Miriam (26 page)

If you refuse to let them go, I will bring locusts into your country tomorrow. They will cover the face of the ground so that it cannot be seen. They will devour what little you have left after the hail, including every tree that is growing in your fields.

—
E
XODUS 10:4–5

M
iriam pulled the last rounds of bread from their small clay oven and tossed them in the basket to share. Hur poured camel's milk in five clay cups, Eleazar dispensed the boiled goose eggs, and Taliah passed the basket of dried figs to Moses. Their household was among the few with enough for two meals a day.

It had been a month since the hail had destroyed more livestock, the barley, and the flax. Once again Pharaoh had taken from Goshen to provide for his palace and noblemen's tables. Rather than blaming Moses for their plight, neighbors continued to bring gifts to Yahweh's messenger. Moses, knowing the givers' poverty and hunger, always offered a gift in return which was often accepted with humble thanks. Israel's deliverer was gaining favor with his fellow Hebrews and the Egyptians, who were realizing just how crazed Ramesses had become.

“What will you tell Ram of Yahweh this morning?” Moses popped a fig into his mouth and passed the basket to Eleazar. It had become a morning ritual, this quizzing of Yahweh knowledge.

“Well, I can't tell him the story you told me last night. Abraham's willingness to offer up Sarah's firstborn, Isaac, would not bode well with Ram.”

Taliah shifted in her seat, anxious to interject as always. “But isn't that exactly what Ram wants? He'll perceive Yahweh as illogical and therefore weak.” She hadn't skipped a single chance to debate about Israel's God. It was as if she thrived on it.

“Ram might think Yahweh weak at the moment, but when Moses announces the final plague…” Eleazar shot an accusing glance at his uncle but let the air crackle with his unfinished thought.

“What final plague?” Taliah asked the question burning in Miriam.

Moses, looking distinctly uncomfortable, heaved a deep sigh. “When I left Midian, while I was on my way to Egypt, Yahweh said Israel was like His firstborn, and because Pharaoh had so mistreated His firstborn and refused to let us go…” He dropped his gaze and then spoke quietly. “He will kill Pharaoh's firstborn.”

Miriam heard her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Kill Pharaoh's firstborn?
“Which one?”

Moses lifted his hand, forestalling more questions. “I don't know any more than that. You know how the plagues have been. Yahweh tells me some details but seldom a full description. He told Aaron and me to use the staff for the first three plagues but didn't bother to inform us that the Egyptian magicians would duplicate the plagues with their dark arts.” He kicked his plate, sending wine and food flying.

The room grew silent in the wake of Moses's uncharacteristic outburst. Miriam laid a hand on his arm. “What is this about, Brother?”

He wiped both hands down his face and then looked up at those he loved. “I'm the abba of a firstborn son, Miriam. I know what losing him would do to me.” He pointed to Taliah's belly and pinned Eleazar with a stare. “Your firstborn may be a boy. What if he was killed because of
your
stubborn pride and disbelief?” He pulled his hands through his hair and expelled a deep breath, regaining a measure of calm. “Ramesses will not let us go for a simple three-day journey into the wilderness, and because of his prideful resistance, he will lose his wealth, his power, and his sons.”

Eleazar's features clouded. “Don't tell me you feel sorry for him.” He looked to Hur and Miriam for answers, but they remained silent. His anger returned to Moses. “How can you feel pity for a madman?”

Moses raised his head slowly, his features drawn and weary. “It's more than pity, Eleazar. I'm angry at his obstinance. Confused by his stupidity. And I'm ashamed that he calls himself the son of my friend Sety.”

Moses began tidying the mess he'd made, blowing dust off bread and dates. Miriam stilled his hands. “Go. Take Sattar to the palm tree and talk to Yahweh.”

He paused, deep sadness in his eyes. “Yahweh has already spoken, Miriam. Aaron and I will pronounce the eighth plague to Pharaoh today. Locusts will cover the land tomorrow and destroy what's left of the crops and vegetation. The Egypt my friend Sety left to his son will be unrecognizable.”

Moses's words summoned the images of Ramesses's nightmare, and she turned to Eleazar. “Yahweh is the invisible force that cut off the ten toes of Sety's statue until it toppled over and shattered into a million pieces.”

Moses looked perplexed, but Eleazar nodded. “Doda was summoned to interpret Ramesses's nightmare shortly before Abba and Hoshea left to meet you in the wilderness. We're seeing the dreams fulfilled.”

“What can we do to prepare?” Miriam sat back on her knees and took Moses's hand.

His shoulders visibly lifted as if her words shared the burden. “You and Hur organize the elders. Taliah, talk to the Hebrew children. Harvest everything from our Hebrew gardens today—even if it's not quite ready. Onions, cucumbers, garlic, leeks, herbs, melons, figs, wheat—everything. Nothing green will survive the army of locusts coming tomorrow.”

“We can't harvest all of it.” Miriam glanced at Taliah who would help her organize the women. She was strong but nearly six months pregnant. “And what will we do with everything? We don't have room to store it all.”

“Dry it,” Moses said. “Wrap it. Prepare it for our journey to God's Promised Land. Pharaoh still thinks I'm asking for a three-day journey, but when he finally drives us out, it will be forever.” He pushed to his feet and offered a hand to Eleazar. “You can escort me to your abba Aaron's long house and then to the palace. We'll concoct a convincing weakness to report to Ram before I declare to Pharaoh God's coming power.”

Hoshea pressed his forehead against his sleeping mat as Eleazar tended fresh wounds. “Aahh! Are you scrubbing my back with hyssop branches?”

“I'm sorry. We have only wool bandages since the palace confiscated all linen for trade.”

Ram had beaten Hoshea every day for the past two weeks since the plague of locusts began. The army of insects had come with the east wind in a single night, and by morning the ground had undulated with them. They weren't just creeping, crawling creatures, but messengers of destruction that devoured every green sprig and growing fruit in Egypt. When Pharaoh summoned Moses to plead for Yahweh's deliverance, a mighty west wind caught up the locusts and swept away all hope with them.

Egypt was ruined, and Ram meted out his frustration on poor Hoshea.

The boy's back looked like the braided reeds Ram used to whip him, fresh wounds crisscrossing the partially healed ones. Though the prince usually alternated Hoshea's beatings in method and location—some days a cudgel to the belly, other days a whip to the back—today, the prince had discovered from Hebrew spies that Goshen was hoarding dried vegetables, fruits, and grains that they'd harvested before the locust attack. Ram had decided to make a spectacle of Hoshea's beating, tying him to a whipping post in the armory so every military slave under Eleazar's command could watch.

And he'd told them it was Eleazar's fault. Perhaps he should have told Ram about the dried food, but would it have spared Hoshea a beating? No. Clearly, nothing Eleazar said now made a difference.

“All the men hate Ram, you know.” Hoshea sniffed, and Eleazar knew he was crying. “Even the Hittites respect your strength, Eleazar. They know your loyalty is to your people and our God. Every slave soldier under your command would turn on Ram after the way he's treated us.”

Eleazar clenched his teeth against the ache in his chest. “My actions aren't about strength or loyalty. They're about protecting my wife and child.”

Eleazar spread more honey and dried henna on a bandage before placing it on another long stripe on Hoshea's back. They no longer had the luxury of pouring out honey or using full henna leaves. The healing supplies had dwindled from the plagues.

“I suppose something good has come from all this.” Hoshea spoke quietly, laying his cheek on his hands.

Eleazar tried to chuckle, but the effort sounded brittle, forced. “What possible good has come from poverty and starvation?”

“Other than Pharaoh and his officials, most Egyptians have become far kinder to Hebrews.” He let loose a real belly laugh. “A slave master apologized for accidentally hitting me with the butt of his spear yesterday. Can you believe it? He apologized.”

The sounds of sudden screams cut off Hoshea's levity and brought Eleazar to his feet. Light from their doorway disappeared as soldiers giving orders drew both Eleazar and Hoshea into the underground hallway—and into total darkness.

“How can it be dark?” Hoshea whispered. “It's midday.”

Eleazar looked in the direction of the arched entries at both sides of the tunneled hall and saw nothing. He reached for the doorframe to secure his bearings, and Hoshea stood shoulder to shoulder with him.

“What do we do?” The boy's voice sounded small in the whirling roar of a violent wind.

“It's a khamsin, Hoshea, nothing more.” Eleazar heard the tremor in his voice and knew he hadn't convinced his apprentice or himself. The typical spring windstorms blew in sand from the desert and could cause temperatures to climb from unbearable to dangerous. This was different. Though sand was collecting at the edges of the entries and sweat was already stinging his pores, Eleazar had never known a khamsin to render the sun completely dark. He held his hand in front of his face but couldn't see it.

“Hoshea, I'm going to stay here while you go back into our chamber and find the flint stones. Feel your way along the wall, and you'll find the stones lying with my sandals and dagger at the head of my sleeping mat.” Eleazar followed the outer wall to his left and lifted a torch from its strap. “I've got the torch. We'll light it and make our way to the throne hall. Pharaoh will want to see Moses again, and we need to be ready to fetch him.”

“In this?” Hoshea's voice squeaked like a maiden's.

Eleazar chuckled. “Yes, my friend. We'll see if Yahweh's protection works for sand as it did for hail.”

Then Pharaoh summoned Moses and said, “Go, worship the
L
ORD
. Even your women and children may go with you; only leave your flocks and herds behind.”

—
E
XODUS 10:24

E
leazar and Hoshea lay in their dark chamber on their sleeping mats. Bored. When the khamsin began, they'd donned full-length robes to protect them from the blowing sand and ventured to Pharaoh's throne hall. It had been deserted. They went next to Prince Ram's chamber, where the guard refused them entry. The prince did not wish to see Eleazar, the betrayer of Egypt.

“I'm sorry,” Hoshea said as they walked in the small circle of torchlight. “You've given your life to serve Ram, and he calls you a betrayer.”

Eleazar pondered the strange peace he felt and wondered why Ram's words hadn't bothered him more. “I haven't given him my life, and I stopped serving Ram when I returned to Goshen and committed never to leave Taliah again.” Though he was caught in this sandstorm in the barracks, he fully intended to keep his promise, even though his wife had limited their relationship to the debates on Yahweh. At least Eleazar had been able to watch her belly grow with the promise of their firstborn son. Yes, he was sure their first child would be a son.

“I'm hungry.” Hoshea sighed. Eleazar heard the telltale
swish-thump
of Hoshea's new talent, throwing a small ball of twine into the darkness and catching it. His friend had mastered the skill.

They'd been holed up in their chamber since the first day of the storm and hadn't ventured far from the barracks since. They'd occasionally snuck out to find a morsel of food in the kitchens or leftovers in a vacant chamber.

“Are you hungry enough to get the robes and clean sand out of your teeth when we return?” Eleazar would rather wait until he was starving. The high winds and burning temperatures made torchlight tricky, and sand snuck into every crevice. He had no idea how long the khamsin had raged. With no sun or moon to measure time, the darkness pressed in on them like a grinding stone.

A loud pounding on their door startled Eleazar. He heard Hoshea try to shuffle toward the door, but his whipping wounds had crusted with scabs, so he moved rather slowly. “I'll get it. Lie down so I don't plow you over.” Waiting until the sound of shuffling ceased, Eleazar moved toward the door and turned the iron latch. A sudden stream of torchlight flooded their room and made him squint.

Kopshef's Nubian guard stood holding the insufferable light. “Mighty Pharaoh commands you to bring the Hebrew Moses to the throne hall immediately.” He hurried away before Eleazar had a chance to thank him. Though the Nubian hadn't done anything to mitigate Eleazar's beating, he'd transported Eleazar gently to Goshen and treated him with respect. It was an unusual kindness.

“We'd better get out the flint stones and robes.” Hoshea's voice came from the yawning darkness of their small chamber. “Are your flint stones still at the head of your sleeping mat?”

Eleazar's heartbeat quickened. “What if we don't take a torch?” Would Yahweh provide light as He'd provided protection from the hail?

Hoshea answered with silence. What was he thinking? Had he even heard Eleazar's question over the roar of the wind in the hallway?

A hand on Eleazar's shoulder startled him. Both men chuckled, but Hoshea spoke first. “I think Yahweh will honor our faith.”

Eleazar took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Was he really ready to try this—without Moses? Yahweh
liked
Moses. Eleazar wasn't sure how Yahweh felt about him. “Let's go.”

Hoshea had already gathered their full-length robes. He shoved one at Eleazar and presumably donned his own to protect the crusted wounds on his back. Completely covered, Eleazar led the way along the dark walls of the barracks hallway. When they reached the arched entryway leading to the open avenue of the palace complex, Eleazar shouted over the wind's roar, “Ready?”

“Absolutely!” Hoshea let out a horrendous yowl and charged into the swirling darkness.

Eleazar followed closely, and both men were swept into an ethereal bubble of light and peace. They stared at each other, astounded, and then reached a hand beyond the light to feel the harsh sand and heat. They pulled their hands back into the bubble and felt the wonder of their protection.

Without a doubt, Yahweh surrounded them, enfolded them, shielded them.

With each step toward Goshen, the light and peace moved with them. The dust beneath their feet was bright and undisturbed, the terrain familiar, marking the way toward Doda's long house.

Finally, they stepped into another world. Goshen. No wind. No darkness. No swirling sand. A few Hebrew children halted their play to examine Eleazar and Hoshea. One ran away, crying, “Ima, soldiers came out of the darkness!”

Eleazar knelt and held out his callused hand to the little boy who remained. Someday his son might be frightened. “We won't hurt you.”

Instead of taking Eleazar's hand, the little boy ran into his arms and hugged his neck, nearly toppling the big man. Startled, Eleazar realized he'd never been hugged by a child before.
What a wonderful feeling.
He squeezed the boy gently, careful not to break him, as tears stung his eyes.

“Hoshea?” Moses came around the corner of the long house and then spotted Eleazar with the child. “Eleazar? What's happened?”

Suddenly conscious of how strange he must appear, Eleazar released the boy and struggled to his feet. “Kopshef's guard sent us to retrieve you. Pharaoh wants to end the darkness.”

Moses raised an eyebrow and rubbed his beard-covered chin. “Three days. It took his hard heart three days to relent.”

“It's been three days?” Hoshea asked. “We couldn't tell because of the darkness. I don't suppose Goshen has seen any wind or sand.”

“Not a grain.” Moses's smile faded when he turned to Eleazar. “Before we return to the palace, I need to tell you…”

His pause made Eleazar's heart skip a beat. “Is it Taliah?”

“No. It's another plague—the final plague.”

“Yahweh is planning another plague before this one is over?”

Hoshea was shocked, but Eleazar remembered Moses's words on the morning before the locusts.
Ramesses will lose his wealth, his power, and his sons.

“Remember, Hoshea, I told you about the final plague during the plague of frogs.” The boy's blank stare goaded Moses. “Yahweh warned me of the last plague on my way from Midian to Egypt. He said—”

“Israel is My firstborn.” Hoshea's face paled. “Has He revealed which firstborns will die?”

Eleazar squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to hear the answer.

“Every firstborn male in Egypt, Eleazar.” Moses spoke softly. “Men and animals. From the lowest slave's house to Pharaoh's palace.”

The three of them stood in silence. What was there to say? Yahweh had given Ramesses every chance to let Israel leave peacefully, yet Ramesses had broken every promise and chosen deception over truth every time.

Eleazar forced a single word from his dry lips. “When?”

“Yahweh has set our deliverance in motion. The plague of darkness began on the first day of the first month of the Hebrew New Year. Nothing Pharaoh says today matters. The tenth plague is coming.” Without another word, he began walking toward the storm.

Hoshea and Eleazar rushed to flank each side, and again the strange bubble of protection carried them through the darkness of Rameses. This time, however, Yahweh ushered them through the palace courtyards and into Pharaoh's presence. Ramesses, Prince Ram, and Kopshef sat huddled in the dark throne hall around a single torch. Wind and sand blew through the tall, narrow windows, threatening their sputtering source of light.

Eleazar noted their awe as the Hebrews approached in the glow of Yahweh's protection. Prince Ram met his gaze and held it. Pharaoh's second firstborn had become hard as Hittite iron. What degradation would he plan for Eleazar and Hoshea after this confrontation? Hoshea must return to Goshen with Moses. He wouldn't survive another beating. For reasons Eleazar couldn't define, he knew in his gut
he
must remain at the palace. Leaning over, he whispered to Moses, “Hoshea goes home with you. I'm staying. Tell Taliah I love her, and I'll be at her side when Israel leaves Egypt.”

To his credit, Moses never broke stride. The three Hebrews continued their march to the edge of the crimson carpet, halting before the throne.

Pharaoh stood, inspecting the light and calm surrounding the three men. His awe abruptly gave way to fury. “Go, worship your god. Your women and children may go with you, but leave your flocks and herds behind.”

“No.” Moses spoke firmly. “Our livestock goes with us for the sacrifices and burnt offerings we present to our God. Not a hoof is to be left behind. We won't know the number of sacrifices required for our worship until we arrive at our destination.”

Ramesses began to tremble with rage, and both princes stood. “Get out,” he seethed, descending two steps. “Get out of my sight, and don't appear before me again! The next time I see your face, you will die.”

Eleazar stepped nearer to Moses, ready to take the blow if Prince Ram or Kopshef advanced with a sword, but Moses nudged him aside and offered a respectful bow. “As you say, I will never appear in this throne hall again.”