by Mesu Andrews
Ramesses lay moaning on a large linen pad stuffed with wool. A dozen men—presumably his physicians—knelt around him, hands clasped, barely able to lift their heads. They too were in severe pain with their own festering wounds. This would never do.
“Out!” she said. “I’ll treat the physicians after I treat Pharaoh.”
Ramesses lifted a hand to wave them out, and she couldn’t tell if they were relieved or resentful at her intrusion.
As Miriam reached for her supplies, she noticed the Nubian’s face and chest were covered with boils. “I can soothe those wounds with the contents of my bag.”
He dropped his eyes and kept his voice low. “Thank you. I’m sorry I couldn’t let your nephew join you. You’ll be safe with me.”
She patted his arm in a spot where there were no boils. “I’m not afraid. Yahweh protects me, and He’s bigger than you.”
A slight grin creased the guard’s lips before Ramesses’s voice rumbled through the room. “There she is. Lady Isis in the flesh. Come to heal me.”
Miriam rolled her eyes and coaxed the Nubian to follow her with the bag of supplies. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ramesses. You know I’m not a goddess, and only Yahweh makes a seed grow into herbs.” She arrived at his bedside and looked down on the boy who’d become a man—who then proclaimed himself a god. How entirely human he looked now. “Let’s tend these nasty boils, dear.”
38
Then the LORD said to Moses, “Get up early in the morning, confront Pharaoh and say to him, ‘This is what the LORD, the God of the Hebrews, says: Let my people go, so that they may worship me, or this time I will send the full force of my plagues against you….At this time tomorrow I will send the worst hailstorm that has ever fallen on Egypt, from the day it was founded till now.’ ”
—EXODUS 9:13–14, 18
Eleazar sat in the dust, legs splayed, leaning against the palace wall. He’d watched the eastern sky transform from amethyst to deep pink to the clear brilliance of another cloudless day. He’d sharpened seven daggers, four spearheads, and Prince Ram’s favorite sword. All of them Hoshea’s responsibilities. During the two months since Eleazar had promised Taliah a divorce certificate, he’d undertaken Hoshea’s morning and evening duties while sending his apprentice to deliver Doda’s rations. He refused to be tortured by a wife he still loved, who carried a child he could never raise. And why listen to Doda’s heartfelt lectures about a God no one understood?
Eleazar threw the last sharpened dagger across the wide alley, sinking the blade into the doorpost of a stable. He wished it was Kopshef’s head. If it weren’t for the crown prince, he might have a chance at being a husband. Kopshef’s hatred for Hebrews increased with every plague, and now that two months had passed since the boils, the crown prince had time to plan his assault. “If we kill the Hebrews,” he had said to Pharaoh last week, “their god will have no people to save.”
“And who will build my cities and temples?” It was obvious Ramesses’s patience had grown thin with the firstborn of his flesh, the best of his magicians—yet the most impotent and cowardly. “You, Kopshef? Will you bend your back from dawn until dusk, all day, every day? Will your wives and your children?”
Kopshef abandoned direct anti-Hebrew tactics and began more subtle methods, like driving a wedge between Prince Ram and his Hebrew bodyguard. In a week’s time, Kopshef had paired Eleazar against a dozen Nubians in the circles of combat, taunting him, tempting him to lose control, which would shame his master and other Hebrews.
Approaching footsteps roused Eleazar from his brooding. Hoshea was late returning from Goshen this morning.
“Your doda Miriam wanted me to tell you that she’s trained Sattar to steal a piece of dried fish from between her teeth.” Hoshea chuckled. “She demonstrated. It’s impressive.”
Eleazar pushed himself to his feet, heart aching, but he couldn’t let on. “That dog would chew off my face if I tried such a trick.”
“He’d eat anyone’s face but Miriam and Moses—and maybe Hur. Sattar likes Hur almost as much as Miriam does.” Hoshea bounced his eyebrows.
“That’s foolishness.” Eleazar snorted. “Doda Miriam has never needed a man, and I refuse to get involved in her personal life.” He poked Hoshea’s chest. “Perhaps you should let Hur know that my only involvement would be killing him if he hurts her.”
Hoshea chuckled again, no doubt thinking Eleazar was teasing. He wasn’t.
“Come, Hoshea, we must get to the throne hall before the princes arrive.”
They began their morning trek through the wide barracks hallway and up the ramp. Hoshea kept sucking air through his front teeth, an annoying tic only prevalent when he was nervous.
“What is it, Hoshea? Do you need to confess something?”
“Confess? Me? No, I don’t need to conf—well, there is something…”
Eleazar waited, but Hoshea’s hesitation began to unnerve him. “Just say it.”
“Taliah wants to know why you haven’t sent her the certificate of divorce, and she felt the baby kick for the first time.”
The words tumbled out like boulders down a cliff, burying Eleazar under a mound of guilt. He stopped, grasping the side of the ramp to steady himself. Which was worse, the fact that she wanted the divorce or that he wasn’t there to experience his child’s new life?
“I’m sorry.” Hoshea stood at a distance, head bowed.
“Never speak to me of Taliah’s condition again. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“And you can tell her…” Eleazar took a breath. He hadn’t asked Ithamar to write the divorce papers for fear that Kopshef or Ram would find out about Taliah. But how could he explain his caution without alarming her unnecessarily? “Tell her I’ll send the papers when I’m ready.”
Hoshea nodded but didn’t look up. Why was he so timid? A new fear nearly stole Eleazar’s breath. “Why is she in such a hurry for divorce papers?” Proof of Eleazar’s abandonment would mean she’d be free to remarry. “Is there another man waiting to take my place?” He would kill any man who touched her.
Hoshea’s head shot up, anger blazing like fiery arrows from his eyes. “Taliah won’t even look at another man. She hardly smiles. Miriam makes her eat for the child’s sake. She’s broken, Eleazar. Is that what you want to hear?” He stormed toward the palace entry before Eleazar could answer.
They reached the throne hall in silence. Hoshea opened the ebony door, allowing his commander to enter first, but both men came to a breathless halt.
Moses stood alone before Pharaoh’s throne; Kopshef and Ram standing on either side.
Shock gave way to fear, and fear gave way to curiosity. Eleazar and Hoshea hurried down the crimson carpet, and Eleazar leaned over to whisper, “Where’s Abba Aaron?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him or Moses in Goshen when I delivered this morning’s rations to Miriam.”
The morning sun shone through the tall, narrow windows but hadn’t yet reached the far edge of the room. No princes filled the gallery. No supplicants were present to offer petitions. There weren’t even any scribes to record Moses’s words.
As Eleazar and Hoshea approached, they heard Moses speaking, but it didn’t sound like him. He spoke as the very voice of Yahweh. “By now I could have stretched out My hand and struck you and your people with a plague that would have wiped you off the earth. But I have raised you up, Pharaoh Ramesses, for this very purpose, that I might show you My power and that My name might be proclaimed in all the earth. You still set yourself against My people and will not let them go. Therefore, at this time tomorrow I will send the worst hailstorm that has ever fallen on Egypt, from the day it was founded till now.”
At the pronouncement of another plague, Prince Ram shot a burning glare at Eleazar. For two months, Eleazar had forestalled disaster for the Hebrews by rebuilding his master’s trust. He would not allow Moses—or Yahweh—to jeopardize it in a single morning. “Is there something we can do to avoid the plague?�
� Eleazar’s voice echoed in the empty throne hall.
Startled, Moses turned to see Eleazar and Hoshea behind him. “Ramesses could let Israel leave Egypt.”
“Never.” Pharaoh’s single word brought Moses’s attention back to the throne.
“Then give an order now to bring your remaining livestock and slaves to a place of shelter. The hail will fall on every person and animal that is still out in the field, and they will die.” Moses turned on his heel and brushed Eleazar’s shoulder on his march out of the throne hall.
When Moses cleared the ebony doors, Eleazar pointed Hoshea in his direction and said loud enough for Pharaoh to hear, “Follow him. I want to know his every move. Report at midday, sunset, and at the moon’s zenith.” Hoshea bowed and hurried to obey.
“Well, Ram,” Pharaoh said, rubbing his chin, “it appears your Hebrew has chosen sides wisely.” He leaned forward, motioning Eleazar closer to the throne. “What do you suggest we do about Moses’s latest prediction, Hebrew?”
Did he truly believe, or was he testing Eleazar? Kneeling on the first step of the dais, Eleazar bowed his head. “My king, I suggest we shelter every animal and servant before the hail comes tomorrow.”
Silence drew out long and painful, but Eleazar kept his head bowed. If death was coming, let it come swiftly.
“And you, Kopshef, my crown prince,” Pharaoh purred. “How do you suggest we handle Moses’s threat?”
“Kill him. Kill every Hebrew that hides their animals under a shelter. It’s the first plague in over two months. Their god is weakening, and Moses is grasping at the last dregs of his power.”
The king’s flail was suddenly hooked under Eleazar’s chin, drawing his eyes upward. “What do you think, Hebrew? Is your god weakening in power, or will he strike back if I harm his messenger and his people?”
“I can’t pretend to know the mind of a god, my king.” Eleazar swallowed hard, and chose his next words carefully. “Of the stories I remember from childhood, the Hebrew God does not react kindly to those who challenge Him directly.”
Ramesses’s eyes narrowed to slits, his thoughts unreadable. He sighed and removed the flail from Eleazar’s throat. “I will not bow to this god’s threats by ordering animals and people to cower from a hailstorm that may not come. If his god’s power is waning as Kopshef believes, the hail will not come, and we’ll kill Moses—tomorrow.” He chuckled at his wit, but Eleazar saw no humor in the recurring theme of delayed retribution and rescue.
“Leave me.” Pharaoh waved them away like the gnats of months ago. “Kopshef, tell the chief scribe to cancel court today.” He rose from the throne and skulked toward his private exit.
Kopshef glared at Eleazar. “I’d rather kill all of you and be done with it.”
Ram stepped in front of his guard. “I believe you have a message to deliver to the chief scribe.” The brothers stood in silent challenge before Kopshef stalked off.
Eleazar released the breath he was holding and waited for orders from his master. Prince Ram said nothing, but turned and walked toward the exit. Eleazar followed him into the prince’s wing, remaining silent until they reached his private chamber. When Eleazar stopped beside the door to stand guard, Ram spoke quietly, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Do you believe in this god, Eleazar? Is the hail coming?”
Such simple questions, but they sent Eleazar’s heart into a race with his thoughts. Did he believe? If he did, why was he living in this palace instead of with his wife and doda? If he didn’t believe, why did he feel so certain they should bring in the livestock and servants? Many lives counted on his answer.
“Yes, my prince. Yahweh is real, and we should shelter every animal and servant you own.”
“Make it happen,” Ram said.
Eleazar nodded as Ram closed the door, and then he hurried to the stables to begin warning the herdsmen and servants to shelter Prince Ram’s property before dawn tomorrow.
39
Throughout Egypt hail struck everything in the fields—both people and animals; it beat down everything growing in the fields and stripped every tree. The only place it did not hail was the land of Goshen, where the Israelites were.
—EXODUS 9:25–26
Miriam awoke when the earth beneath her shuddered. Sattar snuggled closer, whining. A long and violent roll of thunder shook the long house, and flashes of lightning shone brighter than the midday sun.
“It’s happening just as Yahweh said.” Taliah’s voice was full of wonder, and not a trace of sleep lingered. During the past two months, she had soaked up every ancient story of Yahweh like dry ground drinks the inundation. “Is it safe to watch from the rooftop?”
“It’s safe. Not a pebble of hail or a drop of rain will fall in Goshen.” Moses spoke from the curtained doorway, staff in hand. “But this is only the beginning of Yahweh’s full fury of plagues that will break Pharaoh’s will. When I stretched out my staff toward the sky as Yahweh commanded, the hailstones began battering the city, the fields, and the river. It’s awesome—and terrible.” His face was ashen.
Hur shoved aside the adjoining curtain, eyes wide. “I’ve never felt the ground shake like this.”
Miriam pushed to her feet, knees and back creaking, and offered the men her mat. “Come, you two. Sit down.” She poured cups full of watered wine, while Taliah spread generous portions of soft goat cheese on last night’s bread.
More thunder shook the long house, while lightning provided an almost continuous glow through the window. Taliah crouched beside Moses. “Am I awful to be curious? I want to see God’s newest wonder for myself.”
“It’s not awful to desire to witness Yahweh’s power, but none of us will take delight in the wrath that is to come.” Moses rested his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “Eleazar will come soon to summon me to Pharaoh.”
Taliah shot a panicked glance at Miriam and then back to Moses. “Eleazar? What about the hail? Is it safe for him to come?”
Moses looked at them then, a slight grin replacing his despair. “We’ll know soon enough.” His answer did little to stem the fear growing in Miriam’s belly.
Taliah hesitated, the stormy emotions on her face rivaling the weather in the city. “I don’t want to see him, but I can’t stay away if he’s braving this storm.” She rushed out, Miriam, Hur, and Moses close behind. They joined the crowd already gathering on the path leading to Rameses.
Heaps of ashes from burned livestock carcasses glowed eerie lavender in the unearthly light of the storm. All brick making had ceased after the plague on Egypt’s livestock. The slaves were needed to process the hides of the dead cattle, spin the wool of the sheep and goats, and burn the remaining carcasses. Now deadman’s land overlooked the charred remains of Egypt’s prized stables, and Goshen was stripped of its animal supply to put milk and meat on noblemen’s tables.
“Will the hail kill the rest of Egypt’s livestock?” Miriam breathed the question to no one.
Several observers peered over their shoulders, but none answered. There were no answers, only God’s terrible majesty on Israel’s behalf. If it hadn’t been so devastating, it would have been beautiful. Lightning flashed. Thunder rolled, as hailstones the size of onions and small melons crashed to the earth. And like an invisible shield, God cupped His hands around the villages of Goshen. Not a pebble of hail or a flash of lightning touched the ground.
“Astounding,” whispered a Hebrew man.
“How can it be?” an Egyptian peasant asked Miriam. “Why would your God include us in His mercy?”
Miriam paused, wishing she knew the whole answer but praying her partial understanding would suffice. “We have seen the distinction He made today, and together we’ve learned about His nature. Yahweh sometimes extends mercy to those who haven’t asked, but it is His way alone that leads to deliverance.”
Taliah’s student, Masud, ran to the man who spoke and wiggled into his embrace. Miriam realized it must have been the boy’s father, and her heart squeezed i
n her chest. Oh Yahweh, please work in Masud’s family to believe. These children have become so precious to Taliah.
“Someone’s coming from the palace!” One of those staring at the hail pointed to a large metal object moving toward them in the distance.
Miriam felt Hur’s presence behind her. He placed his hand at the small of her back and leaned over her shoulder. “Is it Eleazar as Moses predicted?”
Was her heart pounding because of Hur’s touch or the knowledge that it was almost certainly Eleazar beneath those storm-beaten Egyptian shields? “I’m sure it’s him.”
“Oh Miriam, look at the dents in those shields.” The concern in Hur’s voice matched her own. He immediately bowed his head, and his lips began moving in silent prayer. This good and godly man captured her heart a bit tighter.
Taliah rested a hand on her slightly rounded belly and watched the metal cocoon draw nearer. A reverent hum spread over the crowd as some whispered prayers and others wondered if the shields would last until they reached Goshen’s clear skies.
Two sets of sandals peeked from beneath shields held above and around the visitors. When they reached the edge of Rameses’s industrial section, they crossed into the calm of Goshen, unscathed. They let the battered shields fall from their hands and unstrapped others from their backs. Eleazar and Hoshea stood in silent awe, gawking at the raging storm only steps behind them.
A mighty cheer rose from the gathered crowd, and without thinking, Miriam turned and hugged Hur. He lifted her off her feet, laughing as they rejoiced together.
When he set her back down, his light-brown eyes sparkled. “I’d like to kiss you, but this time it wouldn’t be from Yahweh.”
Miriam stepped back, the declaration seeming utterly inappropriate, but before she could scold, he laughed and announced, “But I’ll wait for my kiss until Yahweh frees us from Egypt.” He clapped his hands and joined the cheering crowd, while Miriam tried to refocus on Yahweh’s miracle.
