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Saturday, February 15, 2014

#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.


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