#TheSongofDeborah part 3 by #mrfb

Last week, Sisera convinced Heber to stop helping Israel. Deborah and Lapidoth are in a rough spot in their marriage. Barak has something dreadful in his history but is about to step into his destiny.


EXT. THE SMITHY - MORNING

Jael and Heber lean over opposite sides of the anvil. He cradles his broken arm against his chest. She opens her hand above the anvil.

JAEL: Ready? Give me your hand.

Heber starts to extend his right arm with his left, then stops. He shakes his head.

JAEL: Come on, the swelling’s down, so now’s the time. Give me your hand.
HEBER: It doesn’t matter now.
JAEL: What do you mean? You’re right handed. You need this arm.

Heber looks away.

HEBER: Not any more. I’m finished.
JAEL: You’re not finished, Heber. I can run the smithy until you’re better. You know I’m good with a hammer.
HEBER: It’s not just the business. It’s the threats, the harassment. I can’t live this way any longer. I give up.

Heber drops his head. Jael puts her finger under his chin. They look into each other’s eyes.

JAEL: If that is what you wish. Yes, let’s return to Sinai, to our own people. We’ll start over. With fresh ore. No more scrap metal! No more threats, no more Sisera.
HEBER: Imagine: to no longer have to serve evil men. To not have to feed enemy as well as friend. Yes, let’s return home! Only–
JAEL: Only what?
HEBER: Only we cannot.
JAEL: It’s been a long time. Our people may have forgiven, even forgotten. Isn’t it worth the chance?
HEBER: I’ll not have you shunned and shamed. The price I will pay is one matter, but you, Jael? No, we cannot go back. Set my arm, Jael. We will stay.

Heber lays his arm across the anvil.
Jael braces herself, pulls hard on Heber’s arm. Heber cries out above the GRINDING of bone, passes out.


EXT. BARAK’S HOUSE - MORNING

Spindly flowers sag near the entrance of Barak’s stone house. A donkey mouths a spike of crab grass.
Barak kisses his sisters MESHA, NAOMI, SARAH and EVIE. He tussles Bennoam’s hair.
Their lovely sister NOAH hands Barak his traveling pack. As he takes it, her opened hand reveals a hideous scar. It is old enough that neither of them notice it.
Barak ties his pack to the donkey’s back.

NOAH: Do be careful, Barak.
BARAK: I will. I shouldn’t be more than a couple of days. Don’t forget our emergency plan.

Noah rolls her eyes dramatically, recites in singsong.

NOAH: If trouble, go to old man Harhas’ in Kedesh, or to Aunt Mim’s past the hill. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t play with flint and steel. We’ll be fine, Barak.
BARAK: I know you will. Keep Ben out of trouble.
BENNOAM: Hey!
BARAK: And Ben?
BENNOAM: Yeah?
BARAK: Keep Noah out of trouble.
BENNOAM: You got it!

Ben sticks his tongue out at Noah, pulls it back in before Barak can see him.


EXT. THE PALM OF DEBORAH - EVENING

Eighty PEOPLE in small groups form a crooked line heading up a hill. Some hold objects or animals. Most frown.
Three fresh-faced teenage girls, TAMAR, ABBY and AZUBAH, walk about, interviewing people and writing on clay tablets.
Under a palm tree, Deborah speaks to two MEN. A low table before her is bare except for a handful of documents on one corner weighted by a chunk of glassy blue slag.
Next to Deborah stands PEREZ, a nice-looking teenager with peach fuzz starting on his lip and chin. Perez busily writes. He shakes his hand to relieve a cramp, writes again.

Yards away, sweaty and dusty, Barak dismounts from his donkey.

BARAK: Just like you practiced, Barak. Stay calm. Just like you practiced.

Barak leads the donkey past the line. He avoids the glares and GRUMBLES of the crowd.
A strand of hair has slipped loose from Deborah's head covering and plays about the corner of her mouth. Her lively eyes dart, then fix upon her audience, then assess Barak with a piercing and pure gaze.
Feeling naked and almost swallowed by her beauty, Barak stumbles. He bangs his toe, drops the donkey’s lead. He wipes his hands on his thighs.

DEBORAH: You, sir. Who are you?

Barak swallows. He steps toward her.
The donkey follows him.
Perez, protective, draws closer to Deborah. He fingers a knife in his belt.

BARAK: I am Barak son of Abinoam of Kedesh Naphtali.
DEBORAH: Welcome, Barak son of Abinoam of Kedesh Naphtali. You must now go to your place.

Deborah gestures toward the back of the line.
Those nearby LAUGH. Deborah glares. They stop.

BARAK: (stammers) Judge Deborah, I didn't come all this way to talk about goats and petty offenses. I come about Sisera’s move on Zaanaim!

Deborah jumps to her feet, bumping the table. Papers scatter. Barak catches the blue slag before it falls.
Deborah clenches Barak’s arm. She lowers her voice.

DEBORAH: Sisera’s move on Zaanaim?
BARAK: Yes. Something’s going on. Sisera is raising tents on the plain.

Deborah signals Perez.

DEBORAH: That is all for today.

Perez nods, turns to the two Men and speaks with them. The Men frown and gesture, but they leave. Perez calls to the other Assistants.

PEREZ: Tamar! Abby! Sis! Judge Deborah has called recess.

Deborah lowers her voice again so only Barak will hear.

DEBORAH: You must speak with my husband. Come.

#TheSongofDeborah part 2 by #mrfb

Last week, I introduced you to Sisera, the bad guy, and Deborah, the heroine. Fast forward 3 decades. Here's where the movie really starts. To introduce the rest of the players, this installment will be longer.
Heber is a Kenite, meaning that he is a long way from home. In Hebrew, Heber = "comrade" and Jael = "mountain goat." Deborah means "bee" and Barak means "lightning bolt." I wonder if Russell Crowe would like playing Lapidoth. He's been doing those kinds of roles lately.
Fun screenplay tip: in the weeks to come, see if you can decipher what the color blue means.
Oh, parental guidance suggested for violence and sexual situations. I promise there will be no bad words or smoking, though.

INT. 35 YEARS LATER - HEBER’S SMITHY - DAY

Hammers and tongs neatly line the walls of HEBER’S blacksmith shop. Air shimmers above a glowing fire pit. A chunk of glassy blue slag holds down a diagram written on ragged parchment. Next to it rests a device like a spring.

On the anvil perches JAEL, a sexy forty-something with olive skin and tousled black hair. Her shoulders flirt from her loosened dress, her long legs circle Heber’s waist.

Heber, dark skinned, shirtless and muscular, kisses Jael’s neck. He caresses her thigh with a massive hand, murmurs delightedly.

HEBER: I’ll have to show you my creations more often.

JAEL: I’m so happy for you, Heber. You’re a different person when you’re inventing      things.

Jael abruptly hops off the anvil, picks up the springy device.

Heber shivers from desire but dons his apron.

HEBER: I expect it may change the way people ride. Maybe change the world.

JAEL: When will you start using these – what did you call it? Lateral dampers? Are you going to sell them to Sisera?

HEBER: Sisera?

JAEL: Nine hundred chariots, that’s eighteen hundred of these! That would be about–

Heber snatches the damper from her hand.

HEBER: Why is it always about money with you?

JAEL: Money? It’s about a better life! Don’t you see that? 

Heber places his invention in a drawer. He slowly closes it.

HEBER: Jael, there are some things a man cannot sell to his enemies.

JAEL: You’ve already sold yourself, so what does it matter? 

Heber clenches his fists. Unclenches them.

HEBER: You’d better head home. I have work to do.

Jael draws her hair back, straightens her dress. She goes to the door.

JAEL: I’m sorry, Heber. I’ll see you at home. 

Outside, HORSES GALLOP. A chariot SKIDS to a halt.

JAEL swears.

HEBER: Who is it? 

JAEL: Sisera. What does he want now?

Heber hides the parchment document in a slot with other papers.

SISERA barges in. Two menacing THUGS follow, strut toward Heber.

HEBER: Good day, General.

SISERA: Heber, I’m disappointed.

HEBER: Sir?

SISERA: Word has it that someone is supplying the Jews with new farm equipment. Equipment with blades and handles.

The Thugs push Heber against the anvil.

Jael tries to intervene. Sisera grabs her, neatly pulls her arms behind her back. She kicks, can’t connect.

SISERA: I told King Jabin that I knew you wouldn’t do such a thing, that Heber the Kenite is loyal to the crown. Heber the Kenite certainly wouldn’t be selling weapons to the King’s enemies!

The FIRST THUG punches Heber in the stomach. Heber sucks in air but doesn’t cry out.

The SECOND THUG holds Heber’s hand just above the coals in the fire pit. He laughs at Heber’s frightened eyes, then relents. Heber yanks his hand away.

Jael struggles against Sisera.

JAEL: Time was when a man did his own dirty work!

SISERA: Now, now, Jael, a gentleman must keep his hands clean. 

Jael eyes the tools on the wall. One has a hooked end.

The Thugs pummel Heber until his knees buckle. They wrench him back to his feet.

JAEL: Sisera, make them stop! Please! Heber!

Sisera clamps both her wrists in one hand, caresses her face with his other.

SISERA: Tell me you prefer a laborer’s rough and dirty hands to these.

JAEL: Leave us alone, you mixed blooded Canaanite pig!

SISERA: Time was when you didn’t mind this mixed blooded Canaanite pig. Time was you liked this mixed blooded Canaanite pig. Time was you would have borne this Canaanite pig’s child.

Heber coughs up blood. His eyes connect with Jael’s.

SISERA: Or maybe time was you did bear this Canaanite pig’s child! 

The Thugs break Heber’s arm. Heber crumples to the dirt. Jael shakes herself free. She drops to Heber’s side.

JAEL: Heber! Heber, answer me! Heber!

Unhurried, Sisera and the Thugs depart. On the way, Sisera picks up the blue slag, bouncing it in his hand. He dashes it to pieces on the anvil.

EXT. SHEEP FIELD IN NAPHTALI - THE NEXT DAY

BARAK, a handsome Israelite shepherd, early twenties, sits under an acacia tree. His eleven year old brother BENNOAM plays above him in the branches. 

Bennoam tickles Barak’s head with a straw puppet. Barak swats as if it were a fly. Bennoam pulls it out of the way, then repeats.

Without looking, Barak speaks.

BARAK: All right, Ben, you have my attention.

BENNOAM: What are you doing, Barak?

BARAK: Thinking. What are you doing?

BENNOAM: Watching you. Getting bored.

Bennoam swings down from his branch, hangs before Barak.

BENNOAM: I know! You’re thinking about a girl. Barak’s got a girlfriend! Barak’s–

Barak scowls but speaks gently.

BARAK: Knock it off, Ben.

Bennoam plunks in front of Barak, sits.

BENNOAM: I’m sorry. Tell me. Please?

BARAK: Ben, you’re in front of the sheep.

BENNOAM: You weren’t watching the sheep.

Barak stretches out his legs. Hideous scars mar his shins. The scars are old enough that neither he nor Bennoam notice them.

Barak smiles kindly.

BARAK: Very well. I am thinking that I need to see Deborah.

BENNOAM: That old lady in Ephraim?

BARAK: She’s not old.

BENNOAM: To me she is.

BARAK: Do you want me to tell you or not?

Bennoam nods.

BARAK: It looks like Sisera’s up to something in Zaanaim. There are piles of ore and a continual fire. I saw more tents and more troops, too.

BENNOAM: But Deborah’s in the other direction.

BARAK: She’s the judge for all of Israel. She will know what God wants me to do.

BENNOAM: You, Barak? How? You’re not even an elder.

BARAK: I know. That’s why I need to see Deborah.

BENNOAM: Oh. 

Bennoam shrugs, turns for home.

Barak fidgets with his staff. He gets up and follows Bennoam.

BARAK: Hey, Ben! Tell your sisters they’ll need to start cooking earlier tonight. I’m going to slaughter an extra lamb. (to himself) I’ve got a long journey ahead of me.

EXT. LAPIDOTH’S TENT - NIGHT

Moonlight paints the sands blue-white. The muffled BLEATS of sheep rise and fall.

A slender hand opens the flap of LAPIDOTH’S darkened tent. Lapidoth’s wife DEBORAH emerges: beautiful, outdoorsy, barely forty.

She lays a mat and bolster on the sand. She reclines, shifts, turns, finally lies still.

Sweat glistens on her lip. Her hair curls damply. She looks at the sky, closes her eyes. Drowses.

Lapidoth, fifteen years her senior, grey-bearded and stern, appears behind her. He tightens his robe.

LAPIDOTH: Deborah, what are you doing out here?

DEBORAH: Oh! Lapidoth! I am sorry; I could not sleep. 

Lapidoth faces north.

LAPIDOTH: It is not safe for you to be out here alone. You know I do not like it.

Deborah makes room for Lapidoth. She pats the mat.

DEBORAH: Forgive me. You are awake, too. Why? 

Lapidoth sits beside her.

LAPIDOTH: Today Heber said he will do no more business with me. There was a – a disagreement.

DEBORAH: A disagreement? You two have long been friends. Surely you may make amends.

Lapidoth rises and paces.

LAPIDOTH: Would that we might! You know that Heber also labors for King Jabin.

DEBORAH: Yes, chariots and weapons for the Canaanites, plows and hammers for Israel. Has something changed?

LAPIDOTH: It seems the king of Hazor is a better customer than I.

DEBORAH: So Heber has finally chosen. Is it not better, then? A true enemy is better trusted than a friend with two faces.

LAPIDOTH Perhaps. In the past, Heber’s dual alliance provided a strategic buffer for Israel. But now, Jabin’s armies may freely access both the north and south of Israel. I fear war is imminent.

DEBORAH: I see.

LAPIDOTH: And this is why I do not sleep.

Lapidoth scans the sky. One bare foot touches the mat, one is in the sand. Deborah rests her hand on his leg. Lapidoth looks at her tenderly.

In the moonlight, Deborah’s bared arm shines white, her loosely braided hair gleams blue-black. Palm trees WHISPER in a distant oasis.

LAPIDOTH: Deborah, if tonight were the last of all we knew, what would you want more than anything?

DEBORAH: I think I should like to make love with you, right here in the moonlight!

LAPIDOTH: (abruptly) Don’t be foolish. Come inside.

Deborah looks up at the moon as if to say goodbye. Wilted, she meekly follows him into the tent.

The Song Of Deborah page 1

Just for fun (and shameless self promotion), I decided to blog one of my screenplays in serial fashion. I decided to start with The Song of Deborah. It is based on Judges 4-5.

As this is a screenplay, to read it, you will see some directions such as "fade in." You'll then see a scene opening and time of day. Next comes the action.
Although it will be different from actual screenplay format, for the purpose of readability, I'll put a speaking character's name in caps. Screenplays are about showing rather than telling. It shouldn't take long to get used to the style, once you know what you're seeing.

The Song of Deborah by Miriam RF Berry page 1

FADE IN:

I/E. ANCIENT PALESTINIAN WILDERNESS - DAY

The Mediterranean sparkles, mountains ripple in the heat. Ancient olive trees caress the ground. Sheep dot a hillside. The sun glares over a brambly outcropping.

Below, SISERA and two THUGS race on horseback. They torment DEBORAH, a small girl in a torn and dirty dress. She clutches a tattered doll to her breast.

YELLING and WHOOPING, they drive Deborah through the brambles, up the rocks. She cowers behind a boulder.

Sisera’s horse ascends the rock. It stumbles, sending pebbles down on Deborah.

As Sisera regains control of his horse, he spots a figure in the distance. He WHISTLES to the Thugs.

SISERA: Fun’s over. Here comes SHAMGAR!

As Sisera and the Thugs gallop off, more pebbles strike stones, stones strike rocks. The earth shifts under Deborah. Rubble and debris pelt her.

She disappears, except for her tiny hand. Her hand goes limp, inches away from her doll.

EXT. ANCIENT PALESTINIAN WILDERNESS - MOMENTS LATER

SHAMGAR, rough, rugged, not handsome, carries a broken ox goad on his shoulder. He searches along the rocks. He stops suddenly at a half-buried doll.

He uses the goad to pry up a rock, drops to his knees, frantically digs with his fingers.

He reaches Deborah. She is unconscious. He sweeps her up in his arms.

SHAMGAR: Wake up, little girl. God has more plans for you than this. You must live. Please, little girl. Live!