Four Months Later
Barak shook Nathan’s good hand, then clapped the man on the shoulder. “It’s been a privilege to work with you,” he said. Various groups of men had come and gone through training, while Nathan continued to stay month after month, helping with reorganization in preparation for the next group of Israelites.
Gilad had climbed upon Barak’s horse and was scanning the large area of the training ground, looking for any pieces of weaponry left behind that could be repurposed for something else.
“It will be just you and your son for the next two days?” Nathan asked, his lined face squinting against the setting sun that shone directly into his face.
“Yes, we have done it many times now,” Barak said. In truth, it was his sixth month here, four months after Deborah had left, and he was weary. He also missed his wife and daughters. He could only trust that while he was doing God’s work, his family would be watched over as well.
“How far is your village?” Nathan asked.
“Two days’ ride,” Barak said. “Too far to visit my family at home.”
Nathan nodded. He’d come for another round of training and stayed to help with the cleanup. “It is fortunate that you have your son with you. He is a fine warrior.”
Barak exhaled. “He is. But my heart is divided when I see him fight.”
Nathan’s gaze shifted past Barak, and they both turned to watch Gilad for a few moments. The nineteen-year-old had grown from a boy to a man much too quickly, and more often than not, Gilad reminded Barak of himself.
“Yet, two of you out here, on your own . . .” Nathan’s voice trailed off.
Barak gave the man a sharp look. “What are you saying, Nathan? Have you heard something?”
Nathan shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything. It’s just a feeling.”
Barak had been training men for a long time, and many of them had fears and worries. Preparing for battle was like that, but Nathan’s tone was different. “A feeling?” he prompted.
“I’m no Deborah,” Nathan said. “But I feel things deeply.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it’s nothing.”
As if in response to Nathan’s statement, the wind shifted, and the hairs on Barak’s arms rose. “Explain your feeling.”
“When I think of leaving you and your son in this camp alone, waiting for the next group of men, dread overtakes me,” he said. “I feel compelled to remain with you, at least until the next group of men arrives.”
Barak nodded, seeing the conviction in Nathan’s eyes. “I won’t force you to leave, but I don’t want to take you away from your duties or your home for longer than necessary. You are proficient in many battle skills, and you probably didn’t need all this training.”
“Perhaps not as much as the other men, as far as learning the skills,” Nathan said. “But I needed to feel the comradery of being with my people, of preparing for the same cause, of feeling like we are of one heart and mind.”
Barak could very well understand that.
“I will stay, then,” Nathan said. “As long as it takes for the feeling to leave.”
“We will welcome your help,” Barak said. Perhaps Nathan would be a distraction and the time would go by faster. After this next training session, he planned to travel to his homestead to visit the rest of his family, even if it could be for only a short time.
“We have company.” Nathan pointed past Barak, and he turned as a group of riders came over the hill.
With no guards, Barak had had no forewarning. And unlike the group of elders, these men were not Israelites. Their breastplates, which glinted in the light of the sunset, gave them away.
“Gilad!” Barak shouted, not caring that his voice might echo across the plains, because if he could see the Canaanite riders, they could see him as well. Barak turned to look for his son. Gilad had stopped his horse and was focused on the hills too. He’d spotted the riders.
“Leave the horse!” Barak cried out, running in the direction of the outcropping of boulders, beyond which were sunken caves. A location they’d preplanned to flee to if such an occurrence should happen.
Nathan didn’t need to be told to follow, and the two men ran across the hard-packed ground, their footsteps mimicking their pounding hearts. Gilad quickly caught up with the two of them, his younger legs much faster.
“Stay low,” Barak commanded, his breath coming in pants as they reached the boulders. “We don’t want them to see where we descend.”
Gilad’s eyes were wide but his expression determined as he followed Barak, Nathan close behind. They crouched and crawled their way through the boulders. Barak passed one deep opening and a second. At the third cave opening, he descended. The darkness was complete within seconds, and Barak used his hands and feet to guide him.
“One hand on me,” he told Gilad. “Nathan, one hand on Gilad.”
Barak’s labored breathing started to slow, but his heart rate continued to drum. If only they could stay hidden until night fell. Then they could creep out of the cave and find a way to defend themselves or escape.
The cave narrowed, and even with Barak stooping, he could go no farther. He came to a stop, and Gilad shuffled next to him.
No one spoke for a few moments, then Gilad whispered, “Who do you think it is? A scouting party?”
“No,” Nathan whispered. “They were riding too fast. They already knew where they were going.”
Barak’s mind raced as he thought about how they could have been discovered. Had there been a spy among the Israelites? Or had someone been tortured to give out the information? He winced at the thought, but he knew it had been dangerous from the beginning. Training had always been dangerous, but on this larger scale, even more so.
“We only have an hour until it will be dark enough to leave the cave,” Barak said. “Right now, there’s nothing we can do and no reason to speculate. We’ll just have to wait.” He slid to the ground and found a space to sit.
Gilad and Nathan joined him, their knees touching in the darkness. Barak leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing and his racing heart.
So much would have to change now. They could no longer use these grounds for training. They’d have to find another place and get the word out again. He hoped they could do it in time so the men who were due in two days didn’t fall into whatever trap the Canaanites would surely set now.
He did wonder who this group was. And how fast they’d get word back to King Jabin. What would the king do? Post soldiers at the passes leading to the training ground? Raise taxes in the surrounding villages again? Use someone as an example and kill them?
The sound of a skittering rock made Barak’s blood run cold.
Then a shout echoed against the boulders above.
“We know you’re hiding,” the man shouted in his Canaanite language. “Come out, Barak, my friend.”
If Barak’s heart stopped, he wouldn’t be surprised, for he recognized the man’s voice.
Sisera.
Involuntarily, Barak grasped Gilad’s arm and hissed, “Don’t make a sound, no matter what.”
Gilad didn’t respond.
Good boy, Barak thought. His son knew the story of Sisera, how Kiva had come to be scarred, and why Barak’s hand still pained him. But Barak had never thought he’d see the day where Sisera would be in the same place with Gilad.
The very thought of Sisera meeting Gilad made Barak want to empty his stomach. Cold perspiration broke out on his skin, and Sisera’s next words were even more chilling.
“Give yourselves up, and we will show you mercy.” Sisera was closer now.
Barak held his breath, trying to decipher every sound coming from above. He could hear the scatter of rocks, the scrape of a sandal against a boulder . . .
“We know there are three of you,” Sisera said. “Not enough to contend against the twenty of us.”
Barak knew he was sorely outnumbered and would have to find a way to escape.
“And when we find you,” Sisera said, his voice farther away now, “you’ll wish you’d given yourselves up.”
Barak realized he was hearing another sound—a whisper. Nathan was whispering a prayer. Barak should be praying too, but he didn’t dare distract himself from the sounds above. “Hush, Nathan. They might hear you.”
Nathan’s whispering stopped, and the silence that descended felt heavier. Every skitter of rock, every scrape of sandal or shoe, every word spoken above jolted through Barak as if he were experiencing his hand injury over and over.
The hours passed slowly, and Barak had no idea what time it was, but it had to be night now. They hadn’t heard the Canaanites for some time, and Barak took that as a good sign.
“I will go above and see what I can,” Barak whispered into the darkness. Nathan and Gilad shuffled so Barak could make it past them. He felt his way in the dark, his hands sliding along the cool, dry rocks as he walked along the uneven ground. The dusky scent of the cave was soon replaced by the fresher air of the outside, and Barak knew he was close to the surface.
And then finally, he saw a swath of stars, and the glittering light made Barak breathe easier. Yet his pulse began to rise. Where were the Canaanites? Were they waiting at the cave opening? Would they see him before he saw them?
He lifted his head into the open, and his eyes adjusted quickly to the lesser darkness. The first thing he noticed was the scent of smoke—a campfire—which meant that they weren’t trying to hide their location. He looked from one boulder to another, confirming each was a boulder and not a crouching man. Then he scanned the terrain beyond, searching for signs of the Canaanites. Near the camp, their horses were tethered to the desert acacia trees, and beyond . . . The soldiers were making good use of Barak’s belongings. The bedrolls had been collected, and the men were gathered in a circle around a small fire.
White smoke rose from the fire in the center of the circle of men, and Barak counted the forms he could see. Two short. Barak had no doubt that the missing two were on the lookout for him or perhaps had already spotted him. Barak ducked back into the cave, waiting to see if an arrow or a knife whooshed by. Nothing happened.
He could hear no conversation and no laughter from the group of men surrounding the fire. He raised his head, then crawled out of the hole, keeping as low as possible. If there was someone waiting for him, he’d rather be the one to fight them off. He didn’t want anything to happen to Gilad.
Barak moved through the boulders, staying low, keeping track of how far he was moving from the original cave. He paused when he had a better view of the camp and the Canaanites. Then he scanned the area for possible escape routes. The hills were too far away to reach without notice, and the north stretched into more plains. Again, too visible for travelers.
That left traveling east, which would take them past the camp. Or west. They could travel west until they were able to evade the Canaanites, then wait a day before moving south, and make their way to their villages. Barak could think of only one thing—getting back to Evie and their family—and going into hiding again. If after fifteen years Sisera still remembered his name, Barak’s family wasn’t safe either.
He didn’t see the two guards as he made his way back to the cave. He descended once again, gritting his teeth as his ankle twisted and sent a skittering of rocks beneath him. He bit back a cry and continued to move, more slowly and carefully this time.
When he bumped into Nathan, Barak whispered, “Sorry.”
“What did you see?” Gilad asked.
Barak explained all that he’d seen and the danger of guards who were on watch.
“How long should we wait before escaping?” Gilad asked. “Until they’re all asleep?”
“I don’t think anyone will be sleeping,” Barak said.
“I agree,” Nathan said. “Besides, they’ll post guards all night. If we leave now, we’ll have a longer span of darkness to get farther west.”
“But they’ll expect us to leave, right?” Gilad asked.
“Right,” Barak confirmed, swallowing hard. “We’ll need to be ready to fight. Does everyone have their knives?”
Both Nathan and Gilad confirmed that they did.
“Good.” Barak took a deep breath. “This is our plan. We’ll rise to the surface one by one. I’ll go first, then Nathan. When we give you the all clear, Gilad, be ready to move fast. We’re going to stay low until we clear the larger boulders. Don’t run until I give you the signal . . . or if we’re spotted.”
“We’ll need to spread out too,” Nathan said. “Divide up so they can’t target us all at once.”
Barak nodded. “I know Sisera, and he knows me. If anything goes wrong, I will stay behind to negotiate with him. You two continue your escape. We’ll plan to meet in Ramah should we get separated. If both of you get separated, don’t wait; just keep going.”
“I will stay to contend with Sisera,” Nathan said. “I have no family now. You have each other, and the rest of your family as well. I have no one. I only fight for Israel.”
“No,” Barak said. He could never allow another man to fight what was his own fight. “Sisera will use me as some sort of ransom against the Israelites. I’d rather that happen than one of you get caught. He might not be so merciful to you, or he’ll torture you as a way to get my compliance.”
Nathan didn’t argue further, and Barak decided that was agreement enough. “Let’s start up to the surface,” Barak said. “Follow me.”
Barak moved quicker and easier the second time he ascended, and Gilad and Nathan kept close behind. When Barak reached the top of the cave, he listened for a few moments before raising his head from the hole. All seemed to be as before. The soldiers looked to be in their same spots, and he counted the same number surrounding the fire. He climbed out of the cave and crouched among the boulders. Then he clicked his tongue a couple of times, signaling for Nathan to join him.
Moments later, Nathan emerged out of the hole. He moved to a boulder on the other side of the cave and gave Barak a nod. They stayed quiet for several more moments, then Barak clicked his tongue again, and Gilad emerged.
Barak didn’t wait any longer. If there were guards watching the area, it would be a lot harder for three men to go undetected than one. They had to move now. Barak led the way, keeping low and moving around the boulders that made up the western landscape of the training grounds. With every step, his heart both soared to victory and plummeted with another moment exposed to possible discovery by the Canaanites.
He began counting paces once they cleared the boulders and headed toward a thicket of acacia trees. The forms were dark beneath the moonlight, looking like gnarled limbs twisting toward the sky. Once beyond those, Barak knew they could move upright and start running. The trees would act as a decent barrier between them and the camp.
It wasn’t a sound that alerted Barak but a feeling. They were perhaps twenty paces away from the acacia when he felt compelled to warn the others. “Get down,” he hissed.
Gilad hit the ground at the same time Barak did. Then Barak heard it. The whoosh of an arrow passing right where his torso had been. Then another whoosh of an arrow, but this one didn’t pass by. It thudded into Nathan’s back. He’d been a second too late diving to the ground.
Barak twisted to see his friend trying to rise, an arrow protruding from the center of his upper back.
“Keep running,” Barak told Gilad, whose eyes were wide in the moonlight at the sight of the fallen Nathan. “I’ll catch up.”
“We have to help him,” Gilad said, his voice high with panic.
“You have to get to the trees,” Barak said, fighting not to yell at his son. “Get to the trees now, and I’ll help Nathan.”
“They’re coming!” Gilad said, horror in his voice.
Indeed, the soldiers were climbing over the boulders, and two more arrows were sailing their way. “Duck!”
The arrows missed any human targets, and Barak turned to his son, no longer keeping his voice down. Fifteen paces to go. “Run!” Barak yelled.
Gilad turned, nearly stumbling, and began to run.
Then came the dreaded sound that Barak hoped to never hear in his lifetime. His son’s blood-curdling scream. Barak didn’t need to look to know that Gilad had been hit by an arrow.
“I’ve been hit,” Nathan yelled in the Canaanite dialect, pushing himself to his feet.
Barak snapped his head to look at the older man. He was walking toward the pursuing Canaanites.
“You fool!” Barak cried out.
“Save your son,” Nathan shot back, then continued to call to the Canaanites in their language, “Have mercy on an old man!”
Barak couldn’t wait any longer. If the man wanted to walk directly into a horde of Canaanites, then that was his choice. Before Barak could turn to assess what had happened to Gilad, another arrow hit Nathan. This time in the thigh.
Nathan sank to his knees, his arms outstretched. “Have mercy!” he cried. He was trying to distract the soldiers, this Barak knew. And Nathan would go to his grave doing it. Barak’s stomach roiled at the sacrifice the man was making, but he had to get to his son too.
He turned on his heel and headed toward the injured Gilad. The boy was limping toward the acacia trees, and Barak saw the arrow that had found its way into Gilad’s calf. Not a life-threatening blow, if he could keep Gilad from getting hit again.
“You’re outnumbered, Barak!” Sisera called behind him.
Ten paces. Barak sprinted, although his upright posture was only making him a bigger target to the archers.
“We gave you a chance to live!” Sisera continued. “Now you’ll pay for it.”
Five paces.
Barak reached Gilad. “Get on my back,” he yelled. “Now!” He crouched in front of his son, and as soon as Gilad’s knees locked onto Barak’s waist, he straightened and started to run in long, loping steps.
Nathan was still yelling at the Canaanites, somehow still coherent after having two arrows in his body, and Sisera’s voice boomed above Nathan’s.
Barak didn’t look left or right but focused only on the ground as he carried his son. The weight of the body on his back was of no significance, and he ignored the burning in his thighs and calves. Once he got Gilad to safety, Barak could turn back and . . . what?
He had only a knife. No spear he could throw. No bow and arrows to shoot.
“Fire!” Nathan yelled.
Barak felt like he was in a bizarre nightmare. Why was Nathan yelling about fire?
They reached the trees, and the branches scraped Barak’s arms and legs as he plowed past the trees.
“Fire,” Gilad said, his voice coming in pants. “Let’s start a fire!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Burn the trees,” Gilad said. “Give us more time.”
Barak nearly stumbled as his foot hit a root.
“I have chert,” Gilad said.
Barak’s thoughts collided. He wanted to run and put as much distance between himself and Sisera as possible. But his breathing was ragged, his legs trembling, and he knew he was losing ground.
Barak took three more steps, then sank to his knees. “Get the chert,” he rasped.
Gilad slid from his back with a grunt, then he handed over a pouch. The moonlight was spotty in the grove, and Barak fumbled inside the pouch until he grasped the chert. With trembling hands, he struck the chert against a rock as Gilad scrambled about for some tinder. When they had a spark, Barak blew on it, igniting a flame.
He added more tinder, then anything dry that he could. With the fire still a young thing, Barak turned to Gilad. He used his turban to tie Gilad’s leg above the protruding arrow, then he told him to bite down on the pouch. Gilad did so as Barak worked the arrow out of Gilad’s calf.
His son’s scream was stifled, but Barak kept his focus, and miraculously, Gilad fainted.
“Let’s get out of here,” Barak said, even though Gilad couldn’t hear him. Barak lifted him in his arms, knowing he could only get so far. But right now, adrenaline was helping him with his grown son’s weight.
As Barak hurried through the grove, he no longer felt the scrape of the branches or the burning in his muscles. He no longer heard Nathan’s cries or Sisera’s threats. All he knew was that the fire was growing, and the smell of smoke was the best thing he could hope for right now.
If he didn’t live to see the sun rise another day, he’d at least done all that he could.