Miriam

by Mesu Andrews

  24

  Do not be quick with your mouth,

  do not be hasty in your heart

  to utter anything before God.

  God is in heaven

  and you are on earth,

  so let your words be few.

  —ECCLESIASTES 5:2

  Miriam dabbed a damp cloth on Abba’s lips and then offered Ima the same bit of moisture. Both were conscious but still severely dehydrated. They’d spent the day sequestered in the adjoining room, preparing a reluctant young bride. Taliah had consented to the marriage late last night, but only after Miriam assured her that Eleazar had explained his true motives after Taliah had stormed out. Her nephew was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. Their marriage would be a secret not because he was ashamed but because he was cautious.

  Taliah’s nervous chatter helped distract Miriam from Abba and Ima’s grave condition. “I haven’t braided my hair or painted my feet with henna since my days in the harem. Without a mirror, it’s hard to tell if my braids are even.” She patted the top of her head, where she’d coiled the two long strands in a pile and fastened them with an acacia bloom. “How do I look?”

  “Lovely, dear.” Miriam set aside the cloth and cup of water. “I have something for you.” She rolled to her knees and waited for the room to stop spinning before standing. She’d had no water yet since she awoke. “Ima Jochebed and I have some things tucked away in our linen basket. We want you to wear them with the blue sheath Eleazar gave you.” Miriam rummaged through the stack of baskets in the corner, digging beneath Abba and Ima’s extra robe and tunic. “Here they are.”

  Taliah’s gasp was exactly the reaction she’d hoped for. “I’ve never seen a Hebrew robe so fine, Miriam, and the head covering. Where did you get them?”

  Ima Jochebed’s voice crackled. “My wedding…”

  Miriam winked and explained. “Ima wore the head covering when she wed Abba, and the robe was mine from when I was handmaid to the pharaoh’s daughter, the woman who raised your Saba Jered.”

  Miriam dropped the garments into Taliah’s waiting hands. “Step behind the stack of baskets and try them on.”

  Without any more coaxing, the girl hurried behind the baskets. She soon reappeared with the feather-light cloth gently hugging her curves and the head covering draped over her braids. “What do you think?” Radiant, Taliah twirled in a circle.

  “Beautiful.” Ima whispered the word through a smile and closed her eyes.

  Taliah rushed to her side and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Jochebed. I hope I get to wear them.”

  Abba Amram brushed her arm, stealing her attention. “Eleazar…will…come.” The effort to speak cost him dearly, and Miriam returned to his side to dab his lips with the damp cloth again.

  Taliah moved a few stray hairs off his forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I have my students—three more since last week. I might be able to support myself by next year’s inundation.”

  Miriam remembered what Moses said about Taliah’s greatest fear. Could she really be afraid of the thing she’s fighting so hard to achieve? “You have nothing to fear. Eleazar loves you, dear. He just doesn’t know how to show it yet.”

  Taliah dropped her gaze, rubbing imaginary dirt from the palm of her hand. “It’s I who know nothing of love.” Before Miriam could ask what she meant, Taliah lifted her chin with the nobility she wore so well. “It’s no secret soldiers are given women as rewards for their achievements. I’m sure Eleazar has no misgivings about our wedding night.” Her cheeks flushed instantly.

  Miriam glanced at Abba and Ima for help, but both her parents rested with eyes closed. What did Miriam know of wedding nights and love between a husband and wife?

  Yahweh, give me wisdom.

  “You mentioned growing up in the harem, Taliah, observing the relationships of Ramesses with Queen Nefertiry and his other wives and concubines.” The girl nodded, giving Miriam permission to forge ahead. “Don’t assume that because Eleazar grew up in a Hebrew home he understands love and marriage. He’s forty-seven years old and has lived with soldiers since he was twelve, when his abba and ima sent him to become a military slave. His ima Elisheba is an ox with sharp horns and a soft heart—though the soft heart has become harder to discern in recent years. My brother Aaron has never shown affection—not to his wife or sons. So Eleazar is…how should I say this?”

  Taliah pulled the head covering off and revealed her consternation. “Just say it. I’m terrified I’ll disappoint him or”—her voice broke, and she studied her hands again—“that he’ll put me away after the wedding night.”

  There it was. Fear of being alone, abandoned again as she’d been as a child. She and Eleazar had that in common. Miriam reached for her hand and squeezed it, hoping to infuse the same confidence she had in Eleazar. “He will never put you away, Taliah. Eleazar knows how it feels to be abandoned. Though Eleazar could have lived at home during his first years of military training, Aaron and Elisheba refused him. Eleazar lived here with Abba, Ima, and me.”

  “Why? Why wouldn’t they—”

  “Elisheba felt Eleazar’s temper could turn violent and harm her two older sons, sons she’d always pampered and preferred to Eleazar and Ithamar.”

  “Oh Miriam, that’s awful.” Her eyes misted and she reached for Miriam’s hand. “But it explains why Eleazar loves you and Amram and Jochebed so much.”

  “We know him better than anyone, dear, and I’m telling you—Eleazar loves you. I see it in his eyes each time he looks at you. But he’s like most men. He shows that love in practical ways. He’s seen what love can do—good and bad—so love means action for him. He sees a need; he fills it. If something is broken, he tries to fix it.”

  Taliah kept her head bowed, her voice low. “If I were to someday believe your God created men and women, not that I do believe it, but if I did…”

  “Of course, if you ever believed…” Miriam tried to hide her delight. The girl had asked several such questions in the past few days.

  Taliah looked up, meeting Miriam’s gaze. “Why would Yahweh create men and women so different? Eleazar is brave and honorable and compassionate. The way he takes care of you, Amram, and Jochebed, and the conviction with which he protects us is most admirable. He would make a wonderful abba if he’d simply learn to express his emotions.” Frustration began seeping into her tone. “Why doesn’t he talk more? He’s very intelligent, but no one knows it because he seldom speaks.”

  Miriam chuckled. “Indeed, he is all those things and more, but you will not change him, dear.” She brushed Taliah’s cheek. What a gem Eleazar had found. “Love him as he is, and let Yahweh change him.”

  Moses poked his head around the curtain. “I saw Eleazar and Hoshea rounding the corner of the long house. They’ll be here any moment.”

  Taliah pushed herself to her feet and smoothed Ima’s lovely robe over her slender curves. “Do I look like a bride?”

  Once again, Miriam stood slowly, allowing her body time to adjust to the change in position. She really must get that cup of water soon. The blue sheath Eleazar had given Taliah lay on the mats between Abba and Ima. Miriam snatched it up quickly and slipped it over Taliah’s wedding robe and draped the head covering over her hair and lovely face. “Now you look like a bride.”

  Taliah’s eyes fastened on the doorway behind Miriam. A short gasp escaped. “Are you all right?”

  The girl’s panicked expression turned Miriam around, and she found Eleazar standing in the doorway caked with blood and mud.

  “It’s been a long day,” Eleazar said. “There were no clean robes at the armory, and I can’t wash in a river of blood. So leave me alone, and let’s get started.”

  Hoshea and Moses appeared beside him, looking like respectable Hebrews, hair and beards combed, robes clean. But Eleazar, clearly not injured but in a foul mood, looked as if he’d wrestled with pigs and then slaughtered them.

  Miriam saw disappointment written on Taliah’s face, and blind fury propel
led her toward her nephew. “Is this how a bridegroom comes to receive his bride?” She took three steps before a loud roar inside her head and spotty vision nearly knocked her to the ground. When she came to herself, Eleazar’s arm was around her waist, and his grimy hand was on her arm. She shoved him away. “You’re filthy!”

  “Doda, please.” He clenched his teeth and nodded toward Taliah. “Do you think she’s still willing to marry me?”

  Miriam grabbed his arm and dragged her big, strong nephew out of the long house into the night air. The effort cost her. Another dizzy spell settled in, and she braced herself against the doorframe. When Eleazar reached for her, she wagged her finger. “Don’t you touch me, young man. Since you can’t wash in the bloody Nile, you will wipe dust in your hair, your beard, and on your body. You will comb it out and wipe it off until you are presentable to your young bride.”

  He started to protest, but Miriam silenced him with an uplifted hand. “Not a word! I spent most of last night convincing her that you’ll make a fine husband, that you’ll love her and will learn to please her. You will apologize to Taliah for appearing in anything less than your finest armor.”

  Eleazar’s lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. He nodded but said nothing.

  “I’ll get you a comb and a towel. Get started.” She left him throwing dust on himself and wondered if he’d ever learn what was important to a woman. Yahweh, can You teach a stubborn old soldier to love a headstrong young wife and teach a fact-stunted wife to honor a life-wizened husband?

  25

  That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.

  —GENESIS 2:24

  Eleazar combed dusty mud from his tangled hair and cursed the gods, cursed Ramesses, and cursed the Libyans and Hittites. Why must Libya invade Egypt’s western border? Why were Hittite prisoners of war expected to produce weapons for their captors? Eleazar knew the answers, of course. Libya needed food because of the worst drought in their history, and Egypt needed Hittite slaves because they alone knew the secret to forging iron weapons. But knowing the answers didn’t simplify Eleazar’s life.

  Doda Miriam thought he’d arrived dirty and disheveled out of spite. Is that what Taliah thought too? “Women,” he huffed.

  A meaty hand landed on Eleazar’s shoulder. “They’re a mystery.” Moses sat beside him. “Is the blood yours or someone else’s?”

  Eleazar choked out a laugh. It would have been nice if Doda or Taliah had asked. “Someone else’s.”

  “Sparring?”

  “Beating.” This was Eleazar’s kind of conversation. Simple.

  “Did they deserve it?”

  So much for simple. “Yes and no.” Eleazar found Moses raising his eyebrows in question. The ex-general deserved an explanation. “Libyan rebels attacked our western border three days ago. Prince Ram needs more iron weapons. Hittite slaves show their defiance by making a few shoddy battle-axes, so we don’t know which are battle-ready and which will break.”

  Moses nodded and stroked his long gray beard. “Prince Ram will hold you responsible for every battle-ax that breaks.”

  “He said if I can’t manage this city’s slave armory, I’ll be punished or, worse, transferred away from my ailing grandparents.” Eleazar stopped combing his tangled hair. “If he knew I was getting married—”

  “Taliah wouldn’t be safe. I know.” Moses drew up his legs and rested his arms on his knees. “The Egyptians have always preyed on a slave’s worst fear.”

  Eleazar resumed working the blood and mud out of his hair and beard. He’d gotten most of it off his armor, arms, and legs by the time his uncle spoke again.

  “I never let myself love anyone while I was a soldier, and it was a mistake.” Moses stood, brushing the dust from his clean linen robe. “You have a lovely bride waiting inside, and your saba and savta would like to celebrate with you. Don’t make the same mistake I did.” Moses disappeared inside the curtained doorway before Eleazar could respond.

  Perhaps Moses understood better than he realized, but Eleazar was still determined to be discreet. It was the only way he knew to protect her. He picked up the dirty cloths and Doda’s comb, hoping he’d cleaned up enough to pass inspection. When he stepped through the doorway, Moses was whispering something to Doda Miriam, and her expression softened.

  She saw Eleazar and opened her arms. “All right. Come here and forgive your Doda.”

  He wrapped his fierce little doda in an equally ferocious hug. Oh, how he loved her. “I do forgive you, and you must help me with Taliah.”

  She wriggled from his arms and patted his cheek. “You needn’t ask, dear. I’ll always meddle.” Moses laughed, and Doda grabbed Eleazar’s wrist, leading him through the dividing curtain into Saba and Savta’s room. Hoshea sat quietly in the corner, while Eleazar’s bride, who had pushed the head covering around her shoulders, sat between his grandparents dabbing their lips with a wet rag. She wore a beautiful linen robe with the sheer blue sheath he’d given her draped over it. Lifting the head covering back over the braids piled atop her head, she looked like one of Pharaoh’s queens—but more beautiful.

  Taliah offered him a tentative smile. Perhaps she could forgive him for his shoddy appearance.

  “Come here, boy.” Saba Amram’s voice was barely a whisper, but he had the strength to smile.

  Eleazar hurried to kneel beside him and reached over to squeeze Savta Jochebed’s hand. She lay on the other side of Taliah, tears leaking from her eyes—a sure sign of her approval. Moses and Doda stood over them like proud parents as Eleazar looked into his bride’s eyes for the first time. Was it true joy he saw, or had his hope made him blind?

  “God made woman…from man’s rib…” Saba began the wedding blessing without warning. “He brought her to the man….The man said…‘She is…bone of…my bones…flesh of my flesh’…”

  Saba Amram paused, lifting his fingers as if grasping for Eleazar’s hand. “Moses…finish.”

  “He’s just weak, boy.” Doda tried to sound reassuring. “Let Moses finish the ceremony.”

  Eleazar could only stare at the one man who had loved him without question, without conditions or judgment. Please, Yahweh, if You hear me, please don’t take my saba. He sniffed back the emotion that threatened his manhood. “Fine. Let Moses finish.”

  He heard a sniff from his bride and cursed the head covering that hid her face from him. What was she thinking? Why didn’t she speak her mind as she always did?

  Moses knelt at Saba and Savta’s heads. “Take Taliah’s hand in yours, Eleazar.” Awkwardly, Eleazar obeyed. Her hand looked so tiny in his. Moses began speaking as soon as their hands joined. “For this reason a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh. Now you may take your wife to the bridal chamber I’ve prepared for you.”

  Eleazar looked up at Doda in a panic. “I was going to bring a mat into Saba and Savta’s room.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” She waved away his comment.

  Moses grinned like a child who’d eaten the last candied date. “I’ve prepared the roof as a private space for you and your bride, Eleazar. It’s waiting with everything you need.”

  “But—”

  Savta touched Eleazar’s knee. “Love her…well.” Her eyes remained closed, but her smile was unmistakable.

  Taliah removed her hand from Eleazar’s and bent over to kiss Savta and then Saba. She rose gracefully and stood at the doorway, face still covered, unreadable.

  Eleazar felt helpless. Something inside told him this was the last time he’d see his grandparents. He didn’t want to leave. “Help them, Doda.” He stood, pleading. “Give them herbs or a potion. Something. Do something.”

  “There’s nothing to do, boy.” Doda’s pallor suddenly went gray, and she steadied herself on Eleazar’s arm while she regained her balance.

  “Get her some water, Hoshea!” Eleazar shouted. “No, wait. Go to the palace and s
teal a bottle of Prince Ram’s wine.”

  “No!” Miriam said.

  At the same time, Moses rose to his feet and stepped in front of Hoshea, blocking his exit. “Hoshea will not risk his life to save those who would not survive our freedom. It is Yahweh’s will that those who can’t make the wilderness journey rest peacefully now with Abraham and Sarah in paradise.”

  “Yahweh’s will?” Eleazar said, incredulous. “Your Yahweh wants to kill my saba and savta?” Eleazar glared at him. “Is this the God you serve?”

  Doda stared at Moses, her face reflecting the same confusion Eleazar felt. “Surely, you don’t believe Yahweh wants Abba and Ima to die now, when we’re so close to freedom. They’ve served Him faithfully their whole lives.”

  “Which is better for Abba and Ima,” he said, “to die in their beds, surrounded by the family who loves them? Or to die in the Sinai, sleeping on rocks and fighting scorpions?”

  Doda Miriam stood silently for several heartbeats and then her whole body began to tremble. Her knees buckled, and Eleazar caught her before she fell.

  Moses sent Hoshea to fetch a cup of water and then looked at Eleazar, sorrow deepening the weathered lines on his face. “Miriam is strong. She’ll recover. But Yahweh has given you this precious time to say good-bye to your grandparents. Your saba looked on you with pride when he began your wedding blessing. Now, rejoice in the peace he’ll soon feel, and take your bride up to the wedding chamber your grandparents instructed me to prepare for you.”

  Eleazar choked on a sob. “They told you to prepare the roof for us?”

  Doda Miriam lifted her head from Eleazar’s chest and wiped her eyes. “Abba thought of it this morning. Moses has been working on it all day.” She wiped more tears and tried to smile. “I believe they held on to see you and Taliah married. You’ll honor them best by loving your wife.”