by Ann Burton
“Syman could thrash a Canaanite, and then charm him into giving him his married daughters,” Jeth said, rolling his eyes.
“Your brother who cannot tell the truth to his mother tells me that the word came down from the tabernacle and has spread through the cities to the north. The judge and the general of prophecy will be with us within the moon.” Urlai turned to me. “I never asked you, my dear, but have you any brothers by your mother?”
“Not that I am aware.” I had sometimes wondered if Meji might be my mother’s son, but as we grew up his skin had darkened so much that I thought him instead partly of Egyptian descent. He also had looked nothing like me.
“A pity.” Urlai frowned at our plates. “Why are you not eating? Deborah, do you wish to starve my grandson?”
My jaw sagged, and then I looked at my husband.
“Mother, we cannot know if there is to be a child for some weeks,” Jeth said reasonably.
“As tired as you both look?” My mother-in-law chuckled. “It shall not take that long.”
Our wedding feast did last six more days, although after the first night, Jeth and I did not have to sneak away to the barn for more time alone together. Every night we were escorted to the wedding chamber by our guests, but then left there alone together until dawn.
During the days of our wedding feast, there was much eating and drinking and merriment, but that was not all. Each of the villagers brought some special dish for Jeth and me to try, and I learned more about the foods beloved by my mother’s people. Our kinsmen also contributed some fine entertainment to the celebration. There were many gifted singers among Jeth’s kinsmen, and they treated us to a variety of songs, from solemn arias of praise to the One and True God to funny, often scandalous songs about life in the country and on the farm.
Some of the older children put on a little play and acted out the story of Moses freeing the Hebrew people from Pharaoh and slavery in Egypt. The play came complete with realistic enactments of the plagues Jehovah sent down on the cruel Pharaoh, and Urlai balked only at allowing the grasshoppers the children had caught to be set loose.
“Keep them in their cages, and we will imagine them flying into our hair and food,” she said firmly.
A few of the women danced, and taught me one of the group dances they performed during special holy days. I was not so sure-footed as they, so the results made me laugh as much as our audience. The men demonstrated feats of strength, dexterity, and accuracy, and even the wheelwright won back respect from his neighbors by showing how steady his hands were when he was sober by balancing a goblet full of wine on the tip of one finger.
I had never enjoyed myself so, and on the last day of the feast, I was almost sorry it was over. But by the time the villagers had bestowed their last gifts and blessings, Urlai was so exhausted that she retired to the house, followed by her drooping maidservants, leaving me and Jeth to bid farewell to Syman and Imen and their families.
“We will return in the spring if the roads are safe,” Imen promised us. He kissed my cheek and clasped Jeth’s hands. “Send word if you need us before then.”
I had noticed how careful the men were during the feast not to speak of the problems outside the settlement, but Imen’s discreet comment made me wonder just how soon we would be facing a war with the Canaanites.
Syman kissed my mouth boldly, and then cuffed Jeth’s shoulder when he uttered a jealous growl. “You deserve better than my overlarge bucolic brother, beautiful Deborah, but I suppose the other women of the land will be grateful to you for saving them the trouble. I love you both dearly. Look after our mother for us.”
As soon as we returned inside, I sought out my mother-in-law and found her dozing by the workroom fire. I put my arm around her shoulders and urged her to her feet.
“Ah, Deborah.” She smothered a yawn. “Have the boys gone home? I should see to the evening meal.”
“I shall cook it,” I told her as I steered her toward the women’s quarters, “and bring it to you, if I do not burn it and you are still awake.” I had my doubts on both accounts.
“That I shall not be.” She smiled at me, apparently too tired to argue. “You are a good daughter already.”
I gave the household staff instructions to eat if they wished and then to go straight to bed, and not to let me see them until the sun was up. They happily obeyed me.
I saw my new husband observed all this with silent amusement. “You, Adon, may join me in the kitchen.”
“I may?” His eyebrows rose.
“Someone must eat the first meal I cook by myself,” I said. “If it does not make you sick, then I will know it is safe to cook for the others.”
Although I had learned much in the kitchen during the feast, I was still not so accomplished a cook as Urlai, or as skillful as Eleen. Thus I managed a passable broth and some uneven but tasty lehem. Jeth and I sat together at the little table in the kitchen and shared the meal between us.
I noticed him tasting the broth with caution. “I was only jesting. I stopped making people sick with my food many days past.”
“It is ambrosia,” Jeth assured me after one sip. “I have never tasted better.”
I dipped a piece of bread in the bowl. “It needs more garlic, and you need not soothe my pride.” I studied the bread I had baked. “How does your mother make it come out of the oven so round?”
“I believe the oven is afraid of her,” Jeth said gravely. “It would not dare produce anything but perfect loaves.”
“Hmmm.” I tore off another lopsided chunk. “I will work on browbeating the oven, then.”
The wedding feast and having so many with us had been a delight, but I was happy to have my husband to myself. After our meal, we went directly to our wedding chamber, which we had already decided would be our sleeping chamber after the feasting was over.
“You must be tired,” Jeth said as I closed the door and slipped out of my robe.
I went to him, and hooked my arms around his waist. “Are you?”
He smiled. “The moment I step through that door, I cannot think of sleeping—but I have not let you have many hours of rest, wife.”
“I shall rest when we are old, husband,” I promised him, and drew him down to our sleeping mat.
Later I must have fallen asleep in his arms, for I went from the sweet warmth of his kiss into a chilly place where there was no form or light.
“It is time to choose, Truth-seer,” a rough, familiar voice said. “Which path will you take?”
I could not see the warrior of the black cloak, or the sword he carried, but I could feel him there. I could also feel the darkness dividing itself within me, split in half as the sky had been by an invisible bolt of lightning.
“Must I choose now?” I asked. “I am only just married. I have a husband, a family now. Give me more time, please.”
“The time is now, and the choice must be made.”
I could not choose without seeing, and so I looked into my own truth for the first time.
Like my mother, I was made for the path of flowers. I was not perfect, a child of dream gardens and fountains of water I had never tasted, but my heart was warm and open, and I could still love. I could be a wonderful wife to Jeth and devoted daughter to Urlai, and become a loving mother to the many children I wished to have with my husband.
It was wrenching to look beyond those sweet, peaceful desires and into the core of my soul. The way there was not strewn with petals but with sharp-edged stone. It bruised me to go there, to see what my life had fashioned of me. Beyond the soft and sweet was a terrible place of hunger and pain and loss. There a part of me dwelt, still and watchful, unable to lie, unable to look away. There my heart lay open to God’s will alone.
Nothing else mattered but God’s will.
I came out of myself slowly, and found I was standing on the empty green plain with the strange warrior. Only he was no longer unknown to me.
“Son of Kedesh.” I rested my left hand upon his
brow, and he closed his eyes. I opened myself to Jehovah, and felt his will pour through me. “This is the word of your Lord God. You will leave Naphtali this day. You will journey to the south, to Ephraim, to me.”
“How will I know you?” he asked.
“I am the last of Ehud’s blood,” I told him, flinching as that truth came from my lips. “I am the judge of Israel, and the seer of truth. Know me by my name: Deborah, wife of Lappidoth.”
Barak went down on one knee and touched the hem of my robe. “So be it, Deborah.”
I came awake with a silent scream locked in my throat. Beside me, my husband slept, unaware of my dream. I rose, careful not to disturb him, and slipped out of our chamber. I went to the kitchen to fetch some water for my sore throat, but when I lifted the dipper from the jug, I saw my reflection, and nearly spilled the water down the front of myself. I lifted a tress of my hair and saw the proof spread over my fingers.
The hair at my temples had gone completely white.
CHAPTER
18
I have seen women grow suddenly old and tired after birthing too many children too close together, but this?” Urlai touched a strand of my hair. “It is not the silver of age, either. Look, Jeth. It is not a dye or some sort of soiling. It truly has gone white, like snow.”
“Deborah has endured much since I brought her here to meet you,” my husband said, sounding unconcerned. “I would not be surprised if she woke up with all her hair white tomorrow morning.”
“Hmmm.” Urlai eyed me as I picked up a jug of water. “Passing strangers would think her my younger sister, not my new daughter. Only you are still too young-looking, Jeth. Perhaps I will give you both more grief.”
I could not join in their usual jesting with each other, even when I was the target of their jokes. During the night I had walked the floors for hours, trying to fathom the terrible dream, and what I had done by choosing the path of stones and pain instead of the way of flowers.
“Child. Child.”
I looked down and saw that I had poured so much water into my cup that it was overflowing. Quickly I set down the jug and rose to fetch a cloth.
“No, stay where you are.” Urlai retrieved the cloth and mopped up the mess. “I should not tease you so. It must have worried you to see your hair changed overnight, and I am not making it any better, am I?”
“I was not expecting it.” I looked at my husband. “Do you know of a warrior in a northern tribe by the name of Barak?”
“Barak is a tribal leader from Kedesh. He fought bravely in the border skirmishes with Jabin’s troops, and saved many villages from being burned by placing watchers in the mountains.” He gave me a curious look. “How do you know his name? Did you hear of him in Hazor? I would not think Jabin would be reckless enough to let him near the town.”
“No. I…it matters not.” I rose awkwardly. “I must go to the priest in the village this morning. How can I do that?”
“I will take you to the bet bama.” Jeth came around the table and took my cold hands in his. “What is it? All the color is gone from your face.”
“I must see the priest,” I said. “I cannot explain until I speak to him.”
“I hope you do not already wish to divorce my son,” Urlai complained, and then peered at me. “Jeth, something is wrong. I can see it in her eyes. Hitch up the wagon and take her, right away.”
I knew I was frightening both of them, but I could not speak openly of what I had dreamed. Some part of me knew that only a priest of Jehovah could advise me what would be the next step along the path I had chosen.
Jeth drove me in silence into the village, and walked with me to the holy place where only eight days ago our marriage had been blessed. “Do you wish me to go in with you? The priest is an old friend.”
“No. You must stay here.” I saw the shadow of fear in his eyes, and took a moment to embrace him. “Trust me as you love me, husband, for I cannot yet explain this. Not until I speak with the holy one.”
He nodded and released me.
The bet bama’s altar was outside the building of the shrine, in the open air where offerings could be burned and the smoke would rise unto heaven. Within the shrine were two large, flat stones into which footsteps had been carved to symbolize the silent steps of the Lord God among us. Beyond them were the many smaller altars where various weekly offerings were made, and a portent table where the priest would read signs for those seeking guidance.
The elderly man who had recited our marriage blessing appeared as soon as I crossed the threshold.
“Lady Deborah,” he greeted me. “I was expecting you.” He gestured toward one of the chairs by the portent table and sat across from me there.
“Priest, I must know what to do now.” I tried to think of how to begin. “I am not what I seem.”
He smiled a little. “I knew that from the moment you arrived in this village. You already know what you must do, lady. It is clear from the touch of Jehovah”—he gestured to my white wings of hair—“that you have made your choice.”
It was then that I saw he, too, had the same white streaks in his silver-gray hair. “You are a truth-seer like me?”
“Alas, no, lady. My kind are called guides. We are like the herd dog that keeps the sheep from straying—we follow the word. We do not deliver it.” He covered my hand with his. “You, lady, are a fountain of truth. I saw that the day I married you to Jeth. You shall be a powerful judge of Israel.”
“They will never believe that of me. They cannot name me a judge. I am only a woman.” I swallowed hard. “In Hazor, I was a slave.”
“Those Jehovah raises up are often of humble beginning. Such as the one you summoned.” He nodded toward the north. “He comes from Kedesh, at your command. He travels quickly.”
I had my own moment of doubt. “How could you know that?”
“Guides always know. The Lord God made it known to us last night, through our dreams. Now you come seeking the next step along the difficult path.” His eyes met mine, and for a moment it was as if he looked into my soul. “It is this: You must make yourself known to the tribal elders before he arrives, for they alone can give him the men he needs for our army.”
If I had any doubt of the truth of my dreams, or the existence of our God, it was now banished forever. “Do they not know what is coming?”
He sighed and patted my hand. “Tribal leaders are chosen by men, to rule men. They know little more than their own ambition. You must not go alone.”
I drew back, still reluctant. “I have not even told my husband of this. I cannot think how to. Now I must ask him to take me to these men?”
The priest cocked his head much like one of the herd dogs. “You have no time to ask, and you cannot lie to him. You cannot remain silent in the days to come. The most convincing way is to have him go with you to see the tribal leaders. Let him see, as they must, why you have come to us. It is not the path of flowers, Deborah. You knew this last night.”
“Yes.” I bent down and pressed my brow to the back of his hand. “I thank you for guiding me, Holy One. I will do what I can to follow your wisdom.”
An old hand touched the back of my head. “Jehovah walks with you, Truth-seer. Trust in Him.”
I walked out of the shrine and saw Jeth pacing at the base of the platform. At the sound of my footsteps, he looked up, visibly relieved to see me emerge.
“All is well, then.” He came to help me down the steps. “We shall go home and you may rest. I will order my mother to cease her teasing of you.”
“We shall not go home,” I told him. “I must travel now to where the tribal leaders are meeting. Do you know this place?”
“The meeting place in Rameh? Of course. But why? Why go there now?” He seemed completely bewildered.
“I bring a message for them, husband.” I turned away from him. “You will drive me there?”
He glanced back toward the farm. “We must stop back at the house to gather supplies and food for the jo
urney—”
“There is no time. If you will not drive me there now, I will do it myself.” I climbed up onto the wagon seat.
The priest came out of the shrine and walked down to where Jeth stood staring at me.
“What did you say to her?” he demanded of the old man.
“Only what she needed to hear. Go with her, my son,” the priest said. “She will need you when she is done with them.”
The journey to Rameh was long, cold, and uncomfortable. I sat in silence beside my husband, willing him to trust in me, praying that our marriage would stand this, the first of many trials to come.
Halfway down the mountain road, Jeth said, “I have known the village priest since I was a boy. He has always attended my family, and trusts me without reservation, I believe. He has known you but a few days, knows nothing of your past or your kin, and yet he sides with you against me. What did you say to him when you were in there?”
“There is one side in this,” I said tonelessly. “It is not yours or mine. It is the side of God.”
“You are frightening me, wife.”
I knew I was, so I held my tongue for the remainder of the journey. We reached Rameh just before nightfall, and Jeth drove the wagon to a stable near the place where the tribal leaders had gathered.
“I would go to one of my brothers’ homes, but I fear our sudden appearance would alarm them. Can we hire a room at an inn?” He put his warm hand to my cold face. “Truly, Deborah, you look very pale now, and you have had nothing to eat. Let me order food and have them build a fire—”
“No.” I climbed down from the wagon. “If you will not take me to them, tell me how to go there.”
“It was only a suggestion.” He took my stiff hand in his and led me from the stable.
The dwelling where the tribal leaders had gathered belonged to one of the most important merchants in the town, who Jeth told me had given up his residence temporarily to give the men the space they needed. We were met at the door by an armed guard.
