Miriam (22 page)

Then the
L
ORD
said to Moses and Aaron, “Take handfuls of soot from a furnace and have Moses toss it into the air in the presence of Pharaoh. It will become fine dust over the whole land of Egypt, and festering boils will break out on people and animals throughout the land.”

—
E
XODUS 9:8–9

T
he cloying smell of smoking hooves, flesh, and offal hung in the air over the city of Rameses after the total annihilation of Egyptian livestock four days ago. Eleazar much preferred the smolder of the armory forges and the distraction of the skilled Hittites pounding and shaping new battle-axes. He'd worked hard to restore his relationship with the Hittites after disciplining them and would work harder still.

“Thank you for your work,” he said to the chief iron worker, meeting his hard stare. “It's not easy to aid the nation that enslaves you.”

The Hittite paused his hammering. “I don't forge weapons for Egypt. I do it to save my back from the whip.” He plunged the hot iron into a tub of water, sending a rush of steam into the air and ending their exchange.

And Taliah wonders why I struggle with conversations.
Eleazar moved to the next Hittite, their burly red-haired leader. Surely he would understand that Eleazar couldn't allow the sabotage of ax heads to go unpunished. As slave commander, Eleazar walked a fine line between his fellow slaves and his Egyptian master. Prince Ram must trust him implicitly, but the slaves must also know Eleazar was their brother, subject to the same ruthless masters.

As he approached the central furnace, he noted one Hittite elbow another and point behind Eleazar. Curious, Eleazar looked over his shoulder, and his knees nearly buckled. Moses and Abba Aaron had gained entry through the armory gates and were headed toward Eleazar.

The metal worker leaned close and chuckled. “Aren't they the Hebrew magicians? Maybe they'll set the Hittites free too.”

Eleazar rushed to meet them, hoping to send them on their way before Prince Ram arrived for their sparring session. “What are you doing here?”

Moses kept walking. “Yahweh told us to collect ashes from a furnace.” Abba Aaron glanced nervously right and left. Sparring soldiers in the circles of combat ceased their training, and several Hebrew soldiers bowed as Moses passed by.

Eleazar stepped in front of his uncle, halting his progress. “You can't just walk into the armory and take what you want.”

“I won't take it, Eleazar.” He paused, eyeing the forge. “You're going to give it to me.” He stepped around him and walked directly to the central Hittite furnace and greeted the chief iron worker. “I'll need some soot to take to the throne hall.”

The Hittite turned to Eleazar for approval but suddenly looked from Moses to Aaron to Eleazar and back. “Commander, you resemble these old Hebrews. Are you related to the magicians?” He goaded his Hittite buddies. “Maybe the commander will turn his cudgel into a serpent.”

“Enough!” Eleazar took a single step toward the furnace, when a hand abruptly whirled him around.

Prince Ram stood inches from Eleazar, betrayal written on his features. He stared at his personal guard as if seeing him for the first time, then examined the enemy Hebrews. “You're related, aren't you?” The muscle in his jaw danced as he waited for an answer.

Eleazar's thoughts whirred, trying to condone his deception, but a soldier made no excuses. “Moses is my uncle. Aaron, my abba.”

Ram's nostrils flared, and Eleazar prepared himself for the blow that was sure to come. He deserved death, perhaps torture. Instead, the prince stepped back and addressed Moses. “Conduct your business, and I'll escort you to the throne hall myself.”

Moses pointed to the furnace's lower compartment where the ashes fell, and the chief Hittite slipped on his glove, turned the latch, and opened the grate. He scooped several handfuls of soot onto a tray to cool, stirring the ashes. No one spoke.

“Cool enough?” Moses asked. The Hittite nodded, giving Moses the go-ahead to scoop the ashes into a pouch on his belt. He paused near Eleazar for an excruciatingly long moment. “Your family misses you.”

In that moment, Eleazar wanted to spar with Moses—using real swords. How dare he and Abba march into the armory without warning, without Eleazar's permission? Despite his anger, he was relieved they hadn't revealed Taliah's identity or the fact he was married. The reminder that Eleazar hadn't been home in weeks heaped burning coals on his already guilty conscience. He hadn't visited Goshen since the plague of flies, but it wasn't because he'd forgotten his wife or his responsibilities.

Prince Kopshef had offered to send Egyptian physicians to check on the condition of Eleazar's failing grandparents—a threat veiled in kindness. As far as those in the palace knew, Saba and Savta had died the next day, and Eleazar's excuse to live in Goshen died with them.

“Very convenient that your grandparents should die the day I plan to send my physicians to check on them.” Kopshef's smirk had hinted at victory.

Eleazar made no reply, but he'd noted Prince Ram's suspicious glare. As the only Hebrew among the royal guards, Eleazar had always been singled out for scrutiny, but Ram had defended him as unimpeachable. The plagues—especially after Yahweh made the distinction between Hebrew and Egyptian—had driven a deeper wedge between all Hebrew slaves and their masters. Eleazar had been trying to regain Prince Ram's trust by proving himself loyal and available, day or night.

Today's revelation of family ties had demolished any trust he'd rebuilt.

Eleazar's silence communicated his anger, and Moses returned his attention to Prince Ram. “I'm ready to see Pharaoh.”

Ram extended his hand in the direction of the palace. “Well, if you're ready, lord Moses…” His sarcasm preceded a seething glare at Eleazar. “You will follow us to the throne hall.”

“Yes, my prince.” Eleazar noticed Hoshea watching from one of the weapons compartments, and he prayed the boy stayed away. If Ram meted out his fury on Eleazar, Hoshea was fully capable of assuming the role of commander.

Prince Ram led Abba and Moses out of the armory toward the palace complex, and Eleazar provided rear guard. No one spoke as they passed through narrow pathways between charred remains of animal carcasses. The cleanup had almost finished, and Egyptian shepherds were now choosing which Hebrew animals would be taken as Egyptian flocks and herds. By the time they entered the palace gates, the sun was directly overhead in a cloudless sky.

Prince Ram led Moses and the others into the palace through the back entrance, again forgoing the public baths and formal linen robes. “I'm sure Pharaoh's public forums are over for the day, but he may still linger in the throne hall. I'll show you to the princes' quarters.”

They climbed a marble staircase and walked through a large courtyard where Ram's wife played with their children. The youngest daughter ran to her father and hugged his legs. Ram leaned down and hoisted the little princess into the air, inspiring giggles and more hugs. As the prince set her down and patted her behind, she ran back to join her brothers.

Ram turned to the men, narrowed his eyes, and clenched his teeth. “These are the ones who suffer from your plagues, Moses.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and led them up the second marble staircase and then down a narrow hallway with intricately carved doorways lining both sides. Eleazar knew this route to the courtroom as well as he knew his own name, and he'd grown immune to the luxury until he saw wonder fill Abba's expression. Persian pottery sat atop marble half pillars. Luxurious tapestries bearing the purple shades of Phoenician dyes graced every wall. Floor tiles the size of grapes fit together in a splendid sea of designs. Prince Ram opened the gold-plated door at the end of the hall, and they emerged directly onto Pharaoh's dais.

The throne hall was nearly empty. A few stragglers from the day's petitioners remained to settle accounts with the scribes. Eleazar saw his brother Ithamar rolling up his scrolls and neatly arranging his pigment and reeds. Six firstborn princes were gathered around the king, as well as a few of his advisors and magicians.

Ramesses glanced over his right shoulder at the same time some of his officials spotted Ram and his motley band emerging from the prince's entry. Pharaoh failed to hide his disgust. “What are you doing, Ram? Why did you parade Hebrews through the palace?”

“I wanted them to see where my children play and where your sons sleep.” He led Abba and Moses off the dais, down the steps, and pointed to the spot on the red tapestry where they were to stand. Eleazar followed, taking his place behind Ram, keeping his head bowed as the prince addressed Moses. “I want you to realize who is being harmed by these plagues of yours. When your god killed Egypt's horses last week, it was my sons' army he weakened. When your god killed our goats, he took milk from my children, and dead cattle means less meat for our tables.”

Moses kept his tone even. “What about the Hebrew children who have never tasted goat's milk or eaten red meat? What about Hebrew households who now have no livestock because you seized their animals when your own died in the plague?”

“We take only enough to survive,” Ram said. “We'll purchase more from the traders when they arrive.”

Moses raised an eyebrow. “Am I to believe you'll return the Hebrews' livestock when you buy more?”

“Enough!” Ramesses slammed his flail. “Every animal in Egypt belongs to Pharaoh because every slave belongs to Pharaoh. I will not quibble over hooves and snouts.” He glared at Moses. “Why are you here?”

Without a word, Moses reached into his pouch and threw a handful of soot in the air. He repeated the action until the soot was gone and every Egyptian in the room groaned in stunned agony. Festering boils appeared on every scar left from the biting flies. The wounds that had healed weeks ago now bulged with angry sores.

Eleazar examined his hands and arms. The remnants of his fly bites remained a light brown on his olive skin. No sign of the plague that caused the Egyptians in the room to writhe in pain. He met Ram's gaze and saw more silent accusation. Did he think his suffering brought Eleazar pleasure? They heard screams from the residential wing through which they'd come.

“Out!” Pharaoh screamed. “Get out!”

Abba Aaron turned in a hurry to flee, but Moses bowed slowly, holding the king's gaze as he backed all the way to the exit. A retired soldier knew better than to turn his back on a wounded enemy.

Prince Ram drew near Eleazar and whispered through gritted teeth. “Make your choice now, slave. Are you a son, or are you a soldier?” His whole body trembled, and Eleazar wasn't sure if it was rage or the painful sores that caused it.

“I am Hebrew by birth, but I am loyal to you by an act of will, my prince.” Eleazar bowed his head in submission. “And my will is stronger than Hittite iron.”

“Then escort your father and uncle to the palace gates and return with a report on when these cursed sores will leave us.” Eleazar turned to go, but Ram grabbed his arm. “And find a way to stop their god, or I will find a way to make you suffer with us.”

The fine hairs on Eleazar's arms stood at attention. He rushed from the great hall and found Moses and Abba descending the ramp at the northeast corner of the palace.

Moses saw him first, and a smile graced his weathered face. “You've decided to come home! Miriam and Taliah will be delighted.”

“I've decided to rebuild my master's trust, which you destroyed when you marched into that armory.”

Moses's expression turned to granite. “When Yahweh commands, I obey. He said to get soot from a furnace. That's what we did.” He began his march without awaiting a reply.

Eleazar stepped in front of him. “I understand that you're a soldier under authority, but I'm a
slave
soldier whose only armor is his honor. It's all that protects me from Ram's wrath. You stripped away my protection today, and I must regain it, or none of us will be safe.” He grabbed a handful of Moses's robe and pulled him to within a handbreadth, grinding out the words. “Make sure you don't ever reveal Taliah's connection to me. That would be the last foolish thing you do.”

Moses's expression was full of pity. “Do you really think you can protect Taliah when you can't even protect yourself? Taliah is under Yahweh's care—as are we all.”

Eleazar released Moses with a humorless laugh. “You'll forgive me if I'm not comforted that my wife is guarded by a God who is destroying the strongest nation on earth. All I've seen is Yahweh's wrath. I see no compassion.”

Abba Aaron's head was bowed, silent as usual in the face of conflict. But Moses met the challenge with fire in his eyes. “You want compassion? You, who refuse to be a husband? You, who ignored Miriam's grieving? Are you really standing in judgment of our God, who has come down to rescue His people after four hundred years of ruthless bondage?”

“Yes!” Eleazar growled. “I judge a God who kills the righteous with the unrighteous.”

“Do you condemn a God who blesses you with a child though you deny Him and abandon your wife?”

Eleazar staggered backward, the words hitting him like a blow. “What did you say?”

Moses's features softened. “Taliah is pregnant, Eleazar. She was hoping to tell you when you came home, but since you refuse to return…”

Eleazar felt the blood drain from his face. Words failed him.
A child.

“Miriam says Taliah should deliver during next year's inundation—if we're still in Egypt.” Moses stiffened. “But you need not worry. Both Taliah and the child will be cared for.”

Eleazar looked at Abba Aaron, and shame crawled up his neck and cheeks. At least Abba and Ima had raised him for the first twelve years of his life. “Perhaps it's best I not return to Goshen at all. I'll have Ithamar draw up an Egyptian document of divorce, and I'll provide a healthy sum for her and the baby. Taliah will have what every woman wants—a child—and she need not keep suffering my failures.”