Miriam

by Mesu Andrews

  Stunned at his uncle’s confession, Eleazar grasped at his own reasoning. “I don’t understand why either, but these biting gnats must be from the hand of Yahweh because Pharaoh’s magicians couldn’t duplicate it. And if the gnats are from Yahweh, they must be a part of His ultimate pla—”

  “They can’t duplicate the biting gnats?” Moses’s eyes lit with surprise.

  “Kopshef called this plague the ‘finger of the Hebrew god’ because it surpassed the power of all Egyptian gods.” Eleazar chuckled. “Pharaoh was furious.”

  Moses covered a laugh. “They are seeing His undeniable power. Surely, you see it too.”

  Eleazar shifted awkwardly. Of course, he saw the Hebrew God’s power, but there were too many unanswered questions for Eleazar to trust Him. “I see His power, Moses, but I refuse to place my life—and the lives of those I love—in the hands of another capricious god.”

  “Excuse me.” Taliah poked her head around the curtain. “Miriam needs your help to move Hur. She’d like to get him settled in before she tries to feed him.”

  Moses patted Eleazar’s shoulder on his way toward the doorway. “Thank you for speaking honestly about Yahweh. Remember, He told us we’d know His nature by His actions, and those actions have begun, Eleazar. Watch what He does next.”

  Taliah folded her arms across her chest, her eyes hard as flint stones. “It seems you open your heart to everyone but your wife.”

  Eleazar reached for her, hoping to show the love his words had been so worthless to convey, but she bolted from the adjoining room alone.

  Doda poked her head through the doorway a moment later. “I need your help too, Eleazar. Hur is too heavy for Moses to move himself.

  Eleazar stepped into Doda’s main room, looking for Taliah. She must have fled to the roof. With as much authority and precision as Egypt’s generals, Doda directed her friend’s transfer to the adjoining room, then kept him and Moses busy with Hur’s care until dusk.

  Taliah hadn’t come back down, and Eleazar saw no reason to follow her to the roof. What would he say? She’d made her feelings clear. She wanted nothing to do with him.

  While Doda and Moses ate servings of barley porridge with Hur and reminisced about the old days, Eleazar said his good-byes. He’d return in the morning with rations, but he’d stay in the barracks with Hoshea again tonight. At least there he didn’t have to explain himself.

  31

  If you do not let my people go, I will send swarms of flies on you and your officials, on your people and into your houses.

  —EXODUS 8:21

  Miriam rose before dawn again, stealing glances at the dividing curtain for any sign of wakefulness on the other side. Since Hur had moved in three weeks ago, Miriam liked to have her hair braided and head covering in place when the men emerged from their room. Moses usually woke first, but Hur followed close behind.

  Taliah must have heard her stirring and groaned a sleepy, “Good morning.” She’d begun sleeping in the main room with Miriam since Eleazar had moved back to the barracks. Rolling up her sleeping mat, Taliah moved like those wooden shabti dolls in Pharaoh’s nightmare—stiff, listless, and pale. Taliah seldom had a smile even during her classes—now filled with Egyptian and Hebrew students.

  “Do you want to get water this morning, or should I?” Miriam reached for a jug, but Taliah beat her to it.

  “I’ll do it. I need the fresh air.” She coiled her single braid into a knot at the nape of her neck and snatched her head covering from the peg. “We should probably make a new supply of beer this morning as well.”

  Their mornings were dedicated to daily chores, but after their midday meal, when Taliah gathered the village children for lessons, Hur and Miriam enjoyed their quiet afternoons reminiscing about dear ones they’d loved and lost.

  “Good morning.” Hoshea peeked around the curtain carrying two partial bundles of rations. Taliah stepped back, her eyes downcast.

  “Good morning, boy. Where’s Eleazar?” Miriam asked the same question every morning and evening since her nephew had begun sending his apprentice to deliver rations. Didn’t Eleazar realize they needed to see him far more than they needed his food?

  But every morning and evening, poor Hoshea mumbled some sorry excuse he’d invented on the way to Goshen. “Eleazar sends his apologies, but he’s coming tonight for the evening meal.”

  Taliah choked out a laugh. “Why?”

  Hoshea looked from Taliah to Miriam and back. “He uh…well, he…he misses his family.” He’d obviously hoped for a more favorable reaction.

  “If he truly missed us, he’d wake up with me each morning and kiss his doda every night.” Taliah stared at him as if poor Hoshea had an answer to Eleazar’s truancy.

  “I must get back.” Hoshea offered her the bundle with an apologetic shrug. “Perhaps if you welcome him with a smile and…”

  Taliah’s fiery glare silenced the young apprentice. He slipped through the curtain before she ate him for breakfast. Poor boy. Eleazar had put Hoshea in an impossible position.

  “Perhaps if you’d tell Eleazar how much you miss him, dear. You can draw more flies with honey than—”

  “I know you’re trying to help, Miriam, but I won’t pretend I’m happy when I’m not.”

  “Good morning, beautiful ladies.” Hur’s cheerful voice intruded.

  Taliah turned from Miriam. “Good morning, Hur. Sleep well?”

  “I always sleep well because I’m well loved.” He alternated glances at the two women, his head cocked in question. “I’m sure you find the same to be true—”

  “Don’t. Don’t speak of love to me—ever.” Taliah’s eyes flashed dangerously, but Hur was undaunted.

  Crossing the small room, he clasped her hand. “No matter who else disappoints you, Yahweh’s love endures. We need never doubt His love—ever.” He winked and kissed her hand.

  Miriam held her breath. Would Taliah berate him or accept his encouragement? She let out her breath when Taliah responded.

  “Thank you, Hur. You’re very kind.” Eyes misty, she removed her hand from his grasp, grabbed the water jar, and fairly fled out the doorway.

  Miriam’s heart broke for her. “Eleazar is coming for the evening meal.”

  “Ah, so that’s why she’s especially sensitive this morning.”

  Miriam nodded and glanced over his shoulder toward the dividing curtain. “We should warn Moses. He’s usually awake by now. Is he ill?”

  “No. He was gone when I woke up. I assumed you’d seen him.”

  A gnawing dread rumbled in Miriam’s stomach. She hoped it was merely hunger, but that was unlikely. Their household had eaten like kings since the biting midges had subsided. Not only had the Hebrews realized Moses was Yahweh’s true messenger, but even some of the Egyptian peasants left offerings at their doorway. Their household now enjoyed boiled goose eggs for breakfast, goat cheese to share with neighbors, and fresh camel’s milk to flavor their porridge. Yahweh had supplied what they needed and more.

  But Moses’s early-morning departure signaled trouble. Miriam sensed it.

  “Bring the rations please.” Miriam grabbed the hand mill and took out her fears on the barley they’d been given by the family of one of Taliah’s students. Her teaching responsibilities had increased since her pupils showed higher aptitude in bartering, writing, and geography—all of which improved a parent’s worth in a given craft or market booth. The poor girl would no doubt have traded every accomplishment for a kind word from her husband. The most heartrending part of it all was that Miriam knew she and Eleazar loved each other. They just didn’t know how to show it.

  Hur stood behind her and leaned close. “What’s bothering you?”

  She stilled but couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. He knelt before her and removed the hand mill from her lap. The eyes looking back were the ones that had captured her heart as a girl. Even when he’d married Shiphrah, Miriam had respected this lighthearted, steadfast man. “I want Eleazar
to love Taliah the way you loved Shiphrah.” The words were out before she realized how much of her heart they revealed.

  Hur raised an eyebrow and grinned. “And how exactly did I love Shiphrah?”

  Her face and neck were on fire. She wanted to hide but refused to run out the door like a skittish mare.

  He tilted her chin up, capturing her once again with those eyes. “Shiphrah and I were married a long time. It may take years before Eleazar can share the depths of his emotion with his wife. A man’s heart is more fragile than a woman’s.”

  How could anyone’s heart be more fragile than the one in her chest, skipping like a stone on the Nile? Miriam forced words from her dry throat. “But a woman’s heart withers over time.” She pushed his hand away and left the house, unable to staunch her tears. So many things to strike at her emotions in such a short period of time. Shaddai’s absence and the deaths of Abba and Ima. Why—oh Yahweh, why must I struggle now with loving a man when I’m old and my life is over?

  32

  But on that day I will deal differently with the land of Goshen, where my people live; no swarms of flies will be there, so that you will know that I, the LORD, am in this land. I will make a distinction between my people and your people. This sign will occur tomorrow.

  —EXODUS 8:22–23

  Eleazar left the palace complex as the sun began its descent behind the western hills. He should have stayed. Prince Ram had become even more dependent on him since the plagues began, finding solace in a Hebrew guard amid the Hebrew god’s judgment. Eleazar chuckled as he jogged. Poor Ram had no idea Eleazar and Yahweh weren’t exactly friendly.

  The industrial section of Rameses behind him, Eleazar slowed his pace. He was in no hurry to reach Goshen. Would Taliah be pleased he’d honored his promise and come home this evening? Or would she stare at him with those deeply wounded eyes and make more cutting remarks? Why couldn’t she understand that these were unusual times, special circumstances? The frogs came days after Saba and Savta died, then the biting midges. Eleazar was a military soldier, personal guard to Prince Ram. If she wanted a brick maker who would be home every night, she should have considered that before—

  Eleazar couldn’t even complete the thought. He knew he was making excuses. He could have been home more. Ram had even told him to go home to his ailing grandparents, but he’d stayed at the barracks because Taliah wanted words. She wanted Eleazar to talk, to share his feelings, to recount his day, when all he wanted to do when he arrived in Goshen was forget.

  The long house was in sight. He slowed his pace to a walk, sighed, and kicked a rock, sending it skittering into the crusty remains of a shrinking frog pile. Instinctively, he scratched his hand and then looked down where the midge bites had been.

  “Will you really plague only the city?” he whispered to the God he refused to acknowledge.

  Moses and Abba Aaron had interrupted Pharaoh’s morning bath at the river to proclaim tomorrow’s plague—flies, biting flies. Ramesses had cancelled all court activity to meet with his officials and magicians. Maybe Taliah expected him to talk about these things as well. She loved to debate, but Eleazar wasn’t a teacher or philosopher. He was a soldier, a man of few words, and he wasn’t about to betray Prince Ram to entertain his wife.

  Besides, Moses sat at their evening table. How could he discuss the details of Egyptian argument at court? Once Moses had announced that the plague would begin tomorrow, he left and the debates began. Kopshef suggested tomorrow was an omen. A punishment from the Hebrew god because Pharaoh had been too proud to plead for relief from the frogs immediately. Ramesses’s fury had equaled the desert sandstorms, so Jannes and Jambres proposed an alternative for the fourth plague’s delay. Perhaps the Hebrew god was taunting Egypt’s gods, giving the magicians a chance to match power against power. This glimmer of hope soothed Pharaoh and gave Kopshef and his conjurers a full day to fend off the swarm of flies Moses had promised.

  Eleazar was a Hebrew. He loved Doda and Taliah—and Moses. But to reveal the inner workings of the palace still felt like a betrayal.

  He rounded the corner of the long house and approached Doda’s doorway. Light glowed around the curtain, but the family banter was displaced by an eerie quiet. He peered through the curtain and found four people seated around the reed mat, eating in complete silence. Something was very wrong.

  Taliah leapt from her spot and hurried over to greet him. She stretched up on her toes and whispered, “Miriam and Hur had some sort of quarrel, but no one knows what it was about.” She cleared her throat, resumed a normal voice, and led him to the mat. “One of the elders killed a goose and shared it with us, so we’re eating like kings tonight.”

  “I see, and it looks like we have enough to feed the neighbors.” Eleazar dropped his small bundle of rations and sat directly across from Moses who nodded toward Miriam and shrugged an I-don’t-know-what-happened look. Miriam and Hur kept their heads bowed. Eleazar clapped his hands loudly, startling everyone. “I’m starving. That goose looks delicious.” Taliah piled up his plate with the juicy, dark meat covered in leeks and onions and then ladled on a honeyed-yogurt sauce that rivaled palace cuisine.

  Finding himself the leading conversationalist, Eleazar stepped out into uncharted waters. “So, Moses, I wasn’t there for your announcement. Tell us about tomorrow’s plague.”

  “There’s another plague?” Miriam looked up for the first time, betrayal written on her features. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Moses tilted his head and answered softly. “I didn’t want to add more tension to the evening.”

  “Perhaps I should go.” Hur rolled to his knees, struggling to stand.

  Moses stopped him and shot a glare at Miriam. She closed her eyes and let out a huff. “You’re not leaving, Hur. I’m sorry. I’m acting like a child. Moses, tell us about the plague.” She kept her head down and began shoveling goose into her mouth as if it were the first meal she’d had in years.

  Hur sat down and smiled sheepishly. Eleazar felt sorry for him. Hur wasn’t even married to Doda and he was in trouble.

  “Yahweh is sending a swarm of flies tomorrow,” Moses began, “but this time He’s making a distinction between Egypt and Israel. The flies will swarm only the city of Rameses but will leave Goshen untouched.”

  Doda Miriam shoved her plate away. “Yahweh will make a distinction.” Her eyes sparked, her voice crackling with anger. “He’s good at choosing favorites.” She struggled to her feet, and when Hur tried to help, she cried, “Stop! I can do it,” and left the house with Sattar trailing behind her.

  All eyes turned to Hur for an explanation. “She’ll be all right. Every great love goes through the fire. She and Yahweh will work this out.” He used his walking stick to help him stand. “Thank you, Taliah, for a wonderful meal. This household has shown me such warm hospitality, but if Miriam wants me to leave, I should go. I’ll speak with her about it as soon as possible.” He excused himself and disappeared into the room he and Moses shared.

  Eleazar and Taliah sat with Moses in uncomfortable silence. Both Moses and Taliah had eaten most of their meal, and Eleazar felt a rush of guilt. He was late for the meal. He’d come, but he was late—again. Dragging both hands down his weary face, Eleazar felt Hur’s words like a cudgel to the gut. I’ll speak with her about it as soon as possible. If Hur was willing to talk to Doda—a woman who was merely his friend—perhaps Eleazar should make more effort to talk to his wife.

  He brushed Taliah’s arm. “May I speak with you on the roof?”

  Startled, she flinched, and then her cheeks instantly pinked. “I should clean up—”

  “No, no. I can do it.” Moses began gathering dishes and waving the couple toward the ladder. He stole Taliah’s plate from her hand. “You cleaned while you cooked. There’s hardly anything to do. Go on. Go on.” He forced a yawn—badly. “It’s well past dark. Time for bed, you two.”

  Eleazar climbed the ladder to escape the awkwardness. He shoved aside the ro
oftop cover, stepped off the ladder, and assessed their deserted hideaway. The palm branches needed straightening on their three-sided shelter, and the sleeping mat had been skewed by the wind. He grieved what was lost between them and what had never been built.

  Taliah stepped close behind him, laid her head against his back, and circled her arms around his middle. “Will you stay with me tonight?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Ram would need him when the swarm of flies came tomorrow. Eleazar turned toward his wife and tilted her chin to see her deep, dark eyes. “I want to stay. Do you believe me? I want to stay every night.”

  Tears pooled on her lashes. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  No shouting. No accusations.

  His wife needed him too. Bending to kiss her, Eleazar stopped just before their lips met. “I will stay, Taliah, because I love you.”

  The moon and stars witnessed the purest love Eleazar had ever known. Surely, this was the meaning of the ancient wedding blessing, one flesh. Long into the night, he and Taliah shared the intimacies known only to husband and wife. Love. Desire. Passion. And finally, the complete rest of a satisfied soul.

  Eleazar’s next conscious thought was an annoying buzz that wouldn’t be stilled, a vibration that stirred the breeze. Taliah must have woken at the same time. She grabbed his hand but didn’t move. A whirling black cloud moved over Goshen, blocking the fading stars and moonlight. Eleazar dared not sit up for fear he’d disturb the thick swarm of flies above them. He turned onto his stomach and crawled to the edge of the roof, Taliah by his side, and they stared in disbelief as the swarm descended on the city of Rameses. Beginning in the industrial section and peeling off into the armory, the palace complex, and the noblemen’s homes. Every part of the city grew black and pulsated with a thick layer of the buzzing insects—and the sky over Goshen became clear.