared at Babatorr. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Pressed against the side of a sweaty horse with a tight noose around her neck, Deborah held her breath to hear the answer.
“Forgive me, Father,” Babatorr said, his voice shaking yet defiant. “I should have told you right away. Last year, I rode with Seesya to see a Hebrew man about buying his homestead for a hundred silver shekels, and when—”
“Shut up!” Seesya pushed him. “Not another word!”
Babatorr almost fell, but recovered his balance.
Seesya turned to his father. “Tell him to stop talking!”
Judge Zifron looked at Babatorr at length. “Go on, Son. Tell us what happened.”
The crowd went completely silent.
“We found them,” Babatorr said. “The man and his wife were working in the field. Seesya offered him money, but he refused, saying the land had been his forefathers’ homestead since the time Joshua divided the land among the tribes. Seesya threatened to kill him, but the man continued to refuse, so Seesya ran his sword through the man’s chest.”
A growl came from the crowd, but the judge raised his hand, and they quieted down.
“The wife defended herself with a scythe, slashing Seesya’s face.” Babatorr pointed at his brother’s face. “She gave him that scar, and he cut her throat.”
Another growl came from the mass of spectators, louder this time. Many of them were small farmers from all over the Samariah Hills, working hard to draw sustenance from their parched family homesteads, which they had inherited from their forefathers. What Babatorr had just described could have happened to each one of them.
“It’s a lie.” Seesya waved in dismissal. “A stupid boy’s imagination.”
Obadiah broke the silence with three poundings of his oak staff on the wooden platform. “Do you know the name of the Hebrew man your brother killed?”
“Yes, I do,” Babatorr said. “The man’s name was Harutz of Ephraim, owner of Palm Homestead, and as he died, he cried his wife’s name: Raquellah!”
This time, the silence was broken by Deborah’s heart-wrenching scream.
Chapter 22
Seesya was quick to realize that it was time for action. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. His white stallion sprinted with quickness that defied its size and came to the platform, where Seesya leaped into the saddle. The soldiers rode up to join him, leaving Deborah to stand alone, the noose still around her neck, the rest of the rope loose on the ground. Her knees gave way and she collapsed, her eyes blind with tears, her mind burning with Babatorr’s description of her parents’ murder.
As Seesya and his soldiers started to ride away, the spectators swarmed the road and started hopping in the air, waving their arms, and shouting frightfully. The spooked horses stopped and reared up, pawing the air with their front hooves. More men ran over. Within a moment, the mob pulled the soldiers down from their horses and took their weapons. Only Seesya remained mounted. He drew his sword and swung it left and right to keep people away.
Obadiah blew the horn at length, until calm was restored.
“Son!” Judge Zifron stood at the edge of the platform. “That’s enough!”
Encircled by a dense ring of angry men, Seesya hesitated. He turned his horse around, his sword held high.
“Come back here,” the judge said, “and face justice like a man.”
The ring of men around Seesya grew tighter, closing in on him.
He lowered his sword.
The ring shifted to let him pass, and he jumped off the saddle onto the platform.
Glaring at Babatorr, Seesya sheathed his sword, dropped in his chair, and lounged back with feigned carelessness, his legs stretched before him.
The judge sat back down, and Babatorr stood next to the priest.
Obadiah pounded his oak staff. “The law of Yahweh has already been read here today. A person who murders another man shall be killed for his sin.”
“The accused,” Judge Zifron said, “will now respond to the accusations.”
“It wasn’t murder,” Seesya said. “The man insulted me by refusing a reasonable offer, and he paid with his life. No one insults a son of Zifron and lives to mock us again.”
A deep grumble came from the crowd.
Judge Zifron looked around, rubbing his hands nervously. He was without soldiers and would be unable to get behind the gates quickly enough to lock up the town.
Meanwhile, Kassite and the Edomite men collected Deborah from the ground, removed the noose from her neck, and carried her to their corner. Sallan was ready with a waterskin and a wet cloth to wipe her face.
Turning to his son, Judge Zifron said, “Harutz attacked you, yes?”
“No.” Seesya threw his head back, shaking his black hair. “The man’s rudeness was enough reason to cut him down.”
“Did he hold a weapon, or perhaps an implement that could be used as a weapon?”
“Father, we don’t need an excuse to discipline our subjects.” Seesya crossed one leg on top of the other and raised his voice to be heard across the whole area. “Listen to me, all of you ignorant peasants. The house of Zifron rules these hills. We are the law, and if we want to buy your land, you’ll sell it to us, or die like Harutz of Ephraim at Palm Homestead!”
“Son!” His voice low and urgent, Judge Zifron leaned over. “Stop it! They’ll lynch us!”
Seesya look
ed at him with a crooked smirk, cut across by the red scar. “You’re acting like a frightened old woman.”
The judge was too stunned to respond.
Seesya got up, his hand on the silver hilt of his sword. “Go home,” he yelled to the crowd. “All of you! The show is over!”
The crowd was silent, uncertain. They knew the force of their ruler and the ferocity of his soldiers.
Deborah broke the silence. “Justice!”
Everyone turned to look at her.
“Justice,” she called out loud. “We deserve justice!”
The silence lingered. No one answered her call.
She filled her lungs and yelled, “Justice! Justice! Justice!”
A few solitary voices sounded. “Justice!”
With the Edomite men’s help, Deborah stepped forward, chanting with a growing number of voices, “Justice! Justice! Justice!”
Seesya unsheathed his sword and raised it overhead. “Go home, you fools!”
“Justice! Justice! Justice!” A horde of men advanced on the platform, picking up stones and sticks. “Justice! Justice! Justice!”
Judge Zifron got up. “Give me your sword, quick!”
“Justice! Justice! Justice!”
Seeing the huge crowd closing in, Seesya realized that his gamble was turning into a fatal miscalculation. He handed the sword to his father, who passed it to Babatorr.
“Justice! Justice! Justice!”
“I agree,” Judge Zifron shouted. “You shall have justice!”
Deborah wouldn’t stop shouting, joined by hundreds of other voices, “Justice! Justice! Justice! Justice! Justice! Justice!”
As if waking up from a stupor, Obadiah blew the ram’s horn until its sound caused the crowd to calm down. Deborah stopped chanting, but the men and women around her remained electrified, ready to resume chanting at the first sign of trouble.
The judge turned to the elders, who were sitting pale-faced on their bench across the way. “Elders of Emanuel,” he said. “You heard the evidence against the accused on the charge of murder and his unrepentant admission. Pronounce your verdict of guilty or innocent based on the evidence and with justice alone as your guide.”
The elders put their heads close together and consulted briefly.
The oldest one rose to his feet. “We have reached our verdict,” he said tremulously. “Guilty.”
Deborah Calling Page 17
