Miriam (32 page)

Abram believed the
L
ORD
, and he credited it to him as righteousness.

—
G
ENESIS 15:6

M
iriam mashed a few more dates in the bowl, then added a little honey to make the paste spreadable. It was a treat that would taste especially good with the bitter herbs Yahweh had required for their meal tonight.

Sattar slept peacefully near their lamb. Both had finally settled in the corner on the fresh straw Hoshea had gathered for bedding—one of the chores he'd completed this morning. Miriam stretched her hands, working the muscles out after grinding and mashing all afternoon.

She let her mind wander to Hoshea's early years. He was a good boy. A shame his abba had been killed at Kadesh. Eleazar and Putiel never spoke of how Nun died, only that he was one of many Hebrews needlessly killed on that dreadful campaign. Two things had changed when Eleazar returned from Kadesh. He'd taken Nun's son, Hoshea, under his wing to train and protect, and he'd turned his back on Yahweh—but that seemed to be changing. To think of him here tonight, celebrating Yahweh's deliverance with his wife…

Her heart was full.
Thank You, Yahweh.

But tonight would be a somber celebration. She swished the wild lettuce, milk-thistle, and endive in water; these would be part of their bitter herbs for this evening's meal. They'd grown wild since the locusts ate everything else. Bitterness grew naturally in Egypt. It was the grain and livestock that took time to replenish.

Because of Yahweh's early warning, the Hebrews would have enough grain for tonight's unleavened bread and the seven-day supply Moses had instructed them to grind, but what then? Would they arrive in the Promised Land before the grain ran out?

“Enough worrying!” Miriam waved her hand as if shooing away flies. “If Yahweh can send frogs and flies and locusts, surely He can lead us to a city to buy a little bread.” Sattar perked his ears and cocked his head as if she'd gone mad. “I haven't lost my mind yet, but I might if these young people don't help me when I ask.”

Where was Taliah? If Masud's father had agreed to the circumcision, she would have returned for Miriam's help. If he refused, why wasn't she—

“Doda!” Eleazar's voice cut through the village noise. “Doda, help her.” He nearly tore down the curtain, running through the doorway with Taliah in his arms.

Miriam dropped the bowl in her hands and splayed her sleeping mat on the floor. “Lay her here.” She grabbed the basket of bandages and herbs she'd carried from village to village, while Eleazar placed his wife gently on the mat.

Blood stained Eleazar's arms and Taliah's abdomen. “Where is she hurt?”

“Dagger to the belly.”

“Yahweh, help us.” Nudging him out of the way, she knelt down and ripped Taliah's robe away. “Are you hurt, Eleazar?” she asked as she pressed wadded linen to a cut as long as a blade that sliced Taliah's bulging belly just above the bend in her leg.

“Just tend to her.”

“I asked, are you hurt, boy?” Miriam barked, trying to remain calm.

“No.” His chin quivered, and he pushed his thumb and fingers against his eyes, pressing back tears. “But Mosi is dead. He saved her.”

“Where was she? I thought—”

“She came looking for me at the armory.”

Miriam lifted the bandages and pulled the wound apart to determine its depth. Taliah groaned, drawing her legs up in pain. “Hold her legs down.” Eleazar did as she asked, pressing his face against his arm, unable to watch.

Replacing the bandages with clean linen, Miriam wiped the sweat from Taliah's brow. “I don't think the blade sliced through the muscle. The baby's sack is still intact.” She grabbed Eleazar's hand and pressed it against the wound. “Your hands are larger. Keep even pressure all the way across the cut.”

Taliah moaned again, regaining consciousness though still groggy. “Eleazar? Oh, it hurts.” She started to roll, curling her body into the pain, but Miriam pressed down on her shoulders while Eleazar kept pressure on the wound.

“You must be brave, my girl.” Miriam spoke quickly, firmly. “Poppy seeds would dull the pain but they would also induce labor. Your baby could not survive yet, so you must be brave while I stitch up the wound.” She kissed Taliah's forehead and eyed Eleazar. “Talk to her. Keep her calm. This will not be easy.”

Miriam pushed to her feet, reached back into her basket for the flint knife, and removed Eleazar's hair tie. Without asking permission, she cut a few strands of his long, curly mane and retrieved the small bone needle she used for stitching deep cuts.

Taliah began to whimper and turned away, covering her eyes with her arm.

“You're going to be all right,” Eleazar said. “Our son is alive, and you are going to live.”

Having threaded the needle with three strands of Eleazar's hair, Miriam nudged his hand aside to begin. Taliah whimpered again, panicked.

“Wait!” Eleazar grabbed his hair tie and placed it between her teeth. “Remember? Bite down on this.” He smiled through his tears and grabbed her hand, letting her squeeze as Miriam made the first stitch.

Taliah growled against the pain, and Eleazar stroked her forehead. “Our son will be born a free babe. He'll grow up in Yahweh's promise, own his land, marry a wife, and give us fat grandbabies we can bounce on our knees.”

Miriam sewed as fast as caution allowed. “Keep talking. Keep talking.”

“And I'll build you a home with four walls, a real door, and more than one window. We'll have a cow and goats—I hate sheep. They're stupid animals. Goats are much smarter.”

Taliah chuckled through the groaning and tears, clenching her teeth on the same hair tie that bore her teeth marks from almost a year ago. Miriam worked and listened as the two of the people she loved most celebrated life and freedom amid their pain.
Yahweh, how far You've brought us and what a journey lies ahead.

Taliah rested quietly, exhausted from blood loss and pain, Eleazar at her side. Doda tossed the soiled bandages in a basket to be washed in the Nile before they left Egypt. They must conserve since there would be no linen shop a short walk away after tomorrow's deliverance.

Eleazar rubbed his face, weary at the thought of the military march to come with a whole nation of women and children. It was insanity. Marching an army across the Philistine Highway had been dangerous, but marching the Israelites to Canaan would require power from Yahweh beyond anything He'd displayed yet. Of course, if He could change the wind to direct the locusts' flight and make the mighty Nile bleed, Yahweh could somehow protect a traveling nation—but how?

He cradled his wife's delicate hand between his large, callused palms. Taliah wasn't the only person in Israel who would need special care for the journey. Gently resting his hand on her belly, he wondered about women in labor or those who delivered a child tonight. What about the elderly or infirm? Israel would be free of Ramesses's cruelty, the slave masters' whips, and the endless days of hard labor, but what of food, water, provisions? Had Yahweh's people considered the costs as well as the benefits of leaving Egypt? Had he?

Footsteps outside their window intruded on his thoughts. Moses hurried in, covered in dirt. “How's Taliah? And the baby?”

“Both will be fine.” Doda wiped her hands, beaming. Her confidence lifted Eleazar's spirits. “You're filthy. What have you been doing?”

Moses offered Eleazar a sympathetic look. “I took a few slaves from the armory to the Levite burial cave. We didn't have cloth or herbs for Mosi's body, but we placed him beside Abba and Ima. Hoshea is still at the armory to organize weapons distribution.”

Eleazar nodded, swallowing the thick emotion. “Thank you for honoring my friend and burying him with Saba and Savta.” He wanted to believe his friend's soul dwelt in paradise with Abraham, but he didn't know the deeper things of faith. For all those years, he had refused to listen when Doda or Saba spoke of such things. Now, he must know. “Will I see Mosi again in paradise?”

Moses glanced first at Doda then back at Eleazar. “I wish I could give you the answer you want, Eleazar, but the truth is, I don't know. Yahweh hasn't revealed to us as much about the afterlife as we'd like to know, and our fathers have refused to invent stories like the Egyptians.”

Eleazar felt like a rock landed in his gut. “Is there a paradise where Abraham waits?”

“Yes,” Doda chimed in. “Those who believe in Yahweh's promise by faith are welcomed into Abraham's bosom upon their death to await the eternal fulfillment.”

Eleazar reached for Taliah's hand, wishing she'd wake. She was the one who loved words and debates and all this intellectual nonsense. But she was still sleeping, and he had to know. “Mosi never had a chance to be circumcised. Does that mean he…”

Again Moses hesitated, allowing Doda to answer. “Circumcision is a necessary element of our faith, it's true, but God considered Abraham as righteous before circumcision, because of his faith. Do you think Mosi had faith in Yahweh?”

Relief washed over Eleazar as he remembered his friend's words the night of the meeting at the plateau. “Absolutely. He said only Yahweh could get Ram to give the weapons key to a slave nation. He believed, Doda. I know he believed, and he intended to be circumcised and eat the Passover meal with us this evening.”

“That's why I buried him in the Levites' cave.” Moses eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I think you'll see your friend again someday, Eleazar.”

Lifting Taliah's hand to his lips, Eleazar pressed a kiss there and wept.
Thank You, Yahweh, for Mosi, for Taliah's life, for our deliverance.

“You must come at once!” Abba Aaron stood in the doorway with Ithamar, breathless and panicked. “Kopshef rallied the army, and they've sealed off the armory—with the slaves inside.”

Eleazar was too stunned at Ithamar's presence to fully appreciate the urgency. “Ithamar, you're here.”

Abba shot an accusing stare at Eleazar. “I went to retrieve him for tonight's meal just as Kopshef returned to the palace, bloody and beaten! We heard him say it was you who—”

“Yes, he was beaten! Do you even care what Kopshef did to my wife?”

Moses stood, pressing a hand against Abba Aaron's chest. “What do you mean the Hebrew slaves are trapped?”

“When Kopshef returned to the palace, he went straight to Pharaoh and told him Ram had given Eleazar access to the weapons cabinets. He said the slaves mutinied when he tried to retrieve the key. Furious, Ramesses sent guards to Ram's chamber and placed him under house arrest, stripping him of his title. He immediately made Kopshef military commander of Egypt, and Kopshef's first order was to surround the armory and lock the gate—with the slave soldiers and all the extra weapons inside.”

Moses turned to Eleazar. “We have a bigger problem than weapons. Every firstborn in that armory will die tonight unless we get them out of there by twilight.”

Fear coiled around Eleazar's throat, nearly choking off his words. “Hoshea was Nun's only son.” He watched the realization settle on Moses's features. “Hoshea is a firstborn.”

Eleazar scrubbed his face, frustration and dread warring inside. “Ram had the only key to the weapons cabinet, and only Pharaoh and his commander hold keys to the armory gates. No one is escaping that armory unless the Egyptian army helps us tear down the walls or the king or Kopshef opens the gate.”

He stared at Moses, waiting for a brilliant idea, but his uncle walked to the corner where their Passover lamb stood nervously bleating. He knelt down beside it and stroked its muzzle. Eleazar hoped his silent chat with the lamb inspired a miracle. Eleazar looked down at his sleeping wife, thankful she didn't know Hoshea's life hung in the balance.