“I forgive you.” Deborah squeezed her hand. “With all my heart.”
“Thank you.” Vardit wiped her tears. “God bless you. Travel safely with these Edomites, find a place far away, marry a good husband, and have a good life.”
It wasn’t the plan Deborah had in mind, but she let go of Vardit’s hand and urged Soosie forward, following Kassite and Sallan.
The last of the elders delivered his perfunctory lashing and stepped aside for the other men of Emanuel to mete out the punishment. When the first real strike landed on his back, Seesya screamed in pain, the knotted straps of leather leaving red lines on his skin. The next was even harder, making a sharp, popping sound and leaving deep lacerations. Seesya wailed.
As the Edomite men and Deborah trotted away from the gates of Emanuel, the dense crowd over the hillside, on top of the wall, and along the road began to clap, slowly at first, then faster and louder. Kassite slowed his horse down and beckoned Deborah to take the lead. She hesitated, conscious of her stained red robe, soiled with dirt and blood from a night under the Weeping Tree. But the clapping intensified, and she relented.
Advancing to the front, Deborah pulled her shoulders back, held her head high, and let go of the reins. Raising her right hand with a clenched fist, she rode past the Weeping Tree, where Seesya shouted in pain at each strike of the knotted whip. With the roar of clapping behind her, Deborah pressed her heels inward, and Soosie broke into a gallop. The Edomite men followed her close behind, quaking the ground with their horses’ hooves. In leather armor and helmets, with their swords, spears, and shields, they were no longer her fellow tannery slaves, but her honor guard.
Part Six
The Killing
Chapter 23
The road south was empty as all the spectators stayed to watch Judge Zifron’s hated son being flogged like a common criminal. Deborah slowed to a steady trot, riding abreast with Kassite and Sallan. The land was parched and dusty, the hills rising on the left side of the road. At this pace, they would reach Bethel in the evening.
Sallan asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Numb with agony,” Deborah said. “I can’t stop thinking of my parents, how Seesya slaughtered them without a second thought, as if it were his right to take away another person’s life on a whim.”
“It is the ultimate injustice,” Kassite said. “To murder and then inherit from the victims.”
“I don’t understand,” Deborah said. “How could Yahweh allow it?”
Her question remained unanswered, and they rode on for a long while in silence. The sun beat down on them, the heat of the day getting worse. Deborah pulled the robe up to her hips and tried to shake it loose from her wounds.
Sallan brought his horse closer, fanned her with a piece of cloth, and asked, “How’s your back?”
“It hurts,” she said, “but not as badly as Seesya’s back feels right now.”
They chuckled.
“Thank you,” she said, “for sending me the Reinforcing Liquid with Vardit. It gave me strength when I needed it most.”
Sallan and Kassite exchanged a cryptic look, and Sallan said, “No potion can inject courage into a coward’s heart. You’re blessed with strength, which is always within you, even when it needs a little encouragement.”
“All potions,” Kassite said, “are mere accelerants, nothing more, nothing less.”
She looked at Kassite to make sure he could hear her. “Thank you, Master, for saving my life at the trial.”
Kassite smiled. “You saved my life first by forcing me to choose freedom and liberate my only true friend in this world.”
Sallan nodded, also smiling.
“Even today,” Kassite continued, “at the trial, I could not have done anything for you if not for the useful information you gave me back at the tannery. And even with Seesya’s confession, it was the powerful impact you had on the crowd that really tipped the scales. They sensed the force of your spirit and recognized that you were righteous.”
“It’s true, Deborah,” Sallan said. “The people started off hating you, but in the end they sided with you completely and joined your call for justice. Judge Zifron was lucky that you’re a girl, because if you were a man, the people would have deposed him and made you their judge.”
“If I were a man, the trial wouldn’t have happened in the first place.” She looked at Kassite. “Speaking of that, do you think I’m ready?”
He tilted his head in contemplation. “I am not sure.”
“Why?”
“It worries me that you occasionally become too emotional. I have seen you come very near to losing your composure several times.”
“When?”
“Back at Judge Zifron’s house, for example, during the negotiations over Sallan’s release. Your anxious actions came close to exposing us.”
“But I was right about it!”
“Please.” Kassite stopped her with a hand. “No need to become defensive or argumentative, both of which are also typical of the female character. We view this process of transformation very seriously—not only for your well-being, but also because we are meddling in nature itself and its divine order of pairing males with females.”
Having expected ambivalence, Deborah was stunned by his rejection of her readiness and by his implication that she was fundamentally unsuited for the goal she was pursuing. Was this it? A turning point? The Elixirist himself sentencing her to life in a woman’s body?
“These challenges are at the core,” he said. “At the same time, it is obvious that you have made great strides both physically and mentally.”
“True,” Sallan said.
“Mutating across gender lines,” Kassite continued, “requires much more than muscles and attitude.”
“A lot more,” Sallan said. “There are fundamental differences between men and women.”
Deborah looked from one to the other, taking in what they said, trying to remain calm rather than defensive or argumentative.
They rode in silence for some time.
“I assume you remember,” Kassite said, “what I explained back at the tannery about the differences between men and women.”
“I remember,” Deborah said. “A man’s character is proactive, even-tempered, adventurous, and logical, in contrast to a woman’s passive, temperamental, small-minded, and anxious character.”
“Well put,” Sallan said.
“Most women might fit this description.” Deborah kept her voice even. “You two have known me long enough to realize that I’m not passive, temperamental, small-minded—”
“You’re clearly anxious,” Sallan said.
“Which is understandable.” Kassite sighed. “I do not wish to upset you, but we must consider the issue of fundamental compatibility. Perhaps your character, deep down, remains quite feminine.”
Deborah struggled to control her anger. “I respectfully disagree.”
“No need to argue now,” Sallan said, his tone conciliatory. “We have plenty of time until we make the final decision.”
Deborah looked at him. “We do?”
“Yes,” Kassite said. “To prepare the third dose of the Male Elixir, we need several ingredients that are available only in Edom.”
“In Bozra, our great city,” Sallan said. “Those are rare and precious ingredients.”
Deborah stared at Kassite with rising resentment. “Why didn’t you mention that before?”
“I did not expect you to survive the first phase, let alone the second. What was the point of telling you about the third dose when I was certain you would not even require the second dose?”
“For a girl,” Sallan said, “your determination and fortitude are exceptional.”
The compliments were nice, but Deborah felt cheated. “The Edomite women had no trouble turning into men. Were they all exceptionally determined? Were they not passive, temperamental, small-minded, or anxious?”
The two men looked at each other and quickly averted t
heir eyes, as if they were afraid they might make each other laugh.
“You are very sharp,” Kassite said.
Sallan shook his head, chuckling. “I almost forgot what an eager debater you are.”
“To answer your question,” Kassite said, “the women in Edom were exceptionally determined, not by character, the way you are, but by temporary circumstances. With the Edomite kingdom facing an Egyptian army that had already killed most of their men in battle, our women did not face a choice between womanhood and transforming into men. They faced a choice between womanhood and death.”
“For me,” Deborah said, “womanhood is death.”
Her words came out sharply. Soosie slowed down, his head turned to glance at her. She patted his neck to reassure him.
The rest of the group caught up.
“Do you have my armor and weapons?” she asked.
Antippet rummaged around in his saddlebags and handed her a large bundle. She rode off the road and dismounted behind a cluster of boulders, which sheltered her from sight. She pulled off the red robe and put on the armor, bending over to tighten the straps over her shoulders. Next came the helmet, boots, and the belt with the sheathed short sword and the sling. The chest and back pieces of the armor pressed on her wounds, but she ignored the pain. She bundled up the robe and buried it under a few rocks where no one would find it.
Back on her horse under the hot sun, Deborah was sweating. Soosie took off at a fast gallop, and the wind cooled her body and soothed her anger. She felt strong and confident, not “passive, temperamental, small-minded, and anxious.” It was only a matter of time until she could prove to Kassite that her character was adequately “proactive, even-tempered, adventurous, and logical.” There was no other choice for her but to keep going.
After a while, another question occurred to Deborah, and she slowed down to let Kassite and Sallan catch up.
“If all potions and elixirs are mere accelerants,” she said, raising her voice over the noise of the horses, “how does the Truth Elixir work?”
“Excellent question,” Sallan said. “It works because, deep down, even the worst liar wants to tell the truth.”
“Deep down,” Deborah said, “even I know that’s nonsense. Seesya had no wish to tell the truth. Zero!”
Neither of them responded, and they slowed down, falling behind.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw them laughing.
“What’s so funny?” she asked. “I want to know how it works.”
They laughed harder, and Kassite managed to say, “Hot pepper,” choking on the words as his laughter exploded again, causing Sallan to holler as well, throwing his head back. Behind them, the rest of the Edomite group looked at each other, smiling, unsure why the two old men were laughing.
“It was a trick,” she said. “You put hot pepper in the wine and made Seesya think that the sense of burning was caused by his lies.”
Still laughing too hard to speak, Sallan pointed at her and nodded.
As she reflected on it, Deborah realized how easy it had been. Kassite knew Seesya’s character well enough to expect him to grab the goblet and gulp the wine, before noticing its unusual kick. Then Kassite quickly introduced the story about the Truth Elixir, and from that point on, Seesya attributed his burning palate and the heat in his stomach not to pepper and strong wine, but to his lies. The fear and panic only made him more certain that his innards were burning from the mysterious Truth Elixir. It was a brilliant trick, but so much could have gone wrong!
Again her feelings were too mixed for comfort. She sped up, pushing Soosie harder, away from the group. Kassite had taken a risky gamble. A failure would have cost her everything—the hope to recover Palm Homestead and fulfill her father’s vision, even her life. But Kassite, with Sallan’s help, had prevailed at the trial, and here she was, free to pursue her True Calling.
Up ahead, a great distance away, she saw a puff of dust above the road. At first, she couldn’t tell whether it was moving toward them, or in the same direction. Gradually growing larger and clearer, she saw a single rider. A little later, a man on a donkey came into view. The donkey walked very slowly, its head slumped down almost to the ground. Closer yet, she saw the rider lower the hood of his brown travel robe.
Deborah recognized him. Ramrod was the nephew of Miriam, the leper woman who had saved her in Shiloh. If not for Miriam and her group of lepers, Deborah would never have made it to Aphek and the tannery. Directing Soosie to stop across the way, blocking the donkey, Deborah looked down from the horse as the rider came up close.
The donkey stopped, and Ramrod looked up. His narrow face and sharp features were tense with apprehension.
“Shalom,” she said.
He blinked, and his dark eyes widened. “Deborah? Is that you?”
She took off her helmet and rubbed her smooth scalp.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“It’s a long story.” She jumped down from the horse. “Where are Miriam and the others?”
He got off the donkey, which wandered to the side of the road and nibbled at dry weeds. “They’re still at the Sea of Salt. You told them to go there, remember?”
Deborah nodded. “What about you?”
Ramrod crinkled his face. “I hated the place. It’s as hot as an oven, even inside the caves, and the village at Ein Gedi is tiny and poor. Miriam made everyone do what you told her—smear oil and garlic paste all over and dip in the Sea of Salt. In fact, you can’t really dip in it. You float on it, like a piece of meat in a pot of hot soup. It was terrible, a place of death, but Miriam wouldn’t leave. She believed in your vision.”
“Are you sure she’s still there?”
“Yes, if she’s alive.”
Doubts filled Deborah. Had she been wrong to send Miriam and the other lepers to the Sea of Salt based on a single dream whose meaning she could only guess?
“How did you make it out of there?”
“It wasn’t easy,” he said. “I walked for three days in the direction of Jericho and caught a ride with a caravan heading to Jerusalem. From there I walked to Bethel. But it was worth it. I live among normal people now.”
“What if they find out about your curse?”
“It’s going away.” He raised his forefinger, the only part of him that had been infected with leprosy. “See?”
Deborah looked closely. The finger was still darker than his other fingers, but not as black as it had been.
“Miriam allowed me to go,” Ramrod said. “She wanted me to live on even if they all perished there.”
“I’m to blame,” Deborah said. “Sending them to the Sea of Salt was a foolish mistake.”
Ramrod shrugged.
“Where do you live now?”
“My late father’s relatives own a small homestead near Bethel at the edge of the territory of Ephraim. The next homestead belongs to a family from the tribe of Benjamin. My relatives are old, and their children died of the red fever. I work in the fields and take care of the animals. When they die, I’ll inherit the land.” He blushed. “And one day, God willing, I’ll find a wife and have a son to continue my name.”
The rest of the group caught up. Kassite and Sallan climbed down from their horses.
“This is Ramrod of Ephraim,” Deborah said. “His aunt, Miriam, helped me hide from Seesya after he tried to kill me in Shiloh.”
“That’s commendable,” Sallan said, “but what are you doing here alone?”
“Looking for Deborah.”
“For me?” She was stunned. “Here? How did you know I’d be on this road?”
“I didn’t,” Ramrod said. “I thought you’d still be in Emanuel.”
“Tell us the whole story,” Sallan said.
“My relatives sent me to sell a few sacks of barley in the market at Bethel yesterday. In the evening, a group of soldiers from the land of Manasseh came and walked among the stalls, asking everyone about an Edomite slave from Aphek who had helped two hundred P
hilistine slaves escape from a tannery that he was managing. They said that he rode away with a small group of slaves. I remembered Deborah telling Miriam that she was seeking a slave who ran a tannery for his owner in Aphek.”
“That’s true,” she said. “I didn’t know you were listening.”
Ramrod looked at Kassite. “The soldiers were looking for a tall Edomite slave with white hair and a noble stature.”
Sallan sighed. “I’ve always wanted to be tall. It’s impossible to appear noble when you’re short like me.”
“And hairy,” Kassite said, and they laughed.
Deborah couldn’t believe they were laughing again. “Didn’t you hear what Ramrod said? The goat blood didn’t fool Orran—he knows you’re alive!”
“It was only a delaying tactic,” Kassite said. “I did not expect Orran to really believe that my workers turned against me, or that they came up with a perfect escape plan without me.”
“His soldiers are coming for us!”
“Unlikely,” Sallan said. “They expect Kassite to travel south from Bethel along the main trade route through Gibeon, Ramah, Jerusalem, Hebron, and Beersheba, before heading southeast to Edom. They have no reason to go north.”
“They do,” Ramrod said. “A merchant came from Emanuel last night and told everyone in Bethel about a scandal involving the rebellious wife of Seesya, son of Judge Zifron, who pretended to be a boy and hired herself out as a soldier to an Edomite prince. The merchant said the wife would stand trial this morning and be stoned to death. I immediately knew it was you and decided to go to Emanuel and try to help you. Meanwhile, I heard the soldiers from Aphek question the merchant, who described the Edomite prince as very tall, with a slight limp, white hair, and noble stature. They cheered and yelled, “That’s him!” It was the middle of the night when I left, but my donkey is old and often refuses to keep going. They left in the morning, but with their good horses, they’ll be here soon.”
“That changes everything,” Sallan said.
“It does.” Kassite sheltered his eyes and gazed in the direction of Bethel. “We must get off this road immediately.”
Deborah Calling Page 19
