Deborah Rising

by Avraham Azrieli

“That’s good. For a successful trade, there’s always a lot of talking beforehand.”

  “Will he trade me for her?”

  “You are not his property. He’ll trade with what he owns, whatever the buyer desires. That is the way of the trader.”

  “Seesya won’t give her back.”

  “He is the son. He must obey his father. Judge Zifron has traded with my father for many years.”

  “What about the dead soldiers?”

  He shrugged. “Soldiers have no value.”

  “Six soldiers have no value?”

  “Soldiers are not like slaves,” Zariz said. “You can’t buy or sell soldiers, and if you can’t trade them, then they have no value. Any rich person can hire soldiers for pay and food, and when they die, he hires new ones. Only their weapons are valuable.”

  “What about their horses?”

  “The horses are trained to stay together and follow the leader when the battle is lost. That’s why they ran after Seesya yesterday. And when my father brings back the soldiers’ belongings, Judge Zifron will be satisfied that he lost nothing.”

  “But you killed his soldiers. Won’t he seek revenge?”

  “They’re not his family. My sister is family. Even a rich man who rules a town does not want to start a cycle of revenge.” Zariz put away the figurine of Khonsu. “He will trade for Orpah.”

  “But your father didn’t take any goods with him to trade for her.”

  “Whatever price they agree on, he will promise to bring the goods next year. There is a long tradition. My grandfather traded with Judge Zifron’s father, and now my father trades with him. Your judge will make the trade on trust, and my father will bring Orpah back. We’ll wait here until he returns.”

  Deborah looked at the surrounding hills, which were barren and without unique shapes or landmarks. “How will he find us?”

  Zariz laughed. He had a rolling laughter that creased his eyes to narrow slits.

  “What’s so funny? All these hills and crevices look the same. We crisscrossed a hundred identical places yesterday, until my head was spinning.”

  He covered his mouth, unable to stop.

  “You’re laughing at me!”

  “Because you argue all the time.” He laughed even harder, which made it contagious. Despite herself, Deborah giggled, then let go and laughed outright.

  Chapter 14

  When the sun had cleared the hills and everyone was busy with morning chores, Zariz and Deborah went for a ride on his horse. With the scarf tight over her hair, she sat in front of him, the wind cooling her face. She held the reins while he guided her hands, directing the horse to go slower or faster, left or right. She glanced down at their joined hands on the reins. His dark hands seemed much stronger and healthier than her pale hands, covered in brown freckles and red sunburns.

  “Look straight ahead,” Zariz said. “Always keep your eyes over the horse’s head at the direction you want to go.”

  She did as he said, relieved that he couldn’t see her flushed face.

  “If you look down,” he explained, “the horse will sense it and think you’re unsure where to go.”

  “What if it’s the truth—that I am unsure where to go?”

  “Keep your doubts from showing. You must pretend to be confident, or the horse will not respect you.”

  They didn’t descend the hill the way his father had gone, but stayed at the same elevation until they reached a dry stream. Zariz helped her make the horse turn by pulling the reins on one side while nudging the animal with her knees. The horse obeyed, stepping deliberately between the rocks. They made a few more turns, crossing from one dry stream to another, always ascending, until eventually they reached all the way to the crest of a hill.

  They got off the horse and tied it to a clump of dry shrubs, which the horse began to nibble. Stepping up to the highest point, Zariz turned around in a full circle.

  “Now,” he said, “you can see how my father finds his way around. The land is arranged in a certain order, starting from this watershed line, where we are now.” He pointed at the chain of hilltops extending north and south. “From the watershed line, everything goes down in either direction. That’s east.” He pointed in the direction of the rising sun. “From the watershed line, the hills get smaller, and all the crevices and streams that descend to the east drain to the long valley of the Jordan River.”

  “I’ve heard about the Jordan River. My father saw it once.”

  “I’ve crossed it several times,” Zariz said proudly. “It runs from the Sea of Galilee in the north to Jericho and the Sea of Salt in the south.” He pointed at the hazy valley far to the south.

  “Have you seen the Sea of Salt?”

  “Of course. Our homeland, Moab, borders the eastern shore of the Sea of Salt. I’ve traveled south, too, across the land of Edom and down to the Sea of Reeds, which is more blue than the sky.”

  “That’s near Egypt!” Deborah was excited to share her knowledge. “Our Hebrew ancestors crossed the Sea of Reeds when they escaped from Pharaoh’s bondage.”

  He smiled. “We tell that story, too. The Hebrews came from Egypt through Edom at Etzion Gaver, near Eilat. They passed near our land, but without fighting us, because Moab was descended from Lot, the nephew of your ancestor Abraham.”

  Deborah nodded, happy that they shared the same ancestry.

  “But after that,” Zariz said, “something bad happened between our nations. Nobody talks about it in Moab, but there’s a saying, ‘Beware of the Hebrews, for their tongue is oily and their sword is invisible.’”

  The quote was insulting, and Deborah turned away to prevent him from seeing the hurt on her face.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said. “My father talks to me all the time when we travel. He learned everything from his father, too.”

  “My father was also wise,” she said. “And kind, too.” Her hand reached for the fire-starters in her pocket. “He’s dead now.”

  “Did he tell you about Moab?”

  “Only one story.”

  “Tell me.”

  “A long time ago, in the time of my father’s great-great-grandfather, the Hebrews sinned against God. He punished us by letting the king of Moab oppress us. Our suffering was great, and we repented and prayed. God forgave our sins and sent a brave man named Ehud, son of Gerah, who fought the Moabites and liberated the Hebrews.”

  Zariz nodded. “Maybe your story and our old saying relate in some way.”

  They stood in silence for a few minutes, looking at the view. Below them, the morning mist gradually faded, revealing ever more details of the land. A column of smoke rose from a valley far below, and patches of green could be seen between the slopes.

  A bird came up from the valley, flying in circles, gaining elevation until it flew over their heads and began to descend to the west.

  “She’s going to the Great Sea,” Zariz said. “It’s a long journey, about two days of walking down the Samariah Hills, then another day or two across the Coastal Plain all the way to the shoreline.”

  “I get it,” Deborah said. “The whole land is like a large field divided into sections for wheat, barley, and flax.”

  “Something like that.” He smiled.

  She crouched and used a dry branch to draw in the dirt. “Up is north, down is south, left is west, and right is east.”

  Zariz nodded.

  “There are three parallel lines from north to south.” She drew them. “On the left is the shoreline of the Great Sea. In the middle is the watershed line. And on the right, the Jordan River.”

  “That’s correct,” he said.

  Deborah drew waves in the area to the left of the shoreline. “That’s the Great Sea.” She drew several horizontal lines perpendicular to the shoreline. “That’s the Coastal Plain.” She drew zigzag lines off the watershed in both directions. “That’s the Samariah Hills to the west and east of the watershed line.”

  “And that’s your town, E
manuel.” He made a depression with his finger to the left of the watershed line. “And we are here.” He made a depression on top of the watershed line, slightly northeast of Emanuel. “And here is your holy city, Shiloh.” He marked a spot north of where they stood.

  She looked around at the land, trying to compare the reality with the drawing, and used the stick to deepen the line on the right. “The Jordan River. Is it beautiful?”

  “Yes, it is.” Zariz took the stick from her hand and drew a round shape at the top of the line representing the Jordan River. “That’s the Sea of Galilee.” At the bottom of the Jordan River, he drew an oval shape with a depression in the middle. “That’s the Sea of Salt.” He marked an area east of it with many lines. “That’s the land of Moab.” Further down, he filled another area with dotted lines. “And that’s the land of Edom, all the way south to the Sea of Reeds.”

  Deborah stared at the whole map for a long time, then closed her eyes and imagined it in her mind, from left, where the sun set every evening in the Great Sea, to the shoreline and the Coastal Plain, to the Samariah Hills that sloped down from the watershed line in both directions, and the long, straight depression that formed the path of the Jordan River. She imagined the river as a giant waterway of gushing blue, with swaths of fertile land on both sides, green with lush crops ready for harvest.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Zariz watching her.

  He turned away, embarrassed. “The women in Edom,” he said, “many of them have hair like yours, and white skin, too, like ivory.”

  “Not so white anymore,” she said, rubbing the sunburned top of her hand. “There is a slave in Emanuel who came from Edom many years ago. He runs Judge Zifron’s basket factory.”

  “You speak of Sallan,” Zariz said. “My father is wary of him.”

  “Why?”

  Zariz kicked the dry earth. “When a slave is allowed to behave like a master, the world is out of balance. We believe that the gods disapprove of this and will show their anger.”

  “In what way?”

  He struggled to recall the exact words of his father. “When the world is out of balance, a painful adjustment is bound to happen.”

  Deborah wondered if that was the reason Sallan wanted to leave Emanuel and return to his home. “What kind of place is Edom?” she asked.

  “My father buys copper in Edom. The land is mostly desert and mountains, but I’ve traveled with him to their great city, Bozra, where all the roofs shine like gold. I haven’t traveled beyond the Sea of Reeds, though.” He pointed at the bottom of the map in the sand. “Maybe one day.”

  “Now I understand,” she said, “how your father will find us. He knows this map, and after many years of travel, his memories have filled the map with countless details, so he can find his way not only between the Great Sea, the watershed line, and the Jordan River, but also through all the small places in between.”

  “And the people, too,” Zariz said. “The map in my father’s head also tells him the names of each town’s ruler and the strongman in each village, what tribe they came from and what tribe they hate, what gods they worship and what goods they like to buy or sell. He told me that the same goods might fetch gold in one town and simple cloth in another. It’s this knowledge that turns a poor trader into a rich trader.”

  The sun was directly above them now, and the heat was rising. They drank from a waterskin and got back on the horse, Deborah in front.

  “Take us back,” Zariz said. “If you can.”

  Deborah tightened the scarf, took the reins, and pressed her ankles inward to urge the horse forward. Her head held high, her gaze fixed above the horse’s head, she steered it down the crevice through which they had come up. She pulled the reins to slow down, and pressed inward with her knees to direct the horse between boulders. When she made the first turn to cross over to another dry stream, she heard Zariz chuckle approvingly and felt his breath on the back of her neck.

  Chapter 15

  They waited with the evening meal until sunset, but when his father did not return, Zariz placed a small bowl of food in front of Baal and Ashtoreth, murmured a prayer, and told the women they may eat.

  Sitting on the ground around the small fire, the women fed the children and put them to sleep. Zariz and Deborah sat nearby on opposite ends of a large plate. Zariz scooped oats with raisins and almonds onto a flat piece of bread, sprinkled a few drops of olive oil, lemon, salt, and spices, and rolled it tightly. He handed it to Deborah, and she took a bite. It was delicious.

  Zariz drank some water but ate nothing.

  She stopped eating. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m very hungry,” he said. “But my father is not back yet.”

  “Does he expect you to starve until he returns?”

  “He taught me that a hole in the stomach keeps a man alert at night. I’ll eat in the morning.”

  “You plan to stay awake all night?”

  “I’ll sleep lightly. The horses are the first to notice when danger is coming. They stomp around and snort. I’ll hear them better if I’m sleeping lightly.”

  As everyone settled down for the night, Zariz fed the fire and checked on the animals. He tested the string on his bow and counted the arrows in his quiver. With a blanket around his shoulders, he selected a spot above the campsite, which gave him open view in all directions, and sat with his back to a boulder.

  Deborah could not fall asleep. She took her sack and blanket and went to sit with Zariz. He said nothing, but she sensed that he was pleased. They sat in silence for a long time, looking at the starry sky.

  “That’s the North Star.” She pointed. “It guided me when I escaped from Emanuel.”

  A coyote howled in the distance.

  “Don’t worry,” Zariz said. “The fire will keep it away.”

  Moments passed, and the howl sounded again, but much closer. Zariz stood and put an arrow in his bow, aiming it in the direction of the sound.

  Another howl, joined by a different one, and a third.

  “It’s a pack,” she said, getting up.

  “Not good,” Zariz said. “They’re more brazen together.”

  More howls sounded, closer yet.

  Deborah found a fist-size rock, aimed toward the sound, and pitched it.

  An animal whimpered, followed by the rustling of paws running away.

  “Nice.” Zariz sat down and put away the bow and arrow. “Lucky strike.”

  “It wasn’t luck.”

  He laughed briefly and stopped when he realized she wasn’t joking. “Really? In the dark?”

  “Whenever my father went away to sell his crops, my mother, sister, and I stayed alone at Palm Homestead. We didn’t have weapons, but we felt safe inside the house with the fire going. Our goats and sheep, however, were unprotected, and whenever coyotes approached, the goats would bump against the corral and the sheep would cry. The three of us used to go out and shout and shake jars with pebbles inside. If that didn’t scare away the coyotes, we threw rocks by aiming at the sound.”

  “Like a blind person?” He stared at her, and his brown eyes gleamed in the glow from the fire. “It sounds silly.”

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  His white teeth flickered. “I know, but I’ve never heard of anyone trying to hit something without looking at it.”

  “Trying was easy, but actually hitting something was hard.” Deborah paused, remembering. “The first time, my sister and I hit none of the coyotes, and had my mother not started pitching rocks, they would have taken one of our goats. The next morning, Mother blindfolded us and made sounds for us to aim and pitch at. We did it for hours.” Deborah laughed at the memory. “It was fun.”

  “Will you teach me tomorrow?”

  It was hard to see his expression in the dark, but from his tone she could tell that he wasn’t mocking her.

  “If you want,” she said. “Will you teach me how to shoot an arrow?”

  The bow was resting on the
ground next to him. He picked it up and plucked at the string, producing a series of pings. Finally, he said, “Among my people, it’s forbidden to teach girls the use of weapons.”

  “I’m not one of your people. I’m a Hebrew.”

  Zariz laughed. “Don’t the Hebrews have the same rule?”

  “I won’t tell,” Deborah said, smiling.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, Deborah woke up to the noise of children and their mothers starting the day. Zariz was asleep, his back to the boulder and his bow across his knees. She stood up slowly, not wanting to wake him, and joined the group.

  One of the women, the youngest of Abu Zariz’s three wives, appeared to be not much older than Deborah. She was nursing a baby girl whose skin was smooth and shiny, like a wooden doll painted dark brown and polished with linen pads to a glossy perfection. The baby suckled eagerly and, without pausing, passed gas and defecated a whole lot of green-yellow paste. Looking down at her soiled dress, the young mother sighed with tired resignation.

  Deborah found a rag and cleaned both mother and baby. When the nursing was done, Deborah extended her arms, and the young woman gratefully handed her the baby. Deborah put the little girl over her shoulder, the way Vardit had done with the babies at Judge Zifron’s house, and walked back and forth, humming a tune her own mother used to sing.

  Zariz woke up when the sun cleared the ridges. Deborah brought him water and some bread. As he ate, his eyes kept turning to the path at the bottom of the hill, where they had last seen his father.

  She asked, “Remember our trade?”

  He stopped chewing. “What trade?”

  “I’ll teach you how to hit a target with a stone while blindfolded, and you’ll teach me how to shoot arrows.”

  “There was no trade,” he said with a slight grin.

  “What was it, then?”

  “It was bargaining. Until the parties agree on the terms of the exchange, there’s no binding trade. And I didn’t agree.”

  “You could agree now.”