Miriam (27 page)

Tell the people that men and women alike are to ask their neighbors for articles of silver and gold.

—
E
XODUS 11:2

M
iriam sat beneath her favorite palm tree, Sattar snoring softly by her side. She buried her hands in his fur and let the new sounds of Egypt waft over her. Though the season of
Shemu
had come, no harvesters picked ripe fruit. No slaves swung sickles in the fields. Only the slosh and slurp of the Nile interrupted the silence of devastation. There was no barley for beer, no flax for linen, no normalcy in the wake of Pharaoh's stubborn resistance.

The day Moses had been summoned to end the darkness, the khamsin's wind faded. As shadows lifted from the city of Rameses, the safety and peace of Goshen's three-day light-cocoon had drawn Hebrew slave and Egyptian peasant together. Both had tasted freedom from Ramesses's malevolence and formed stronger bonds than Pharaoh's edicts imposed.

Taliah's village school had been a powerful melding force. She invited any child who wished to learn, and her classes had grown to three sessions a day of thirty children each. Little heads bent to watch as she scribbled maps and letters and pictures in the dust. Dirty faces lifted in rapt wonder as she recounted Egypt's history—and that of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Moses appeared each day to authenticate the military tales and thrill the young boys who ran off after lessons to play with wooden swords.

But Taliah's cheerful expression was replaced with distant stares each evening when she left the long house to stand at Goshen's edge and wait for Eleazar.

Miriam wiped tears from her cheeks. “He isn't coming home this time, is he, Yahweh?” Did Taliah sense her husband's death? Is that why she ignored the message Moses brought home from Eleazar, promising they'd be reunited when Israel left Egypt? Miriam pressed her fists against her eyes, forcing the tears to stop.
I'm trying to trust You, but must You take everyone I love?

“I thought I'd find you here.” Moses's voice intruded, and she looked up to find not only one brother but Aaron, Hoshea, and Hur as well.

Sattar never stirred. She tousled his fur. “Some watchdog you are.” Miriam shaded her eyes against the midday sun, levity fled, fear of the worst nearly choking her. “Have you heard something about Eleazar?”

“No, no!” Moses knelt beside her, holding her gaze. “We're here to make preparations for the journey into the wilderness.”

She searched his eyes for anything held back but saw nothing. Then she measured the others' expressions. The men sat down in a half circle around her with the stoic calmness of their gender. Relief swept over her like a wave, and she swatted Moses. “Don't scare me like that again.”

“I'm sorry, but I needed to speak privately with those I trust.” He drew her close and whispered, “Eleazar will be all right. Yahweh has plans for our nephew.” Miriam's throat tightened with emotion as Moses began his impromptu meeting. “Each of you has a vital role during our last days in Egypt.”

Our last days in Egypt.
The words cut Miriam like a sword. “This is really happening, isn't it? We're really leaving Egypt.” She blurted out the thought, interrupting whatever Moses was saying.

His face lit with that lazy grin. “Yes, Miriam. In a matter of days, you will no longer be a slave in Egypt.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “How does that feel?”

As a matter of fact, it was terrifying. Everything that had happened in the past eight months had been beyond astonishing, but far more upheaval than an eighty-six-year-old woman expects to encounter at the end of life.

But Moses hadn't waited for her reply. “Hur, you and Aaron will work together to reconfigure our tribal leadership. Yahweh requires seventy elders—six from each tribe with the exception of the Levites, from which Aaron and I will serve as two of the six.”

Miriam laughed, wide eyed. “You want to give the Reubenites the same number of elders as Judah?” She looked at Hur and then Aaron. “Tell him. The righteous tribes—Naphtali, Levi, Judah—will never allow Reuben and Ephraim and—”

“Yahweh commanded it, Miriam.” Moses's voice was soft but firm. “We must learn now to obey or remain in Egypt.”

The finality of his words settled into her spirit.
Learn now to obey or remain in Egypt.
“All right, Moses. What can I do to help?”

“Aaron will call the whole assembly of Israel together for a meeting in three days at dusk. At that meeting we'll announce the final plague and describe Yahweh's precautions for His people in order that no one in Goshen will die. I need you to work with the women after that meeting to make sure their meal preparations are precisely as Yahweh has instructed. The women know you and trust you. You've either been midwife for the births of their children or brought them into the world.”

Miriam sat a little taller. Finally, something she felt equipped to do. “I'll ask Taliah to accompany me. That way she'll get to know more women, and they'll see her devotion to Yahweh.”

“Good, good.” Moses paused, looking nervously at each member of the group. “The next task will likely sound as strange to you as it did to me when Yahweh spoke.” He tore at some sprigs of grass and tossed them in the air with a sigh. “Yahweh wants every Hebrew—men and women alike—to ask our Egyptian neighbors for articles of gold and silver.”

Miriam stared, incredulous. Hur rubbed his chin, Hoshea's eyebrows rose like the eastern hills, and Aaron studied his sandal laces. Was she the only one willing to ask the hard questions? “Our neighbors have barely enough grain to put bread on their tables. How can we ask them to give us their treasured possessions when we've only recently gained their trust?”

Moses rubbed his temples, eyes closed. He wasn't convinced this was a good idea either. “Some Hebrews work for Egyptians in the palace, others for noblemen, so they have more to give. Yahweh said every slave is to ask his or her neighbor for gold and silver—and for clothing. This is how we will plunder Egypt's wealth without lifting a single weapon.” With another deep breath, he lifted his eyes, weariness heavy on his brow. “Again, Miriam, I need you to speak to the women about this. Hur will talk to the men in the villages.” He turned his attention to Hoshea. “We're to gain weapons in much the same way. I need you to go to the armory and find Eleazar. He must ask Ram to give us weapons—”

“No!” Miriam would hear no more. “It's too much, Moses! Yahweh asks too much. We don't even know if Eleazar is alive, but if he is, must he tempt the executioner further by asking Ram for weapons? No!”

She grabbed her walking stick and tried to push to her feet, but Moses stopped her. “Does Yahweh ask more of you than He's asked of me? Haven't I given up my wife, my sons, my parents? I'm asking you to do no more than I've done myself. Obey, Miriam. We must all obey in order to reap the promises of the God who loves us.” His words stung, but worse was his quick shift of attention to Hoshea. “Will you go to the armory?”

“I will.”

The boy's two simple words smothered Miriam in shame—inescapable, binding shame.

Hoshea stood immediately, and Moses lifted his hand for help to stand. “I'll go with you. I want to see if Eleazar is there.” He looked back at Miriam. “At least then I can assure my sister he's alive.”

Did Hoshea's courage spring from the exuberance of youth or from stronger faith? Did it matter? Looking up at him and Moses, Miriam shielded her eyes from the sun. “When are we to begin asking our neighbors for gold and silver?” She didn't even try to hide the defeat in her tone.

“As soon as Yahweh provides the opportunity.” He patted Hur's shoulder. “When you tell the people, let them know God will make a way.”

“We will,” Hur said. “Be careful at the armory.”

Moses and Hoshea walked away, and Hur scooted into the shade with Miriam, Sattar between them. “I'm not sure which will be more difficult. Getting gold from our Egyptian neighbors or prying Judah's hands from the scepter they think they inherited from Jacob's ancient blessing. Those elders will not give up their authority willingly.”

His friendly banter was endearing but not helpful. “So you're not oblivious to the obstacles, just silent when it matters.” Why didn't he speak his mind instead of watching quietly while others made decisions for him?

“I believe Yahweh speaks to Moses clearly. I trust Yahweh. I trust Moses. What more is there to say?”

“But it's not that simple!” Hadn't she said those same words to Eleazar when he was criticizing Yahweh?

“Of course it's simple, Miriam. It's simply not easy.”

She glared at him, this man with his integrity and wisdom and faith. Why couldn't he do something hideous so she could have a reason to be angry with him?

“Marry me, Miriam.” His penetrating stare stole her breath—those light-brown eyes so full of love—for her.

Surely, she hadn't heard him correctly. Better not to say anything than to make a fool of herself and—

“Did you hear me? I asked you to marry me.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

“I…I…heard.”

“My son Uri and grandson Bezalel have given their blessing. They thought it foolishness at first—because we're old—but when I pointed out that you and I will need help traveling through the wilderness, they agreed we could be very useful to each other.”

“You want to marry me because I'm useful?”

“No, no, no.” Hur reached for her hand, brow furrowed. “That didn't come out at all the way I'd planned. I want to marry you because I have loved you for as long as I can remember—first as a friend, then as Israel's prophetess, and now as a woman. Please, Miriam, honor me by becoming my wife.”

Yahweh, what are You doing? Where are You?
She'd had no warning this was coming, no time to adjust. How could she become a wife after a lifetime of serving only One? She loved Hur, yes, and she'd come to grips with that, but to betray her calling as Israel's prophetess by marrying another?

“No, Hur. I can't marry you.”

She pulled her hand from his grasp and reached for her walking stick, but he rested his hand on her arm to stop her. “Why? I know you love me. Tell me why.”

Tears threatened. Her first thought, her commitment as Yahweh's prophetess, was far more noble, but was it the truth? Or did the reason come from a much deeper, darker place in her soul?

Miriam pushed herself to her feet. “I will not marry you because I can't lose you too.”

“Lose me? What do you mean?”

Miriam kept walking, Sattar at her heels, leaving Hur to his questions and herself drowning in her fears. She had served El Shaddai her whole life. He'd been enough—her love, her life, her all. But in the past eight months, He'd revealed Himself as Yahweh and had revealed His nature by His actions. She had always known Shaddai's love. Now, she was seeing Yahweh's power, and it terrified her. He'd taken Abba, Ima, and Eleazar from her—everyone she held dearest in the world. If Yahweh meant her to be alone, she dare not let Hur get too close. With a will of iron, she would pursue an obedience like she'd seen in Hoshea—even if her heart felt like a boulder in her chest.

On that same night I will pass through Egypt and strike down every firstborn of both people and animals, and I will bring judgment on all the gods of Egypt. I am the
L
ORD
.

—
E
XODUS 12:12

E
leazar held a bronze shield in one hand and a
khopesh
—sickle sword—in the other. The curved sword with its hooked end could snag the Nubian's shield away, but if Eleazar got too close, Kopshef's guard would bring down his battle-ax and split Eleazar's head.

It was the third day Ram and Kopshef had pitted their personal guards against each other in the sparring ring. All other matches ceased, and a chorus of Egyptian soldiers chanted, “Kill the Hebrew. Kill the Hebrew.” Evidently, Eleazar's blood would suffice as partial retribution for Yahweh's plagues.

“The Egyptians will not kill you themselves.” Mosi leaned heavily on distracting his opponent while fighting.

“Why would any Egyptian hesitate to kill me?”

Eleazar lunged with his khopesh, but Mosi was quick. He swung the ax in the opposite direction, barely missing Eleazar's right shoulder. “Kopshef is sure the Hebrew god protects you as it protects Moses.” He smiled, revealing white teeth filed to points. “We'll see if you are protected.”

Another swing and miss, and this time Eleazar smiled. “Don't blame Yahweh for your poor skills, my friend.” Circling the ring, he watched for an opening, any sign of weakness in the Nubian. He didn't want to harm him, only disarm him.

Mosi lunged to his right but swung the ax to his left, inflicting a minor cut on Eleazar's thigh. “It would appear your god lets you blee—”

Tipping Mosi's ax with his shield, Eleazar then hooked his opponent's shield with his sword and flicked it aside, slicing the battle-ax's shaft with an upward swing of the khopesh.

Mosi stood defenseless with a wooden stick in one hand; his smile turned to resolve. “Finish it.”

Eleazar stepped to within a handbreadth. “I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.” He threw his weapons in the dust and stalked over to the Hittites' forge to check on the progress of the new iron spearheads.

“It's the third day in a row Kopshef's Nubian has lost.” The chief metal worker pointed to the center sparring ring, where Mosi stood like a statue while Prince Kopshef lashed him with his whip.

“Perhaps if Kopshef would stop beating his best fighter, the Nubian would be able to kill me.” The whole row of Hittites laughed as if they'd been drinking and brawling all night. Barbarians, all of them, but somehow Eleazar had won their loyalty, and for that he was grateful.

Prince Ram glanced in their direction and shoved his brother away from Mosi, perhaps offering the same advice Eleazar had mentioned to the Hittites. The two princes stormed from the armory, leaving Eleazar under the watchful eye of the man who tried to kill him each day.

Eleazar hurried over to the Nubian, who drew his dagger and turned when he heard the quick approach. Eleazar lifted his hands in surrender. “It's just me.”

Mosi relaxed and sheathed his weapon. “We serve fools.”

On that much, they agreed. “Are you to be my watchman again today?”

“I'm to report to Kopshef if you have any contact with your uncle or father.”

“I have too much work in the armory today. The Libyan revolt has resolved since Egypt no longer has food supplies to raid, but we need to replace all the spearheads for Ram's division.” He started back toward the iron forges and raised his fist in the air, shouting, “Looks like another day of banter with the Hittites!” The barbarians jeered and cursed, already starting their good-natured goading.

Mosi groaned behind him. The Nubian hated the Hittites.

“Eleazar! Eleazar, wait!”

The deep male voice struck dread into his soul.
Moses.
Eleazar whirled on his uncle and found Hoshea escorting him. “What are you doing here?”

Mosi joined them, exchanging a concerned glance with Eleazar. He'd have to report their presence to Kopshef. Too many Egyptian soldiers stood staring at Moses to keep this visit a secret.

Hoshea's pitiful expression apologized before he opened his mouth. “Listen to the whole message from Yahweh before you say it's impossible, and remember all the impossible things we've already seen Him do, and—”

“Can we trust him?” Moses nodded toward Mosi, and then recognition swept over his features. “Aren't you the guard who brought Eleazar to the long house after his beating?” He grabbed Mosi's arm and turned him to see the fresh whipping wounds. Shaking his head, he didn't wait for Eleazar's answer. “You'll want to hear what we have to say.”

More curious than ever, Eleazar glanced right and left at the gathering crowd of onlookers. “Let's at least move to a private corner in the slave quarters.” He led them to the eastern wall of the armory, and noticed Moses's lazy grin appear. “Why are you smiling?”

He pointed to the weapons cabinets. “We've come to talk to you about those.” Shaking his head, Moses chuckled and placed his hands on his hips. “Just when you think Yahweh isn't paying attention, He intervenes on a small detail like that. Israel needs those weapons when we leave Egypt, Eleazar, and Ram will give them to you.”

“Hah. Oh really?” Now, it was Eleazar's turn to laugh, and Mosi joined him.

“I know this Hebrew god commands nature,” said the Nubian, “but he does not command royalty, or your people would have worshiped in the wilderness by now.”

Moses's humor dissolved, and he shot a questioning glance at Eleazar. Could they divulge Yahweh's plan to free Israel, not merely give them a festival reprieve? Eleazar nodded his approval to Moses.

“In three days' time, Aaron will call a meeting at the base of the plateau at dusk for the whole assembly of Israel. At that time, we'll announce the last plague.” Moses looked at Mosi. “The final plague will kill every firstborn in Egypt, both man and animal, unless the inhabitants are within the walls of a house with lamb's blood on the doorframe. Yahweh has issued strict rules for the meal that night while the death angel passes over. Pharaoh will drive Israel out—along with all foreigners who align themselves with the Hebrews and are obedient to His instructions.” Moses pointed to the weapons cabinet with one hand and placed the other on Eleazar's shoulder. “When we leave, we must have that sparring gear and extra weaponry. It's up to you and Hoshea to get these cabinets unlocked and arm every man in Israel.”

Panicked, Eleazar looked at his apprentice. As usual, Hoshea's expression fairly glowed with faith. “Yahweh will make a way.”

While Eleazar still processed the magnitude of the task, Mosi leaned into their circle, keeping his voice low. “May I attend this meeting with Eleazar and eat the strict meal in the house with the lamb's blood?”

Moses's expression reflected Eleazar's surprise, but something more caused his uncle to hesitate. “I must tell you, my Nubian friend, that there is one other requirement that must be met for a foreign man to be saved from this plague and be counted among the people of Yahweh.”

Abraham's covenant.
Eleazar knew the moment Moses spoke of being counted among Yahweh's people.

“Anything,” Mosi said. “I'll do it.”

“You must be circumcised.”

If a Nubian's skin could grow pale, Mosi's most certainly would have. He stepped back as if Moses might seize him to do the cutting then and there. Eleazar waited silently, watching perhaps the fiercest fighter he'd known make a decision about a man's most delicate part.

Finally, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I'll be at the meeting with Eleazar, and you'll have your weapons.”

Moses and Hoshea nodded their approval and walked away, leaving Eleazar with the man he'd known for only a short time, but had truly come to know only within the last few moments.

“What made you decide to follow Yahweh?” He spoke barely over a whisper.

Mosi watched the retreating figures of Moses and Hoshea. They stood in silence for so long that Eleazar assumed his new friend chose not to answer. But when he moved away, Mosi grabbed his arm and met his gaze. “My name is Mosi—meaning firstborn. I was first among twelve brothers in my tribe.”