Miriam

by Mesu Andrews

  “Thank you for your kindness,” he said with a polite nod. “Safe journey.” The curtain fell closed, hiding the man and his family in their dimly lit hut.

  Taliah covered a sob, and Miriam squeezed her eyes shut against the truth that left her breathless. Masud would die tonight—that bright, beautiful, happy boy. Because of Ramesses’s hard heart. Because of Beb’s fear. Because four hundred years of evil men had brought two nations to this impasse. And because Yahweh’s gift of human choice comes wrapped in irreversible consequences.

  “Come, dear. We have a few more visits before we go home to begin our own preparations.” Miriam guided Taliah toward the next doorway, hoping they could save the firstborn inside.

  50

  The LORD made the Egyptians favorably disposed toward the people, and Moses himself was highly regarded in Egypt by Pharaoh’s officials and by the people.

  —EXODUS 11:3

  Eleazar didn’t know which of Ram’s wounds to tend first—the arrow in his shoulder or the betrayal of keeping the plague from him.

  “How long have you known?” Ram shouted the question this time.

  Insides twisting, Eleazar held his master’s gaze. “Several days.”

  Ram choked on a laugh. “I suppose I deserve your hatred.”

  “I don’t hate you, my prince.” Eleazar paused, and decided a dying man deserved the truth. “But I couldn’t trust you. I have a wife to protect.”

  The look of betrayal deepened. “A wife? You said you’d never marry.” He sounded like a child—a lonely little boy.

  “I married to keep a vow, but I will leave Egypt with a wife I love.” Taking a deep breath, Eleazar revealed more. “I hid her to keep her safe.”

  “From me,” Ram said—a statement, not a question.

  Eleazar nodded once. “And from Kopshef. She’s Putiel’s daughter.”

  Ram looked away, turning his back. They watched in silence as the servants dressed the antelopes. Eleazar noted blood pooling on the floor of their chariot. “My prince, your wound must be tended. Please, let me take you back to the palace.”

  “Why bother if I’m going to die at midnight?”

  Eleazar placed the prince’s hand on the chariot rail and snapped the reins, turning the horses toward the palace. “There’s a way for you and your son to survive this plague if you’re willing.”

  Ram glanced at Eleazar suspiciously, wincing as the chariot jostled his wounded shoulder. “Why would you help me after the way I’ve treated you?”

  Eleazar felt this might be his only chance to obey Yahweh’s command. This might be the softest his master’s heart would ever be. “I hold no grudge against you, my prince. I’ll tell you how to save yourself and your firstborn when we’ve reached privacy, but for now I’d like you to consider a request.”

  Ram’s brow shot up. He paused, considering, and then nodded permission to continue.

  Eleazar focused on the stallions ahead of him. “Our God commands Israel to leave Egypt peacefully, but every Hebrew is to ask his master for items of gold, silver, and clothing—only that which our Egyptian masters are willing to give. I’m asking you to offer items from Egypt’s armory.” He didn’t dare look at Ram but simply waited for the refusal.

  “I’ll give you the key hanging around my neck when we get back to my chamber. It unlocks every weaponry cabinet in the armory. Take only what you think the slaves can manage.” Ram’s voice grew husky. “A man who remains loyal after what I’ve put you through deserves my trust.”

  They finished the ride in silence, arriving at the stables to concerned glances and scurrying slaves. “Should I call the palace physicians, my lord?”

  “No!” Ram marched past every offer of help and entered the palace through the servants’ hall, avoiding the royal residence. He grasped Eleazar’s arm, and kept his voice low. “If word reaches my wife that I’ve been injured, don’t let her or my children see me until you’ve bandaged the wound. I don’t want them frightened.”

  “Yes, my prince.”

  Ram stumbled as he resumed his walk, blood still oozing. Eleazar steadied him and then followed without a word as Ram led them through the palace and into the empty throne hall. Several scribes lingered near the doorway leading to their quarters, and Eleazar noticed Ithamar among them.

  His youngest brother saw him too; their eyes met. Had Ithamar heard about the plague? Had he attended the meeting and made plans to eat the prescribed meal within the home of a blood-stained doorway? Ithamar wasn’t a firstborn, so surely he’d be safe even if he spent the night in the palace, but how would he find their family when it came time to flee Egypt? Torn between love for his brother and compassion for Ram, Eleazar remembered the weapons key and knew he must find Ithamar later. Please, Yahweh, find a way to care for my brother through someone else.

  Ram mounted the dais and slipped through the prince’s entry leading to the residential wing. Eleazar knew the guard at his door. “Go to the palace physicians and get all the supplies they use to treat an arrow wound.”

  “But don’t bring the physicians!” Ram snarled, opening his door. “I’m sure I’ll see them at midnight.” Weak now from blood loss, he stumbled toward his bed.

  Eleazar ducked under Ram’s healthy arm, helping him walk a few more steps. “I’m telling you, I know how you can save yourself and your son.”

  “Oh, now you’re going to stop Yahweh? When I’m dying from a chest wound?” Ram sat on the edge of his wool-stuffed mattress while Eleazar removed his sandals, leather breast piece, and wristbands.

  “You’re not dying.” Eleazar threw the last wristband on the floor. “The occurrence of the other plagues depended on one man’s choice—your father’s—but with this final plague, Yahweh gives every man a choice. Everyone who chooses to obey is extended mercy.”

  “Quite noble of your god, Eleazar. What must I do?” Ram’s head drooped, and he was struggling for consciousness. The arrow still protruded through front and back, but Eleazar dare not remove it until he had bandages to pack the wound—his battlefield training had taught him that much.

  A knock came just in time. “Come!” Eleazar looked over his shoulder at the guard, weighed down with four baskets of every bandage, herb, and potion the Canaanite traders had offered. Ram’s business deal had benefited him in more ways than he imagined. “Leave it and go,” Eleazar barked.

  “May I get you anything else?” The Egyptian guard bowed humbly—to Eleazar.

  Ram chuckled. “You must be a firstborn.” He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Get out. You’ll die with the rest of us.” The man hurried from the chamber, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Eleazar’s blood ran cold at Ram’s cruelty. He grabbed two wads of bandages and pressed them into Ram’s hand. “Hold these. I have to break off the tip of the arrow and pull it through. It won’t be pleasant.”

  Crack! Swish! Eleazar did it quickly, something he’d done dozens of times on the battlefield—but never for a prince.

  Ram screamed and then panted when it was over, wide awake now.

  Eleazar grabbed a wad of bandages and held it against the wound in his back and pressed Ram’s handful of bandages against the wound in the front. “Are you ready to listen to me now? Are you ready to save your son’s life?”

  Ram glared at him. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

  “A little.” Eleazar grinned.

  “I’m listening.”

  “You and your son are already circumcised, so you’ve already met one of Yahweh’s requirements. You need only believe He is the One God, bring your family into this chamber, and smear a yearling lamb’s blood on the top and sides of your doorframe. Do these things, and the death angel will pass over you tonight.”

  Ram’s expression remained unchanged. Had he heard, or was he fading again?

  “Do you understand me?”

  “Do you understand that my father would kill me and all my children if I even mention the name of Yahweh in this palace?”
Ram wiped sweat from his face. “Besides, if I live through the night, I think I may win the throne. I’m not about to trade Pharaoh’s favor for a slave’s god—even if that god threatens my life.”

  Eleazar wanted to shake him. “Even if you and Kopshef survive this plague—which you won’t—the crown prince would never let you sit on Ramesses’s throne. You’d be dead now if he’d been a better archer.”

  Ram’s face grew paler. “Kopshef shot me?”

  Eleazar’s single nod hardened Ram’s features to stone.

  The bandages were soaked with blood, so Eleazar reached for fresh ones. “Press this against your chest wound and lie on your stomach while I pack the back wound.” Ram did as instructed, and Eleazar worked quickly. The use of ground and crushed herbs he’d learned from Doda Miriam as a child had made him invaluable as a soldier’s medic on the battlefield. How had he not seen Yahweh’s hand on his life all these years?

  “Turn over, and I’ll pack your chest wound.”

  Without comment, Ram did as he was told, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. Eleazar wanted to say more, to try to convince him to save himself and his son, but what good would it do? If a man refused to believe, refused to value his own life and others, no words in the world could save him.

  “Sit up now, while I secure the wrappings.” Again, the prince of Egypt obeyed his slave without hesitation. After tying the last bandage in place, Eleazar lowered his master’s head onto a down-stuffed pillow, lifted his legs onto the bed, and covered him with a light linen sheet. “Will there be anything else, my prince?”

  Ram reached for the key around his neck and snapped the chain. Finally, he met Eleazar’s gaze once more. “Take it. Give your Hebrews the weapons they need.” Eleazar reached for the key, and Ram held his hand as he received it. “Take whatever gold and silver you can carry when you leave my chamber. I don’t want to see your face again, Hebrew—whether I live or die.”

  A cold shiver worked up Eleazar’s spine as he took the key. “As you wish, my prince.”

  Ram closed his eyes, and Eleazar began collecting gold rings, belts, and chains into a shoulder bag. He stared for a long moment at Ram’s Gold of Praise collar. Should he? Could he? Yes, after four hundred years of his ancestors’ slavery, he most certainly could take it. Fitting the heavy piece of jewelry around his neck, he slipped out the door and came face to face with the Egyptian guard who had retrieved the medical supplies. He looked at the golden collar on Eleazar’s neck and lifted a single brow.

  Eleazar placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “If you are willing to trust Yahweh as the One God, you can save yourself, my friend.”

  A moment of hope dawned before weary sadness washed it away. “A soldier serves his master unto death.” Shoulders back, eyes forward, he let Eleazar pass.

  51

  Take care of [the lambs] until the fourteenth day of the month, when all the members of the community of Israel must slaughter them at twilight.

  —EXODUS 12:6

  Miriam and Taliah finished their last visit with a family of Libyan slaves. The father and his sons chose to be circumcised, and the family would join their neighbors for the sacred meal, saving them from tonight’s grief and securing their freedom tomorrow. Now, past midday, they should still have enough time to make preparations for their own meal and pack the few things they would need for their journey.

  Hoshea stood waiting for them outside their doorway, holding the halter of their bleating lamb. “It’s your turn to care for our friend here while I do something important.”

  Despite her weariness, the sight of the brawny young soldier imprisoned by their tame yearling lamb made Miriam smile. “Caring for our lamb is very important, Hoshea. Did you crush the bitter herbs as I asked?”

  He looked left and right, refusing to shout his answer across the alleyway. He’d been appalled when Miriam asked him to help with “women’s” work. “Yes, I finished crushing the blue succory, marrob root, and coriander,” he said as Miriam and Taliah walked past him into the house. “But I…”

  Miriam saw that only half the chores she’d asked him to do were finished. “But what?”

  “But I’ve been thinking about what Moses and I discussed late last night—shelter for everyone in the wilderness, food, water, transportation for the elderly, sick, and new imas.”

  “You couldn’t work while you were thinking?”

  Taliah giggled as she unpacked her basket. “It’s all right, Miriam. One woman can accomplish twice as much as a man in half the time. Let him go find Moses.”

  Miriam held Hoshea with her sternest look while he waited with raised brows. “Go then.”

  “Where is he going?” Moses shoved aside the curtain. “I had hoped to get some bread and cheese. I’m starving.”

  “There’s bread, hard cheese, and dates in the basket.” Miriam shoved it toward the men with her foot. “Taliah and I have work to do.”

  “It’s past midday, Miriam. Sit down and eat with us.” Moses slipped the bag off her shoulder, removed the basket from her arm, and then guided her to the mat Taliah had spread for them. “We’ll eat quickly and share our news.”

  Frustrated but a little relieved to sit down, Miriam sliced the bread and broke off pieces of cheese while Taliah passed the dates. “Taliah and I visited all the villages and were able to delegate some teaching to other women so that every household was reached.”

  “Good, good.” Moses bit off a piece of bread and chewed as he talked. “After announcing the plague to Ramesses and his nobles at dawn, I went to the armory and told the Egyptian soldiers. Most of them went home to be with their families—as I’d hoped—leaving me there with the slaves to work out shelter and transportation plans for our departure.” He looked at Hoshea. “Why didn’t you tell me there are hundreds of tents and at least fifty wagons at this armory and just as many at Pithom?”

  Hoshea’s mouth gaped. “I didn’t know the exact numbers. Eleazar is in charge of the battle equipment.”

  “Where is Eleazar?” Taliah asked Moses. “Was he with Prince Ram this morning when you announced the plague?”

  Moses shot a withering glance at Miriam and took another bite of bread. “Yes, he was with Ram.”

  “Out with it,” Miriam said. They had no time for hedging.

  “Eleazar and Mosi were driving chariots for their princes this morning when I announced the plague. Prince Ram looked like he’d been shot with an arrow—”

  “Shot?” Taliah said. “Was Eleazar hurt?”

  “No,” Moses said. “It must have been some sort of hunting accident. I left right after the pronouncement, so I assume Eleazar returned to the palace with Ram. I’m not sure where Mosi is. Neither of them came to the armory this morning.”

  “When will they come for tonight’s meal?” Miriam asked the question she knew Taliah was aching to ask.

  Moses issued her a chastising grunt. “They know we slaughter the lamb at twilight. They’ll be here.”

  An awkward silence followed. Of course, they knew when the lamb would be slaughtered, but Miriam wanted answers. And she wanted to talk to Hur. When she and Taliah had visited his son’s village to teach the women, Hur had been at an elders’ meeting. When Moses had met with him, it had always been elsewhere, never here in her long house.

  Was she really keeping him safe by keeping him at a distance? Suddenly, her finely shaped arguments felt more like thinly veiled excuses. Yahweh, please speak to me clearly—as You used to. Show me Your will in a way I can’t deny.

  “We asked Masud’s father to reconsider the circumcisions.” Taliah changed the subject. “He refused again.” No tears this time, simply a report of the tragic reality.

  Miriam felt a twinge of guilt, pining over Hur when people’s lives were at stake.

  Moses leaned over and covered Taliah’s hands with his own. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you love Masud.”

  She nodded. “If you love someone, you don’t give up. You don’t rest unt
il you’re sure they’re all right.” She looked up at Miriam. “Right?”

  Miriam’s throat tightened with emotion. Was Hur all right? She forced the word out. “Right.”

  “Absolutely,” Moses said, patting her hands. “We won’t give up until our loved ones are safe. I’ll find Aaron and send him to the palace to get Ithamar. Though the boy isn’t a firstborn, he’ll be safer in Goshen with his family.” He turned to Hoshea. “You go to the palace and find Eleazar. He’ll know where to find Mosi. You bring them both to the armory, and we’ll organize the wagons. I’ll go now and ask Hur to have the elders get a count of how many sick, elderly, and imas with newborns need a place on those wagons.” He lifted his eyebrows to the group. “Everyone know their job?”

  Miriam wanted to volunteer to speak with Hur personally—but not about wagons. There was simply no time. “Yes, General.” She forced a grin and winked. “Go, while Taliah and I prepare for tonight’s meal.” She pushed to her feet, bones creaking and muscles screaming their protest. She hoped Hur saved a place for her on one of those wagons.

  Perhaps she could find him when they left Egypt, seek him out among the tribe of Judah. What would she say? At least she could apologize. But for what? Maybe he’d find a nice widow to help him travel. Miriam had cheated herself out of the happiest days of her life.

  Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Miriam refocused on the tasks at hand. They’d need more water for their meal tonight. “Taliah, would you…”

  She looked around the room and found herself alone. Well, not completely. Sattar sat at the doorway, making sure the yearling lamb didn’t escape. “Where did that girl go?” Miriam asked her furry protector.

  He didn’t answer, but it was all right. Miriam was almost certain the girl went to plead once more with Masud’s father.

  52

  For the generations to come every male among you who is eight days old must be circumcised, including those born in your household or bought with money from a foreigner—those who are not your offspring.