Deborah Calling

by Avraham Azrieli

  “I lost this sword in the sea of salt,” she said.

  “Have you also lost your faith in Yahweh?”

  “No.”

  “Have you forgotten his sixth commandment?”

  “Do not kill!”

  “And still, you did it.” Hashkem gave up on pulling out the sword and showed her his red hands. “Look, my blood won’t stop pouring out.”

  She touched her throat. “Are you going to choke me now?”

  He tilted his head as if uncertain, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  “I’m really tired of it,” she said. “Why do you keep choking me?”

  He wiped the blood off with the back of his hand and asked in a boyish voice, “Why did you kill me?”

  The wing under her moved down and up as the eagle maintained the altitude. The unfamiliar movement startled Deborah, who wasn’t used to sitting on the wing. She moved closer in.

  “I made a terrible mistake,” she said. “It all started when I sent the lepers to Ein Gedi based on a confusing dream I had. Months later, I ran into Ramrod on the way to Bethel, and he told me how they were suffering. I felt a duty to find them and tell them that I had misinterpreted my dream and they could go back to the Samariah Hills. Worse yet, I foolishly planned to set an ambush, as if I could outsmart the men chasing me, surprise them, and scare them off with a shower of stones from our slings. I didn’t expect Seesya to be waiting, attack me with spears, or force me to use my sword to hurt anyone. The truth is, I’m just a foolish girl pretending to be a soldier.”

  “You weren’t pretending when you killed me.” He looked down at the front of his leather armor, which was covered in blood. “I’m only nineteen.”

  “You were a soldier. Fighting was your job. Didn’t you expect the possibility of being injured or killed?”

  “By a girl? I didn’t expect such humiliation.”

  Deborah was surprised that he cared about this aspect, but who was she to judge? “I’ve taken your life and your honor. Will you continue to strangle me every time I fall asleep, or can you finally forgive me?”

  “For violating God’s commandment? Ask Him to forgive you!”

  “I’ve been asking, but maybe He’s waiting for you to forgive me first.”

  “How can I forgive you?” Hashkem’s voice grew weak, his face grew pale, and his eyes became sad. “It’s too late. I’m dead.”

  The eagle flapped its wings, and Hashkem lost his balance, rolled backward, and fell from the wing. Deborah looked back and saw him behind the eagle, tumbling through the air all the way to the distant sea below. He hit the water with a splash of red spray. She screamed in horror and woke up.

  There was sunlight in the curtained window. The boy-servants were gone already, but Kassite was still under his blanket.

  He rose on one elbow. “What is wrong?”

  “A bad dream,” she said.

  “Ah.” Kassite sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I am not surprised.”

  “What’s this noise?” Deborah went to the window and moved aside the curtains.

  The sun had just risen, the air was still cool, and a mass of people filled the front garden. They wore simple robes and plain sandals. There were men and women, many with gray hair and some stooped with age. They conversed in hushed voices.

  Kassite joined her at the window. “That was quick.”

  “Why are they here?”

  “Word of mouth does not always move at a slobber’s pace. Sometimes it flies like an eagle.”

  She looked at him. Did he know about her eagle, or was it a coincidental choice of words?

  “The great man is about to make his first public appearance.” Kassite pointed up. “Listen and learn.”

  “Good people of Edom!” Sallan’s voice came from the edge of the roof above. “What you heard is true—I’m back from captivity!”

  The crowd outside exploded with a collective cheer that made Deborah cover her ears. It went on for a few minutes.

  “As you can imagine,” Sallan continued, “I’m very tired and in poor health, having spent many years in awful conditions and the recent weeks on a difficult and perilous journey. I ask that you leave now and go back to your homes. When our brave king returns, we’ll have a reason to celebrate and give thanks to the mighty Qoz for his eternal blessings.”

  “Thank you, Qoz,” a man yelled. “The Elixirist is back!”

  Cheering broke out again.

  “Quiet! Quiet!” It was a shrill woman’s voice from the middle of the crowd. “When will you start making—”

  Many other voices interrupted her, pleading for him to resume working as soon as possible.

  Sallan must have held his hands up, because the crowd gradually quieted down.

  “My good people,” he said. “Your pleas and prayers fill my heart with joy and gratitude that I’m finally back among you. In time, with the love of my family, the permission of the king, and the blessings of our gods, I’ll find the help and support needed to resume my work.”

  They started cheering again, but he hushed them.

  “I beg of you, please go back to your homes. May the great Qoz bless you and your families!”

  The crowd began to leave.

  “Very good,” Kassite said. “The last thing we need is for the young king to feel threatened.”

  “We?” Deborah folded her blanket and packed her sack. “I’m not staying here. As soon as Sallan gives me the third dose of the Male Elixir, I’ll leave for home.”

  “Home?” Kassite snorted the way he’d done in his sleep. “I would not go back to Canaan even if Kothar-wa-Khasis himself guaranteed my safety and prosperity with every tool he wields. Canaan is a cursed land of lawlessness, strife, and bloodshed.”

  His words were hurtful, but he was at home, where he belonged. For her, home was in the Samariah Hills.

  “Is your mind is made up?” he asked.

  Deborah nodded, keeping her doubts to herself. “I must return to Canaan to realize my True Calling.”

  Kassite smiled. “There is always more than one way to realize one’s True Calling.”

  They had the morning meal on a cozy patio at the back of the house. Deborah left her armor, belt, and sword in the room. She wore a simple wool robe, with the sling as a belt, and plain sandals. Umm-Sallan did not join them. Kassite and Sallan were quiet, and Deborah was hungry. The table was laden with fruit, bread, and cheese. Everything was fresh and tasty, and she ate quickly, enjoying the food.

  “You like the food of Edom,” Sallan said, smiling.

  “Yes.” She swallowed what was in her mouth. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

  “As my mother told you last night,” Sallan said, “our home is your home now.”

  “And thank you for showing me your workshop.”

  Kassite glanced at Sallan, but didn’t say anything.

  “And how about the crowd this morning?” Sallan waved in the direction of the front garden. “Did you see? Hundreds of them came, starting at sunrise.”

  “They’re very happy you’re back,” she said.

  “A new beginning would be exciting,” Sallan said, “but at my age, I’m not sure. How long will I have the strength for it?”

  “Long enough,” Kassite said, “to train the next great Elixirist.”

  Sallan opened his arms wide. “Where will I find a person with the talent and the temperament?”

  “Ask your mother who among your nephews is smart and capable.” Kassite had a smirk on his face, but his tone was even and deliberate. “Whoever joins you will be very lucky, and with all those customers, there will be wealth, too.”

  Sallan grunted and looked away.

  Kassite chuckled. “The complicated allure of a new beginning.”

  “Speaking of new beginnings,” Deborah said, “I’m ready for the third dose of the Male Elixir and the beginning of my life as a young man.”

  “She is eager to leave us.” Kassite’s hand fluttered in the air like
a bird. “Off she will go as soon as you give her what you promised.”

  “What’s the hurry?” Sallan brushed breadcrumbs from his sleeve. “We haven’t even recovered from the journey yet.”

  “My journey isn’t over,” she said.

  “Going back is not a continuation of a journey. It’s a retreat.”

  “Palm Homestead is my final destination.”

  “It will be final—your final day alive. That is, if you survive the road, a girl traveling alone.”

  “Not a girl, not anymore, not after I drink the third dose.”

  “A boy, then.” Sallan pushed away his half-full plate. “Even a young man, riding a good horse, carrying a sword and a spear, would be reckless to go alone. How would you survive on the road through the desert, the wilderness, the heat, and the animals? How would you defend yourself along the empty stretches of roads in the territories of your fellow Hebrews, where men of one tribe don’t hesitate to molest those of another?”

  Shaken by his harsh tone, Deborah glanced at Kassite, but he offered no support.

  “Answer me,” Sallan insisted. “I really want to know.”

  She looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap.

  “Why would you leave this great city and your caring friends?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “And in the unlikely event that you do make it back to Emanuel alive, how in the world will you survive a confrontation with Judge Zifron, his murderous son, and their garrison of trained soldiers?”

  Deborah struggled not to burst into tears. He was right. She had focused on the goal of reaching Bozra, where Sallan would obtain the last ingredient and give her the third dose of the Male Elixir, but she had failed to plan ahead.

  “Are you listening?” Sallan knuckled the table several times. “Have you thought logically about what’s next, or are you blindly following some irrational girlish sentimentality?”

  “I’m not girlish,” Deborah said. “Or irrational.”

  “Then answer my question!”

  “Yahweh is my answer. He will guide me and keep me safe.”

  “The god of the Hebrews?” Sallan sneered. “The god nobody has ever seen? He will save your life from countless mortal dangers?”

  “Yahweh is the Almighty, present in every place and at every time, with grace and powers—”

  “Where was this almighty Yahweh when Seesya killed your parents?”

  Her chest constricted painfully, recalling Babatorr’s description of her parents’ last moments: “Seesya ran his sword through the man’s chest. The wife defended herself with a scythe, slashing Seesya’s face. She gave him that scar, and he cut her throat.”

  The images played in Deborah’s mind, and tears filled her eyes.

  “Maybe your Yahweh was busy that day,” Sallan said.

  “When you have only one god,” Kassite said, “he is always busy.”

  “That’s not true,” she said. “Yahweh can do many things at the same time.”

  “Is that so?” Sallan leaned forward, glaring at her. “How about the day your sister was stoned to death unjustly?”

  The image of Tamar’s bloody head caused Deborah to let out a muted whimper.

  “And when the High Priest handed you to Seesya in Shiloh, to abuse you and kill you as he had done to your sister, where was your Yahweh then?” Sallan’s voice was rising. “And when Seesya tore off the armor from your chest at the gates of Emanuel and flogged you like a stray slave, where was your Yahweh then? Where?”

  “I don’t know.” Deborah stood up, her chair falling over. “I’m not a priest—I can’t even read or write. Yahweh is not some man whose actions I can try to explain. He is God!”

  Kassite put a hand on her arm. “Calm down. You are among friends here, and we also cannot explain our gods’ occasional cruelties.”

  “That’s true.” Sallan leaned back in the chair, his expression softening. “My questions were harsh not because I wished to upset you. I’m concerned for you.”

  Deborah righted her chair and sat back down. Her hands shook, and she pressed them together. “It’s true. My parents and sister lost their lives, and I’ve suffered injuries and humiliations, but when I needed Him the most, Yahweh provided help. That’s how I kept my promise to you and returned to Emanuel to obtain your freedom.” She paused, hesitant for a moment. “And that’s how I’ll make it back to Emanuel again, win back Palm Homestead, and serve as His prophet.”

  Sallan must have noticed the hesitation. He looked at her inquisitively.

  “That’s my True Calling,” Deborah said, raising her voice to mask her doubts. “And to do it, I must become a man and be ready to confront Seesya and beat him down for good. Now, are you going to keep your promise?”

  “She is right,” Kassite said. “You promised to give her the third dose upon reaching Bozra.”

  Sallan pushed up from his chair. “I will keep my promise.”

  A few moments after Sallan left, a servant brought sweet cakes and cups of warm milk. Deborah and Kassite ate and drank, but neither said anything. The air was full of scents from the garden and the kitchen, the trees around the house were teeming with birds, and the great city hummed with human activity. Deborah hoped Umm-Sallan would join them. The matriarch intrigued her. How could a woman become the head of a large family?

  Sallan returned with a small clay bottle, plugged with a piece of cork.

  Deborah and Kassite gawked at the bottle.

  “Don’t worry,” Sallan said. “It won’t explode.”

  Kassite laughed, but Deborah was too nervous. She extended her hand for the bottle.

  “Not here,” Sallan said.

  “Where?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Deborah gestured at the table. “You haven’t tasted the cakes.”

  “I’ll have some later. Come, the boys are waiting for us up front with the horses.”

  Following him, Deborah asked, “Where are we going?”

  “To obtain the final ingredient,” Sallan said.

  Kassite caught up with them. “Are we going to—”

  “Yes,” Sallan said.

  “Where?” Deborah asked.

  “You’ll see. It’s only a couple of hours away.”

  “Two hours?” She untied the sling, straightened her robe, and retied the sling more tightly around her waist. “That’s a four-hour round trip. I’m not dressed for a long ride in the desert.”

  “Your reluctance is understandable,” Kassite said. “Would you like to wait? It would give you some time to reconsider taking the third dose.”

  “I’m not reluctant.”

  “There’s no rush,” Sallan said. “Changing your sex is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

  “True,” Kassite said. “There are many ways to reach a destination.”

  Deborah resumed walking. “I was concerned only about the ride, but it’s fine. If we ride fast, we’ll be back before the heat builds up.”

  The two boy-servants waited outside the stables with five horses, clean and saddled, each with two waterskins hanging from the saddle horn. Seeing Deborah, Rogez neighed and rocked his head up and down. She kissed his nose.

  Sallan and Kassite mounted their horses, pulled the hoods of their robes over their heads, and started down the street. Deborah and the boy-servants, who shared a horse, did the same.

  They left the city and took the road north. Halfway through the valley, Sallan stopped and turned his horse around.

  “Look at this,” he said, facing Bozra’s glistening copper roofs and stark white walls. “The most beautiful city in the world. Why would anyone want to live someplace else?”

  Deborah held the reins firmly as Rogez shifted impatiently. “It is beautiful,” she said. “Too beautiful.”

  “How can anything be too beautiful?”

  “Too perfect,” she said.

  Sallan laughed. “How can perfection become excessive?”

  “
It doesn’t seem real.” Deborah pointed at Bozra. “It’s like a picture in a dream. For example, there aren’t any poor people.”

  “You miss their smelly huts and dirty tents?”

  Deborah felt her face flush. It was true. Compared with Emanuel, Shiloh, and Aphek, Bozra’s cleanliness and sweet-smelling air were undeniably appealing, if one didn’t think about what had to be done to achieve it.

  “I don’t miss the stench,” she said, “but I feel sorry for the poor when I think that they all have to work in the copper mines—even women and children. Do they get shackled and flogged like slaves?”

  “They work willingly,” Sallan said, “and serve their king. In return, they get a mat to sleep on, meals to sustain them, and healers to treat their maladies and injuries. You have no reason to feel sorry for the poor people of Edom. They’re better off than the poor of the Hebrews, who live in squalor and feed on scraps. There’s nothing wrong with Bozra’s beauty—you will learn to love it, as we do.”

  Deborah looked at the great city. Would she still worry about the poor if she lived here and made it her home?

  “We are wasting precious time.” Kassite turned his horse and resumed riding.

  They followed him across the valley and up the hills. After a while, he left the road and took a narrow path. They rode single file through dry streams and crevices, up into the hills. The rocky landscape grew barren, its tinge of red becoming more pronounced. The sun rose higher, hinting at the hot day ahead.

  Whenever the trail intersected with another, Kassite paused, looked around, and chose which way to go. At one point, the trail split into three branches, and Kassite stopped altogether. He looked around, raised his eyes to the blue sky, and gazed at the imposing cliffs.

  Deborah glanced at Sallan, who gestured for her to be patient. Sure enough, Kassite made up his mind and moved on.

  She asked in a low voice, “Is he trying to remember the way, or is he guessing?”

  “Probably a combination of the two,” Sallan said.

  Rogez whinnied, and Deborah rubbed his neck. “Even my horse knows you can’t find your way in the desert by guessing. Either you know the way, or not.”

  “That’s true for a horse, not for a man.”

  “Why?”

  “Because a man has a heart.” Sallan pressed a fist to his chest. “Navigating in the desert is like finding your way in life. You have to choose among the paths available to you, because staying put means death. If you’re paralyzed by doubts, ask your heart which path feels true, and when it tells you, don’t be afraid to leap forward and go on.”