23

Dark, ripe clouds rose in great stacks, churning what little was left of the morning’s blue. Dampness clung to Barak’s skin, and his hair stood on end. Rain would come, as Deborah had predicted. They had little time to climb the mountain and pitch their tents before the onslaught.

“Wouldn’t we be better off waiting in the valley or hiding in caves until the storm has passed?” Keshet glanced at Barak out of the corner of his eye. “The tents on the mountain will be fully exposed. There is no reason not to wait it out.”

Barak trudged on, one weighted foot in front of the other. “Deborah said to meet on Mount Tabor by this day. We will do as she says.” Yet even now he questioned the wisdom in bringing her. Keshet was right. They would be drenched and their tents blown apart by nightfall if they were caught in this storm on the mountain’s peak.

“You know I’m right though.” Keshet raised his voice above the rising wind. “This is madness.”

Barak paused in his climb, glancing back at Deborah and her men not far behind. Where was Talya? He needed to speak to that girl. Deborah looked up at that moment and caught his attention. She motioned him to wait for her.

“Perhaps she has changed her mind,” Keshet offered, stepping aside to allow Deborah and her family room on the narrow mountain road.

“Do me a favor and go find her daughter.” Barak spoke without meeting his friend’s gaze, then offered Deborah a hand to help her up the incline.

“She is walking with Ghalib the Kenite and her brother Lavi.” Keshet’s words caused Barak to face him.

“Get her for me.”

The man walked off without a word.

“I heard Keshet’s comments,” Deborah said without preamble. She glanced at the sky, then into Barak’s eyes. “He is right . . . if this was a normal storm. But we have nothing to fear. Do not stop.”

Barak studied the prophetess’s earnest gaze. “We will do as you say,” he said, then turned to continue taking the road that zigzagged upward. Lightning sparked in the distance, not overhead, but no furious thunderclap followed. Perhaps they would arrive at the summit in time to seek shelter. He found himself questioning yet again.

Why is it so hard to trust her, Lord? Was it because she was a woman, one whose husband was too passive to take charge of his own village? Lavi and Elior could handle themselves, of that he had no doubt. Even Talya could probably take down a warrior or two. But Lappidoth seemed more interested in penning Deborah’s words or working the fields than in fighting this war. He should have left the man in the village, but he couldn’t go that far to show such disrespect. The man had come to protect his family, whether he was capable of doing so or not.

A kink settled in Barak’s shoulder, and he rubbed it a moment as he walked. Keshet found him as he was taking a bend in the road, Talya in tow. Ghalib was nowhere in sight.

“Here she is, my lord.” Keshet bowed in uncharacteristic respect, then strode on ahead to join his other men.

Talya looked at him, then beyond him. He followed her gaze. Her mother and father and brothers were several paces behind. Barak started to walk once more and Talya did the same.

“You had need of me, my lord?” Talya said at last, breaking the silence.

Suddenly, seeing her like this, dressed for battle, he doubted the wisdom of telling her to stay with her mother. Hadn’t God said a woman would kill Sisera? Perhaps she was strong enough to outshoot Canaan’s warriors.

But as quickly as that thought entered his mind, he banished it. “Yes,” he said, glancing her way, increasing his pace. “When we reach the summit and set up the tents, I want you to stay with your mother.”

“Of course I will stay with my mother. Who else’s tent did you think I would share?”

Her ire made him feel like a fool. He shook his head. “No, no. You misinterpret my meaning.” He stopped abruptly, facing her. “I don’t want you going with the men into battle. It may be that God will bring Sisera to you and you will have the chance to pierce his heart with your arrows. But you are a distraction to my men, and I will not have you cause us defeat because they are more worried about protecting you than fighting the enemy.” He heaved a sigh. There. He’d said it.

But by the storm brewing in her gaze, he knew he had not said it well.

“You think I cannot handle myself. You think I need protecting like a child.” Her voice rose, and color heightened her cheeks.

“Not like a child. How you twist my words.” He raised both hands in a defeated gesture. “Like a woman.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth.

“And a woman is too weak to defend herself, is that it?” She stomped off, and he shook his head. This was harder than he expected.

He jogged after her. “I have no doubt you can wield a bow, Talya. I have no doubt you can use a sling and never miss.” How it irked him to admit such truth! “But I see the way my men look at you every time you pass them a plate of bread or walk through the camp. Women do not belong in war!” He heard the edge to his voice and cringed, for he feared by the shock in her eyes that she would cry. What on earth would he do with her then?

“You would not even go to war without my mother.” She lowered her voice and leaned close. The scent of her skin brushed his nostrils, and one look into those large round eyes was nearly his undoing. “Who is the coward now?”

His jaw clenched and he gripped her shoulders, gently but firmly pushing her back from him. “Your tongue has the sting of a viper, woman. You would be wise to learn to curb it.”

Anger flared as he met her defiant look. How was he supposed to get her to listen? If she wouldn’t obey her mother or him, she would risk her life just to prove a point.

It was his turn to walk off, fully determined to keep his distance until he could gain the backing of her brothers at nightfall. He did not like the confusion she stirred in him. Confounded woman!

“I am sorry, my lord.” Her voice sounded close at his heels.

He whirled to face her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” How had he managed not to hear her footfalls? He looked down at her feet. Her slight build would not weight the earth. She did have stealth on her side.

“You are by no means a coward, Barak. I spoke out of turn.” Her use of his name caused an uneasy feeling in his middle.

“Forget about it,” he said, perturbed with himself. He drew another breath. “But listen to me, Talya. You should not have come. It has nothing to do with your ability. It has everything to do with the way the men see you. I can’t change the hearts of ten thousand men on the eve of war. And I can’t have them looking over their shoulders worrying about you, the daughter of our prophetess. How would they live with themselves if you were killed? How would I face your mother and father?” His chest heaved as though he had run to the summit and back again.

Thunder clapped nearby, making them both jump. Talya looked heavenward, and Barak followed her gaze, though he allowed himself a slow glimpse of her as he did so. With that rich dark hair peeking beneath the tan scarf she wore, the wide dark eyes a man could lose himself in, and the determined flaring of her nostrils set among flushed pink cheeks, the girl was too beautiful for her own good. No woman should be so sharp tongued and pleasing to the eye at the same time. No man could live with such a woman!

“I will not promise to obey you,” Talya said, drawing his attention to their conversation once more.

His eyes narrowed to slits. Stubborn, willful child.

“But I will give it consideration,” she said, as though she had a right to do so.

His hands clenched in and out. If he had married her, she would have no choice but to obey him. But then he would have to deal with her confounded stubbornness every single day.

“I do not wish to cause you worry,” she continued, pulling him from his thoughts, “nor do I wish to distract your men, my lord.” Her tone suddenly sounded humble, submissive even.

Barak lifted a brow, searching her wide eyes for some sign of guile or misleading. “I hope you understand,” he said, giving his tone a commanding edge, “that it is within my right to command my troops. You came under that command the moment you joined this band. It is not your right to question my judgment, Talya, prophetess’s daughter or not.” He could not tamp down the lingering anger her challenge had evoked. He needed time to put it aside, and with her standing here looking at him, he found the ability to do so extremely difficult.

Talya bowed her head a moment and twirled one sandaled foot in the dirt. The voices of her family drew closer and still she did not speak.

“I expect an answer from you,” he said, taking her arm and leading her forward. He did not want this conversation to carry to the rest of the men. Not when his heart was pounding with anger . . . and a feeling he did not wish to explore.

She shook his hand off and crossed her arms over her chest, as though she would protect herself from him, from everyone.

“You can desire an answer from me all you want, my lord, but I am not ready to give it.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I am not my mother. I do not hear God’s voice or see His visions. But I know His passion in my heart, and I have wanted to destroy Sisera since the day I found my cousin caught in the lies of Asherah, worshiping her. As I destroyed that idol of clay that day, so I will destroy Sisera tomorrow, should God allow.” She hurried ahead. “But I will not obey you like one of your men. I am not a man for you to command.”

Barak watched her stalk off. She had rattled him, frustrated him, and he did not know what to do with her. But she also posed a good argument, one he found difficult to refute. At least for now, while his anger, his fear of what foolish thing she might do next, warred with feelings for her that he should not possess.

He raked a hand along his neck, aware of the stiffness in his shoulders from clenching so hard so as not to lash out at her. Or to do something even more foolish such as to strike her, which he would never ever do. No. It was not his wrath he feared, but his attraction and the overwhelming desire he’d just avoided by a hair—to pull her close and kiss all sense from her.

Deborah stood hours later on the summit of Mount Tabor, near the edge that overlooked the Jezreel Valley. The sun remained hidden behind clouds that darkened with each passing hour, their ominous black billows stretching fingers of whirling grays to dip and touch the earth. Sisera’s chariots stood in rows so numerous they seemed like fields of grains standing tall in the wind.

Deborah shaded her eyes, squinting into the darkness. Men too numerous to count or see clearly at night seemed to fill the valley, in addition to those who manned the chariots. They were seriously outnumbered here.

She glanced heavenward, but the sky held no comfort, only the dread of an overwhelming storm. Did You lead us here to slaughter, Lord? What can we do against so many?

She looked back again at the valley, the men below bathed in darkness. But as she stood watching, praying, the sudden familiar light of vision encompassed her, its warmth both frightening and comforting.

Her heartbeat quickened as she gazed on the valley now teeming with men and horses far greater than Sisera’s numbers. Lightning flashed in terrifying brightness, and thunder, powerful and deep, rumbled from one end of the sky to the other. Her knees buckled beneath her, but before she could plant her face to the earth, the heavens split as one rolls back a scroll.

Her breath held, frozen. Lightning flashed again and again, as though in a continuous arc over the skies. The blast of a shofar sounded, its sound unending. And then it stopped as a white winged horse burst upon the clouds, its rider tall, his eyes flames, his head burnished gold. A horde, an army clothed in blinding white robes, followed. A sword flashed from the mouth of the blazing man, and in an instant the men on the valley floor fell where they stood, their blood rising, a rushing current beneath them. Carrion birds whooshed in to gorge on their flesh.

“Deborah.” Lappidoth’s voice resounded in her ear, and suddenly the vision vanished. She blinked, heart pounding, unable to rise. She sank to the earth, hands outstretched, breathing shallow. She had not witnessed Sisera’s destruction. These were not Canaanite or Philistine or any army she had seen in her lifetime.

What is it, Lord? Who was the rider upon the white horse?

But she knew the answer would not be given her. The battle she had witnessed was for another time, another place. And yet, the Lord was in both battles, and He would win them. A sense of peace filled her.

“Deborah,” Lappidoth said again as he slowly approached. He offered his hand, and she allowed him to help her up, though she barely looked at him. She turned instead to gaze once more on the valley below. All light had disappeared from view, the men in Sisera’s camp cloaked in shadow.

“What did you see, beloved?” Lappidoth’s voice drew her to face him.

“A vision of war, as always.” Somehow she could not tell him the truth, and she resented his intrusion into what she had seen. Might God have shown her more if he had not come upon her and spoken?

Lightning flashed above them, its fingers pointing downward, illuminating her husband. She noted the bow still slung at his back, and he stood before her a warrior.

“So you truly plan to join them?” She could not bring herself to imagine him capable of battle.

“Did you expect me to stay behind?” He tilted his head in that curious way he had, his gaze kind. He touched her cheek as the first pelts of rain hit them.

“I don’t know what I expected,” she admitted, wishing she had always seen him as courageous, the kind of man who would follow the rider on the white horse.

“I will do my part, Deborah.” His tone held an edge, and she knew in that moment that whatever he did, he did for her, to gain the respect she seemed incapable of giving to him freely.

Rain came heavier now, and he took her hand and ran toward the tents. He paused in the awning of the place she would stay with Talya and cupped her cheek. “I love you, Deborah.”

He rushed off to join their sons before she could respond. Her heart tripped. “God go with you, my husband,” she called after him, but the winds whisked her words away.

Talya paced her mother’s small goat-hair tent, watching through a slit in the opening as the rain came in sheets, coating the grassy mountaintop. “How long is it going to do that?” She pointed to the door, feeling like a bird caught in a snare. If she had brought a change of clothes besides a tunic, she would brave the storm just to escape the confines of the tent with only her mother for company.

“As long as God allows,” Deborah said, pulling her spindle and wool from a goatskin sack she’d carried on her back. “Sit down and help me untangle these threads. You will wear me out just watching you.”

“I am weary of sitting.” Talya frowned, then peeked around the opening, only to be met with misty air. She whirled about and released a sigh. “We should have stayed in caves along the side of the mount.”

“The rain will not hurt us, nor get through these tents.” Her mother’s calm voice only irritated Talya’s mood.

“At least in a cave we could have talked to Father and Lavi and Elior.” And Barak, though she did not say so. She was not sure she wanted to speak to the man again anyway.

“And Ghalib?” Deborah asked quietly. “And Barak?” She lifted her gaze and gave Talya a knowing smile. “You did not resolve the argument you had with Barak, did you?”

Talya sank onto the mat and took up the wool her mother handed to her, roping one end around her palm and turning the rest to create a ball. “The man is impossible, Ima.” She leaned closer to be heard above the pounding rain. “Why does he suddenly seem so squeamish about allowing me to go to war?” She continued with the yarn but gave her mother an imploring look. “He knows I am as capable as any man. And if the men find me distracting, then they are thinking thoughts they ought not to!” She huffed and mumbled words she did not care to say aloud.

Her mother ignored her outburst, but a humorous smile lit her eyes. “Dear child. If you have no idea how easily men are taken with women, then it is truly time your father and I seek a husband for you.” She took one end of the wool Talya had wound and fastened it to the spindle.

Talya sat in silence, watching. “I want to marry,” she said softly. “But I did not come here to seek a husband. I came to kill Sisera.”

Deborah’s brows lifted, and Talya knew by that look that she understood more than Talya wished her to. “I sincerely doubt that your motives were purely military, my daughter. Look at me and tell me truthfully that you did not hope to impress Barak with your skills.”

Talya looked away, toward the tent door. At last she shrugged, then sighed. “I do want to kill Sisera.”

“I know you do. And perhaps you will.”

“But you know Barak was of interest to me once.” She picked up another mound of tangled wool and began to turn it into a ball.

“But no longer?” Her mother’s spindle did not stop with the question. “Is it Ghalib you have now set your heart upon?” She moved the distaff in time with the spindle.

Talya stopped winding the thread and shrugged. The raindrops had slowed in their drumbeat upon the tent’s roof. “Ghalib is a kind man,” she said, lowering the pitch of her voice, “but I think he pines after a cousin in Judah.”

Her mother’s gaze searched hers. “Perhaps that is best.”

“It is better if he marries within his clan, and I wed within my tribe.” It wasn’t a question, but Talya waited for her mother’s response just the same.

Deborah angled her head to better meet her gaze. “Yes.”

Silence fell between them for several moments. “Then who? If I am so beautiful as you say, if I’m such a ‘distraction’ as Barak says, then any man should want to wed me.” The words came out more petulant than she’d intended. “Let’s just not talk about it anymore.” She was weary of men, but worse, she was confounded by that last conversation with Barak. If she didn’t know better . . . She had sensed a change in him. But perhaps it was simply his anger at her for “distracting” everyone.

She tossed the wool into the bag, frustrated with the work, with the waiting, with the rain, with the men who had tents spread around hers in a circle of protection. She wanted to step onto the mountain’s grasses, run the length of its summit and back again, do something to quell her leashed energy.

She peered into the night again, feeling the mist of the rain still dampen her cheeks. Behind her, she heard her mother pack away her tools and unroll her mat.

“Come, daughter, get some rest. It is too wet to light a fire, and the dates and nuts we ate will have to suffice for the meal for all of us. Dawn will come soon enough, and the rain will stop by then.”

She turned to see her mother roll onto her side, her back to the tent’s wall, sling at her side. Talya heaved a sigh, discontent still raging through her. But her mother was right. It was too wet and too dark to make a daring move like climb down the mount and infiltrate the enemy camp. If Sisera didn’t capture and kill her for such a bold act, Barak would surely confine her to her mother’s tent and set a guard over her.

She picked up her own mat and rolled it out onto the hard ground. But as she lay there trying to sleep, her mind would not rest. Barak’s commands and authoritarian tone grated her every nerve. Whether he found her interesting or just a nuisance, she did not know, and she did not care. She had come here for one purpose. To kill Sisera. Tomorrow she would find a way to do just that, whether Barak liked it or not.