Deborah's Story

by Ann Burton

  “It is only a few hours’ walk from the riverbank,” he promised me. “I can send a runner to fetch a wagon, if you are weary and would rather ride.”

  “I would rather walk, please,” I said, looking out over the green and fertile plains spreading out before the majestic mountain ranges. “I fear my legs are weary of doing nothing.”

  I had enjoyed the novelty of traveling by river, but I was glad to step off the boat onto the pier. This night, Jeth promised me, we would sleep under a roof, not in slings beneath a hide canopy over the deck, and our beds would not sway in time to the currents of the river.

  The sheep and goats were happy to return to the land, as well. Although they were a little thin from the journey—even the best feed could not keep them as fat as daily grazing and foraging—their eyes were bright and alert and their movements energetic. The sheep’s fat tails bobbled as they walked, a sign of contentment, and all the lambs were now sturdy enough to keep up with the herd. Still, I kept to my place at the back and watched for predators in this new land.

  Jeth spent some time directing the shepherds at the front of the herd before dropping back to walk with me.

  “You did not eat much of the morning meal,” he mentioned. “Are you feeling well?”

  “I was too excited to eat much.” I looked up at the endless stretch of mountains that seemed so much broader and higher than those in Hazor, and I sighed. “It is lovely here. So wild and untamed, the way it is said the world was when our Heavenly Father created it.”

  “There are many beauties that await your discovery,” he promised. “So, when we reach the farm, what would you most like to have?”

  I pretended to think hard.

  “Never say fish,” he teased. The bargemen had been especially lucky in the catch over the last several days, and shared it with us, so most of what we had been eating was fish of one kind or another.

  “If I did, I would have stayed on the boat.” Something in the distance caught my attention, and I pointed to it. “Jeth, what is that? A cloud of dust?”

  He tensed and squinted against the sun, and then relaxed. “No, it is only an escort.” At my blank look, he added, “Our tribe sends armed men daily to protect traders and merchants who come by river. It is the only way to keep the Canaanite raiders from attacking them.”

  The escort turned out to be a dozen warriors who trotted to us at such a quick pace that they stirred up the dust on the road. As they reached the herd, they fell into two lines on either side and marched with us. Their leader, an older man in a leather helmet and armor, came to speak with Jeth.

  “Glad I am to see you, Adon Lappidoth.” He slapped his hand to his breast in some manner of salute. “With all the activity to the north of us, your kinsmen have been worried you might not return with ease from your journey. Have you word for us on what is happening there?”

  “I was in Hazor when King Jabin issued the Hebrew deportation decree. He is stirring up the citizens there to feel most hostile toward our people.” Jeth saw the direction of the soldier’s gaze and gestured to me. “This is Deborah, a kinswoman of mine from the north. Deborah, this is Captain Avash, commander of the tribal militia and one of the guardians of our tribe.”

  “Captain.” I bowed my head as Jeth had taught me in Hebrew fashion.

  “Lady.” He returned the gesture. “Excuse my hurriedness, but there is much I must relay to Adon Lappidoth about our situation here.”

  Jeth’s gaze went to the mountains, and a line appeared between his smooth eyebrows. “Have things grown so much worse?”

  “Sisera has invaded and occupied Haroshet, and now has command of the only pass from Jezreel into the north of Haifa,” Avash stated flatly, as if this were a terrible thing. “His armies have blockaded the roads from Galilee to the Jordan Valley and the Great Sea, which has cut off most of the north trade.”

  “He thinks to choke us out,” Jeth muttered. “What is being done? Have forces been rallied?”

  “Not as of yet, Adon. The elders are conferring with our judges, and the tribes have all promised to send as many men as can be spared from protecting the settlements.” The worry lines around Avash’s eyes and mouth deepened. “Unfortunately there is much squabbling about who will lead them, and when, and where.”

  Jeth sighed. “Surely the tribal leaders can set aside their differences for this occasion and elect one general for our defense?”

  “It is not so simple, I fear. To lead the army into the fray when the signs say it will be decided on the first battlefield requires cold nerve. Then there is the matter of matching the enemy’s weapons. Our smiths are forging swords and spears day and night, and the men train, but to hope to prevail against Canaanite chariots and pikes…” The older man shook his head. “It will take a remarkable warrior to face down the enemy, and few of our younger leaders have any battle experience. The older fear they will be blamed for losing a war that cannot be won.”

  I remembered Jeth’s story about Ehud, and how the Hebrew tribes had lived in peace for the last eighty years. As he had predicted, it seemed that time was coming to an end.

  “What of the temple priests?” Jeth was asking the captain. “Have they not been able to divine Jehovah’s will?”

  “All the word from the high holy places is the same: There will be two leaders who will come soon.” Avash did not sound convinced. “One will be a judge, and the other general. They will lead us to victory.”

  “When?” Jeth demanded, sounding frustrated now.

  Avash sighed. “I cannot say, but I hope it is soon. With the north trade routes under Jabin’s control, and Sisera controlling the gentile tribes at Haroshet, our days in this land may be counted on a single breath.”

  Captain Avash rejoined his men and remained with them as we crossed through the pass. Jeth did not speak to me of what they had discussed, and since I knew nothing of the names and places they had mentioned, I did not ask any questions. Still, our silence was a companionable one, and it lasted until we reached the base of the mountain Jeth called home.

  The first sign of settlement I saw was a little village, sitting halfway up the base slope on a wide shelf of earth.

  “That is Palma,” Jeth said, pointing to the tight circular cluster of dwellings and pens.

  Palma was perhaps only the width and breadth of three streets in Hazor, so at first it appeared quite small to my eyes. As we drove the herd up the gently sloping road to the village, I saw the houses and business built there were nestled very close together, and numbered at least sixty or seventy.

  Beyond the village were other plateaus that had been cultivated into farm lands and fenced pastures. On these wider, open areas I saw rough-hewn fences, and behind them many flocks of sheep, goats, and cattle.

  From the look of the mountain, many such wide, flat shelves of earth climbed like steps along the mid-region, but they did not appear naturally formed. The settlers here must have spent many months toiling to level great stretches for more practical use.

  “I wish I could have shown you our homeland for the first time during the spring,” Jeth said to me as he watched me taking in the view ahead. “Just after the last of the heavy rains, the sun warms the mountain back to life, and the first wheat we plant sprouts. It covers the hills and pastures like a pale green mist. There are entire fields of wildflowers, too, of all the colors of the rainbow. So many that my mother complains she has never enough pots and urns to put them in for the house.”

  I knew from our many conversations during the river journey that Jeth’s father had died of coughing sickness five winters past, and that as his eldest son, Jeth had inherited the position of head of the family. His younger brothers had chosen to go into trade in Rameh, and his only sister had died shortly after birth, so just his mother and her maids lived in his home with him at the farm.

  The thought of now meeting his mother, however, worried me.

  “You are sure I will not cause any trouble arriving like this, with no warni
ng?” Ybyon’s wife had made a great fuss of the few visitors who came to stay at the farm, and caused Seres and the kitchen slaves extra work for days preparing grand meals.

  “My mother often berates me for not inviting more guests to the farm,” he said. “She will be delighted to meet you.”

  I did not know how protective free Hebrew women were of their sons, but I suspected that Jeth’s mother would wish to know who I was, and why I had come here from Hazor. That I might be a distant kinswoman did not seem enough reason, and I might alarm her with the tale of Ybyon’s treachery.

  I have not even told Jeth that Ybyon was my father, I thought, feeling my insides curdling. What if his mother asked about my family? I could not lie. Perhaps I will hold my tongue and let him explain everything.

  I thought one of the smaller farms along the village road might belong to my benefactor, but he directed the shepherds to drive the herd past them and take a side path that cut across one of the large open pastures. At the other side were more fenced paddocks, and a low, wide farm house.

  “You should keep the new animals separated from those here,” I said to Jeth. “Some may have grown sick from the journey, but you may not be able to tell for several days.”

  “All will be penned away from my flocks until we know they are healthy,” he agreed.

  As we drew closer, I saw that the farmhouse was enormous: a dwelling large enough to support four or five extended families—perhaps twice or even three times as large as my former master’s main house, which by Canaanite standards had been considered quite grand.

  “You do not like it?” Jeth asked me.

  I dragged my gaze from the smoothly plastered golden brick walls and the roof of strangely tied bundles of thatch. “It seems like the palace of a king.”

  “My father was a large man like me,” he explained, taking my arm in his. “He liked having room. He also brought his family here to live until they could clear good pastureland and build dwellings of their own.”

  Before the last sheep had passed into the paddock gate, a trio of figures came walking from the farmhouse. The first was a white-haired woman in elegantly plain robes dyed a lovely shade of light blue, followed by two younger, dark-haired women dressed in the practical garments of maidservants.

  “Is this my firstborn come back from the north land, Captain Avash?” the older woman asked the commander of our escort. She herself had a commanding voice and stern eyes, and a large, soft brown birthmark at the right corner of her lips. “Or have you captured some thieving raider trying to steal the best from our flocks?”

  Avash hid a smile by bowing deeply. “I will let you decide that, Lady Urlai.”

  “Mother.” Jeth laughed and went to her, and he swept her up in his arms as if she were no more than a child. “How glad I am to see you.”

  “Glad you are, when you spend months away from your family, and worry me so that I cannot rest more than an hour or enjoy more than a bite or two of any meal? I should have one of the girls fetch a switch, that I may thrash you proper.” The Lady Urlai kissed her son soundly and hugged him close.

  Jeth laughed. “You see? You are glad I am home.”

  “No, now that I think about it, I believe I shall travel to the north country, and you may stay here and spend your nights pacing the floor.” She looked past her son and saw me for the first time, and her smile disappeared. “Jeth, who is this with you?”

  I stepped forward with great hesitancy, for I saw no delight in the lady’s eyes. I was not sure of how to introduce myself, or even if it were proper that I should, so I made a polite bow and looked to Jeth.

  He held out his hand, and took mine to lead me forward. “Mother, this is Deborah of Hazor. Her mother was our kinswoman, a daughter of the tribe of Benjamin.”

  “Indeed,” Urlai said in a low voice as she inspected me from head to foot. “I did not know we had kin in the north land.”

  “Very distant kin, lady,” I said, and grimaced. My throat was so tight, it was making my voice squeak.

  “Distance is nothing among the tribe.” Urlai produced a ferocious frown. “I truly should beat my son. Why has he not been feeding you properly? You are as thin as a chafe stick.”

  “I have never eaten better in my life than during this journey to Ephraim, lady,” I assured her. “I am very glad to meet you at last. Jeth has told me so much about you and your home.”

  “Has he.” Urlai stepped closer, peering into my eyes. When I went still, she shook her head. “Do not be afraid, child. I am an old woman, but my memory has yet to fail me, and glad I am of it.” She kissed both my cheeks. “You are welcome here, Deborah of Hazor. Forgive me my strangeness, but it is not often that I can return to my girlhood. I never thought to look into such wondrous eyes again.”

  “Mother?” Jeth sounded a little worried now.

  “You are tired and thirsty and hungry,” Urlai said, sounding practical. She put an arm around my shoulders. “Come inside now, and let me show you a proper meal.”

  I glanced back at Jeth, who looked as confused as I felt. “You are certain that you do not mind me visiting?”

  Urlai looked at me, astounded. “Visiting? Oh, child, do you not know?” She smiled, making the round brown mark by her mouth disappear into her dimpled cheek, and kissed my cheek again. “You are among your people. You are home at last.”

  The next hours passed in a blur of excellent food served in the large and airy room at the center of the farmhouse, where Urlai dismissed her maidservants and served us herself.

  “You must tell me everything that happened on your journey,” the lady said as she ladled a rich mutton broth into bowls for us. “Why did you take so long? I expected you home when the moon was full, a week past. Were there any difficulties with the Canaanites?”

  Jeth answered her questions in a very vague way, speaking mostly about the sheep and goats he had obtained in Hazor, but he did not recount the story of Ybyon’s treachery or how I had intervened.

  I concentrated on eating my soup without spilling it all over the fine table his mother had set for us.

  During the conversation with his mother, the only thing Jeth mentioned about Hazor other than the crowded streets and the fine work Parah had done for him was the king’s decree to deport all resident and visiting Hebrews.

  “You know that Jabin has caused much grief among the tribes throughout the land,” Urlai told her son after we had finished eating. “Captain Avash likely told you the latest news. The tribal leaders are spreading the word about the blocked roads and towns now hostile toward us, so that those who travel can avoid them.”

  “Has there been any word from the tabernacle on what we are to do?” Jeth asked.

  “None. But the signs that have so troubled our priests are about to be made clear, I believe.” Urlai turned her gaze on me. “You must be exhausted with only the company of men, my dear. I will show you to the women’s quarters, where you can bathe and rest.” She gave Jeth a stern look. “You may go and greet your shepherds, who have long been suffering your absence and have plagued me with many complaints about the market price of grain and wool and such ridiculous matters.”

  “Yes, Mother. Deborah, I will see you in the morning.” After giving me a sympathetic smile, Jeth left us.

  Urlai rose and gestured to me. “Come, Deborah.”

  “I do not have to sleep in the house,” I said as I followed her out of the room and down a long hallway. “Any place will do, really.”

  “Where has my son made you sleep, that you would say such a thing?” Urlai demanded.

  I should have said nothing, but I felt awkward being alone with her now. “It is just that I…I do not wish to be a burden.”

  “We have much to discuss,” she said, and put her arm around me again. “And tomorrow we will. Tonight, you shall be made comfortable and rest—inside this house, if you please.”

  I desperately wanted to escape to the nearest barn or shed, and hide in the straw, but I made myse
lf walk meekly with Urlai into the room at the end of the hall.

  The women’s quarters were occupied by several maidservants, two exotic-looking birds in beautiful cages made of painted twigs, and simple but comfortable-looking sleeping and bathing areas. At the lady’s insistence, I undressed behind a screen and washed myself thoroughly in the large tub of warm water placed there by her maids.

  “Here you are—I believe this will fit you.” Urlai hung a length of linen for drying and a clean, soft robe over the top of the screen. “How old are you, Deborah?”

  “I am two and twenty years, I think,” I said as I dried off my limbs and slipped into the robe.

  “You do not know?”

  Should I tell her I was slave-born? “My mother died when I was very small, and those who cared for me did not often make mention of it.”

  Urlai made a hmmmming sound. “What of your father? Did he not know the day of your birth?”

  “I never knew him when I was growing up.” I thought desperately of how I might change the subject. “Is there some work I can do here, Lady Urlai? I can clean and mend a little, but mostly I know how to care for sheep, and other animals.”

  Jeth’s mother was silent for a long time, until she finally said, “You need not worry about that now, child. Come, let me show you where you are to sleep.”

  I was more weary than I realized, for hardly a few moments after Urlai covered me with a light blanket did my eyes close and my thoughts dissolve into the blessed blankness of sleep.

  For a long time I rested in the safe haven of darkness, but then I was taken into a dream. I found myself not idling in the garden of Jehovah, but standing alone in the middle of a quiet golden valley. I could see snow on the peaks of the mountains to the west and east, but there was nothing else save grass and the land and me, and I did not know the place.

  I spotted two paths, each leading in different directions, and moved toward one that was lined on both sides with clusters of red and yellow flowers.