31

The feasting lasted long into the night, as men and women repeated Deborah’s song over and over again until they had memorized parts of it. Deborah sat in the opening of her tent, her heart beating with the sense of satisfaction. Adonai had heard and answered and given them victory over their enemies, though she knew there were still men among the clans of Israel who did not follow Adonai El Yisrael, the Lord God of Israel, with a pure heart.

She shivered at the thought of what might become of their land in the future, the land her grandchildren would inherit, if the people lost faith again. Somehow she must make it clear to them even now that they dare not take lightly the mercy of their God.

She stirred at the sound of voices drawing near and looked up to see Jael and Heber with Ghalib in tow. She straightened and motioned for them to join her. “Please, sit by the fire and rest yourselves.”

“Thank you, Prophetess,” Jael said, taking the makeshift stone seat closest to Deborah. Her husband sat at her side, looking most uncomfortable, while Ghalib remained standing behind them. “We have come to seek your blessing.”

Deborah tilted her head and gave Jael a curious look. “You need not seek it, for you surely have it already.”

More voices drew close, noisier than the Kenites. Deborah recognized the sound of her sons’ laughter and saw Lappidoth and Barak also among them. They spoke between themselves, so Deborah turned her attention to Jael once more.

“How can I help you, Jael? After what you have done for Israel, we owe you much.”

Jael glanced at her husband, then back at Deborah. Tight lines formed along her mouth, and Deborah wondered what troubled this woman who had so bravely killed Sisera. “You owe me nothing, Prophetess. I only did what anyone would do in such a circumstance.”

“Not everyone would do such a thing. Whole towns were not strong enough to capture Sisera. Yet a woman alone put an end to this nemesis. So on the contrary, Israel owes you a great debt.” Deborah watched Jael’s face soften slightly, but her hands were clasped tightly in her lap.

“It is not Israel we petition,” Jael said so softly that Deborah had to lean closer to hear her. “We have come on behalf of our son, who seeks your daughter Talya as his wife.”

Deborah leaned away, studying the trio. She should not be surprised by this request. Had she not seen the way Ghalib looked at Talya? Yet what of Barak? The man had clearly been rattled by his recent discussion with the girl. If only Barak had been ready for another wife months ago when Talya had so clearly wanted him.

Her men’s voices grew louder, and they entered the circle of the fire in front of her tent. “There you are, Ima,” Lavi said, smiling. He glanced at Barak. “Settle a dispute for me. This man insists that he must return to his village at dawn, when I say he must come with us to our village and allow us to show him hospitality without the threat of war.” Lavi crossed his arms, a self-satisfied grin on his face as though he knew Deborah would side in his favor.

She looked from her men to Barak, pausing momentarily to try to read the thoughts behind those hooded dark eyes. “Barak knows he is always welcome in our village, my son,” she said, her words measured. “But Lavi is right, Commander. The humble home of Lappidoth would heartily welcome you.”

Barak tipped his head in her direction. “It is kind of you, Prophetess.” He glanced beyond her, and Deborah followed the direction of his gaze. Talya stood in the shadows on the side where her brothers sat, opposite Jael and her family.

She had not expected to make a decision for Talya’s future for many days to come, and in truth, she was weary, too weary for such a thing so soon after the victory. But the Kenites would be returning home, so it made sense for them to want some type of answer, to know whether their request was one she and Lappidoth would welcome.

Deborah folded her hands in her lap and looked down at their callouses. A lifetime of work showed on her fingertips. A woman did not stop working in the daily tasks simply to settle one dispute or another.

“I am afraid I cannot give you an answer just now,” Deborah said, looking at Jael. “I must discuss the matter with my husband and think on it. May I give you an answer in a week? I will send a messenger to you with our decision one way or the other.”

Jael seemed to ponder Deborah’s words a moment before looking to her husband and son. Ghalib did not look pleased. Not a patient man? But she supposed a man in love would be anxious to know his choice was a good one.

“We will wait, Prophetess. And thank you.” Jael rose gracefully, Heber with her. The three left the campsite to join the rest of their family in tents some distance away.

“What did they want, Ima?” Lavi, ever the curious one, intruded on her thoughts.

Deborah glanced at her son, this lion of a man, and could not keep the pride from her gaze. “You are a good son, Lavi.” She looked to Elior. “As are you, Elior. I am most blessed to have the gift of you both. But Jael’s business does not concern you right now. It is between your father and me.”

“And me,” Talya said, stepping closer and taking a seat beside her mother. “Whatever is decided, please consult me.”

Deborah placed a hand on Talya’s arm. Surely a mother’s choices for her daughter were best. Her own mother might have chosen Lappidoth for her against her wishes, but she could not look upon him now with regret.

Still, she looked into Talya’s pleading gaze, recalling the very feelings Talya certainly faced now. “We will discuss it with you,” she promised. “Now, if you will excuse me.” She rose to enter her tent with a glance back at Lappidoth, who was listening to something Barak was saying into his ear.

Did Barak know what had just transpired here? Could he see what Deborah saw in her daughter’s eyes—a heart that beat with love for him? For if Deborah had to choose between the two men this moment, she knew she would choose Barak over Ghalib.

Except Barak was not the one doing the asking.

“Why did you not press the matter, Ima?” Ghalib’s pout reminded Jael of the young boy he once was, and she did not like the image of a man acting like a child now.

“The timing was not right.” Jael looked from her son to Heber. “We should have waited, gone to visit them after all is settled. We had no time to discuss your desire to join Israel, to show them that an alliance with us would not compromise their faith in their God. It was foolish to act so rashly, and now at a time when the whole land is concerned with celebrating their God’s victory and cleaning up after such a war.” She paced the tent they shared, small in comparison to the ones they left under the oak of Zaanannim.

“Your mother is right,” Heber said, sinking to his mat, his whole body rigid. She sensed his unease, even the anger bubbling within him. He was not a man who easily gave in to useless pursuits, but Ghalib had cowed them both in the height of revelry. He rubbed his head, then began to untie his sandals. “I agreed to this ridiculous attempt to secure the prophetess’s promise because I have failed to get you a wife from my brother’s clan.” He tossed his sandals into a corner and stretched out on the mat, hands behind his head. “But I am tired, Ghalib. You must learn patience, my son, if you truly hope to get what it is you want.” He suddenly leaned up on one elbow and looked past Jael to meet Ghalib’s bewildered gaze. “But be very sure it is Talya you want. I do not think you are her only suitor.”

“Which is exactly why I wanted you to secure her for me now!” Ghalib’s outburst startled Jael. She stopped her pacing and waited for Heber to respond, if he would.

“My son, you are not ready to take a wife,” Heber said at last. “A man is not a man who cannot control his temper.” He rolled onto his side then, away from Ghalib, indicating the conversation at an end.

“Like you controlled your temper with my uncle?” The words were sharp barbs, sinking deep into Jael’s heart.

“Don’t say such things, my son,” she said, attempting to soothe the suddenly charged air. “The anger that sent us away from our people was your uncle’s, not your father’s. When you can accept that, perhaps you can also accept the fact that a woman like Talya does not need a husband who will jealously guard her every move. I have seen the way you look at her when another man speaks to her. Such jealousy might seem admirable, but it hides a lack of trust.” Jael crossed her arms over her chest and stared her son down.

Ghalib looked as if he would challenge her, but one glance toward his father’s back seemed to deflate his anger. Though by the spark in his eyes, she knew the anger still simmered.

She took a step closer, placed a hand on Ghalib’s arm. He did not pull away when she coaxed him to meet her gaze.

“I love her, Ima,” he said, his voice low, husky. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”

“And yet you have met very few women, my son. You do not know if another might be better suited to you.” She cupped his cheek, wishing she could hold him as she once did when he rocked in her arms as a small child. “I know you long for a wife, and you think Talya is that woman. But she has eyes for another. Did you not see it in the firelight tonight when she stepped into the shadows?”

Ghalib’s expression moved from anger to hurt, and he suddenly pulled away and took a step back from her. “She thinks she cares for Barak,” he said. “But I do not see that he cares for her in return. When they speak, they argue. And if she truly cared for him, she would obey him, but she did not even respect his role as commander and ran off to fight in the battle despite his orders.”

Heber’s low laughter came from the mat, and Jael could not hide a smile. “Forgive me, my son. We do not laugh at you, but at your lack of understanding. Sometimes the spark of attraction ignites arguments. It does not mean there is no love hidden beneath.”

“We have spared you many an argument, my son,” Heber said without rising. “You have much to learn about women.”

Ghalib huffed but did not speak. He looked from his mother to his father’s back, seeming as though he wanted to say something, but then shook his head and left the tent. Jael watched him go, his stride strong but his shoulders slumped. They had dealt him a blow tonight. Deborah had as well, and his pride would surely suffer for it.

The thought troubled her as she stepped into starlight and watched her son stalk off into darkness. Such a gentle and kind though sometimes frustrated soul was her Ghalib. One whose pride held too much sway over his heart.

She turned back to the tent and sank down beside Heber. “Will he be all right?” she asked, wanting desperately to run after him but knowing how foolish that action would be.

“He will recover,” Heber said, grunting and repositioning himself. “Give him time.” He released a deep sigh, and Jael waited for the sound of his soft snores. But a moment later his arm came around her. “I will send to my brother again, and peace or not between us, I will request Parisa as a wife for Ghalib.”

It was a sacrifice for him to say so. She leaned into him, grateful for this humble gift, but worried that Ghalib might not so easily accept it.

Dawn bathed the mountain in soft pink light, and Talya stood outside her mother’s tent facing the east, watching as the colors danced along the ridge. The camp was just beginning to stir, and soon the men would take down the tents and return toward their towns and villages. She moved softly on bare feet from the makeshift courtyard along the row of tents toward the ridge. The valley spread before her, the stench of death replaced by the smell of ash left from the fires the men had set to destroy what remained of Sisera’s army. Only the iron chariot wheels were visible here and there, stuck to the earth as though they had grown up from the ground.

She placed a hand over her eyes to better see into the distance. She shivered, pulling her cloak closer.

“You’re up early.”

She turned slowly to face her cousin Shet. “As are you,” she said, searching his gaze. “Have you made a decision?”

Something determined flickered in his eyes, but he glanced beyond her. He rubbed his hands together as if to warm them. “Did you see the looks on the faces of the captives we rescued?” He glanced at her then, and she was taken back to that moment, seeing it now through his eyes.

“I saw. I could have been one of them.” Talya fixed the scarf that the wind wanted to snatch from her head. They stood outside of the tree line, where the windbreak would normally block the stiff breeze.

He touched her shoulder. “I am glad Barak found you.” His voice cracked. “I am sorry Yiskah’s behavior caused you such risk.”

“It is of no consequence now,” she said. “She has learned a terrible lesson for her rash acts.” She searched his face, saw his jaw tighten and a muscle move over his left eyebrow, a sign of his anxiety barely held back by his self-control.

“You are going to put Yiskah out?” she asked when he did not speak. The thought pained her.

“No,” he said slowly. “I am going to take her back.” His breath rushed from him as though the words took all of his strength. “Mind you, it will not be easy. I do not even know if I love her still.” He stroked his beard. “I know I do not trust her.”

“And yet you would take her again as your wife? What if she does not wish to come? If you cannot offer her love or trust, what will you give her?” Talya straightened, a sense of protectiveness for Yiskah, for all of the women whom Sisera had taken, rising within her like a solid force.

“I will give her time,” Shet said softly, pushing the anger from Talya’s heart. “I will forgive what she has done and offer her a home. It is all I can do.”

Talya studied her feet, suddenly ashamed that she had judged him so. “I am sorry. I expected the worst.” She met his gaze and caught him smiling down at her.

“And you would have gotten what you expected if not for the sight of those broken, innocent women.” He paused. “Though Yiskah was not innocent, she did not deserve to be abused.”

He looked behind them at the waking camp. The female former captives huddled around a handful of tents, busily loading their few new belongings onto white donkeys, bounty taken from Sisera.

“At least Yiskah has a husband to return to.” Talya touched his arm. “You take a great risk in forgiving. Only a great man would risk his heart a second time.”

“A third,” he corrected. “If she had not run away . . .” He left the sentence unfinished.

“There is no sense in thinking about the past, cousin.” Talya linked her arm through his. “Come, let us help the rest of the camp prepare. It is time to go home.”