Deborah peeked through the tent flap. A large group of people had assembled themselves outside her tent. It was a new moon, and although she should be getting used to the petitioners who sought her for counsel, she still marveled at the Israelites who came seeking—both young and old, male and female, those who were healthy, sick, wealthy, or destitute.
Lapi had taken his assignment to be her protector seriously. He’d always been her protector, yet this was now on a grander scale. He’d brought Abner and Chaim in on rotating months, and two other men also worked as guards. He’d even had Young Tobiah take on some shifts—something Deborah didn’t like, but Lapi insisted that their son was a man now and needed a man’s responsibilities.
Deborah shifted her gaze from the gathered petitioners to where Lapi stood beneath the large palm tree—the location where she’d sit and hand down judgments. Lapi was speaking with someone Deborah didn’t recognize. At least, not at first. When Lapi changed his stance, Deborah was surprised to see Elder Reuben. He wasn’t due for a few weeks.
By the look on his face, the news he was delivering to Lapi wasn’t pleasant. Lapi chose that moment to look over at the tent, his expression dark and worried.
Deborah stepped back, letting the tent flap fall. Elder Reuben had been on her mind for a couple of days, and she hadn’t thought much of it. Now she wondered if she’d had a prompting that she’d be seeing him soon.
If the news was bad, she sensed Lapi would be entering the tent soon. She looked about the place that had been her home for four months. They’d kept it simple, to three sections only. One was a private room for Lapi and her, the other for their sons. The main area served as a gathering place, plus a cooking room. She hadn’t needed the cooking room yet. According to the elders, other people considered it a spiritual calling to serve the Judge. Two elderly sisters lived in another tent nearby, and they did all the cooking for her family. This allowed Deborah to spend more time with the petitioners and finish each day at sunset instead of working into the hours of the night.
“Deborah,” Lapi said, and she turned to see him coming into the tent.
Sure enough, Elder Reuben was right behind him.
“What is it?” Deborah asked immediately, skipping over any sort of greeting.
“We’ve had grave news,” Elder Reuben said. “I think we should sit.”
Deborah didn’t want to sit; she didn’t want to wait. But Lapi crossed to her and grasped her hand. So she sat with him on the section of cushions they reserved for guests. Elder Reuben took his place across from them.
“Barak’s training grounds have been discovered by the Canaanites,” Elder Reuben said.
Deborah could only stare. “How? What happened?”
Elder Reuben looked at Lapi, and Lapi’s hand tightened about hers.
“Tell me,” she demanded.
“We are not sure if there were spies among us or if it was discovered some other way,” Elder Reuben said. “But the soldiers who arrived were led by Sisera, commander of—”
“No,” Deborah cried out before Elder Reuben could finish. “What’s happened to Barak?” Her eyes burned with tears as she looked at her husband.
“He’s disappeared, with Gilad,” Lapi said.
“No one has seen them yet,” Elder Reuben said in a quiet voice. “We have no reason to believe they are dead, but there is evidence of . . . destruction.”
“What kind of destruction?” Deborah whispered.
“We sent scouts to examine the training grounds. They found arrows littering the ground. The Canaanites didn’t even bother collecting them, which tells me there was a pursuit.” He fell quiet for a moment. “And there was a fire.”
“Did they find any . . . bodies?” Deborah whispered the last word.
“No,” Elder Reuben said. “The scouts searched the entire area for hours. But they couldn’t find evidence of Barak’s trail. The rain had washed everything away.”
Yesterday morning, there had been a rainstorm. Deborah had been grateful for the moisture, but now she saw that it had only made it harder to find Barak. And . . . harder for the Canaanites to find him as well.
“It seems that the Canaanites don’t believe he’s dead either,” Elder Reuben continued. “King Jabin, at the bequest of Sisera, has put out an edict announcing a reward for Barak’s capture. Soldiers are going from village to village requesting information about him. Asking questions.”
Deborah closed her eyes. “They will execute Barak when they find him.”
Elder Reuben’s answer was soft. “Yes.”
She rose to her feet and began to pace the chamber. “Where is his family?”
“Still in their village, as far as we know,” Elder Reuben said.
Deborah looked over at Lapi and saw the same thoughts in his eyes that were going through her mind.
“We need to bring his family into our protection,” Lapi said. “Can some scouts be spared to bring Barak’s family here?”
“It will be dangerous for whoever takes on that task,” Elder Reuben said.
“You must go,” Deborah said to Lapi. “We can’t send men Evie doesn’t know. She will refuse to leave. If you go, she will understand the necessity and come with you.”
“But who will guard you, Deborah?” Elder Reuben said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the Canaanites know about your role at the training grounds. And as the new Judge of Israel, they might come here and demand that you find him.”
“We must find him regardless,” Deborah said, meeting her husband’s gaze. “If he’s alive, we need to find him.”
Lapi rose to his feet and crossed to Deborah. He grasped her hands. “What are you planning?”
“I will ask God what I should do, and then I’ll do it.”
Lapi nodded. “You found him once. But I don’t want to leave you unguarded.”
Deborah squeezed his hands. “My brothers will come and watch over me; besides, we have our sons too. You go fetch Evie and her girls. We can’t delay either task.”
Lapi hesitated. She knew he wasn’t going to argue with her, but he would think through every scenario before acting. Finally, he said, “As soon as Abner and Chaim arrive, I will be ready to leave.”
Deborah should have felt nervous about sending her husband on such an errand. Surely he’d be stopped and questioned by the Canaanites, and once he was with Evie and her family, the danger would only be worse. But all Deborah felt was determination and conviction that this was the right course. This was the feeling she’d learned to trust and to understand that this was one of God’s ways of communicating with her.
The next hours sped by as she met with the petitioners beneath the palm tree while her heart was focused on what might have happened to Barak and Gilad and if she’d see them again.
When the heat of the late afternoon was at its worst, Deborah took a meal break and met Lapi inside the tent. Her sons came inside too, full of questions about Barak and Gilad and how they wanted to join a search party.
Deborah lifted a hand. “Nothing will happen until Abner and Chaim arrive,” she said. “We can’t all run off into the wilderness. There are Canaanite spies out in full force, and you would be followed immediately.”
In fact, two of the petitioners who’d come this afternoon hadn’t approached Deborah yet, and she sensed they were either Canaanites trying to appear as Israelites, or Israelites who were spies.
“We are here, sister,” a man’s voice cut in.
Her brothers, Abner and Chaim, stepped through the entrance of the tent. Deborah hurried toward them and embraced them both. Abner chuckled and squeezed her tight. Chaim was more sober and kissed her cheek, then turned to Lapi. “Do you need me to travel with you to Barak’s village?”
“I’ll travel alone,” Lapi said. “I’ll draw less notice that way, and I don’t want to leave Deborah here without knowing you and Abner will watch over her.”
Chaim nodded, his jaw tightening.
Abner spoke next. “When Elder Reuben brought the news, I wondered if Barak would make his way back to our old homestead.”
Deborah nodded. “I’ve considered that too.”
“But you don’t know,” Abner stated.
“No, I don’t,” Deborah said, and she knew her brother was asking if she’d received a revelation from God about Barak’s whereabouts. God didn’t work the same in every case. Perhaps He would show her a stream of smoke again, but it could be entirely different this time. If it was His will that Barak and Gilad be found.
The men, including her sons, all watched her.
“Have you had any other . . . impressions?” Chaim asked.
Deborah took a deep breath. “Nothing specific,” she admitted. “But I feel peace.” Again, she didn’t know if the peace was because they’d soon find Barak alive and healthy or because it was God’s will that Barak was now in His care.
“Yet, you think we should look for Barak?” Chaim pressed.
There was no doubt about that in her mind. “Yes, I do. How and when has not been revealed to me.” She looked to Abner and said, “Thank you for coming so quickly. Both of you. Lapi has been anxious to get started on his mission. Once we know Evie and her girls are safe, we will all rest easier.”
As Lapi made his final preparations to leave, Deborah felt worry set in. She had to tell herself to focus on the peaceful conviction she’d felt earlier. She walked with Lapi around the tent to the stables, where he had readied his horse.
“Travel safe,” she said, reaching up and kissing him.
Lapi pulled her in close. “I don’t like leaving you.”
“I don’t like missing you,” she said, gazing into the brown eyes of the man she loved. “May God watch over you.”
Lapi ran his fingers along her cheek. “I will return as soon as possible. Although I think this is only the beginning of the troubles we’ll be facing.”
Deborah nodded. “I agree, but in the end, we can only have faith.”
Lapi kissed her again, then he mounted his horse. Deborah watched as he rode away from the stables, his broad shoulders squared, his posture erect.
Then Deborah looked to the line of petitioners that had already formed. The two men she was suspicious of lingered at the back of the line. They never seemed to move forward but merely kept an eye on things. Well, Deborah had nothing to hide. Her counseling might be done individually, but it could also apply to many more people should they choose to listen.
She walked toward her spot beneath the palm tree and sat.
A man stepped forward, and Deborah noticed the burn scars on his hands and arms. She immediately thought of the fire Elder Reuben had told her about. She blinked away the memory and focused on the man’s complaint against his neighbor and their issues over their property division. Since the neighbor hadn’t come to petition his own side, Deborah could only give her advice, followed by her blessing and counsel for love and peace. “You will be neighbors the rest of your lives,” she said. “Would you rather live with good feelings toward your neighbor instead of ill will?”
The man nodded, looking chagrined.
“You are correct in feeling what you do, but if you do not approach your neighbor with the intent to compromise, and listen to his reasonings, then there is little chance of peace between the two of you.”
The line continued, and Deborah listened, spoke, listened some more, but all the while, her mind kept straying to her husband and how his journey fared. She had to trust in God that he would be safe, or else why would she have felt such a peaceful conviction? It was practically a physical thing, to keep reminding herself to hold that trust strong.
By the time the sun set, Deborah was exhausted, more so than usual. She felt as if she’d been holding herself together emotionally when all she wanted to do was sink onto her knees in prayer and supplication for her husband’s safe travels and Barak’s and Gilad’s health and safety. Barak had lived a life of service, and surely God still needed him. And what about his son, Gilad? The young man was merely nineteen and had an entire life to live out.
Abner took Deborah’s place and told the petitioners there would be no more counseling until the next morning. Deborah was grateful for his interference and surmised he’d noticed her exhaustion. Abner walked Deborah back to her tent. “Your sons have prepared hot water for you to wash in,” he said.
Deborah stepped into the gathering room and found that her sons had arranged the meal and were standing proudly by the table. “You boys are spoiling me,” she said with a smile.
Young Tobiah laughed. “We only set out the meal. The other women prepared it, as usual.”
Abram motioned toward a basin of steaming water. “You can bathe your feet first,” he said. “We won’t mind the wait.”
Deborah turned to Abner. “Bring Chaim, and we’ll eat as a family.”
“He’ll not want to leave his post.”
“I know,” Deborah said. “Tell him to come anyway.”
While Abner was gone, Deborah soaked her feet for a few minutes. This simple act made her feel better and less anxious. By the time she’d dried her feet, Chaim stepped into the tent.
As expected, his brows were drawn together in displeasure.
“Sit, brother,” Deborah said cheerfully. “You can leave as soon as you’ve eaten, but I want to break bread with my family tonight.”
Chaim nodded, not saying anything, and that was a probably a good thing. When he was quiet, Deborah knew he was working hard not to be contentious.
Abner offered the prayer of gratitude for the food, then the meal began. Deborah appreciated the time and preparation that went into these meals others made, but she did miss the routine of cooking and feeding her family. She’d taken satisfaction early in her marriage in preparing food and watching her husband enjoy eating it, and his appreciation that followed.
She’d felt the same things with her sons—being able to perform such a physical service and seeing the immediate results of that service. And now her service had changed, and others were serving her. As the men discussed Barak and the Canaanites in low tones, Deborah didn’t interject her thoughts but merely observed the men in her life—men who had dedicated so much time to her well-being so she could fulfill her calling.
She was grateful her sons were mostly independent now and that they were so supportive. She knew they followed their father’s example. When she thought of her initial resistance to marrying Lapi, she wanted to laugh at her past foolishness. It seemed God had been more than patient, as had Lapi, because God had known the type of husband Deborah needed.
Deborah closed her eyes as the men talked. She wondered where Barak and Gilad could be right now, if they were healthy, if they were hungry. Where would they have gone? What sort of living conditions were they enduring? She couldn’t think of them as deceased. Instead, she considered the various directions they could have traveled when leaving the training grounds. One by one, she ruled out each possibility.
And then she knew. It was rather simple, when she thought about it. And she was surprised it hadn’t been the first location she’d thought of.
She opened her eyes and cleared her throat.
One by one, the men turned to look at her, giving her their full attention.
“I know where Barak is,” she said. “Who will come with me to fetch him?”