Barak rested his hands on his wife’s shoulders as she stood before him in the private chamber of the tent they were sharing with Abner’s family on the outskirts of Bethel. Despite the dim gray of the early-morning light, he saw her dark eyes glisten. The tremble in her voice told him her words were braver than her heart.
“God will be with you,” Evie whispered. “Deborah will be with you. And I will be praying for you.”
It seemed that Barak had spent most of his married life apart from Evie. She’d raised and taught their children while he’d been raising soldiers. They might have shared a private chamber the past couple of weeks, but they’d been surrounded by people every moment of the day. Deborah had sent out secret edicts to every Israelite community, calling the tribes of Zebulun and Naphtali to stand against the Canaanites.
The meeting place was north of Bethel. Men, women, and children had arrived by caravan, setting up camp, awaiting the day of the march.
Barak was at a loss of what to say to his wife, knowing these might be the last words they shared. Evie, as always, understood him. She stepped forward and slipped her arms about his waist, then rested her head against his chest.
Her familiar scent of wildflowers surrounded Barak. He pulled her closer as his throat tightened, and his eyes burned with tears. “I love you, Evie,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” she said. “I will see you soon. Have faith, my husband.”
Barak’s throat was too tight to answer.
A horn blared from somewhere outside the tent, signaling the beginning of the march. Gilad had been made the designated horn blower, an assignment Barak hoped would keep him out of any fighting.
Evie had already said her goodbyes to Gilad, so now it was time for Barak to leave the private chamber and take his place at the front of the procession with Deborah.
“It’s time,” his wife said because his grasp on her hadn’t loosened in any measure. “Go in peace.” She drew away and lifted both hands to his face. “Barak, your name will be heralded for generations to come. What you are sacrificing will bring freedom to our children, our grandchildren, and all their descendants.”
Barak nodded, and Evie wiped a tear from his cheek that he hadn’t realized had fallen. He threaded his hands through her hair and pulled her close again, then kissed her. She kissed him back, a tender kiss wrought with years of marriage. Then she grasped his hands and squeezed. He released her. Stepped back. Turned. Walked through the connecting chambers of the tent until he reached the entrance.
Outside, the place was a hive of activity. Men were saying goodbye to tearful families, and Barak felt the lump in his throat all over again. Gilad blasted another long note on his horn, and more men joined the assembled soldiers. They’d all been instructed to bring a weapon, a waterskin, and a food satchel. How many days this might take, Barak didn’t know, and who might return . . . he didn’t know that either.
Deborah was already sitting on her horse, her bow and arrows strapped across her torso. Lapi’s horse was right next to hers, and Lapi also wore a bow and arrows, as well as a long dagger strapped to his waist.
Not too far from the pair sat Gilad upon a horse. Barak knew his son had strapped a knife to each thigh, and Barak hoped Gilad wouldn’t have to use either weapon.
Deborah turned, and their gazes connected. She gave him a single nod, and he strode the last few paces to his horse, then climbed up. Heart pounding, Barak clicked his tongue and urged the beast forward. He moved past the men, who parted for him. The Israelites would mostly be traveling by foot, a three-day journey until they reached Mount Tabor. First, they’d have to cross the river Kishon, which was really a stream, then they’d wait between the river and the mount for the Canaanites to arrive.
Barak reached Deborah and Lapi, then he nodded to Gilad to blow the final three blasts, signaling the official beginning of the march. As the horn rent the air, Barak’s heart thundered. This was it. From this moment, there was no turning back.
Barak urged his horse forward, followed by Deborah. Next came the commanders of one thousand, the commanders of one hundred, and the commanders of fifty, who all rode horses, followed by the walking regiment.
With each movement of the horse beneath him, Barak’s pulse increased. By the time they traveled past the next village, the Canaanite spies would report that the Israelites had started their march. In fact, Sisera might already be waiting for them somewhere, planning to waylay them from the cliffs or block their passage with hundreds of chariots.
Barak looked back at Gilad. He sat erect on his horse, proud to be able to ride instead of walk. There were plenty of boys among the men. Deborah had forbidden Abram to travel with them, but Tobiah was not too far back. When the first arrivals of men included boys younger then fourteen, Deborah had finally relented to allow Tobiah to come with the army.
The lesser commanders kept watch on the marching men, and Barak could not even fathom counting them all, yet they had been counted. Song broke out among a small group, and soon, voices raised to the heavens, echoing against each other as they repeated praises to the Lord.
* * *
On the third day of travel, as they neared the river Kishon, Barak slowed the pace, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of interference, such as a smaller band of soldiers that might cause trouble. But the morning was quiet. Almost too quiet.
He studied every brush, every tree, searching for signs of recent travel. Gilad joined him, and the two of them searched in silence. As the sun reached the valley floor, like a gold net cast across a dry seabed, Barak caught sight of the river.
“There’s the river Kishon,” he said, pointing ahead.
This time of year, the stream was very low and easy to cross. The horses plunged in, and water splashed all around Barak, soaking his feet and cooling his skin. Gilad laughed when his horse soaked him, and Barak smiled at the sight. But then his smile dimmed. Watching Gilad reminded him that his wife was waiting for them to return to her. If only Barak could make that promise.
Have faith, she’d told him.
Barak faced north again and continued to ride, his focus on the south slope of Mount Tabor, which rose before them.
Deborah rode up next to him. “We are here.”
Barak nodded and scanned the terrain. Between the river and the mount, there was no place to hide. The Canaanites would be able to spot the ten thousand no matter which direction they approached. “We’ll set up camp at the base of the mount and keep guard,” Barak said. “I want Lapi to take over as captain of the guards.” Deborah didn’t argue, so Barak continued. “How long do you think it will take the Canaanites to arrive?”
“Not long. They are riding from Hazor.”
Barak’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “We will be ready, then.”
He watched Deborah turn her horse and rejoin Lapi.
Barak snapped his reins and rode over to the lesser commanders to give them orders to begin setting up camp.
The next hours sped past as the heat surged until, finally, the afternoon shifted into evening. With each passing moment and hour, Barak felt the anticipation increase. It was no surprise when Lapi joined him in the makeshift tent that would act as headquarters.
“Come with me,” Lapi said.
Barak knew his cousin well enough to know Lapi wouldn’t explain until Barak could see for himself. The two men strode through the camp and continued up the mount. It wasn’t long before Lapi stopped and turned, then pointed.
Barak followed his lead. In the distance, a few dozen men had gathered, their chariots marking them as Canaanites. The group was much too small to be any sort of threat. But Barak would not be fooled.
“So it won’t be long,” Barak said.
“Right,” Lapi agreed. “And they’ll come ready. Our preparations haven’t exactly been secret.”
“There are too many spies among us for any hope of secrecy,” Barak said.
Lapi rested a hand on Barak’s shoulder. “You’ve prepared a long time for this—most of your life.”
The words didn’t bring much comfort. “Tonight, Deborah will speak to the men,” Barak said. “She’s the true leader. She has the ear of God, and we all know we have no chance of defeating the Canaanites without divine help.”
“As it should be,” Lapi said. “God is our deliverer in all things, and in this, we must accept God’s will. We live or die according to His will anyway. If He’s commanded us to stand against the Canaanites, He will not abandon us.”
Barak had witnessed enough miracles and blessings in his life that he knew he could never deny the existence of God. But what if part of His plan meant the Israelites had to obey and stand against their enemy only to lose and become a humbler people?
“The people listen to Deborah,” Barak said quietly. “She speaks to their hearts and souls.” He turned to Lapi and clasped his hand. “If it be God’s will that I perish against the Canaanites, I’ll die knowing I was an obedient servant to God.”
“You’re more than that, cousin,” Lapi said. “Don’t forget that we are together in this. Together, we’ll fight. And together we’ll either fall or triumph.”
Barak gazed back over the terrain, past the ten thousand Israelites, past the river Kishon, to the west where the sky had deepened to violet. Sisera was out there, somewhere. At this very moment, he could be receiving the news of the Israelite gathering.
As Barak and Lapi descended the mount, setting off toward the camp, Barak imagined Sisera’s astonishment at his first sight of the vast number of Israelites ready for battle—men who were tired of being oppressed. Barak headed for his shelter, parting ways with Lapi for the time being. As he walked among the Israelites, who were setting up camp and sharpening their weapons, he stopped to talk to several men. He asked about their homes and livelihoods. They told Barak of their hardships—ones not of their own doing—hardships directly related to interactions and confrontations with the Canaanites.
Barak thought of Nathan more than once as he listened to various men’s stories. The stories kept coming until Barak didn’t know if his mind could hold any more. He’d most likely not sleep tonight as it was.
By the time he reached his shelter, he had heard enough stories to anger him for a lifetime. He proceeded with eating some dried bread and cured meat, then he donned his red cloak and joined Deborah, Lapi, and Tobiah at their cooking fire. When Deborah offered him food, he declined. He couldn’t eat more than what he already had.
Barak listened to Deborah and the men talk about the march. He gave his opinion only when Lapi talked about the rotating guard. “Double them up,” Barak said. “We want all eyes on the surrounding territory. We need at least one desert man in each pair.”
“Agreed,” Lapi said.
The group fell silent as the sounds of the camp surrounded them. Barak stared at the small, crackling fire. Even now, Sisera could be issuing commands, gathering his men, beginning his march.
Barak had a feeling that tonight, these moments gathered around the fire, would be the only calm before everything changed. He rose to his feet and shook out his red cloak. He wanted to be clearly visible to Sisera when he arrived at Tabor.
“I’ll be upon the mount, keeping watch,” Barak said.
“I can send men in your place,” Lapi offered.
“No,” Barak said. “I’m not sleeping anyway.”
Soon, he was climbing the mount again, ignoring any natural trails. The moonlight cast enough of a glow for him to pick his way through the scrub brush and rocks. He found an alcove that afforded him a view of the Israelite camp as well as the river. Campfires still burned, not making any secret of their location to the Canaanites.
Sounds of men’s voices reached him as conversations ebbed throughout the evening hours. But still, Barak couldn’t sleep. He watched for any sign of the greater Canaanite army. He thought of his son, who was part of the camp, how he might be forced to fight. Barak could only pray that Gilad’s life would be spared. He thought of Evie and his daughters, wondering if he’d ever see them again.
He rose and paced the ground in front of the alcove. Moving was better. Moving made his heart feel less heavy. All these men had joined him, trusted him, and he had to trust too. Trust in Deborah, trust in the Lord.
Barak continued to pace for what felt like hours, and finally, he sat again. But he was still awake to witness the deep violet of the horizon melt away to azure blue, then lighten again. As the first orange and pink hues appeared, Barak saw someone climbing the mountain below him. It took only seconds to realize it was Deborah.
She didn’t seem to be in a hurry, so he waited where he was. Perhaps she hadn’t slept either. Her hair was covered with a deep-green mantle, and she kept it clutched at her throat so it wouldn’t tug away in the wind. Only then did Barak realize how much the wind was blowing. The temperature was also dropping, and Barak scanned the sky. Clouds raced across the vast expanse, and despite the wind, the air felt heavy.
Deborah was closer now, and when she looked up, their gazes met.
Without a word from her, Barak suddenly knew what she’d come to say.
She stopped before him, the wind stirring her clothing and mantle. “This is the day that God will deliver Sisera into thine hand.”
Barak let the words settle into his heart and mind. Today.
He shifted his gaze to the river Kishon. He couldn’t see masses of Canaanite soldiers, but he felt them approaching. It was as if the very earth had started to vibrate . . . and then he saw dark forms appear against the shimmering horizon. Chariots.
Deborah turned as well.
Neither of them spoke as they watched hundreds of chariots take shape, first as a mass group, then as individual chariots, horses, and riders. Barak realized the sound he’d thought was his thumping heart was the sound of the approaching chariots. Although the Canaanites were on the other side of the river and much too far away to feel the impact of their arrival, the ground beneath Barak’s feet seemed to rumble with the approaching chariots.
At the camp below, the Israelites were stirring; surely they’d felt the rumbling as well. And then Barak spotted the guards that had been posted near the river. They were riding their horses back to camp, ready to alert everyone.
“Time to go,” Barak said as a gust of wind tugged at his cloak. The cold air was like a freezing river against his skin, and Barak felt the numbing chill in his bones.
“May God be with us,” Deborah murmured, her voice trembling.
She started down the mount, Barak following. By the time they reached the base of the mount, the clouds had darkened overhead, threatening the rising sun. A peal of thunder ripped through the sky, and Barak’s heart jolted.
He wanted to return to the mount, to force back time. But there was no going back now. The Canaanites were amassing across the river—their numbers increasing by the moment like a horde of locusts.
Lapi met them at the base of the mount, leading Deborah’s horse. Lapi’s hair was tied back, and his bow and arrows were already strapped on. He reined his horse to a stop once he reached them. “You’ve seen the chariots?”
“Yes,” Barak said. “Tell all the commanders to mount their horses and meet me at headquarters.”
Deborah swung up onto her horse and moved to Lapi’s side. They gripped hands briefly, then Lapi steered his horse back to camp to issue instructions, and Deborah followed him at a slower pace.
Barak hurried through the camp on foot. The Israelites were dousing cooking fires, strapping on weapons, and calling out instructions to each other. When Barak reached his tent, he found his sword where he’d left it. He strapped another dagger to his leg, then slung on a bow and arrow set. He mounted his horse and waited for the lesser commanders to join him.
As the men arrived one by one, Barak met their gazes—most of them were determined, fierce, ready. One commander was pale, and Barak wondered if the man had just been sick.
“Assemble your ranks,” Barak said. “Men with swords and spears at the front, men with bows and arrows at the rear. Send fifty archers up the mount.”