Deborah Calling

by Avraham Azrieli

  Deborah glanced at the bottle in her hand, barely visible in the near darkness. The choice she was facing was the greatest she would ever make: to drink, or not to drink.

  From the high perch of the eagle’s back, Deborah had seen herself delivering God’s message to the Hebrews as a woman, seated under Deborah’s Palm, just as her father had predicted. It meant that realizing her True Calling as a woman was possible. At the same time, a voice of reason in her head prodded her to think logically, to question the reality of the flight. Had it been a mere dream, instigated by her fervent hopes and embellished by her fertile imagination?

  The two men followed her up the stairs at a slower pace, groaning from the effort. Deborah kept going, the clay bottle in her right hand while her left hand touched the wall for guidance. In her mind, she was also in the dark, unable to see what was real and what was an illusion. Had she been sleeping the whole time, dreaming of the eagle’s visit and imagining her wise words? But the eagle had seemed so real, her questions so clever, her advice so insightful, and her gift of glimpsing a possible future so joyous.

  One moment Deborah told herself to dismiss the flight to Canaan as a sleep-induced fantasy and stick to her original plan—drink the third dose and transform into a young man. The next moment she changed her mind again. What if Yahweh had sent the eagle with divine guidance? Her parting words implied that much: “I hope our aerial expedition illuminated your path and granted you peace.” Indeed, the trip had done both—illuminated Deborah’s path and given her peace—which was the realization of the priest’s blessing, wasn’t it?

  As she approached the light at the top of the shaft, Deborah knew she had to make the choice, which would determine her future, one way or another. How could she choose, when the facts were so elusive? If the eagle had been only a dream, the wise choice would be manhood. Surely she could become wholly enchanted with the prospect of life as a man—strong, independent, free to inherit Palm Homestead and prepare to become God’s prophet. But if the eagle was real, a messenger from Yahweh, then it was possible to win back Palm Homestead and become God’s prophet—as a woman! Now, she had no idea how to achieve all that as a woman, but it was a future much more enchanting than any man’s life!

  Deborah reached the large cave at the top and climbed out of the shaft. She saw the two men below as they continued to climb the stairs. At the doorway, which was flooded with sunlight, she paused and shut her eyes, enjoying the soothing warmth that welcomed her back to the world.

  Going from darkness to light after a long climb spent in internal debate, she wished the light would provide the clarity she yearned for.

  Had the eagle been real, or a mere dream?

  Deborah waited for the hoped-for enlightenment, but none came.

  Passing through the narrow door, her elbow rubbed against something soft, and she glanced at it.

  A crack in the dry wood of the doorjamb had caught a long white feather. Deborah tugged on it gently until it came free. Having held on to the eagle’s neck each time they flew, she recognized the long white feather. It came from a great eagle, that was certain, but was it the eagle she knew?

  Outside, in the copper-tinged sand of the dry basin, she saw familiar footprints. They were the four-pronged talons of a large eagle, but the same question persisted: Was it her eagle?

  Deborah felt the white feather between her fingers. It was soft, yet its spine was firm. She put it to her nose, sniffed it, and froze, stunned by the unmistakable smell that came from the white feather. It was the sweet scent of Palm Homestead.

  All her pestering doubts suddenly perished. Deborah sank to her knees. Raising her arms, the elixir bottle in one hand, the eagle’s feather in the other, she inhaled deeply and shouted, “Thank you, God!”

  The sound of her voice echoed from the narrow canyon walls as if answering her. No longer burdened by indecision, she got to her feet and ran back into the large cave. Stopping at the edge of the shaft, she saw Sallan and Kassite approaching the top of the stairs on the opposite side. They noticed her above and stopped, breathing heavily.

  “I found it,” she yelled. “The final ingredient.”

  They looked at her.

  “Where?” Sallan asked.

  “In my heart. I discovered my true enchantment.”

  “Congratulations,” he said. “What is it?”

  “The future.”

  Kassite turned to Sallan and said, “What does she mean?”

  “I’m enchanted with the future. It’ll be a long road, but I’m determined to succeed!”

  She kissed the clay bottle, extended her hand over the edge of the shaft, and let it go. The bottle dropped, the men following it with their puzzled eyes until it disappeared in the dark shaft. After what seemed like a long time, the pop of the smashing bottle returned from the distant bottom.

  Chapter 38

  Rogez neighed happily at seeing Deborah, and the boy-servants greeted her with smiles and a chunk of bread with goat cheese. She placed the eagle’s white feather in the pocket of her robe for safekeeping, kissed her horse on the nose, and ate the bread and cheese with great relish. Sallan and Kassite waited for the boys to stack up the stones over the entrance to the mine before mounting their horses.

  Heading down the canyon, the group reached a point where the walls were wide enough for direct sun to reach the bottom. Turning her face up, Deborah closed her eyes and enjoyed the warm rays. Her robe was almost dry, and she was no longer cold. Her time underground had made her realize how much she loved being outside, free to ride and enjoy the fresh air. If she could help it, Deborah decided, she would never again step into a mine.

  When the ruins of Kassite’s family homestead appeared, she noticed the smoky remnants of a campfire. Had the men spent the night there? She turned to ask, but Kassite sped up, trotted by her without a word, and took the lead, navigating the way back to Bozra.

  With the sun approaching its highest point, they rode over a hillcrest, and Kassite stopped. The vast green valley stretched below, separating them from Bozra with its white walls and glistening copper roofs.

  “It’s getting hot,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  “What’s the rush?” Sallan patted his horse’s neck. “I thought women were inclined to be captivated by nature’s beauty.”

  “You mean, when we’re not busy being small-minded and anxious?”

  Kassite chuckled, but Sallan wasn’t amused.

  “As a woman,” he said, “you’d be wise to watch your mouth. Talking back to a man could earn you a good flogging, or worse.”

  “The last man to flog me ended up getting a good flogging himself.”

  Kassite laughed. “A veiled threat for a veiled threat!”

  “I wasn’t threatening,” Sallan said.

  She glared at him. “It sure sounded like a threat.”

  “I was giving you good advice, now that you’ve chosen to remain a woman.” Sallan’s voice softened. “You should stay in Bozra, at least for a while. My home is your home. You’d be safe here.”

  “My home is in the Samariah Hills, at Palm Homestead. That’s my true enchantment.”

  He sighed. “You’re very young and deeply scarred by all the misfortune and cruelty of the past year. It’s natural to feel the urge to right the wrong, to recover what’s been taken from you, to win back the grace of the gods before they rain more trouble on your head. It’s understandable, but you may feel different a month from now, or a year from now. Why rush into a decision now?”

  “Didn’t you lock me up for the night in order to force me to discover my heart’s true enchantment?”

  Sallan sighed again. “I had to do something to stop you from leaving us and going back to Canaan. I feared for you. The result, however, is disappointing.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “I expected you to realize that there was nothing enchanting about your family’s little homestead, nothing enchanting about the endless fighting with the wicked judge
and his violent son, and nothing enchanting about the impossible religious role your father dreamed up for you.”

  She looked at him, baffled. “You expected me to realize what I’m not enchanted with?”

  Sallan glanced at Kassite, who nodded as if saying, “Did I not tell you?”

  “Be honest with me,” Deborah said. “What was in your heart when you locked me up down there? What did you truly expect to gain from it?”

  Shaking his head slowly, Kassite frowned at Sallan.

  “I’ll tell you,” Sallan said. “I expected the solitude to cause you to reflect on your life, think of all that’s happened to you since your parents’ murder, and realize that your only friends on earth are right here in Bozra—a city that rules a great kingdom, a city worthy of your talents, a city where you could have a safe and prosperous future—even as a woman.”

  Deborah was dumbfounded. “You expected me to become enchanted with the prospect of staying here?”

  He nodded.

  “How could I live in Edom? I’m a Hebrew.”

  “By what measure? You have no living family left among the Hebrews, who murdered your parents and sister. You have no right to own property or a chance to find safety in Canaan. You have nothing there but deadly enemies. Here, on the other hand, you have friends and a sanctuary and the right to own property when you become prosperous, even without a husband. Besides, your appearance could easily pass for an Edomite.”

  Deborah shook her head. “I could never be enchanted with a future in Edom.”

  “Never say never,” Sallan said. “Even a feeling of absolute certainty is only temporary, subject to a change of mind.”

  “I will not change my mind.”

  “Have you not changed your mind about becoming a man?”

  She wanted to answer, but to explain her recent decision would require describing the eagle’s visit and the flight they had taken to see the future she could achieve through determination and wise choices. Deborah knew that Sallan and Kassite could not possibly comprehend the reality of the flight and the truth of what she had experienced.

  “You have no answer,” Sallan said. “That’s an admission that there is a chance of another change of mind. You should not have destroyed the third dose.”

  “That’s exactly it,” Deborah said. “I destroyed it because I don’t want the possibility of changing my mind.”

  Rogez whinnied and rocked his head up and down.

  “Typical female foolishness.” Kassite took off his hat and used it to fan his face. “That is what you should have expected.”

  “Don’t rush,” Sallan said. “Enjoy the grandeur of this city, appreciate the greatness of this kingdom, see how much the people need the skills that I possess. You saw the crowd yesterday morning, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, I did,” Deborah said.

  “And the people’s appetite will only grow. Don’t you see what’s happening here?”

  “You’re a great man, but I—”

  “How can you not become enthralled with such prospects?” Sallan cleared his throat. “Don’t you understand what I’m implying? Don’t you realize that, one day, I will pass on to be with the gods and someone will to take over my work?”

  “Me? The Elixirist?”

  Sallan nodded, his eyes moist.

  “Why me? You have such a large family here, many young men to choose from and teach your craft.”

  “It’s not a craft,” Sallan said quietly. “It’s an art, and none of them possess what you possess.”

  Deborah patted Rogez, who was getting impatient. “I have nothing.”

  “Do you not understand, girl?” Kassite tilted his hat, glancing at her. “The Elixirist, the great man himself, has become enchanted with you.”

  Sallan turned to Kassite. “You mock me? What did you whisper to me in Emanuel? ‘She is a gift from Qoz.’ Weren’t those your words?”

  “I readily admitted it.” Kassite raised his hands. “But you denied it.”

  “I admit it now.” Sallan turned back to Deborah. “It’s true. I couldn’t believe my heart at first—a Hebrew girl, poor and uneducated—but there’s something about you that captivates my heart.”

  Deborah looked away, embarrassed.

  “It’s not lust,” he said. “I’m too old for that. It’s a different attraction that I feel for the unique gift that the gods have endowed you with.”

  “What gift?” She felt her face burning. “The gift of bad luck? Of sorrow and loss? Of sworn enemies and needless killing?”

  “You have strength, radiance, quality of mind—and your spirit will is only going to rise and strengthen.” Sallan pressed his hands together. “Stay here and let me nurture you to your full potential. You could be my son, or my daughter—it doesn’t matter. Either way, I can teach you everything I know about old and new elixirs, about bringing relief to the sick and joy to the needy.”

  The intensity of his emotions and the enormity of his offer moved Deborah deeply. She longed to accept this opportunity of a life filled with wealth, adventure, and service to countless people, but her future wasn’t hers to give away.

  “I can’t.” Her voice trembled. “I must go back to Palm Homestead.”

  “Why must you?” Sallan pointed at the sky. “Yahweh? Is that why?”

  She nodded.

  “Your loving god wants you to go back into that den of Hebrew coyotes? To fight a lost battle? To bare your chest to their spears and your back to their whips? Is that what you believe—that your god is cruel and unjust?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe your god brought you here intentionally.” Sallan waved his hand at the view of the city across the valley. “Maybe your god wants you to stay in Bozra and flourish. Isn’t it possible for you to believe that your god is merciful, generous, and kind?”

  Deborah didn’t answer.

  “See? You can’t tell for sure. Stay here, and in time you’ll have all of Edom at your feet.”

  After a long moment of silence, Kassite said, “Enough already. Her heart is in Canaan. Stop humiliating yourself.”

  “Think about it, Deborah,” Sallan insisted. “You saw how the people admire me, beg for my help, adore my powers—and I’ve just arrived back after two decades. Imagine what the future holds! You could be as great as I am, or better than me, my heir! The Elixirist!”

  All Deborah could do was shake her head.

  Chapter 39

  They rode across the valley without exchanging another word, though in her mind Deborah argued, reasoned, and explained her duty to her family and to Yahweh. Sallan had been correct about the risks awaiting her in Canaan. Going back now to confront Seesya and Judge Zifron would surely bring about her quick and bloody demise. To win the first battle against her enemies and to continue winning every battle after that—for she was certain the House of Zifron would keep fighting her—she had to learn how to fight real battles with swords and spears against well-trained and fully equipped opponents. She had to learn the art of war as a professional soldier preparing to fight and to lead others in fighting and winning.

  Could she acquire the skills of a warrior?

  As the eagle had said, she would have to make wise choices along the way, and her first choice was to put all her talent and determination into succeeding. There was no fear in her heart, knowing that God would watch over her, but the prospect of loneliness weighed heavily on her. If only she had a friend ready to stand with her against Seesya—someone brave like Barac.

  Deborah recalled how the eagle had reacted when hearing of Seesya’s murder of Barac. She had tilted its head and said, “Really? That’s news to me.”

  Deborah slowed down to let Sallan catch up with her. “Are you angry with me?”

  Sallan shook his head.

  “You were right to warn me about the dangers ahead. Before go home to fight my enemies, I must learn to be a warrior. May I stay with you until I’m ready?”

 
; He thought for a long moment. “You may, but better you continue to be Borah, or your weapons will be taken from you.”

  “Your mother saw through my disguise.”

  “Umm-Sallan can see through walls, but she’s your friend. With her help, your disguise would be more believable.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  They rode past an apple orchard in the middle of the valley. The farmer, his wives, and his children were busy picking the fruit from the trees and filling large baskets. They stopped working as the group passed by and bowed respectfully, their faces serious. The farmer came over with a basket of apples. He bowed before Deborah and raised the basket to her. She took an apple and bit into it.

  “It’s sweet,” she said. “Thank you.”

  The farmer bowed again and offered the basket to Rogez, who picked out an apple with his teeth and chomped on it noisily. The farmer held the basket up for the other men, but not to the other horses.

  The group moved on at a slow pace, Deborah rising beside Sallan.

  “I was wondering about Barac,” she said, “son of Abinoam, the blacksmith.”

  “The boy who lived,” Sallan said. “He was braver than all the men of Emanuel, defying Seesya in public during your sister’s stoning.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not the end of the story. Later on, in Shiloh, Seesya bragged that he had caught and killed Barac.” She thought of Seesya’s description: “We chopped off his head and kicked it around like a ball.” A tremor went through her. “Do you know if it’s true?”

  “I don’t remember anyone mentioning it in Emanuel. Unless Seesya told the soldiers to keep it a secret, they would have told others, and I would have heard about it.”

  Deborah exhaled with relief. She had feared that Sallan would confirm Barac’s death, but he didn’t, allowing her to maintain a small hope that Barac was alive. She imagined seeing him again. How wonderful that would be!