Miriam

by Mesu Andrews

  Eleazar and Hoshea met the crowd and were greeted like conquering heroes. Slaves and peasants alike chattered and patted their backs, lauding their bravery in making the harrowing journey. Men inspected the shields that had been battered and torn by the large hailstones and the wind that had hurled them. By the time Eleazar spotted Miriam, he was near panic. “Pharaoh summons Moses and Abba to the palace. Now!”

  Taliah was among the throng trying to reach Eleazar and Hoshea. Too late, Miriam saw her stumble and fall. He must have noticed her at the same time because he shoved three men and two women out of the way to get to his wife.

  Eleazar scooped her into his arms, his face ashen, and Miriam could only read his lips over the noise. “Are you all right?” Taliah buried her head against his chest in reply.

  Hoshea ran toward Aaron’s village, undoubtedly in a hurry to collect him for their return to the palace. Moses, Miriam, and Hur trailed behind Eleazar as he carried Taliah to the long house. Sattar cleared a path for them through the crowd.

  As soon as Eleazar entered Miriam’s doorway, Taliah wriggled out of his arms. “I’m fine.” She stumbled, and he tried to steady her, but she jerked away. “Don’t,” she said, eyes blazing.

  An awkward silence settled over the room. Miriam saw crimson creeping up Eleazar’s neck. “I thought you were hurt. I’m sorry.”

  Taliah set her jaw. “Are you injured from the hail?”

  “No.” Eleazar’s voice was barely a whisper. He stared at her rounded belly. “I thought you were hurt.”

  “You said that already.” Taliah swiped at her tears and raised her chin. “If Pharaoh summoned Moses and your abba, you should go.”

  Eleazar cast a pleading glance at Miriam, and she saw the war raging in his soul. What was she supposed to do? He was a grown man. “You always have a choice, Eleazar, but it’s not just you who lives with the consequences anymore.”

  “What am I to do, Doda? Tell Ram and Kopshef I’ve been married to Putiel’s daughter for nearly five months and let them kill her?”

  Taliah gasped, covering her mouth with a trembling hand.

  Eleazar cursed, squeezed his eyes shut. “I didn’t want you to know.” He opened his eyes and reached for Taliah, but she drew back. Clenching his teeth, Eleazar’s jaw muscle danced. “Yahweh has left me no choice. If I show the slightest disloyalty to Ram now, if the royals discover I’ve deceived them by marrying Putiel’s daughter, we’ll all be executed.” He turned to Miriam. “I’m more of a slave than anyone. Remember, Doda?” In three strides he’d nearly cleared the doorway. “Come, Moses. Pharaoh is waiting.”

  Moses brushed Taliah’s cheek on his way past, and she fell into Miriam’s arms.

  “Eleazar loves you, dear.” Miriam patted her back. “If Yahweh can deliver Israel from the most powerful nation on earth, He can certainly deliver Eleazar from Pharaoh’s vindictive sons.”

  Hoshea arrived with Abba Aaron as Eleazar exited the long house. “What’s wrong?” A single look at Eleazar’s sullen expression seemed answer enough for his young friend. “I’ll keep three of the battered shields to protect your abba and me. You take four to cover you and Moses,”

  It was then that Moses emerged from the long house, issuing a glare at Eleazar. “Let’s go.” He didn’t pause to receive his shields or instructions on protecting himself. The eighty-year-old marched toward the city like a foot soldier on his first mission.

  Eleazar grabbed his shoulder. “Wait. You can’t walk into the hailstorm unprotected.”

  Whirling on his nephew, Moses’s eyes flashed. “I’m never unprotected, boy. If you would put your shields down, perhaps you’d witness Yahweh’s spectacular power on your behalf.” He was referring to more than a hailstorm, and Eleazar knew it. Without waiting for a response, Moses resumed his march.

  Eleazar threw down his shields and jogged to catch up. “Fine, but we’ll both be dead before we reach the winery.”

  “If you believed that, you wouldn’t have dropped your shields.” Moses kept his eyes on the palace, his arms and legs pumping.

  Abba Aaron kept one shield but finally dropped it when he couldn’t keep stride while carrying it. Hoshea also dropped his shields and let out a howl about three steps from the storm. The Egyptians were silent in battle. Hoshea evidently refused to die like an Egyptian.

  The four men met the storm in perfect stride, each crossing into the city with their right feet. Eleazar expected the immediate impact of the first icy boulder—but it didn’t come. Nor did it come with the second step or the tenth. He realized he’d closed his eyes, so he opened them and saw a handbreadth of space around them was repelling hailstones. Hoshea and Abba marched on Moses’s left and Eleazar on his right. The four men stayed in tight formation and walked gingerly through the palace gates to the astonished stares of the guards inside the parapets.

  The farther they walked, the faster Eleazar’s heart beat. “Pharaoh planned to kill you if the hailstorm didn’t come,” he said to Moses as they climbed the palace ramp.

  “Pharaoh tried to kill me before.” Moses’s lips curved into a mischievous grin. “It didn’t work forty years ago, and it won’t work now.” He looked at his companions. “God has other plans for me—and for all of you.”

  They reached the grand ebony doors, and for the first time, Eleazar didn’t want to go in. He would have preferred to return to Goshen with Moses and beg Taliah’s forgiveness, to forget Prince Ram, to wait in the relative quiet of Doda Miriam’s long house for Israel’s deliverance. Yahweh was real. Would He really protect Eleazar? Would He protect Taliah? Eleazar needed time to think, time to consider all the possibilities. But here they stood at the throne hall, and Pharaoh waited.

  Eleazar opened the heavy door. The princes were seated in their gallery and all Pharaoh’s officials lined both sides of the crimson carpet. Prince Kopshef stood at Pharaoh’s right hand, Prince Ram at his left.

  As the Hebrews began their first steps onto the carpet, Pharaoh raised his voice. “This time I have sinned, Moses.” He paused until the four men reached the edge of the tapestry and stood directly before the throne. Then Pharaoh held out his hands in contrition. “The Lord is in the right, and I and my people are in the wrong. Pray to the Lord, for we have had enough thunder and hail.”

  Moses’s expression remained placid. “What about Yahweh’s command to let His people leave Egypt?”

  “I will let you go,” Ramesses said too quickly. “You don’t have to stay any longer.”

  Prince Kopshef descended the dais and met Moses face to face. “My father asks you to pray. He has agreed to your demand.” He rested his hand on his short sword. “Pray, Hebrew.”

  Eleazar glimpsed a slight grin on Prince Ram’s face and felt dread twist in his belly. He reached behind Moses and squeezed his waist, hoping he’d realize something was desperately wrong.

  Moses politely but confidently stepped around Prince Kopshef and addressed Pharaoh. “When I have gone out of the city, I will pray to Yahweh. He will stop the thunder and hail so you may know the whole earth obeys our Hebrew God.” He stepped back and met Kopshef’s sneer. “I know that you and your officials still don’t fear my God, but you should. This plague only destroyed Egypt’s flax and barley. Since wheat and spelt ripen later, there’s still time for you to release my people before Egypt is completely ruined.”

  “Get out.” Kopshef ground out the words between clenched teeth and then shouted, “Guards!” Abba Aaron jumped as if he’d been bitten by a viper, but Moses stood like granite as the crown prince announced their fate. “Escort Eleazar to the king’s prison. His apprentice will escort Moses and his brother to the edge of the city to pray.” He turned to Hoshea. “Make sure the hail stops before you release them, or you’ll share a cell with your trainer.”

  40

  Those officials of Pharaoh who feared the word of the LORD hurried to bring their slaves and their livestock inside. But those who ignored the word of the LORD left their slaves and livestock in
the field.

  —EXODUS 9:20–21

  Miriam, Hur, and Taliah stood among the crowd at the eastern edge of Goshen, watching the hail continue to pummel the city as dawn turned into day. Clouds shrouded the sun, making it impossible to judge how long since Eleazar and Hoshea had taken Moses and Aaron to the palace, and the storm raged on, building rather than declining in strength. Tortured cries competed with sounds of thunder, while field slaves, forced by their Egyptian masters, ran into the pelting hail to herd cattle, goats, and sheep into shelters. But it was too late. Miriam wondered why the Egyptians hadn’t sheltered them yesterday when Moses warned them. Why must more Hebrew slaves die because they lived in the city with their masters? Why, Yahweh?

  Miriam tried not to question as the devastation mounted. She should be thankful, standing in the safety of Goshen’s protective boundaries, but what about the bodies of dead slaves and animals strewn over the fields, battered and covered by the giant balls of ice? Sheets of rain swept across fields of barley and flax in bloom. Would the dikes hold, or would the Nile overflow its banks? How completely would Yahweh protect them? Just to the border of Goshen? Or would His protection travel with them when they were set free?

  Hur’s arm slipped around her waist as he pointed toward the city with his other arm. “They’re coming. See?” Each flash of lightning illuminated an unnatural bubble of calm moving through the swirling rain and hail.

  “Moses!” someone yelled. “Here come Moses and Aaron!”

  Miriam nudged her way to the front of the crowd and saw Hoshea leading her two brothers home.

  “Eleazar.” Taliah stood at her right shoulder. “Why isn’t he with them?”

  Miriam reached for her hand and waited in silence until the three men reached Goshen. Elisheba was there to greet Aaron. Even Nadab and Abihu embraced their abba when he stepped over the threshold of Goshen’s safe haven.

  Moses’s countenance was more troubled on his return than when he’d left, and Miriam’s heart sank. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Prince Kopshef ordered Eleazar to Pharaoh’s prison.”

  “No!” Taliah stifled a cry.

  Moses immediately closed his eyes and lifted his hands to Yahweh. No words spoken, only Moses’s silent tears petitioned Yahweh for reprieve. In the blink of an eye, the thunder and hail stopped, and the rain no longer poured down on the land. A collective gasp brought Moses’s hands down.

  With tears still wet on his cheeks, Moses turned to Hoshea. “I don’t know what Kopshef will do to you if you return to the palace. You could stay here in Goshen…”

  The young apprentice stood tall and lifted his chin. “How could I tell Eleazar to trust Yahweh and return to Goshen if I can’t trust Yahweh and return to the palace?” Hoshea met each one’s eyes—Moses, Hur, Miriam, and finally, Taliah. “I’ll find out what’s happened to Eleazar and bring back word.” He turned and ran toward the ruins of what was once the world’s richest kingdom.

  Without barley, how could Egyptians make beer and bread to feed themselves? Without flax, how could they make linen to clothe the nations? Food and commerce destroyed in one short morning—and all of this, Yahweh said, was only the beginning of the full force of His plagues.

  Miriam squeezed Taliah’s hand and smiled, trying to instill courage she didn’t feel. Please, Yahweh, use some of Your power to protect our Eleazar.

  Eleazar waited for the next sting of the whip. Snap! He sucked in a breath but refused to cry out. How many lashes had there been? He’d lost count at twenty-four.

  “You told Moses we planned to kill him, didn’t you?” Ram leaned in close, his breath smelling of leeks and garlic.

  “Yes.” How many times must Eleazar confess?

  “You told him we’d kill him in the throne hall as soon as he prayed for the hail to stop, didn’t you?”

  “No.” They’d been over this. Before the beating started.

  Eleazar had told Moses they planned to kill him if the hail didn’t come, but he hadn’t known they planned to kill him in the throne hall if he prayed immediately and stopped the hail. What idiot decided on that strategy?

  Another lash. Had he spoken his thoughts aloud?

  “You’re lying, Hebrew.” Kopshef shouted from behind him and brought the whip down again. “Why did Moses insist on waiting to pray in Goshen unless you warned him of our plans?”

  Eleazar’s tongue felt swollen, his lips cut and bleeding. “He thinks strategies…like a soldier…”

  “You belligerent…” Kopshef’s voice drew near. “I know how a soldier thinks.” Ram stepped between them, warding off further abuse.

  He could hear the brothers struggling, fighting, but Eleazar couldn’t see them. His arms were bound above his head, forcing his eyes forward. He’d seen only the dirty, torchlit walls of this cell for most of the day, perhaps into the night. Time was irrelevant in Pharaoh’s prison. Would he ever leave, or had he seen Taliah for the last time?

  Eleazar heard a crack! and then a hard thud. Someone had landed on the floor. “Sit there until you can think like the soldier you claim to be rather than the worthless high priest of Ptah!” Ram said, standing behind Eleazar, his heavy, uneven breaths testimony to Kopshef’s improved fighting skills. “I don’t know why Father listened to you and changed his mind anyway. It’s ridiculous to kill Moses when it’s the Hebrew god that’s destroying us. We should be working toward a solution instead of angering this god further.”

  The other guards stood like statues; none offered comment or aid to the quarrelsome princes. A scraping sound on the dust signaled Kopshef’s rise to his feet. “All right, Brother, what do you suggest? Invite Moses to banquet at Pharaoh’s table?”

  Ram suddenly appeared with a cup of water and held it to Eleazar’s lips. Drinking deeply, Eleazar let the cool liquid bathe his aching body, inside and out.

  “Don’t drink too quickly.” Ram set aside the cup and motioned for two guards’ assistance as he untied Eleazar’s hands and helped him sit on the packed-dirt floor. He grabbed Kopshef’s whip, coiled the thinly braided papyrus in his hand, and tilted Eleazar’s chin with the handle. “I believe you, Eleazar. I don’t think you knew we planned to kill your uncle in the throne hall, but I’m offended that you warned him about our plan if the hail didn’t come. That’s a breach in loyalty, my Hebrew friend.”

  “Does it help that I didn’t tell him until after the hail came?”

  Kopshef kicked his left side, and Eleazar felt a rib snap. Spots danced before his eyes as he clung to consciousness.

  Ram shoved his brother away. “What matters is finding the Hebrew god’s weakness.” He glared at Kopshef. “You said every god has limitations, so Eleazar must help us find Yahweh’s.”

  Consistency certainly seemed a weakness. Why had Yahweh protected him from the killing hail to let him be beaten to death in prison? What was the point?

  “So you’ll be our eyes and ears in the villages,” Ram was saying. He looked at Eleazar with raised brows, waiting for an answer.

  Mind cloudy from blood loss, dehydration, and pain, Eleazar could only stare.

  Kopshef came at him again, but Ram held him back and nodded at one of the guards. The man signaled someone behind Eleazar. The sounds of doors opening and closing preceded scuffling feet—and then Hoshea stood before him, bound and looking terrified.

  Eleazar, suddenly alert, focused on Ram. “What do you want?”

  “You will continue your duties as my personal guard during the day, but you will return to Goshen each night, living with your uncle and gleaning information about his god. Your apprentice will serve me while you’re in Goshen. Each morning, you’ll report on your findings. If your reports displease me, your apprentice will suffer for your incompetence.”

  Hoshea met Eleazar’s gaze, courage replacing his fear. The boy had made it clear through both word and action that he would die for Yahweh—but he need not suffer for Eleazar.

  Struggling to his feet, Eleazar stepped towar
d Ram and drew the restraint of two guards. “I will learn about the Hebrew God, but you need not harm the boy.”

  Ram leaned forward, spitting the words at his guard. “I’ve given you this assignment before with no results.” He looked over his shoulder, signaling Kopshef, who buried his fist in Hoshea’s belly. “This time, you will find Yahweh’s weakness and report back to me.”

  41

  Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.

  —JOB 42:3

  Miriam, Moses, and Hur sat around their small mat for the evening meal and shoved morsels of food around their wooden plates. No one was hungry. Earlier in the day, when the slave drivers raided their village for Hebrews to replace the house slaves killed in the storm, they’d hidden Taliah on the roof. Women had been taken from their children, screaming, to live and serve in Egyptian households—never to return to Goshen. Men, too, were taken, but most husbands were allowed to return home in the evenings. Masters used only women to warm their beds.

  “When did Taliah eat last?” Hur broke the long silence.

  Miriam tried to recall. “I think we ate a little something after Eleazar and Hoshea left with Moses.”

  “Should I go get her?” Moses asked. “Or maybe take up some cucumber and melon? They may sweep for more replacements tomorrow. Taliah should stay on the roof for a few days.”

  The sound of heavy footsteps outside their doorway silenced them all. A burly Egyptian guard slapped the curtain aside and entered, inspecting the interior. His eyes landed on Moses. “Do you live here?”

  The few dates Miriam had eaten felt as though they might reappear. She swallowed hard, exchanging a terrified glance with Hur.

  Moses stood, meeting the guard eye to eye. “I live here.”

  “Your nephew will live with you from now on.”

  A second guard, a large Nubian who matched Eleazar’s size and wore the royal guards’ dress armor, helped Eleazar through the doorway. Lowering Eleazar gently to his knees, the Nubian turned his attention to Miriam. “His ribs are broken on the left side. Wrap his chest tightly, and then don’t try to move him tonight.”