by Mesu Andrews
Eleazar lay facedown, struggling to breathe, his fingers digging into the dirt. Miriam met the Nubian’s gaze, surprised to see caring eyes and a compassionate nod. “Thank you,” she whispered, not wanting to draw attention to the man’s kindness.
The first guard threw Eleazar’s breast piece and arm bands at him, all of which landed on his wounded back. Eleazar cried out, and the guard smirked. “He’ll need to be in full-dress armor when he reports to the throne hall for duty in the morning.” Both guards disappeared through the doorway into the night without a backward glance.
Moses pulled the curtain closed after making sure they were gone, while Hur and Miriam hurried to collect the needed supplies. Whipping wounds covered Eleazar’s back from his neck to his ankles, but it was his wheezing and labored breathing that was most concerning.
“We must get you on your knees, my boy,” she said through tears. “Can you—”
Without further coaxing, her brave soldier began the arduous process of pressing his bulk up to his hands and knees. Hur helped, but if Moses was nearby, she didn’t see him.
Miriam looked behind her and found him standing over them, trembling with rage. “Which one did this, Ram or Kopshef?”
Eleazar drew a wheezing breath. “I’ve been ordered to live with you as a spy”—he drew another breath—“to find Yahweh’s weakness and report it to Ram.” He coughed and cried out, holding his left side. “Or they’ll do this, or worse, to Hoshea.”
“Adonai, help us.” Hur prayed quietly as he slopped honey on the bandages for Eleazar’s wounds.
Moses knelt beside his nephew, teeth clenched in barely controlled rage. “Yahweh has no weaknesses, but He most certainly will not let them kill Hoshea.”
Eleazar shook his head doubtfully, as if words were too costly.
“Are you sure, Moses? Don’t say it if you’re not certain.” Miriam’s hands shook on the bandages she began winding around Eleazar’s torso. Hur took the bandages from her as Moses pulled her into a tight embrace. Helpless to withstand the men’s tenderness, Miriam released the sobs she’d held captive all day. “How can we know when Yahweh will protect us and when He’ll welcome tragedy into our house? Why did He protect Eleazar from the hail and then allow this?”
Hur finished wrapping Eleazar’s ribs while Moses held Miriam. How foolish she felt. The prophetess of Israel, weeping like a spoiled child in her brother’s arms.
Moses laid his cheek atop her head and waited to speak until her emotions calmed. “Our trust in Yahweh grows like trust in any other. The better we know Him, the more we can trust Him. But because He is a Being beyond our knowing, His ways will always be beyond our understanding. That’s where trust and faith divide.” He kissed her head and tilted her chin to capture her gaze. “Even when I can’t trust Him, I can have faith in the fathomless God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, whose power and promise work for the eternal good of His people.”
Eleazar lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “This beating did not feel like Yahweh was working for my good.”
“You’re home, aren’t you?” Moses grinned. “And I said ‘eternal good,’ Eleazar. Yahweh is more interested in you knowing Him than pleasing yourself—or even pleasing others.” He released Miriam and scooted close to his nephew. “Have you even considered what Yahweh has done for you, boy?”
“He let Kopshef nearly kill me!” Eleazar grabbed his side, the shout punishing.
“What if Yahweh used this beating to send you back to Goshen so you could be a husband and father again?”
Moses’s words gained Eleazar’s attention. His eyes narrowed as he pondered the possibility.
“Perhaps Ram’s command to discover Yahweh’s weakness will be the key that unlocks Yahweh’s power for you.”
The roof cap scraped before Eleazar could respond, and Taliah peered through the opening, gasping when she saw him. She began a hurried climb down the ladder. “What happened?” she asked, nudging Moses aside to kneel in front of her husband.
Eleazar, still on hands and knees, spoke just above a whisper. “I’ve come home, wife. I won’t ever leave you again.”
Hur reached for Eleazar’s right arm. “Let’s get you settled on your stomach so we can treat the rest of your wounds.” Moses hurried to support his left side as the gentle giant lay facedown on Miriam’s sleeping mat.
Taliah stood aside, waiting, watching, seemingly hesitant to draw near to her husband.
Eleazar noticed too. “Aren’t you pleased I’ve come home?” His voice was small, like a child’s.
“Why did you really come home, Eleazar?”
Miriam exchanged a glance with Hur. The truth would sound worse than a lie, but he couldn’t deceive her.
Eleazar released a shuddering sigh while Miriam and Hur began treating the open wounds on his legs. “Prince Ram sent me back to Goshen to live with Moses so I could discover how to stop the plagues. I’m to report my findings every morning, and if what I’ve discovered doesn’t please Ram, they’ll do this to Hoshea.”
Taliah stood behind Miriam, so she couldn’t see the girl’s face. The silence was almost as excruciating as Eleazar’s pain. He gripped the sleeping mat and sucked in air as they poured turmeric powder and honey directly into the wounds. Still Taliah remained quiet, unmoving. What was she thinking?
“All done with the herbs, boy.” Miriam pressed a calming hand to his head, the only place without a whipping wound. “Now the bandages.”
He propped his chin on his fist and turned toward his wife. “Why were you on the roof when the guards brought me home?”
She sniffed. “Miriam hid me because the slave drivers came looking for young Hebrew women today.”
Eleazar’s chin trembled as he turned to Moses. “I suppose you’d attribute that to Yahweh’s protection.”
Moses grinned. “I no longer believe in coincidence.”
“It’s good to know I’m not the only one struggling to believe in Yahweh’s protection.” Eleazar looked up at Miriam. “Taliah should remain on the roof for a while, day and night—”
“But I’ve got classes to tea—”
Moses lifted his hand to silence her. “Eleazar is right. We don’t know how long they’ll be looking for replacement slaves for the city.”
Eleazar buried his face in his hands. “When my wounds are healed, I’ll sleep in the adjoining room with Moses and Hur.”
Everyone waited in silence for Taliah to object. She didn’t. Instead, she walked to the ladder, climbed it, and closed the roof cap without a word.
42
If you refuse to let them go, I will bring locusts into your country tomorrow. They will cover the face of the ground so that it cannot be seen. They will devour what little you have left after the hail, including every tree that is growing in your fields.
—EXODUS 10:4–5
Miriam pulled the last rounds of bread from their small clay oven and tossed them in the basket to share. Hur poured camel’s milk in five clay cups, Eleazar dispensed the boiled goose eggs, and Taliah passed the basket of dried figs to Moses. Their household was among the few with enough for two meals a day.
It had been a month since the hail had destroyed more livestock, the barley, and the flax. Once again Pharaoh had taken from Goshen to provide for his palace and noblemen’s tables. Rather than blaming Moses for their plight, neighbors continued to bring gifts to Yahweh’s messenger. Moses, knowing the givers’ poverty and hunger, always offered a gift in return which was often accepted with humble thanks. Israel’s deliverer was gaining favor with his fellow Hebrews and the Egyptians, who were realizing just how crazed Ramesses had become.
“What will you tell Ram of Yahweh this morning?” Moses popped a fig into his mouth and passed the basket to Eleazar. It had become a morning ritual, this quizzing of Yahweh knowledge.
“Well, I can’t tell him the story you told me last night. Abraham’s willingness to offer up Sarah’s firstborn, Isaac, would not bode well with Ram.”
; Taliah shifted in her seat, anxious to interject as always. “But isn’t that exactly what Ram wants? He’ll perceive Yahweh as illogical and therefore weak.” She hadn’t skipped a single chance to debate about Israel’s God. It was as if she thrived on it.
“Ram might think Yahweh weak at the moment, but when Moses announces the final plague…” Eleazar shot an accusing glance at his uncle but let the air crackle with his unfinished thought.
“What final plague?” Taliah asked the question burning in Miriam.
Moses, looking distinctly uncomfortable, heaved a deep sigh. “When I left Midian, while I was on my way to Egypt, Yahweh said Israel was like His firstborn, and because Pharaoh had so mistreated His firstborn and refused to let us go…” He dropped his gaze and then spoke quietly. “He will kill Pharaoh’s firstborn.”
Miriam heard her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Kill Pharaoh’s firstborn? “Which one?”
Moses lifted his hand, forestalling more questions. “I don’t know any more than that. You know how the plagues have been. Yahweh tells me some details but seldom a full description. He told Aaron and me to use the staff for the first three plagues but didn’t bother to inform us that the Egyptian magicians would duplicate the plagues with their dark arts.” He kicked his plate, sending wine and food flying.
The room grew silent in the wake of Moses’s uncharacteristic outburst. Miriam laid a hand on his arm. “What is this about, Brother?”
He wiped both hands down his face and then looked up at those he loved. “I’m the abba of a firstborn son, Miriam. I know what losing him would do to me.” He pointed to Taliah’s belly and pinned Eleazar with a stare. “Your firstborn may be a boy. What if he was killed because of your stubborn pride and disbelief?” He pulled his hands through his hair and expelled a deep breath, regaining a measure of calm. “Ramesses will not let us go for a simple three-day journey into the wilderness, and because of his prideful resistance, he will lose his wealth, his power, and his sons.”
Eleazar’s features clouded. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him.” He looked to Hur and Miriam for answers, but they remained silent. His anger returned to Moses. “How can you feel pity for a madman?”
Moses raised his head slowly, his features drawn and weary. “It’s more than pity, Eleazar. I’m angry at his obstinance. Confused by his stupidity. And I’m ashamed that he calls himself the son of my friend Sety.”
Moses began tidying the mess he’d made, blowing dust off bread and dates. Miriam stilled his hands. “Go. Take Sattar to the palm tree and talk to Yahweh.”
He paused, deep sadness in his eyes. “Yahweh has already spoken, Miriam. Aaron and I will pronounce the eighth plague to Pharaoh today. Locusts will cover the land tomorrow and destroy what’s left of the crops and vegetation. The Egypt my friend Sety left to his son will be unrecognizable.”
Moses’s words summoned the images of Ramesses’s nightmare, and she turned to Eleazar. “Yahweh is the invisible force that cut off the ten toes of Sety’s statue until it toppled over and shattered into a million pieces.”
Moses looked perplexed, but Eleazar nodded. “Doda was summoned to interpret Ramesses’s nightmare shortly before Abba and Hoshea left to meet you in the wilderness. We’re seeing the dreams fulfilled.”
“What can we do to prepare?” Miriam sat back on her knees and took Moses’s hand.
His shoulders visibly lifted as if her words shared the burden. “You and Hur organize the elders. Taliah, talk to the Hebrew children. Harvest everything from our Hebrew gardens today—even if it’s not quite ready. Onions, cucumbers, garlic, leeks, herbs, melons, figs, wheat—everything. Nothing green will survive the army of locusts coming tomorrow.”
“We can’t harvest all of it.” Miriam glanced at Taliah who would help her organize the women. She was strong but nearly six months pregnant. “And what will we do with everything? We don’t have room to store it all.”
“Dry it,” Moses said. “Wrap it. Prepare it for our journey to God’s Promised Land. Pharaoh still thinks I’m asking for a three-day journey, but when he finally drives us out, it will be forever.” He pushed to his feet and offered a hand to Eleazar. “You can escort me to your abba Aaron’s long house and then to the palace. We’ll concoct a convincing weakness to report to Ram before I declare to Pharaoh God’s coming power.”
Hoshea pressed his forehead against his sleeping mat as Eleazar tended fresh wounds. “Aahh! Are you scrubbing my back with hyssop branches?”
“I’m sorry. We have only wool bandages since the palace confiscated all linen for trade.”
Ram had beaten Hoshea every day for the past two weeks since the plague of locusts began. The army of insects had come with the east wind in a single night, and by morning the ground had undulated with them. They weren’t just creeping, crawling creatures, but messengers of destruction that devoured every green sprig and growing fruit in Egypt. When Pharaoh summoned Moses to plead for Yahweh’s deliverance, a mighty west wind caught up the locusts and swept away all hope with them.
Egypt was ruined, and Ram meted out his frustration on poor Hoshea.
The boy’s back looked like the braided reeds Ram used to whip him, fresh wounds crisscrossing the partially healed ones. Though the prince usually alternated Hoshea’s beatings in method and location—some days a cudgel to the belly, other days a whip to the back—today, the prince had discovered from Hebrew spies that Goshen was hoarding dried vegetables, fruits, and grains that they’d harvested before the locust attack. Ram had decided to make a spectacle of Hoshea’s beating, tying him to a whipping post in the armory so every military slave under Eleazar’s command could watch.
And he’d told them it was Eleazar’s fault. Perhaps he should have told Ram about the dried food, but would it have spared Hoshea a beating? No. Clearly, nothing Eleazar said now made a difference.
“All the men hate Ram, you know.” Hoshea sniffed, and Eleazar knew he was crying. “Even the Hittites respect your strength, Eleazar. They know your loyalty is to your people and our God. Every slave soldier under your command would turn on Ram after the way he’s treated us.”
Eleazar clenched his teeth against the ache in his chest. “My actions aren’t about strength or loyalty. They’re about protecting my wife and child.”
Eleazar spread more honey and dried henna on a bandage before placing it on another long stripe on Hoshea’s back. They no longer had the luxury of pouring out honey or using full henna leaves. The healing supplies had dwindled from the plagues.
“I suppose something good has come from all this.” Hoshea spoke quietly, laying his cheek on his hands.
Eleazar tried to chuckle, but the effort sounded brittle, forced. “What possible good has come from poverty and starvation?”
“Other than Pharaoh and his officials, most Egyptians have become far kinder to Hebrews.” He let loose a real belly laugh. “A slave master apologized for accidentally hitting me with the butt of his spear yesterday. Can you believe it? He apologized.”
The sounds of sudden screams cut off Hoshea’s levity and brought Eleazar to his feet. Light from their doorway disappeared as soldiers giving orders drew both Eleazar and Hoshea into the underground hallway—and into total darkness.
“How can it be dark?” Hoshea whispered. “It’s midday.”
Eleazar looked in the direction of the arched entries at both sides of the tunneled hall and saw nothing. He reached for the doorframe to secure his bearings, and Hoshea stood shoulder to shoulder with him.
“What do we do?” The boy’s voice sounded small in the whirling roar of a violent wind.
“It’s a khamsin, Hoshea, nothing more.” Eleazar heard the tremor in his voice and knew he hadn’t convinced his apprentice or himself. The typical spring windstorms blew in sand from the desert and could cause temperatures to climb from unbearable to dangerous. This was different. Though sand was collecting at the edges of the entries and sweat was already stinging his pores, Eleazar had never kn
own a khamsin to render the sun completely dark. He held his hand in front of his face but couldn’t see it.
“Hoshea, I’m going to stay here while you go back into our chamber and find the flint stones. Feel your way along the wall, and you’ll find the stones lying with my sandals and dagger at the head of my sleeping mat.” Eleazar followed the outer wall to his left and lifted a torch from its strap. “I’ve got the torch. We’ll light it and make our way to the throne hall. Pharaoh will want to see Moses again, and we need to be ready to fetch him.”
“In this?” Hoshea’s voice squeaked like a maiden’s.
Eleazar chuckled. “Yes, my friend. We’ll see if Yahweh’s protection works for sand as it did for hail.”
43
Then Pharaoh summoned Moses and said, “Go, worship the LORD. Even your women and children may go with you; only leave your flocks and herds behind.”
—EXODUS 10:24
Eleazar and Hoshea lay in their dark chamber on their sleeping mats. Bored. When the khamsin began, they’d donned full-length robes to protect them from the blowing sand and ventured to Pharaoh’s throne hall. It had been deserted. They went next to Prince Ram’s chamber, where the guard refused them entry. The prince did not wish to see Eleazar, the betrayer of Egypt.
“I’m sorry,” Hoshea said as they walked in the small circle of torchlight. “You’ve given your life to serve Ram, and he calls you a betrayer.”
Eleazar pondered the strange peace he felt and wondered why Ram’s words hadn’t bothered him more. “I haven’t given him my life, and I stopped serving Ram when I returned to Goshen and committed never to leave Taliah again.” Though he was caught in this sandstorm in the barracks, he fully intended to keep his promise, even though his wife had limited their relationship to the debates on Yahweh. At least Eleazar had been able to watch her belly grow with the promise of their firstborn son. Yes, he was sure their first child would be a son.
