Deborah Calling Read online

  “Clean up,” he said, “and change your shirt.” He gave her a fresh sleeveless shirt.

  “But my group—”

  “Give them instructions and meet me at the gate.”

  She went back to remind her group to change the water in the five tubs assigned to them. Choosing a spot upriver near Kassite’s house, where the water wasn’t dirty, she rinsed her face. After a stop at the latrines to change her shirt, she hurried to the gate.

  Kassite was already mounted, dressed in his fine coat, wide-brimmed hat, and leather boots. He held the reins of a second horse—a gaunt male with bald spots and yellow teeth. The guards stood by, watching. They obviously didn’t recognize her as the girl who had come here over two months earlier, but they must have been wondering why Kassite needed company today. She hesitated, mindful of her slave shirt, bare feet, and exposed head. How could she leave the tannery like this, while he was dressed as a prosperous free man?

  “Come on, boy,” Kassite said. “I do not have all day.”

  Deborah reached up, grabbed the saddle horn, and mounted the horse. She took the reins from Kassite, leaned forward, and patted the bony neck. The old horse followed Kassite up the path to the main road, where a loaded oxcart was waiting for them, its drivers resting in the shade.

  Chapter 7

  The oxcart rolled slowly in the direction of Aphek. Kassite sped up, overtaking it. Deborah’s horse broke into a healthy gallop, following close behind. After a while, Kassite veered off the road and into a field, raising a cloud of dust. Deborah clung to the saddle, fearful that the old horse would trip and throw her off, but it slowed down and stepped off the road cautiously.

  “That was good.” She rubbed its neck. “We’re going to get along very well.”

  The horse whinnied.

  “Do you have a name? No? Then I’ll call you Soosie.” The word meant “my horse” in Hebrew, and when its long head rocked up and down, she laughed. “You like the name, don’t you? That’s it, then. You’re Soosie!”

  Up ahead, Kassite stopped his horse in the shade of a tree and turned to watch the road. She came up next to him.

  “Not bad,” he said. “Controlling an unfamiliar horse is not easy.”

  Deborah shifted in the saddle, and Soosie snorted.

  “You ride as well as any young man.”

  She sat upright, filled with pride.

  “Have any of the slaves showed suspicion of you? Looked at you strangely?”

  “No, Master.”

  “Your group members? Any hint of doubts about you being a boy?”

  She touched her hair, which had begun to grow back. “None.”

  “It is easy to deceive people, is it not?”

  “Why?”

  Kassite chuckled. “Because people do not see what is right in front of them when they expect to see something else—as if there were a sieve between their eyes and their mind that filters out what does not fit their expectations and fills the blanks with what does.”

  His words made Deborah uncomfortable. Until now, she had been completely preoccupied with her own survival under the pressure of hard labor, physical pain, and the loneliness of keeping the secret of her gender from the others. But Kassite’s disdain for their gullibility reminded her that pretending to be a boy amounted to deception, which the two of them were perpetrating on the slaves. Her father had said often, “Lying is a sin in the eyes of Yahweh.” Kassite, however, gloated at the success of their deception. Was he also proud of lying to her about the Male Elixir? Should she worry that his promise of help was deceitful altogether? Was his true intent to keep her as a slave indefinitely?

  “You are doing a fine job with the group,” he said. “I have been watching.”

  “The men obey me only because you told them to. Otherwise, they’d never take orders from a boy of fourteen.”

  “They would not take orders from a grown man either, unless I told them to.”

  “How do you do it—control all the slaves without making them afraid?”

  “Oh, they are afraid. They are very afraid.”

  “Of the guards?”

  “The guards?” He laughed. “The guards are paid to protect us from marauders who might lust after the women or the leathers.”

  “Then what are the slaves afraid of? There isn’t a single whip in the tannery.”

  “You do not need to flog a man or cut his flesh to make him afraid. It is enough to convince him that the consequences of disobedience will be unacceptably painful.” Kassite gestured at the area around them. “This is what they are afraid of. They are strangers in this land. The Hebrew tribes hate the Philistines even more than they hate each other, and the Canaanites are no better.”

  “The slaves are afraid you’ll let them go?”

  “Correct. When I expel a disobedient slave from the tannery, Orran sells him off for work in the fields or the quarry pits, doing hard labor for meager bread and constant whipping. Or worse, rents him out to a rich judge in one of the Hebrew towns, where he will suffer injuries or a violent death.” Kassite sighed. “I had to do it a few times early on, but the rest of them learned the lesson. If they work hard and follow my rules, I take care of them—give them food, shelter, and safety—and treat them fairly.”

  “But they have nothing of their own,” she said. “They share sleeping mats, drinking cups, everything. Why don’t you let them at least keep a trinket from their home country?”

  “If you own nothing, there is nothing for you to fight over.”

  “And their gods? Why can’t they have a small figurine to give them comfort?”

  “Gods may give occasional comfort to a person in distress, but they always give everybody plenty of excuses to fight each other. The last thing I need in the tannery is a bunch of competing gods.”

  Deborah was unsatisfied with his answers. It troubled her that she couldn’t understand how he alone controlled over two hundred slaves with such ease.

  “It seems cruel, but it is necessary,” Kassite said. “Over the past eighteen years, building up a large tannery, I have learned from my mistakes. I know what has to be done and what should never be allowed.”

  “You made mistakes?”

  “Only the dead make no mistakes. A leader makes decisions and takes action, and therefore cannot avoid some mistakes and failures. The difference is that a weak leader bemoans past mistakes and wallows in failures, whereas a wise leader learns from mistakes and draws strength from failures.”

  “What’s the worst mistake?”

  “To allow uncertainty and confusion. Experience has taught me to keep my doubts and ruminations to myself while setting unambiguous rules and clear expectations for my workers. And after all this time, I know what rules they will understand and obey, and what expectations they can meet realistically. That is how I get results from the slaves and respect from my owner.”

  “But you’re still a slave,” Deborah said.

  Kassite glanced at the road, back where the oxcart would soon come into view. “I am an old man,” he said. “The life I have made for myself in the tannery is better than the life most free men would ever dream of achieving. I am content.”

  “Don’t you want to be free again? Go back to Edom?”

  He shook his head.

  “Your old friend Sallan wants to go home.”

  In a tree nearby, birds chirped, breaking the silence. Deborah held her breath, dreading his reaction. Back in Emanuel, Sallan—the old Edomite slave who ran the basket factory for Judge Zifron—had confirmed the story Barac had told her about the mythical Elixirist turning men into women. Sallan had also told her that the Elixirist’s real name was Kassite, that they had last seen each other eighteen years earlier when they were sold off to different owners, and that the slave dock in Shiloh was the place to begin her search. In return, she had vowed to go back to Emanuel after finding Kassite and help Sallan gain his freedom from the judge’s ownership and return to his Edom. When she had actually managed
to find Kassite and told him what she had promised Sallan, Kassite became very angry and said, “Sallan was not relying on you to obtain his freedom. He was relying on me.” Now, two months later, she watched his face, but saw no anger.

  “Sallan has many reasons to return to Edom,” Kassite said. “I have none.”

  The oxcart appeared around the curve, where the road hugged the slopes over the river. It moved slowly, raising only a whiff of dust in its wake.

  Deborah waited for him to elaborate.

  “It is true, though, that I long to see Sallan again, to embrace my dearest friend and hear his roaring laughter. But having lost one foot and both ears as punishment for trying to flee our original captors, I find escape to be a frightening idea. That is why, when I learned many years ago that Sallan had died, my grief was mixed with relief, because there was no longer a pressing reason for me to escape from this comfortable existence, even if I could.”

  “But now you know he’s alive.”

  “And I am torn.” Kassite prodded his horse to walk back toward the road. “The consequences of an escape could be unacceptably painful.”

  “That won’t happen.” Deborah shook the reins, and Soosie followed.

  He paused and turned to face her. “What did you say?”

  “We won’t get caught.”

  Kassite ruffled his horse’s mane. “I am like this horse. I know my place in the hierarchy of power. You, on the other hand, are young and therefore blind to the real complexities of the world.”

  She wanted to argue, but he stopped her with a hand.

  “I admire your determination,” he said. “But it is not enough to be determined when reality dictates the results from the outset.”

  “Yahweh dictates the results,” Deborah said. “He’s been at my side since the night I escaped Emanuel. How else could I have survived to reach this point?”

  “You have been lucky,” Kassite said. “Relying on luck in the future, however, would be pure folly. Orran of Manasseh would not sit back and allow me—his source of wealth—to disappear and be gone. He would send his men on fast horses in every direction until they found me and chopped off my good foot so I could no longer run away. I would be back where I belong, a crippled old slave who earns piles of silver coins for his owner.”

  They stopped their horses at the edge of the field and watched the oxcart proceed slowly up the road. Butterflies flew about, birds fluttered in the trees, and a slow breeze kept down the heat, but the peaceful surroundings did nothing to calm the panic that gripped Deborah’s chest. What was he saying? That he wouldn’t help her free Sallan? It didn’t matter. She would keep her promise to Sallan either way, but would Kassite keep his promise to her?

  Taking a deep breath, she asked, “You’re still going to give me the rest of the Male Elixir, right?”

  “The second dose, yes, when you are ready.”

  “How long?”

  “As long as it takes.” Kassite urged his horse forward, but kept his eyes on her.

  Deborah kept pace with him. “Not too long, I hope. Sallan is waiting.”

  They rejoined the road and followed the oxcart slowly. Aphek wasn’t far ahead, and the road meandered closer to the river.

  “He has been waiting for many years,” Kassite said. “A little longer will not make a difference.”

  “After so much time, the wait could be even harder—”

  “He will wait!”

  She was taken aback by his snap response.

  “Escaping would be suicidal for me,” he said, “and disastrous for the workers.”

  “You mean the slaves?”

  “I have a responsibility.”

  “But you’re also a slave.”

  “For Orran, I am a slave, but not for the men and women in the tannery. Master is what I am for them, all-powerful and benevolent. A father is responsible for his children, do you understand?”

  “They are not children.”

  “Without me, there would be chaos—fighting, raping, rioting—and Orran would send soldiers, slashing with swords and stabbing with spears. If I left, the tannery would become a slaughterhouse!”

  His anger did not alarm her this time, for it opened a window into his soul, showing that he was good and noble.

  Further up the road, Deborah saw two fishermen out on the river. They stood on a raft, casting a net into the water. It was a small raft, barely big enough to hold the two of them, made of wood beams, stacked against each other and tied with leather straps to a frame of planks. It was crude, but its construction tickled her memory. As the horses paced around a curve in the road, she turned her head back for a last look at the raft, and made the connection.

  “Wait!” Deborah turned Soosie and trotted back to the point nearest the raft in the river. “Look!”

  Kassite followed her. “Look at what?”

  “The solution to our problem.” She shook with excitement. “There it is!”

  “What problem?”

  “You don’t want to abandon the slaves in the tannery because they depend on you for their lives, correct?”

  He nodded.

  “Back in Emanuel, Sallan told me that powerful men approach every challenge by developing a strategy.”

  “Did he tell you what the word means?”

  “Strategy is what men of power and wealth use for self-preservation. When a situation comes up, they look at all the facts, figure out what they can use to their advantage, and come up with solutions that promote three things: their safety, their fortune, and their power. Strategy is the reason they rule the world, whereas everyone else submits to them, works hard for them, and pays them taxes”

  Kassite chuckled. “Have you memorized everything he said?”

  “Only what seemed important.”

  “Sallan is correct, as always. Do you have a strategy?”

  “Look at this raft.” She pointed. “What does it remind you of?”

  He looked for a long moment. “My father took me to the Sea of Reeds once. After he delivered a load of copper to his Egyptian customers, we spent the afternoon fishing. It is a nice memory, one that I often visit in my mind.”

  “Let me give you a hint. When you sit in your chair at the tannery and look up, what do you see?”

  He touched the front edge of the brim of his hat. “I see this.”

  “No, above the hat.”

  “The pavilion roof?”

  “That’s our strategy,” Deborah said. “Turn the roofs into rafts, and all the slaves will float downriver across the Coastal Plain, out of Hebrew land, and all the way to safety among their Philistine people.”

  “Very clever.” Kassite looked at her with an expression that bordered on admiration. “You already think like a man.”

  “Girls aren’t stupid.”

  “It is not a matter of stupidity, but of destiny. Women exist to keep the home—make food, sew clothes, bear children, care for infants. That is why the gods made women fit for domesticated submission—passive, temperamental, small-minded, and anxious. Men, on the other hand, exist to fight and hunt, which is why we are proactive, even-tempered, adventurous, and logical. We think big—traveling far, taking risks, winning battles, conquering.”

  Deborah knew which of the two paths she wanted to follow: Hunt! Travel! Seek adventure! Win battles and conquer! One day, she would battle Seesya and take back what he’d stolen—Palm Homestead!

  As if he could read her mind, Kassite shook a finger at her. “My Male Elixir is working fast—and it is only the first dose.”

  Deborah shrugged, hiding her pride.

  “Tell me the rest of your strategy.”

  “We’ll do it at night,” she said. “The slaves will float down the river to Philistia, and you and I will ride to Emanuel. Word of the escape will reach Orran late the next day, but he won’t know about the rafts. He’ll send his soldiers chasing after two hundred slaves on every road leading from here to Philistia, then in other directions, then into the hill
s and anywhere else he could think of. Only when his soldiers return empty-handed, Orran might realize what had really happened, but it would be too late to chase the rafts. He might also realize that you had run away to Edom, but it would be too late for that, as well.”

  “Orran will not wait. He will send soldiers after me as soon as he finds out about the escape.”

  “Why chase you when the tannery is empty and all the slaves are gone?”

  Kassite pointed to his head. “Knowledge is not sold at the slave market.”

  “Neither is freedom, and finding us on the roads won’t be easy.”

  “It is not only about the risk of getting caught. After all I have done to build the tannery, how could I destroy it?”

  She stared at him in disbelief.

  “I know,” Kassite said. “The tannery is not mine. Why should I care if nothing is left of it? Still, your plan is deficient because, as you said before, a rich man always comes up with a strategy to meet his selfish goals, and Orran is very rich. I know because I made him so. He will send soldiers after me as soon as word reaches him about the escape.”

  Deborah thought for a moment. “Not if he believes the slaves killed you before escaping.”

  Kassite laughed. “You are truly devious, young woman.”

  “Young man, not woman.”

  They came around another bend in the road, and Aphek appeared up ahead. From this vantage point, the city looked grand and imposing, rising over the riverhead and the narrow gorge. The walls were tall and massive, and a giant palace with its own fortification walls and guard towers dominated the center of the city. Deborah noticed that the whole roof of the palace had caved in, and that a wing had collapsed, the remains charred by a fire.

  Deborah pointed. “What happened to the palace?”

  “It has been like that for many years,” Kassite said. “The Egyptian governor used to reside here until the Great Famine, maybe twenty or thirty years ago.”

  “The Egyptians ruled here?”

  “The pharaohs ruled this region for many centuries, but now they have their own problems with the Philistines and other sea people. In fact, we are riding on a road the ancient pharaohs built. They called it The Sea Highway.” Kassite turned his horse around. “If you ride back down the road, past the tannery, south to Gaza and the shores of the Great Sea, and west along the edge of the Sinai Desert, you will eventually reach the great Nile River and the pyramids.”