Work Text:
"Devora! Devora!"
The child looked up from the letters she was drawing in the ashes and blinked. "What, Imma?"
Her mother was frowning. "I had to call you four times already. If that's what listening to your brothers' lessons does to you, maybe you had better stop!"
I'm sorry, Imma," said the girl, politely, but she did not look ashamed as she stood up and faced her mother.
"Here, take this out to your brothers. It's lunchtime already."
Devora peered into the covered basket. Cheese, olives, figs, bread…and wrapped in a big fig leaf, one of the sticky honey cakes that their mother had baked this morning. Devora's breath made a little eager sound before she could stop it.
"Don't worry," said Imma. "I saved one for you. But run off, before Kemuel comes all the way back looking for his food."
Devora closed the basket and went after her brothers, who were herding the family's goats and sheep up in the hills a mile off. Imma should have packed two cakes, she thought. Those two will just fight over this one instead of sharing.
She found her brothers by the little spring the seeped out of the rocks, sheltered by myrtles and terebinth trees. Kemuel had climbed up into the tallest tree and was hanging from his knees. Lavan was playing an aimless little tune on a pipe he'd made a few days ago. The goats saw Devora before the boys or the sheep did. She held the basket up over her head, out of their easy reach. "Hey! Wake up, you two, or the billy goat will eat your lunch!"
Lavan stopped playing and smiled at her. Kemuel grimaced and flipped himself down from the branch. This would have been more impressive if he hadn't stumbled and fallen onto his bottom when he landed. Devora smiled and Lavan burst out laughing.
"Shut up!" growled Kemuel, rubbing his buttocks. He picked up his staff and drove the goats away from his sister and the lunch basket. "Give me that!" he said to her.
Devora wrinkled her nose and handed him the basket. He took it over to the shade of the tree and started unpacking it. "Hmm, yeah, hmm…aha!"
"What?" said Lavan. "Oh—honey cake!"
"What honey cake?" said Kemuel, innocently. He unwrapped it and started to take a big bite of it.
"Kemuel!" shrieked Lavan.
"Stop!" said Devora. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried.
Kemuel stopped and scowled at her. "You're always so bossy. You're not Imma! You're only nine."
"You have to share. There's only one of them. But look, it's huge."
"I'm the oldest. I should have most of it."
"But a man has to provide for his family. You're almost a man. Lavan needs to eat more. Isn't that what Imma and Abba always say?"
Kemuel's eyes flicked over to look at Lavan. Their little brother was small for his age and too thin. He was prone to fevers and coughing, too. "Fine. I'll split it."
"You have to do it fair," said Lavan. He looked worried.
"Like Devora said, I'm almost a man. I know how to split a cake, brat."
"Don't call him that," said Devora. "And if you split it, he gets to pick which piece he wants."
"Look, you bossy girl—"
"You said you know how, right?"
For a minute, she thought he would hit her. Then he sighed and put the cake back into the basket. "Fine. Lavan gets first pick." He pulled out some bread and cheese. "Come on, Lavan. Devora, go back and help Imma."
Lavan got up and came over but his eyes were on his sister. "What about you, Devora?
She smiled at him. "Imma saved me one. Don't you worry!"
Her heart was light as she trotted home. Kemuel had listened. He knew she was right.
Imma met her at the door. "You were a while! I was afraid jackals had eaten you!"
Devora shook her head. "I just had to make sure the boys shared the cake."
"What, were they fighting?"
"Lavan never fights."
"That's true. So what happened?"
Devora explained as her mother put out the food for the two of them and baby Khanna. Imma sighed and shook her head. "That Kemuel! Your father should have a talk with him."
"No, Imma. He'll share it right. I know he will."
"Because you made him. Huh. You have a sharp sting for such a little bee."
The next night, Abba came home late from an errand into Ramah. Devora was supposed to be asleep, but she was waiting for him, on her mat with her eyes closed, because she knew he had been to talk to the boys' teacher about his daughter.
"What did he say?" asked Imma.
"She can listen and learn in the mornings, with the boys. She will sit apart. Efraim's eldest daughter, the widow, will sit with her."
"Doesn't he think this will make it hard for us to get her a husband?"
"He says no, not as long as you make sure her behavior otherwise is womanly. And he cited the proverb of the wise Solomon, that a virtuous woman is worth more than rubies."
"God be praised," said Imma, quietly. Then: "Little big-ears honeybee: go to sleep!"
Devora smiled and obeyed her mother.