Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Yael followed her husband to the edge of the oasis. She was tired to the depths of her bones. The trip to Hazor had been profitable, but tiring. She preferred their tents in the open wind-swept spaces to the tight jumble and noise of the city. Especially Jabin’s city. The Canaanites were fine merchants and artisans, good designers and engineers, too. But, Yael wondered, to what end? She shuddered, closed her eyes yet could not escape the mental images of the Festival. The smell of burning human flesh, then, only hours later, the scent of sensual abandon from the writhing sexuality of Astarte’s worship.
Her flesh crawled, yet tingled, too. Yael couldn’t help comparing herself to the lithe temple maidens who danced so seductively and dared to make love out in the open, in public. Her body was as good as theirs. She too could dance and sway hypnotically. Her face too, was as attractive, yet without the kohl and rouge and other tricks they used, not nearly as wanton and seductive. She pursed her lips and slid her tongue out to moisten them, to make them shine.
Oh, but what was all this about? Yael wondered. She had no need of such things here with her husband. Haber, though eight years older than her twenty-two, was still vigorous and a fine figure of a man, who knew how to make love to her. But it was plain, unadorned procreation without much allure or passion that left Yael with a sense of lack. Haber was a righteous Kenite artisan, a tinsmith, a trade much in demand; passed down in his clan from the time of his forebear, Jethro, and from even as far back as the exodus. I have no need of kohl, rouge and passion, she thought. But something in me burns for it. I am still young and without children. She shuddered at the thought of children, the pain of childbirth, the drudgery of caring for them. The elegant, regal ladies of the Canaanites if they bore children, had slaves to care for them. Ah, to be as they were….
Haber released the pack mule’s lead and the animal wandered a few feet, then bent its head to nibble the succulent grass. As he loosened the carefully arranged packs, Arak came and asked about the cooking pot Haber was making for him. They wandered off and it fell to Yael to finish unpacking. The last and longest bundle was the tent. She unrolled the stitched-together skins and removed the mallet and the sharp tent pegs stored at its center. Yael’s movements were deft and rapid. She enjoyed this work and was good at it.
She paused and starred at the mallet, as if seeing it for the first time. She picked up a wooden spike, touched its sharp point with her thumb. The tent pegs started out much longer, but after each use, Yael sharpened them. Her eyes clouded over and her heart beat more rapidly. She felt frozen in time, tense, waiting. An image of a handsome man in armor, Canaanite armor, drifted before her. She looked down; he was lying at her feet in a fetal position. Yael felt a thrill and her nipples grew taught. She felt out of control yet guided by an inexorable power. It was hard to breath. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears. She gripped the tent peg, pointed it down and reached for the mallet.
“Yael,” Haber was calling her. She shook her head to clear it. The vision lingered, then was gone. Her body returned to normal and she sighed.
“Yes, husband,” she answered.
“Arak tells me of another Canaanite raid.” Haber gestured to the older man and he came nearer smiling at Yael. She nodded, acknowledging his presence.
“It has been the second time in two weeks,” Arak said. The older man had been a Haibru soldier and had a long, white scar from his left ear to his chin. Yael always cringed when she saw it. “We do not give our traders enough protection,” he said.
“And our weapons are inferior,” Haber added. “We need the iron of the Canaanites.”
Yael’s mind wandered to the sensation in her hand as she’d held the tent peg. She’d heard this talk of protection and weapons her whole life. The palm of her hand seemed to tingle.
“Your cousin, Jereboam, was taken prisoner,” Arak said.
Yael’s heart stopped. She looked to Haber to be sure she’d heard correctly. He nodded then wrapped her in his arms. She sobbed. Jereboam was her mother’s sister’s first born and her favorite cousin. “Did he resist?” Her voice was hoarse and strangled. It was well known what the Canaanites did to Haibru soldiers who resisted them.
Arak nodded.
“Was he wounded?” Haber asked.
Arak nodded.
“Where?” Yael asked. “Where, was he wounded?” Arak didn’t seem to understand. “On what part of his body? How badly was he wounded?”
“I was not there, Yael,” Arak said, his voice soft with sympathy and grief. “They say it was Sisera’s men, not bandits. They wore uniforms. Perhaps they will make a prisoner exchange….”
Haber laughed. “Exchange? Who have we to exchange?”
Arak looked down and shook his head.
Yael stepped from her husband’s embrace, bent and retrieved a tent peg. She stabbed downwards and brandished it. “Maybe we will capture one of them to exchange for my cousin.” Her voice was matter of fact, as if she were talking about a trade of wheat for barely. But her eyes blazed fiercely and her voice was tinged with anger.
“We will talk with Devorah,” Haber said. Arak, nodded.
Yael looked sharply at him. “She has done nothing yet. Nor has our brave general, Barak,” she said this last sarcastically. “Why would you think now would be any different? We - you, me, and Arak here, are the ones who must act.” Her voice shook and she sobbed. “You can at least learn the secret of iron, Haber. Then at least our weapons will be a match for theirs.” Yael threw the tent peg to the ground and stepped into her husband’s open arms; her body convulsed with sobs and despair.
“I have begun, Yael,” Haber said, stroking her flowing black hair. “I know some of it. I will learn the rest. For you, Yael.” She leaned back and looked into his face. “And for our people.”
Yael kissed him on the mouth. He pulled her close and she felt him stiffen. “Help me with the tent, husband,” she said, voice full of promise. We can tell Devorah later.”

No comments:

Post a Comment