27

Barak paused for breath, bracing both hands on his thighs. The jog since they crossed the swollen wadi had winded him, but he dare not stop. Sisera was out there somewhere.

“He had to have stopped to rest,” Keshet said, breathing heavily beside him, his chest heaving from their rapid pace. “We’ve been running and fighting for a day and a half, and look at us.” He pointed to himself, but his look told Barak he was also noticing the disheveled and exhausted mess he had become.

“If he’s alone, he could get farther than we can trying to keep the group together.” Barak raked a hand along the back of his neck, brushing away the sweat that had gathered there.

“He could have holed up in a cave to sleep.”

Barak thought a moment on that, but shook his head, scowling. “We checked every cave we passed. There was no sign of him.” He blew out a breath. “No. I think he went on to Hazor.”

“He could have stopped in one of our villages along the way.”

Barak’s thoughts moved to Kedesh-naphtali. “If Sisera wanted to taunt me, he would head to our home.” His gut clenched with a pain akin to fear. “We have to reach it before he does.”

He took off at a run again, ignoring the ache in his side. If that man had laid one finger on his parents, his friends, or his relatives still living in that town, he would wish he had never been born.

Jael stared down at the blood pooling on the mat beneath Sisera’s head. Her right hand still clutched the hammer so tight the muscles begged release. Her breath came in spurts, and a sense of shock rushed through her. Sisera was dead. Truly. Dead.

She dragged in air, but it was tainted with the sickening smell of fresh blood. She forced first one foot, then the other, to move away from the man. Slowly, methodically, she trudged to the tent’s opening and dropped the hammer in the dirt. She inhaled the scent of oak and pine and air so fresh it nearly burned her lungs.

Chest heaving with the weight of what she had just done, she bent forward, pressed her hands to her middle. Tears filled her eyes, and she could not stop them from running into her mouth, then dripping into the dirt.

She had killed a man. She had only meant to detain him until Barak came, but in her fear, she killed him.

Oh Adonai, help me. The prayer felt real this time, for it accompanied a deep ache for God’s forgiveness. She knew this was not murder, for it was an act of war. But she could not bring herself to feel anything but pain. How did one recover after watching the lifeblood seep from a person, enemy or not?

She breathed again, her heart rate slowing with each intended breath. And as she breathed, truth dawned. She breathed. And her girls still breathed. Sisera, who could have done more than kill them all, was gone. Forever.

“Daniyah, Nadia, Raja!” She shouted their names, suddenly needing to hold them, to see them, to kiss their cheeks. She faced Heber’s tent, waiting. And then there they were, running, tentative at first, glancing this way and that.

She waved her arms, and they saw her, ran toward her.

“Ima!” Daniyah was first to reach her and fell into her embrace. Jael wept, kissing her daughter, holding her close. “Is it over?”

Jael nodded, pulling each girl into a tight hug that encased them all. “Sisera lies dead in my tent.” She angled her head to indicate through the opening. “Do not look.”

Nadia stepped back and examined Jael. “Blood has spattered on your robe, Ima Jael. I will soak it and scrub it out for you.”

Jael glanced down at her clothing, startled that she had not noticed the mess Sisera’s blood had made. She darted quick glances at each of her girls. “Have I spread it to you?” But no, the blood had remained on Jael’s clothing alone. “We will not wash it,” she declared, ripping the garment from her. “We will burn every piece of clothing that carries his blood. He does not deserve to live even in our memories.” She would have to wear an older robe and tunic until they could afford to weave more, but it mattered little.

“Wait here while I fetch clean ones.” She held her breath and stepped into the tent, avoiding even one glimpse in the direction of her mat where Sisera lay. She quickly changed to clean clothes, then carried the bloodied ones outside, tossed them into the pit in front of her tent, and used her lamp to light them on fire.

Barak turned a corner in the road, at last headed north toward the sea, where Kedesh-naphtali stood on the south end near the shore. Heber’s campsite lay an arrow’s shot from where his men were congregating before they took the last trek toward home and then on to Hazor.

Weariness crept over Barak as he took a long drink from the sagging goatskin at his side. They needed to refill the skins, but it would have to wait until they reached the sea.

Ghalib sidled up next to him and nodded toward the oaks ahead of them. “It would do us good to stop for a moment and let my mother and sisters refresh us with food and water, my lord. We would not stay long.”

Barak pinched the bridge of his nose to forestall a headache, to no avail. “We cannot take the time, Ghalib. If you wish to go home, I cannot stop you. Your father and brothers aren’t far behind, and we do not expect any of you to continue on to Hazor. But we do thank you for your service to Israel.”

Ghalib straightened, his look offended. “I was not suggesting we stay, my lord. I just know the men are weary. A short stop might help us all.”

Barak studied him, wondering if it was his own jealousy of Ghalib’s interest in Talya that made him keep the man at arm’s length, made him question his motives and almost want to be rid of his presence. Almost. He couldn’t deny that Heber’s family had been an asset to them in every way during this fight, not just in providing the weapons but in wielding them.

“We move on,” he said to Ghalib. He turned to do just that, when a woman appeared in the distance waving a scarf and calling out something he could not quite hear.

“That’s Ima!” Ghalib took off at a run, and Barak hurried to follow.

It was indeed Jael, standing in the road, composed and jubilant. “Come,” she said, smiling at Ghalib, but her gaze focused on Barak. “I will show you the man you’re looking for.”

Barak’s heart quickened at her words. He glanced at Keshet, who had joined them. Could it be? But he did not speak, simply followed her as she had asked.

They climbed down the berm and made their way through the trees until they came to Jael’s tent. Jael’s daughter and daughters-in-law stood to the side of the tent, and the guards Heber had left to watch over them circled behind them, looking chagrined.

Barak pondered why they did not look as triumphant as Jael did, but still he said nothing. Jael lifted the tent flap and beckoned Barak to enter. The scent of blood hit him like a wave. Jael had rolled up the sides, but still the smell was strong.

Barak entered, cautiously at first.

“He’s on the mat in the corner,” Jael said from where she had stayed outside in the courtyard area.

Barak moved closer, Keshet at his side. And there he lay. Sisera. Lifeless. A tent peg holding his head fast to the earth, his blood spilled and now dried to his hair and the mat beneath him.

Barak glanced at Keshet, who simply nodded. They both left the tent together. Outside, Barak approached Jael, who was now surrounded by Heber, Mahir, Fareed, and Ghalib, along with her girls.

“You did this?” he asked, unable to keep the awe from his voice. Hadn’t Deborah said Sisera would fall by the hand of a woman? Hadn’t Talya agreed that God would show His might over Canaan’s goddesses through the weakness of a woman who relied upon Him?

“By your God’s help, I did, yes,” Jael said, her gaze glancing off him to study her feet. But a moment later she lifted her eyes and shrugged. “I cannot say I find it pleasing to kill a man. But I knew once he had rested, my girls would suffer at his hands. So I made sure his rest never ended.”

“I am certain he does not rest even now,” Barak said, wondering what Adonai Elohim did with the souls of men like Sisera. Surely the Judge of all the earth would do right and make sure Sisera paid for all the evil he had done.

“But he can no longer hurt us,” Jael said, her eyes searching his for some kind of affirmation.

“He can no longer hurt us,” Barak agreed. “And you are blessed of Adonai, for He gave you the privilege of ridding us of such an enemy. And his humiliation is complete at having died at the hand of a woman.”

“Talya wanted to be that woman,” Ghalib said, coming up and putting his arm around his mother. “But I’m glad it was you, Ima.” He kissed her cheek, and Barak felt a sense of kindness toward the man for caring so about his mother.

He turned to the men behind him. “Gather up Sisera’s body and cleanse Jael’s tent,” he said to the troop under Keshet’s leadership. “The rest of you, replenish your skins of water, and if they can spare it, take some nuts for your journey and head north to Hazor. This war is not over until Jabin’s soul joins Sisera’s.”

After bidding Heber and his sons to stay and rest a bit, then meet up with them again on Mount Tabor in three days, Barak took Lappidoth and Lavi and Elior and Deborah’s cousin Shet and continued north with the rest of the men.