Deborah Rising

by Avraham Azrieli

  Miriam filled a waterskin, put apples and bread in a basket, and asked Deborah to take it over. As Deborah approached, however, the women got up and stepped backward.

  “I don’t have the curse.” Deborah showed them her hands and face. She put the food and water on the ground, moved backward, and sat on a rock.

  The women ate and drank quickly.

  “What happened to you?” Deborah asked.

  The old woman raised one of her canes and pointed at the cloud of smoke over the valley. “They attacked our town.”

  “We have no town,” the one with the baby said in a toneless voice. “Tapuah is no more.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was too quick,” the old woman said. “The sun was up and the heat made our few soldiers sleepy. Now everyone is dead.”

  Deborah glanced at the baby, whose eyes remained close, his face peaceful, oblivious to the world. “Who were the invaders?”

  The old woman pointed to the north. “Manasseh.”

  “Men from the tribe of Manasseh?” Deborah couldn’t believe it. “Did they carry the black flag with the white antelope?”

  “No. They carried the banner of King Javin of Hazor and the effigy of Ra, the sun god of the Canaanites, but when they thought we were all dead, they cheered, ‘Manasseh’s birthright is redeemed!’ That’s how we knew their true identity.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “We are of Ephraim, and the men of Manasseh believe that all of Joseph’s share of Canaan should have gone to them as descendants of Joseph’s eldest son, rather than being divided with descendants of Ephraim, the younger son.”

  The woman with the baby looked at the smoke-filled valley and murmured, “Evil always finds excuses.”

  “Would you like to stay the night?” Deborah gestured at the lepers’ camp. “We could arrange a tent for you.”

  They glanced at the lepers, got up and walked away without a word.

  “Wait!” Deborah called, following them. “Where will you go?”

  “To Shiloh,” the older woman said. “We heard that the holy city is safe from Hebrew strife.”

  They disappeared into the twilight with the silent baby, who might have been dead already, it was hard to tell.

  Chapter 30

  Riding the eagle felt familiar. Its broad back and wide wings made the flight stable and smooth, but suddenly it swerved to the right and plunged through the clouds toward the earth. She grabbed its white neck, the feathers thick and soft in her hands. The rushing air stung her face, and the speed was exhilarating. When the people below came into view, she saw that they had flat noses and hollow eyes. They pointed up at her with fingerless hands on arms swollen with tumors. She pulled on the eagle’s neck to steer it away from the lepers. It veered left and flew between olive trees. Its wings hit the branches, separated the olives from their stems, and popped them open, spraying her with oil. She leaned forward and pulled on the feathers to direct the eagle out of the olive grove. Only then, as the eagle soared up to the cloudy sky, did she notice that the lepers had somehow joined her. They sat on the wings, shoulder to shoulder, drenched in olive oil, and gazed ahead with dark eyes or empty sockets. One of them, who with his thin face resembled Ramrod, pointed at her with a finger that was whole and straight, yet black as coal. The finger that touched her forehead was cold and moist. She shuddered and woke up, finding the cat licking her forehead.

  Outside, Miriam was making breakfast on a small fire. The others were busy taking down their tents and packing the carts.

  “Good morning, Deborah.” Miriam handed her a cup of warm goat milk.

  “Thank you.” Deborah held it with both hands, comforted by its warmth.

  “You were tossing and turning,” Miriam said. “Are we giving you nightmares?”

  Taking a sip, Deborah smiled. “It wasn’t a nightmare, but yes, you were in it. I’m not sure what the dream meant. I think I’m supposed to help you somehow, but in reality you’re helping me. It’s confusing.”

  “All in good time.” Miriam gave her a bowl with bread and cheese. “The answers will come to you when you’re ready.”

  Deborah ate quickly, stuffed her few belongings into her sack, and got into Miriam’s cart. The small caravan traveled around the smoldering ruins of Tapuah at a safe distance and continued down the Samariah Hills.

  When Miriam seemed tired, Deborah took the reins. The ring on her finger glistened in the sun. She tugged on her sleeve to cover it.

  “A ring like that feels much heavier than its actual weight,” Miriam said. “Doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I’ll be free soon. I’m sure of it.”

  “Is there another man you like better than the one with the scar?”

  Deborah shook her head, but her mind went to Zariz and his smiling face. “During my escape,” she said, “a caravan from Moab saved me. There was a boy, about my age, who was nice to me.”

  “The Moabites are not our friends.”

  “Yes, he told me what they say of us in Moab: ‘Beware of the Hebrews, for their tongue is oily and their sword is invisible.’ Do you know why they say it?”

  Miriam nodded. “A long time ago, there was a king in Moab named Eglon, who oppressed our people until a Hebrew warrior managed to kill him.”

  “Ehud, son of Gerah?”

  “Yes. The story I heard was that Ehud made a small, double-edged sword, hid it under his robe, and convinced King Eglon to give him an audience in private, with no guards or soldiers in the room.”

  “How did he manage that?”

  “He told Eglon that he was bringing him a secret message directly from God. When they were alone, Ehud drew the sword and sank it into the fat king’s belly until the handle disappeared inside. The king died, and Ehud left, locking the door behind him. He told the courtiers that the king was asleep and left. By the time they discovered the truth, Ehud had already crossed the Jordan River. He called up the tribesmen of Ephraim, and together they vanquished the dispirited army of Moab, liberating the Hebrews tribes.”

  “Now I understand,” Deborah said. “God helped Ehud defeat Moab with an oily tongue and an invisible sword.”

  In the late afternoon, with the sun in their eyes, low over the western horizon, they came over the crest of the last hill. The Coastal Plain stretched before them as far as the eye could see, lush with trees, pasture, and cultivated fields. The air was heavy with humidity, and thick flocks of birds soared over the trees. The abundance of water, trees, and life was almost magical, reminding Deborah of the stories her father had used to tell about the Garden of Eden.

  “This is Aphek,” Miriam said, pointing at the city below the cliffs.

  Deborah shielded her eyes and looked down at Aphek, her destination. It seemed larger than Shiloh and Emanuel combined, and was strategically built above a narrow gorge where gushing springs launched the Yarkon River. The meandering river cut a natural barrier across the Coastal Plain between the cliffs of the Samariah Hills and the Great Sea. From their vantage point, Deborah could see how any traveler heading north or south had to pass through the narrow gorge at the head of the river under the control of the rulers of Aphek, who no doubt charged everyone a tribute for free passage. It was no wonder that the city radiated wealth and prosperity.

  “It’s an old city,” Miriam said. “The Egyptians used it to rule the whole region, from the Sinai Desert in the south to Assyria and Aram in the north. Do you see the road?” She pointed. “It’s called the Sea Highway.”

  “I see it,” Deborah said. “Does it come from the sea?”

  “It starts down in Egypt and goes along the shore of the Great Sea through Gaza, then around the Philistine cities of Ashdod and Ashkelon up to Jaffa, and then east around the Yarkon River through this narrow gorge.” Miriam finger traced the road below. “From here, it goes to Megiddo and Hazor, and then splits for Sidon and Damascus, as well as all the great cities of Assyria and Aram, which used to be under Egyptian rule. There a
re also smaller roads that branch out just north of here toward Shiloh, Bet She’an, the Sea of Galilee, and many other places.”

  “The Sea Highway,” Deborah repeated the name, which sounded so grand and adventurous to her ears. “But it doesn’t look much bigger than the road that passes by Emanuel.”

  “It’s very different,” Miriam said. “Pharaohs and kings have traveled through here—whole armies with tens of thousands of soldiers and chariots painted with gold. They had to come through here, unless they wanted to swim across the river or climb the Samariah Hills.”

  “And now?”

  “These days, the Egyptians, Philistines, and Canaanites must pay the Hebrew rulers of Aphek for passage. Aphek is one of the greatest cities in all the land of Canaan.”

  Deborah was impressed by the leper woman’s knowledge. “Have you been here before?”

  “We used to come here often. My family had beehives at our homestead near Bethel. Honey sold at a premium here, especially to the Egyptians.” Miriam paused, taking a deep breath. “Life was good, but I didn’t appreciate how blessed we were until the curse fell upon us and the happy days ended.”

  They set up camp for the night on the hill overlooking Aphek. Deborah was too excited to fall asleep. Tomorrow she would go down to the city and look for Orran’s house. It shouldn’t be hard to find the house of such a rich man, but then what? It had been eighteen years since Orran bought Kassite in Shiloh. What if Orran had sold him to someone else? Or set him free to return home to Edom? Kassite would be at least fifty, an old man like Sallan. He could have died, become sick, or grown feebleminded. And even if she found him, would Kassite admit that he was the Edomite known as the Elixirist? Would he agree to help her?

  In the quiet of the night, with the dark city lying below, Deborah dreaded the setbacks tomorrow might bring. She felt small, weak, and fearful of finding her quest at a dead end. Had she made a terrible mistake? Should she have stayed in Emanuel? She recalled the last night at Judge Zifron’s house, enjoying a dinner fit for a king in the foreman’s plush quarters above the basket factory, drinking the dull-colored Reinforcing Liquid, which had tasted sour, but not repugnant. She remembered Sallan’s thick finger touching her forehead as he’d said, “It’s all here, in your head. That’s where your strength begins to grow like yeast in fresh dough. Believe in it, and it will rise.” Lowering his finger to her chest, he’d said, “Your heart must not resist or doubt the magic of your strength, but allow it to grow and make you mightier than the challenges facing you and taller than the barriers on your path.” His hand had dropped and squeezed her hand. “You’ll shake with fear and self-doubt at times, confronting a powerful man or a sudden danger, but you must steady your hand, banish your fear, and embrace your strength. If you do, by the time you find the Elixirist, the strength within you will be more than sufficient to return to Emanuel and help me.”

  The memory calmed her, because his words had proved true so far. She had felt her strength grow since drinking the Reinforcing Liquid. It had given her the fortitude to escape from Emanuel and overcome one harrowing setback after another, until she reached this point. Tomorrow she would overcome another challenge, break through another barrier, and grow stronger yet. If Kassite no longer lived here, she would find out where he had gone and follow him. She wouldn’t surrender to despair or give up the search for Kassite, because she wasn’t alone in her quest: “When you pursue your True Calling, God provides the shortcuts.”

  Wrapping herself in her wool blanket, Deborah pulled the tiger tail from the sack and bunched it up as a pillow. Its odor was no longer unpleasant, but comforting. She heard the goats shifting about restlessly and smiled at the irony: the cause of their nervousness was the very thing that kept them safe.

  Chapter 31

  The flight resumed where it had paused the previous morning. Deborah knew she was dreaming, yet the sting of air rushing at her face, the thick feathers in her clenched hands and the upward pressure under her body were all too real to dismiss as imagination. She slapped the moist black finger away from her forehead, and Ramrod smiled like a disciplined child and put the finger in his mouth, sucking on it. The other lepers, lined up on each wing, grinned toothlessly, holding on as the giant eagle soared high above a mountainous desert, passed over jagged peaks, and abruptly descended near a body of water. It was not the Great Sea, but a very large lake, its shoreline marked with a white crust forming the shape of an elongated oval with narrow hips. Remembering the shape from the map Zariz had drawn in the sand, she realized that this was the Sea of Salt. The eagle made a wide turn, flew straight along a river, which she knew must be the Jordan River, and leveled off over a field of green stalks with white and pink flowers. The wings were barely above ground level and, like a knife peeling the skin off a fruit, sheared off the green stalks and the attached bulbs from the field. At first she thought the bulbs were onions, but soon recognized the unique shape of garlic. From the front edge of the wings, the rushing air swept up the bulbs, which hit the seated lepers, bursting and covering them with a layer of ivory-colored mush. Suddenly, the lepers were gone from the wings. She glanced over her shoulder and saw them in the slick water of the Sea of Salt, near the white-crusted shore, submerged to their necks, surrounded by rings of garlic paste and olive oil that had washed off their skin. Only now the smell struck her, conjuring the memory of Seesya’s bad breath, and she woke up to see the early sun of a new day.

  Miriam was still asleep, and the fire had died overnight. Deborah took out her father’s fire-starters, collected dry leaves, twigs, and a few bigger branches, and got a nice fire burning. She noticed Ramrod sitting up at the open side of his tent, watching her. She pointed at the goats and pantomimed milking with her hands. He smiled and did what she asked.

  A short time later, the two of them sat together on a rock, drinking warm milk, and watched the city below come to life. Chimneys spewed smoke, wagons and horses raised swirls of dust, and herds of livestock ventured out to graze along the Yarkon River.

  The cat joined them, and Ramrod scratched its back, making it purr with pleasure. Deborah glanced at his hands. They were bony, small, and coated with dirt, but he didn’t miss any fingers.

  He spat on his left hand, rubbed it on his shirt, and held up his forefinger. It was black. “I got the curse when I was little, but it stopped and stayed like this.”

  Deborah stared at his black forefinger, startled. It looked the same as in her dream.

  He curled it, flicked it, and pulled on it. “It’s working fine, and if I keep my hands dirty, no one notices.”

  “Do you feel pain?”

  He looked the other way. “Go ahead, touch it.”

  She used the edge of her cup to touch the top of his forefinger.

  “Topside, near my fingernail.”

  “Correct,” she said. “How about your other fingers?”

  He kept his head turned away. “Try me.”

  Again with the edge of the cup, Deborah touched his thumb.

  “Thumb,” he said.

  She tried again, and he said, “Forefinger,” which was correct. She touched the other fingers, out of order, then those of his other hand, and some of his toes, which protruded from his sandals. He could feel each one of them without looking.

  “That’s wonderful,” Deborah said.

  “I’m lucky compared to the others, but I’m still cursed, banished from normal society for the rest of my life.” He tugged on the black forefinger. “I’m marked forever, same as Cain, even though I didn’t kill my brother, or anyone else.”

  She felt sorry for him. “At least you know that God forgave your sins, that He loves you.”

  “More than He loves them?” Ramrod gestured toward the other tents. “But less than He loves you?”

  Deborah didn’t know what to say.

  “I’ve always wondered,” he said. “Were my parents’ sins so terrible that they deserved the curse? Why did God give me the curse, together with my pare
nts and siblings, then stop my curse from progressing but keep theirs going until they died? Were my sins not as serious as those of the rest of my family?”

  “Yes,” she said. “That must be it.”

  “Really? Then how do you explain why God gave my younger sister the curse at birth, which killed her at five months? How could her sins at birth be more serious than the sins committed by me—older by a year? How could either of us, babies not yet walking or talking, commit any sins at all?”

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly.

  Ramrod tossed the rest of the milk from his cup and looked away.

  Everyone was soon up and ready to go. Taking a steep path down from the hills, the caravan reached the Sea Highway when the sun was halfway up in the east. After the rough terrain of the prior two days, the carts rolled smoothly on the road, and even the donkeys seemed happier.

  Advancing toward Aphek from the north, the road passed by a pond. A group of boys bathed in the shallows, splashing each other and laughing. When they saw the donkey carts with the lepers, the boys came out of the water. They huddled together, pointing and laughing. One boy threw a fistful of mud. The others joined in. The lepers cowered low in the carts and held their arms over their heads while the mud balls rained on them. The donkeys brayed and reared up, causing the two-wheeled carts to turn sideways and roll off the road. One cart overturned, and the boys rejoiced and intensified their attack.

  Deborah jumped off the cart and was immediately hit by three mud balls in quick succession. Undeterred, she collected pebbles from the ground and pitched them at the boys, hitting them every time, eliciting shouts of pain. While causing no injuries, the pebbles were enough to drive the boys back into the water. They waded away as fast as they could, came out at the other side of the pond and ran in the direction of Aphek.