Deborah's Story

by Ann Burton

  I knew she said this to make me feel at ease, but it reminded me that I came to this family with nothing. “I wish I had something to offer you as my portion.”

  “You saved my son’s life in Hazor,” Urlai said. At my look of surprise, she nodded. “He told me of what you did, Deborah. There is no greater gift you could have brought to this family—I assure you.”

  Urlai fussed greatly over which collar, bracelets, and anklets I should wear for the wedding, trying on this and that, and arguing with her sons’ wives about which would flatter me best. While they were sorting through the chest, the maidservants measured me and began to sew my wedding robes from the pretty cloth. After that, I was treated to a ritual bathing to be cleansed properly. As Urlai explained, it was a custom for Hebrew women to do so before entering the temple for the marriage blessing.

  I did not mind the other women seeing my naked body—it was a ritual cleansing, and part of the wedding preparation—but I wished I did not have so many ugly scars on my limbs, and that the healed wounds the whipping had left on my back were not still so pink and raw-looking.

  Urlai took my hand and helped me step into the wide, flat wooden tub reserved for such special bathing. She brushed her fingers over one of the weals on the back of my shoulder.

  “These are the marks of your strength and endurance, my dear,” she said in a low voice. “Never feel you must hide them from us.”

  Unlike my courage, Urlai’s kindness never failed. “I will remember, lady.”

  “You should practice calling me Mother.” She tapped my chin and then sighed. “Here I babble on about myself without thinking of your feelings for your lady mother in heaven. If you would rather not, I shall understand.”

  “My mother, Dasah, would not mind, I think.” I blinked back tears. “I would be proud to call you Mother.”

  “If you two are going to weep on each other,” Syman’s wife complained, “do so quickly, before the water grows cold.”

  The ritual cleansing took some time, as I had to be scrubbed and scraped all over, and anointed with special oils. When my body glowed, then my hair had to be washed and scented with flower essence before it was combed out and dried before the heat of a brazier, upon which myrrh and other costly resins were melted over the coals. By the time I was dressed in my robes, I smelled like a walking garden.

  “You look like a queen,” Urlai assured me as she braided back my smooth, scented hair. “Jeth’s eyes will fall from his head when he looks upon you.”

  “I hope not,” I said, “for I am very fond of his eyes.”

  “A blind husband is not the worst thing a woman can have. There, now, you look perfect.” Urlai drew me up and led me over to my sleeping mat. “You will rest now, and we will bring your meals in here where you can eat in peace.” She wagged a finger at me. “You cannot see Jeth until tomorrow, when we take you to meet him at the temple. It is bad luck for a bride to be seen by her husband the day before their wedding.”

  I agreed to stay in the women’s quarters, and to take a short nap, and was left alone there. I could not sleep, however, and lay staring up at the ceiling, wondering if I had made the right choice in accepting Jeth’s offer of marriage.

  He is everything good and kind and decent in a man, my heart argued. He will be a good husband.

  But would I be a good wife? Was this what Jehovah had been guiding me to, all these years? Was this why Jeth had been placed in my path, and I given the chance to save him from Ybyon’s evil greed? Or was this all for different reasons, reasons that I did not wish to think upon?

  The tribe had great hopes for Gesala’s daughter, Urlai’s voice murmured in my head, as it was predicted that her child would become a great judge of Israel.

  I closed my eyes, and there in that beautiful room, made beautiful by the kindest women I had ever met, surrounded by luxuries I had never known, I covered my face with my hands and wept.

  CHAPTER

  17

  I rose early the next morning and stood quietly as Urlai and her sons’ wives prepared me for my wedding.

  “Do not look so anxious,” my new mother scolded as she reddened my lips with a bit of pomegranate juice and adjusted the hammered silver collar around my throat. “You are not, are you? No, Eleen, bring Mistress Deborah some soothing tea—that brew is too harsh.”

  I let my mother-in-law fuss over me. Eleen had confided in me the night before that with three sons, Urlai had never had the chance to prepare a daughter for her wedding. I was also worried that if I spoke too much, I might lose my nerve, run out to the barn, and crawl into the hay where no one could find me.

  “You look perfect,” Urlai finally declared, turning me this way and that. She frowned. “Smile, child. This is the beginning of your new life.”

  I pushed away thoughts of Gesala’s legacy, and smiled.

  The wedding ritual began when Jeth and his brothers brought many wagons decorated with branches of oak and bundles of wheat stalks to the front of the house to transport the family to the village temple. I was carried out of the house in a draped litter borne by four shepherds and placed in a special wagon separate from the rest of the procession, where I could not be seen. We then proceeded slowly through the village, where Jeth’s kinsmen and friends lined the streets and tossed flowers and handfuls of grain as we passed before falling in behind my litter to escort us to the priest for the marriage blessing.

  Urlai had explained the shower of petals and seeds were to ensure that Jeth and I had many children, but I couldn’t help a pang of regret when I saw the grain fall to the ground. What was being thrown away might have been ground into flour and baked into bread, enough to feed an entire family for days. I felt better when I saw many birds swooping down to peck at it. At least it would not go entirely to waste.

  The bet bama was a small shrine built on the very highest place on the plateau shared by the rest of the village. Because the community was small, it required the attendance of only a single priest, but his devotion was evident in the careful tending of the ground around the shrine, the clean look of the plastered brick, and the well-tended fires that Urlai said were never permitted to go out.

  “We keep the fires burning to remind our enemies that our faith never falters,” she had told me during one of the Sabbath days, when we had discussed such matters. “It is also a signal that all is well in the village.”

  I was handed down from the litter and escorted from the wagon by Urlai and her sons’ wives. There before a four-cornered altar at the top of a stepped platform stood Jeth, dressed in magnificent dark purple robes and wearing a short, unornamented sword on his left side.

  My new sisters and mother walked with me partway up the steps, but stopped at the midpoint and urged me to continue alone. I was completely veiled, so I made my way carefully, and once I joined Jeth, he turned to the waiting priest.

  “This is Deborah, late of Hazor, daughter of the tribe of Benjamin,” Jeth said in his deep, steady voice. “This is whom I shall make my isti, wife.”

  Now it was my turn to recognize him before God. “This is Jeth, son of Lappidoth, Adon of the tribe of Benjamin,” I said, trying to keep my voice as sure as his. “This is whom I shall make my isi, husband.”

  The priest murmured prayers and anointed both of us with oil. He then joined our hands together and bound our wrists with a golden cord.

  “You are husband and wife in the eyes of Jehovah,” the priest intoned. “Blessed are you in His name. May your marriage be long and fruitful, and your lives filled with the love and respect of each other and the tribe.”

  Jeth turned to me and removed my veil, and he looked upon my face with shining eyes. “Deborah, my wife.”

  I smiled up at him. How could I ever have doubted him? “Jeth, my husband.”

  The family, which had gathered all around the platform, called out blessings and shouted. Jeth led me down the steps, and then to the laughter and catcalls of his brothers and friends picked me up in his arms and
carried me to his wagon.

  “I had thought your mother and sisters were to escort me back to the house, where I would meet you at our wedding chamber,” I said, glancing back at the wedding party.

  “They have kept you from me for an entire day,” he said, putting his arm around me. “I would like five minutes alone with my new wife.”

  That wagon ride back to the farm was the only time alone we had for many hours after that. Urlai and the rest of the family soon followed, as did the villagers, and all assembled around the huge tables of food set out under a grove of terebinth trees behind the house. After Urlai gave the blessing over the feast, and kissed her son and me, the celebration began.

  Hebrew weddings were loud, noisy, boisterous affairs, with much singing and dancing and playing. Everyone ate as they pleased from the bounty of food prepared by Urlai and brought from the village by Jeth’s kinsmen. Wine flowed freely from dozens of jugs, and cups were dipped again and again into three huge open barrels of ale.

  As for Jeth and me, we were embraced and kissed and offered good wishes by every member of his family, and by so many of the villagers that I lost count of the blessings bestowed on us. Then we were ceremonially escorted to our wedding chamber, one of the bedrooms set apart from the others in the house to give a visiting couple some privacy.

  Not that we were to be given any, it seemed, for Urlai had to show the room to her friends and their families to get their approval on the decorations and drapings and such. The men of the village clustered outside, making loud and often ribald suggestions to Jeth, while the women wove between them, giggling and murmuring among themselves.

  The women had plagued me a bit. The older ones kept inspecting me as they might a round of lehem or a cluster of figs. The younger, who were as Urlai predicted beautifully garbed and adorned, treated me to surly or petulant glances, as if they could not believe one such as I had married the wealthiest man in their village.

  I looked up at my husband and saw the mild frustration in his eyes, and felt my own match it. I stood on tiptoe to whisper against his ear, “This feast must last seven days?”

  “My mother is determined to do it properly.” He put his arms around me and held me there. “I knew I should have carried you off to the forest.”

  “There will be time for that later,” someone jested, but before Jeth could respond, Imen came forward, looking grave.

  “Brother, I do not wish to interrupt your celebration, but you are needed in the breeding stable.” He glowered at some of the laughing men. “I do not make a joke. One of the new ewes is dropping her lamb, but it does not present its nose. She bites at anyone who comes near her.”

  I thought of the one pregnant ewe we had brought with us from Hazor. She was young and had a nervous disposition but was an excellent breeder.

  “I know her,” I said to Jeth. “She has dropped twins every year since she was first bred, and we have never lost any of her lambs. We should do what we can for her.”

  Urlai, who had come from the wedding chamber in time to hear Imen’s message, frowned. “Go, then, and see to the animal. Only change your garments first, for you do not want to cherish your wedding robes with the stains of sheep’s birthing all over them.”

  I went quickly to the women’s quarters and changed into some ordinary garments, and met Jeth outside. He led me away to one of the barns at the very edge of the pastures, some distance from the house. Syman was waiting there by the door.

  “Glad I am to see you,” he hailed us. “The last time I delivered a female who snapped at me this much, my youngest son was born.” He waved his hand, urging us inside. “Go, for there is much to do inside.”

  I did not hear the sound of a ewe in labor, and looked around the dimly lit interior of the barn. There were oil lamps lit and hung from the roof beams, but I saw no animals, only a fresh pile of hay, a neatly folded blanket, and a large covered basket.

  “There is nothing to do here,” I said to Jeth.

  The doors slammed shut behind us, and a bolt plank was dropped. It was such a horrendous reminder of my night in the fleece shed on Ybyon’s farm that I nearly screamed.

  “Never fear, newly-wed,” Syman called out from the other side of the door. “We thought you might wish a few hours alone, so we invented this ruse with the ewe. Imen and I will keep everyone busy at the feast while you…find something to do.” His laughter faded as he walked away.

  “We have been deceived,” Jeth said, shaking his head. “Only Imen could have told such a tale with a straight face and made even my mother believe it.”

  My heart was still fluttering with fear and bad memories. “Your brothers are without shame. I should help your mother find her lost switch.” I went over to the pile of fresh hay and examined the contents of the basket. “At least they have provided us with food and drink.” I showed him the lehem, cheese, grapes, and jugs of milk and spring water inside the basket.

  “I had a more comfortable setting envisioned for our first night together,” my husband said, and set the basket aside. He considered the interior of the barn. “With a little effort, I think I might climb through one of the upper windows above the hay loft.”

  I nodded. “True. If you do not break your legs falling to the ground, you can release me, and we can return to the feast. Most of the men are in their cups, but the women will not be, and there are so many mothers who have yet to share their personal disappointment over your not choosing to wed their daughters.”

  “You are right.” He drew me into his arms. “We will stay in here for a week.”

  At last, we were alone. Jeth’s fingers released my hair from its intricate braid, and he spread it over my shoulders.

  “I can hardly believe you are mine,” he breathed, caressing my arms with the palms of his hands. “Surely this is a dream.”

  “My dreams come true,” I reminded him, and drew his face down to mine. “So if it is, let us never wake up from it.”

  My wedding night was not what I had envisioned; it was so much more than I could have dreamed. Our humble surroundings dwindled away the moment Jeth touched me, and I gave myself to him with the quiet joy of one who has found the other half of her heart. In return, he taught me the ways of passion, and brought me to womanhood with the gentle tenderness that radiated from him like light from the sun.

  “You should have carried me off into the forest,” I whispered as I lay beside him on the blanket after our first time together.

  He chuckled. “I am thinking I should have carried you off from the boat. Or the dock in Hazor. Or during the hailstorm.” He looked down at me. “What, have you no maidenly tears?”

  “I cannot cry over what we just did together. I think I might sing a bit, once I catch my breath.” I laced my fingers through his. “Will we make a child tonight?”

  “We will do our best,” he assured me as he pulled me atop him.

  Although we were both sorely tempted, we did not stay in the barn for seven days. We loved through the night, catching a little sleep here and there, and fed each other from the basket. We were lying together in contented exhaustion just after dawn, when the outer bolt was lifted and one of Jeth’s shepherds walked in.

  “Adon, forgive me.” He stopped as soon as he saw us lying together in the hay and turned swiftly around. “I did not know you and your lady wife were here.” Before either of us could speak, he made a hasty exit.

  “My lady wife. I do so like the sound of that.” Jeth bent down and kissed me. “Shall I call him back to bolt us in another day?”

  I checked the basket. “We will need more food.”

  He laughed. “So practical, my wife.”

  We decided to return to our wedding celebration before anyone woke and noticed we were gone. Jeth insisted on wrapping me in the blanket we had slept upon, although I was so warm from my night in his arms, I hardly felt the chill of the morning air.

  “My mother will have something to say about this, I am sure,” he warned me as we walk
ed back to the house. “She will wish to know why we did not return to enjoy our feast.”

  “We have six more days of it.” I looked out at the pasture where the feast tables still stood, although they were as yet bare of food. “I cannot fathom how people can eat so much and not throw up. It astonished me yesterday as I watched them go at the food.”

  “Most drink too much and fall insensible before their bellies are overfull,” my husband said, and nodded to an older man who was rushing from the house and into some brush. The sounds that followed were unmistakably those of retching. “They still pay for their excesses the next morning.”

  Urlai was already awake and working with her maidservants to prepare the morning meal in the kitchen. From the enormous amount of bread, fruit, and stew they were placing on platters, I wondered if the entire village was to show up to break their fast.

  “Ah, look, Eleen, it is my beautiful new daughter, and my highly disrespectful, ungrateful son.” Urlai picked up a pot of tea and waved us over to the table. “Come, sit. Tell me of this imaginary ewe and the lamb she was not birthing last night.”

  “How do you manage to know everything before I can get out a single word of explanation or apology?” Jeth asked.

  “I have not always been old and widowed, my son. Besides, you both have hay in your hair. Somehow I doubt you delivered this ewe while standing on your heads.” She set out cups for us and filled them with a fragrant tea. “It is your brother Imen who will apologize and make penance for telling a falsehood.” She put a platter of food on the table. “Now, eat.”

  We ate while Urlai chattered on about some of the antics we had missed at last night’s feasting.

  “The village wheelwright drank enough wine to convince himself he would finally win a wrestling match against your younger brother, and so challenged his manhood,” my mother-in-law said. “Syman had him pinned by the count of three and back on his feet and shaking his hand and laughing by the count of ten.”