17

Jael accepted a clay plate of flatbread and a dipper of stew from Deborah’s daughter, but she could not eat. She watched the prophetess, saw the uneasy exchanges with her daughter and the way the men obeyed her word. Deborah held power here, though Jael did not see arrogance in the woman’s gaze. The men obeyed her because of the visions, they said. And since Jael had not told Deborah what Yiskah had lived through, nor had Yiskah been alone with her to tell her so, the woman’s visions must be true.

The thought comforted Jael, and yet . . . this village even with its hidden walls and barred gates could be easily scaled by Sisera’s men. Daniyah would be safer in Judah with her uncle Alim, even if it meant wounding Heber’s pride to return home. None of them would live long with Sisera so easily invading their camp.

Jael glanced at her daughter eating in silence, then looked at her two sons. Uneasiness crept into Fareed’s gaze. Did he sense something she did not? But a moment later one of Deborah’s sons engaged him in conversation, and he seemed to relax. She nibbled the end of the bread, listening as Deborah’s daughter spoke to Daniyah.

“Did you travel far?” Talya asked as she sat near, holding a clay cup of water.

Daniyah looked at her mother as though she was not sure whether to respond.

“A few days’ walk,” Ghalib answered in Daniyah’s place. “We kept to the side roads, so the trip took longer than it would have if the highways were safe to use.” He gave Talya that crooked grin Jael had always loved. He scooted closer to his sister, which put him closer to Talya.

“Did you take the path through the woods?” Talya’s interest seemed piqued as she looked at first him, then his sister, and Jael leaned slightly forward to better hear the answer. “Sometimes Sisera’s men hide in the woods,” she said.

“We stayed clear of them,” Ghalib said, straightening, his bearing one of a man of confidence. “Fareed and I felt it would be too easy to get lost there, as we are not familiar with these lands.”

Talya nodded and took a sip from her cup before she spoke again. “Tell me about the place you are from. I have never been far from these hills.”

Jael glanced at Daniyah, who seemed to have been excluded from the conversation, as Talya’s gaze now met only Ghalib’s. Conversations of the other men came in low waves around her. Her stomach knotted each time she glanced toward the palm tree. How long would it take Yiskah to tell all to her husband? Would he forgive her?

“We come from the Negev of Judah, but in recent months we moved to the oak in Zaanannim. Our families still live in Judah’s desert.” Ghalib’s tone held its usual longing and hint of scorn, and Jael did not miss Talya’s questioning brow.

“You are not happy with the move?”

Jael watched her son’s narrowed gaze, wishing he could adjust and get past the hurts he still clung to, but also knowing he was more right than she gave him credit for. They had been foolish to leave, and she would do all in her power to remedy that if she could. But how to save Heber’s pride in the process?

“I would not have left,” Ghalib said, pulling Jael from her musings, “if the decision had been mine to make.”

“He misses our cousin Parisa,” Daniyah said.

Ghalib cast his sister a withering look. “Mind your own business, little one.”

Talya stiffened and her dark eyes narrowed. She looked Daniyah’s way, seemed to assess her, then faced Ghalib. “It is rude to call a woman ‘little one.’ Anyone can tell your sister is not a child.”

Ghalib glanced from his sister to Talya. At last he shrugged. “It matters little now. A cousin was nearly promised to me in marriage, but we left before the betrothal could be pursued.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Talya said, her gaze suddenly drifting beyond Ghalib. “Good men and women are hard to come by in these difficult days.” She faced Daniyah and Jael, her expression suddenly awkward. “Forgive me. I did not mean to pry into your personal affairs. If you will excuse me.”

She stood and walked into the house.

Jael watched the girl go, puzzled by her sudden change in tone and interest. Was there someone she also pined for who had been lost to her?

She turned at the sound of voices and squinted to better see into the gathering dusk. Deborah emerged from the shadows alone. Jael released a relieved sigh, but a moment later Yiskah came behind, her feet dragging in the dust. Her husband did not follow. Yiskah staggered, then righted herself. Jael jumped up, then sat back down as she realized it was not her place to interfere.

Yiskah came into better view, tears falling freely from her dark, sunken eyes.

“He refuses to give her a writ, but he will not accept her return.” Deborah looked at an older man whom Jael had learned was Shet’s grandfather. “She will stay with us in the meantime.”

“I thought you said he had to give her a writ,” Shet’s grandfather said, slowly standing. “He must either take her back or let her go. He cannot just turn her out.”

“And he will not, Uncle,” Deborah said, taking the girl’s arm. “I promised to give him time.”

“How much time?” Her uncle came close to the girl, and Jael sensed he wanted to pull her into his embrace. There was still love in this place, in the girl’s home.

“Enough to accept what has befallen her, what her choices have caused.” Deborah’s tone said the matter was finished. “She will stay with me until next week. Then if Shet will not take her back, you must decide whether to stand by this woman”—she pointed to Yiskah—“or your grandson.”

She ushered Yiskah into the house, where the girl’s weeping grew louder, though muffled. Deborah’s uncle looked at his wife as though someone had pierced him with an arrow. The men crowded around them both, taking his arms and that of his wife’s and seeing them safely home. Another woman, probably Shet’s mother, walked in silence behind them.

“We should leave first thing, before dawn,” Fareed whispered close to Jael’s ear.

“Yes, I agree.” Jael handed her uneaten food to Talya, who had returned to see if she could offer them anything else. She left just as quickly with no further comment to Daniyah or Ghalib. Jael studied Ghalib’s expression as the girl walked into the house.

“So soon?” Ghalib said once Talya was out of earshot. “But . . .” He met Jael’s gaze and did not finish his sentence.

“Your brother is right. The prophetess will handle the matter. It is why we came. We leave in the morning.”

Daniyah would not be staying.

The following morning, Jael stood at the courtyard gate with Deborah. She caught Ghalib talking quietly with Talya, and Fareed standing nearby tapping his foot. Daniyah stood at Jael’s side, silent, watching.

“Thank you for bringing Yiskah back to us,” Deborah said, her smile genuine. But her gaze held a hint of regret. “I wish you could stay longer.”

“My husband will worry if we don’t quickly return.” Jael put her arm around Daniyah and bowed toward Deborah. “I am grateful that you will see to Yiskah’s safekeeping.”

Deborah studied Jael a moment, but Jael did not flinch. “Your husband paid money to retrieve her, yes?”

Jael nodded. “In a manner of speaking. He took her in trade.” It would do no good to tell the prophetess exactly what Heber had traded for the girl. Better the Israelites not know of her husband’s dealings with Canaan.

Deborah pulled small silver nuggets from a pouch at her side and placed them in Jael’s hand. “This is to cover some of what was lost on her account. I am sure it is not sufficient, but I hope it pays at least part of what we owe.”

“You owe us nothing.” Jael glanced at the silver and nearly returned it, then thought how pleased Heber would be to regain some of his earnings. She hesitated.

“Keep it,” Deborah said. She offered Jael a knowing smile. “I will not ask why your husband has business with Jabin, and you will not refuse me to offer you payment in kind.”

Jael flushed, certain the woman could read her very thoughts! “Thank you, Prophetess.” She glanced again at her sons. “We should go.”

Deborah bid them farewell, and Jael turned to her sons. “Come,” she said, despite Ghalib’s pleading look to stay a moment more.

“Perhaps we will meet another time,” Ghalib said to Talya as he hurried after Jael.

When they passed through the gates of Deborah’s village, Ghalib fell into step with his mother. “Ima, what would have been so wrong with getting to know the prophetess and her family? Father would not have minded if we had stayed another day or two.”

“You were too taken with the girl,” Fareed said, jumping in before Jael could speak.

“And what is wrong with that?” Ghalib’s voice rose, and he took a step closer to Fareed. “She is beautiful.”

Fareed chuckled, further incensing Ghalib. Jael moved between them. “Enough. You are acting like children.” She stopped and faced Ghalib. “I am not sure you would be happy married to an Israelite.” She glanced back at the village gates, now small in the distance. “Besides, I doubt very much that such a woman, a prophetess who hears from their God, would allow her daughter to marry outside of her tribe.” She touched his cheek. “Just as we do not marry outside of our clan.” She clucked her tongue and sighed. “What am I to do with you? We should have married you off before we left your uncle’s home.”

“Yes, you should have.” Again scorn riddled his words.

Jael looked into his hardened eyes. “Your father will find a wife for you. We will send to Judah for Parisa if you still want her. Are not your sisters-in-law of our own family?” She huffed and continued walking. “Come now. We will go home and I will speak to your father. But you must forget the prophetess’s daughter. Beautiful or not, she is not Kenite, and that is more important.”

Barak startled at the sound of scraping in the courtyard and struggled to pull himself from the sleepy haze he had wrapped himself in since the day he had sent his men home. How long had it been? A week? A month? Time seemed to meld one day into the next.

He dragged himself up and considered splashing the brackish water over his face and scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, but changed his mind. Ignoring the water, he moved through the semi-dark house to the door, then blinked and squinted in the bright sunlight that met his gaze as he opened it. A man stood before him, one who looked vaguely familiar.

“Barak, son of Abinoam?” The man looked him up and down, then smiled. “I am Fareed, son of Heber. My father sends word to tell you that what you have ordered is now ready.” He glanced behind him as though he feared the shadows.

Barak opened the door wider and bid him enter. “Let me light a lamp.”

“If you open the shutters there is no need,” Fareed said.

Barak nodded and walked to the window, blinking hard to clear his head, then turned to face his guest. “The weapons are ready, you say?”

Fareed nodded, “Yes, my lord.” He glanced about the sparsely furnished home. Barak did not even have a cushion to offer the man a place to sit.

“Forgive my lack, Fareed. I fear the place has been without a woman’s touch since my wife died.” Saying the words disturbed him, but he was surprised that the pain had dulled in the weeks since he had returned to this place. Perhaps he was finally adjusting to Nessa’s loss. Or perhaps he had drunk too much wine the night before. He cared little why.

“I would have brought the weapons with me,” Fareed said, “but Sisera’s troops are too unpredictable. My father would not allow me to risk it.” He pulled a dagger from the sheath at his waist. “This is one of them.” He extended it to Barak.

Barak took it and examined the blade. “This is good work.”

“Thank you, my lord. My father made as many as the ore would allow. I am afraid Sisera brought another load of fine ore just days after you did, so we have been busy trying to finish both orders. I do not know when Sisera will return to claim his. I suggest you bring your men with you as protection when you come.” Fareed gave Barak an uncomfortable nod and backed toward the door. “I should get back while it is light.”

“I would offer you food and drink, but I fear even that has been depleted here in recent days.” When was the last time he had eaten? His stomach rumbled at the very thought.

“It is no trouble, my lord.” Fareed tapped a sack at his side. “I have plenty of provisions. But I must go. Sisera’s men hide in the most unlikely places, and I must take great care returning.”

“Let me go with you. Two are better than one.” Barak’s sudden desire to do so surprised him. He had given up all hope of overcoming Sisera. Why should he care about weapons now?

Fareed shook his head. “Do not trouble yourself, my lord. You must gather your men and come. One man cannot carry all of the weapons alone.” He gave Barak a sidelong glance.

Barak ran a hand over his beard. “You are right, of course. Tell your father we will come very soon.”

Jael looked up from her grinding and glanced across the circle of tents at Daniyah talking with Raja, Fareed’s wife. The girl’s curves could be seen beneath her robe and tunic, something the guards had surely noticed. Uneasiness crept into Jael’s heart. The girl needed a husband to keep her safe.

Safe. Did such a thing exist in this land? As long as men like Sisera roamed the earth, there was no place that would ever feel truly safe. Sisera could kill any husband they might find for Daniyah and take her from him. Even Alim’s tents were not free of his reach, though the distance made it seem so. But Heber’s attempts to send for his niece Parisa, daughter of his younger brother, for Ghalib, and safe passage home for Daniyah had met with scorn once Alim got word of it.

She tsked her tongue, aggravated with herself. She should have pushed Heber to make peace with Alim from the moment the fight ensued rather than allow pride to send them away. They should have humbled themselves, submitted to Alim’s leadership, however hotheaded and foolish the man was. She released a pent-up breath. It was too late now. They were truly alone in a sea of peoples they did not know.

The women departed into Raja’s tent, and Jael returned to her grinding, wishing the constant motion would take her thoughts with them. She stopped to rest and rubbed the crick in her back. Men’s voices came from a distance.

She stood, cautious. Please don’t come out of the tent, she silently begged Raja and Daniyah. They knew to stay hidden if male voices they did not recognize were heard in the camp. Jael alone would face any intruders, though her heart skipped a beat with every memory of Sisera’s bold touch.

She fingered the small dagger strapped to her side. Heber had insisted she carry the thing, but she had never used it for anything but cutting meat from the bone to put into a stew. She walked slowly toward the coming men, whose voices quieted as they approached. And then Barak’s face appeared as he emerged from the trees.

“Barak,” she said loud enough for the girls to hear. “You have come.” She noted Keshet at his right hand and several men behind them.

“Jael.” Barak greeted her with a smile, and Daniyah chose that moment to rush from Raja’s tent to join her mother. “Daniyah,” the man said, his voice kind. But Jael did not miss the way his eyes quickly caught her frame. He too had noticed the changes in Daniyah. Jael searched his face for some hint of interest, but he turned back to Jael as though Daniyah were a sister or friend, nothing more.

“Is Heber working?” Barak glanced toward Heber’s tent, which showed no sign of her husband or sons.

“Yes, my lord. He is preparing an order for Sisera,” Jael said.

Barak nodded. He knew. Of course Fareed had told him. “Has Sisera given a time when he will come for it?”

Jael studied him a moment. If he knew when Sisera would come, he could lie in wait.

“He has not.” Jael gave him a look that said she knew his thoughts. “If he had, I would surely tell you. But he comes at will, and we must always be on guard because we do not know when.”

Barak nodded. “Exactly as he does so with every attack, every ride through Israelite villages and cities.” He glanced at Keshet. “We must gather what we came for.” He nodded again to Jael and walked off.

“You must stay for the evening meal,” Jael called after him. “You and your men.”

Barak turned slightly. “Thank you. We would be most grateful.”

She silently counted the number of men who followed and wondered how many stayed back near the road guarding the way in case Sisera should come calling. She turned to Nadia, who had awakened from a nap and now knelt in the dirt, sifting the grain. “We must kill a goat for the stew.” She looked at Daniyah. “Go find Ghalib and tell him to do so at once, then return and gather more vegetables. We have many mouths to feed this night.”