Deborah Calling
Page 24
She imagined Zariz’s surprise if she showed up this winter in Dibon. His father wouldn’t be too happy. He had disapproved of their friendship, quoting an old Moabite saying: “Beware of the Hebrews, for their tongue is oily and their sword is invisible.” Later, at the gates of Shiloh, when she’d said, “Better check your chest, make sure I didn’t filch your heart,” Zariz answered, “It’s too late,” and promised, “I’ll see you in my dreams.” Was it a true, that she would exist only in his dreams, that they would never see each other again in person?
It didn’t matter. By winter, she would convince Kassite that she was ready, ingest the third dose of the Male Elixir, and leave Edom, heading back to Emanuel as a young man, ready to fight for Palm Homestead.
When she lay down to sleep, the day’s events replayed in her mind. She shuddered at the memory of shoving the sword into the young soldier’s chin, the steel blade glistening at the back of his open mouth, piercing his brain. She had taken a life—the life of a man created in God’s image. Deborah prayed quietly to Yahweh to forgive Hashkem for his sins and forgive her the sin of killing him.
Sleep continued to evade her. Deborah imagined that she wasn’t in this desolate, harsh, and lonely place, but at the small house in Palm Homestead, snuggling under a warm blanket, a fire burning in the stove, a soft breeze rustling in the thatched roof, Tamar and their parents sleeping nearby. The memory made her smile as she fell asleep.
Sometime during the night, Deborah woke up and saw Patrees helping Sallan and Kassite dismount their horses. She didn’t rise to greet them, but turned away and closed her eyes. It was good to know that they were back safely. Without them, the journey to Edom would not be possible, depriving her of the third dose and all that it entailed. At the same time, her feelings for the two men had suffered a painful blow. They had run away at the moment of the attack, when everything hung in the balance. She couldn’t reconcile such a cowardly act of selfishness and betrayal with their wisdom, which she had grown to admire, or their calm tenacity, which she had aspired to imitate. The sight of their backs, galloping away as fast as their horses would go, would be hard to forget.
Chapter 27
Deborah stood on the shore, looking out at the Sea of Salt and the great mountains across. A small dot appeared above the water, growing as it approached until she recognized a white head over a dark, wide wingspan. The eagle descended in graceful silence and landed before her, clenching the crusty dry salt with hooked talons that were larger than her feet. The giant wings folded in, and the yellow eyes glowed with an intense radiance that reminded her of the sun, but rather than heat, they burned with acute intelligence.
The eagle reclined one shoulder, and Deborah climbed onto its back. She tightened the chinstrap of her leather helmet, slipped her fingers into the white feathers on its neck, and held on as the wings spread and flapped mightily.
Gaining altitude, they flew by the dark mouth of the cave and above the tilled squares of barley and vegetables, past the sleeping Edomite men near the stream, and over Miriam’s fresh grave. Leaving Ein Gedi behind, they veered east and soared over the placid expanse of the Sea of Salt. To her left, in the distance, Deborah saw Jericho among countless palm trees.
The cliffs of the Moab Mountains came up fast. The eagle flapped its wings a few times to gain height, and they passed over the jagged peaks. Down the eastern face of the mountains, they flew over barren land for a great distance and passed over another mountain range. A lush valley appeared below, with laden fruit trees, golden wheat fields, and green pastures.
The eagle circled over a large house. It was rectangular, with a flat roof and no courtyard. Against the side of the house, a corral held livestock. A young man pitchforked bundles of straw over a fence into a corral teeming with livestock.
The eagle landed about fifty steps away from the corral. Deborah hopped off and stood on solid ground. The young man turned. It was Zariz, and as she had expected, he was taller and more muscular, but his face remained mostly smooth. His large eyes were exactly as she remembered—soft, brown, and warm.
“Zariz!” She ran to him, her arms open for an embrace. “It’s me!”
He recognized her voice and sprinted in her direction, but stopped halfway.
She kept going, longing to hold him in her arms.
He held up the pitchfork. “Stay away!”
“But it’s me!” She slowed down. “Deborah!”
“What happened to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your face—it’s hideous!”
She touched her cheek and felt stubble. In disbelief, she noticed tufts of reddish hair on the back of her hands. She pulled up her sleeves and found fuzz growing on her forearms.
When she looked up, Zariz was running to the house, shouting Moabite words. Family members rushed out of the house and advanced in her direction. She recognized Abu Zariz in his multicolored coat and young Orpah in her blue dress among the group of men and women, who shouted and waved their fists. Orpah picked up a clump of dry animal dung and hurled it at Deborah. It would have hit her in the face, but she dodged, and it hit her shoulder—not hard, but gently, almost like a caress.
Deborah woke up to find Antippet touching her shoulder. The sun was up. He handed her a chunk of bread and a cup of goat milk, pointing at the shacks to indicate where it came from. She nodded and turned away from him while tears filled her eyes. The dream had felt real, from the joy of seeing Zariz and the overpowering urge to hug him, to the piercing insult of his revulsion, and the crushing disappointment of his rejection. She told herself it had been only a dream, but the pain she felt was real, and the meaning of the dream was clear: if they ever saw each other again, it would not go well.
After eating and washing her face in the stream, Deborah fed a fresh plum to her new horse. He chewed as she led him into the stream for a thorough scrubbing from head to toe until she felt certain that all traces of Seesya were gone.
The Edomite men kept glancing in her direction, and she cringed at the memory of them standing by the stream the day before, ogling her bare chest, their eyes burning with naked lust. She was puzzled by it. What did they see in her puny breasts, which were nothing like the ripe pomegranates of childbearing women?
She took the horse for a ride up the canyon. They passed by the line of shacks, where the locals had resumed working with knives and axes on Soosie’s corpse.
Seesya’s stallion was strong and full of energy, his trot was eager as if he’d rather run than walk. Despite the time he had spent serving an evil master, his temper seemed agreeable as he obeyed all her commands. She decided to name him Rogez, the Hebrew word for “rage,” to remind herself always of Kassite’s advice: “Rage is like a mighty stallion, an explosive force of nature. If you fail to tame it, the result could be deadly, but if you harness it wisely, it will carry you over the highest peaks, trample your enemies to oblivion, and deliver you through the toughest battles, all the way to the ultimate victory your heart desires.”
The canyon ended in a large pond fed by a waterfall that jetted out of the face of the rocks. It was the spring that gave Ein Gedi the first part of its name, and as if to confirm the second part, a family of wild goats was drinking from the pond.
Deborah let Rogez drink. She scooped up some water for herself. It was cold and fresh.
Arriving back at the camp, she found the Edomite men packing up and getting the horses ready for the road. She didn’t greet Sallan and Kassite.
Rogez shifted impatiently, eager to go, while Deborah tied her spear and shield to the sides of the saddle, along with her sack and waterskin. Seesya’s sword was sheathed on her belt beside the sling.
When everyone was mounted, Deborah took the lead.
Ramrod and the lepers stood by the cliff under the mouth of the cave. Deborah paused by the dry blood on the ground, where Miriam’s body had fallen. The black-and-white cat sat beside the bloody spot, its tail coiling like a restless snake.
“I want you to look and remember.” She pointed at the ground. “This blood came from a leper woman. She knew that yelling a warning would cause her death, but she did it anyway. Her name was Miriam. Her body was deformed by the curse, but her heart was whole and beautiful. She was courageous and faithful—the two rare qualities that together enable a person to make such an honorable sacrifice as Miriam made yesterday.”
Sallan and Kassite blushed and looked away.
“For the rest of your days,” Deborah said, “you should remember that a leper woman named Miriam gave her life to save yours.”
Making Rogez step back, Deborah watched them pass by Miriam’s blood and bow their heads.
Sallan stopped next to Deborah. “Miriam was a brave woman,” he said. “But you are the one who saved everyone yesterday. You acted with courage beyond—”
“How do you know?” Deborah pulled on Rogez’s reins, and he turned sharply, startling Sallan’s horse. “You didn’t see what happened here. You ran away.”
“But if not for you—”
“Do you want to know who, besides Miriam, saved everyone here?” Deborah turned toward the canyon. “Follow me!”
Sallan and Kassite rode behind her. She led them up to the shacks and stopped by the group of men, who were busy carving the meat off Soosie’s hind legs. The rest of his body had been reduced to bones, except for the head, which they had not touched. The odor was sharp, and birds picked at the pile of intestines and skin the men had discarded.
“Look at my dead horse!” Deborah circled it. “That’s who really saved us!”
Sallan and Kassite covered their noses and mouths as they came closer, their horses snorting, reluctant to approach.
“When Miriam yelled to warn me, Seesya ran his sword through her and hurled his spear at me.” Deborah pointed at the cluster of spears protruding from Soosie’s chest bone. “My horse stood up to take it in my place. Then the other soldiers threw their spears, and my horse did it again!”
The locals stopped butchering the dead horse and stood aside with their bloody hands and knives.
“The result of the battle was determined the moment my horse reared up and the soldiers used up their spears. After that, they had to climb down from the cave and run across the open area with their swords under a shower of slingshots from a stream full of perfect stones. That’s what really happened while you were running away!”
Sallan and Kassite looked down in shame.
“My poor old horse,” she said, pointing at Soosie’s corpse, “had more courage in his heart than the two of you together.”
Leaving Ein Gedi on the road south, the land became barren again. Deborah rode up front alone. By midday, the heat was unbearable. She veered off the road and led the group to a shaded spot at the base of the cliffs. They rested until the sun went far to the west and the Judean Mountains cast a wide shade over the road along the shore.
They reached a small oasis in the evening. A clan of nomads had set up tents and a corral made of ropes and tumbleweed for their sheep and goats. Sallan went over and spoke with their elder. Their conversation went well, and they parted with a hug as old friends.
“Everything is fine,” Sallan said when he came back. “They won’t bother us.”
Deborah found a spot with soft sand and thorny bushes on three sides. She set down her sack and gave Rogez food and water. She noticed the Edomite men glancing at her while setting up camp. Rather than look away, she made sure to catch the eyes of each one who looked at her and glare back at him. Meanwhile, she pulled over more dry shrubs and thorns to thicken the barrier around her spot.
“You’ll have to stay alert.” She rubbed Rogez’s neck. “Make noise if someone comes near me.”
After nightfall, Sallan brought over bread and cheese and sat down on the ground near her.
“I’m not trying to excuse our flight,” he said. “Running away was cowardly, but Kassite and I, we are strong only with words, in dealing with people who are willing to speak, to discuss, to be influenced—”
“To be manipulated, you mean.”
“Oh, you’re truly angry with us.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Please understand. We’re old men who have never held a sword. For us, the fear of being enslaved again is worse than death.”
“They’re not soldiers either,” Deborah said, gesturing at the Edomite men. “They’re tannery slaves dressed up in costumes, but they stood up and fought as best they could.”
Sallan doodled in the sand with his finger. “They showed courage, I agree. I wish Kassite and I had such fortitude, but we are frail and weary after a life of misfortune and servitude. At the moment of being attacked by violent men like the son of Zifron and his thugs, one doesn’t know what to do.”
“He knows.” Deborah glanced at Kassite, who was lying down already, his white hat covering his face. “He once told me an something.” She imitated Kassite’s slow, deliberate manner of speech: “Winning one battle does not ensure a lasting freedom. You have to win every battle, again and again, for as long as you wish to remain free.”
“You have a remarkable memory,” Sallan said. “One should say nothing to you, or expect to have his words come back and slap him in the face.”
“Not if you behave the way you advise others to. For example, I remember you telling me this: ‘Banish your fear and embrace your strength.’ And this: ‘A shackled man who desires freedom expects to pay a heavy price.’ Do you remember saying these things?”
“Kothar-wa-Khasis!” Sallan raised his hands at the dark sky. “Have mercy on me!”
“Why do you look to the sky? Isn’t your god packed away safely in your sack?”
“You’re too smart for my old mind and too angry for my old heart.” He held his hands together under his chin. “Please, will you forgive us?”
“Both of you?”
“There’s much you don’t know about my dear friend. Kassite struggles with more demons than any of us.” The small fire was reflected in Sallan’s eyes, which were moist. “Find it in your heart to forgive both of us.”
“Why do you care whether I forgive you or not? Why does anyone care about my forgiveness? I’m just an orphan Hebrew girl with no property or family.”
“Oh, you’re much more than that.”
“What am I?”
“You’re wise and brave, yet completely blind to your own exceptional qualities.” Sallan sighed. “Don’t you realize how special you are?”
“Ha!” Deborah clenched her hand on a fistful of sand and tossed it at the wall of thorns she had erected. “I’m nothing but a foolish girl with big dreams. Didn’t you see what happened in Ein Gedi? I fell right into Seesya’s trap, got my beloved horse killed, and was lucky to survive at all.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Again you claim to know what happened?” Deborah knew she was being rude in the extreme, but her anger forced the words out of her mouth. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Sallan smiled. “But in the meantime, I have the next best thing, which is information from those who did see what happened. Yes, you fell into an ambush, but that happens to the best military leaders all the time. No one can predict all the possibilities, and everyone makes assumptions, some of which turn out to be wrong. A wise leader doesn’t dwell on mistakes remorsefully, but reflects and learns from those mistakes in order to do better next time. The painful lesson you learned in Ein Gedi will help you set a better ambush for your enemies in the future.”
“Or fall into another one of theirs.”
“It might happen, and if it does, you’ll learn another important lesson. That’s the life of a leader.”
His words sounded strange to Deborah, as if he were speaking of someone else, not her. A leader? She wasn’t a leader.
“We have a dan
gerous road ahead of us,” Sallan said. “I’m not sure what to expect when we reach Bozra.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “My heart is filled with hope, but in my country, unlike yours, there is a king who rules over all the people with unlimited power. And a young king might use his power unwisely—and harshly.”
“I thought you found out about the king—”
“Word of mouth travels at a slobber’s pace.” Sallan chuckled. “Merchants carry last year’s news. Whatever happens, we’ll need you to be confident and clear-minded, which means you must think of what happened in Ein Gedi as a victory, not a failure. Results speak for themselves. What counts is that you survived the ambush.”
“Saved by a horse!”
“Exactly,” Sallan said. “Your horse sacrificed his life for you, and it wasn’t an accident. He did it again when the other spears flew. My horse would never do that for me, and none of the other horses would do it for their masters. Do you know why?”
Deborah shook her head.
“Because you bonded with that old horse in a short time to an extent greater than anyone I’ve ever seen. And even at that moment of shock and grief, you landed on your feet and remained composed while your sworn enemy, a man twice your size and a hundred times your fighting skill, was rushing at you with his sword drawn. You didn’t run away as any other person would, but found a stone for your sling, primed it, and knocked him down with a perfect shot, and not a second to spare.”
“I had to. There was no chance I could outrun Seesya.”
“That’s logical thinking, which means you remained calm and observant at a moment of disaster that would have caused others to run away screaming in terror. And after you knocked down Seesya, when his soldiers rushed to attack, you managed to inspire a bunch of former slaves to stand and fight, even though they were terrified and ready to flee.”