Miriam

by Mesu Andrews

  Abba Aaron removed his arm from Eleazar’s shoulder and stood at Moses’s side. Eleazar stood behind and between them. The Hebrews offered no answer to Pharaoh’s accusation.

  No matter. Ramesses didn’t expect one. “Leave my people, Moses. You and the Israelites, go worship Yahweh as you’ve requested. Take your flocks and herds, your wives and children.” He leaned forward and gritted his teeth. “But pray your god’s blessing on me before you leave.”

  Pharaoh’s echo faded into the empty throne hall before Moses replied. “Every Israelite must leave Egypt—even the slaves in the armory.” He nodded to the key hanging around Prince Khaem’s neck.

  The prince stiffened as Pharaoh sat down on his throne, rubbing his chin violently while considering the request. Sweat formed on Eleazar’s upper lip. Had Moses pushed too far? Would Pharaoh refuse again?

  “Take everyone, and get out.” Ramesses waved his hand at Khaem. “Give him the key.”

  Moses held out his hand, and Khaem, shaking with rage, unlatched his necklace and dropped the key into Moses’s hand. “My brothers’ blood is on your head.”

  Moses stared at him unflinching. “Four hundred years of slavery cancelled that debt.” The Hebrews turned their backs on Egypt’s king and left the throne hall in quiet victory.

  No one dared speak until they reached the palace gates. Eyes followed them everywhere. Guards were posted at every door and atop the complex wall. When they reached the palace gate, Abba Aaron stumbled and nearly fell. Eleazar caught him and then checked the guards’ reaction. No bows were drawn, only empty stares from a beaten people.

  Abba braced his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “Please, I must rest a moment. My old legs can’t run back to Goshen.”

  Eleazar exchanged a grin with Moses. “We aren’t going to Goshen. The armory is much closer.”

  Abba Aaron’s lips curved into a wry smile. “My legs are suddenly stronger.”

  “That’s because you’re a free man.” Moses patted Abba’s back. “Let’s go.”

  Moses began jogging to the armory.

  “Wait for me!” Eleazar chuckled, surprised at his uncle’s stamina.

  “I’ll catch up.” Abba Aaron hurried at his own pace.

  Eleazar arrived at Moses’s side, and his uncle teased, “I’m a shepherd, son. You Hebrew soldiers are soft.” His smile dimmed, and he checked the waning moon. “Everyone will be pushed beyond their strength to leave by sunrise, and that’s only the beginning. Sinai will test us all.”

  “Sinai.” Eleazar shook his head, thinking of Taliah. She could never climb Sinai’s bluffs and plateaus in her condition. “The Hebrews have no idea what kind of terrain we’re facing. Most of the slave soldiers that marched with Pharaoh’s army are dead at Kopshef’s hand.”

  “That’s why we’re borrowing the wagons and tents. The elders have already assigned the tribal order of march and know where to meet at daybreak.” He cocked his head and winked. “What do you think we’ve been doing while you’ve been getting those weapons?”

  Eleazar shook his head, newly amazed at the man Yahweh had chosen to deliver Israel. When Moses had mentioned the need for weapons, Eleazar’s only concern had been the immediate hurdle of wrestling the key from Ram, but Moses had already been planning to defend against the desert tribes in the wilderness. That was the difference between wavering doubt and steadfast faith.

  As they neared the armory, they passed a dead Egyptian guard on the path—then another. Eleazar recognized some of them as those who’d helped sacrifice lambs yesterday. He halted Moses before they reached the gate, assessing the Egyptians still guarding it. “Will they attack us in retaliation?”

  One of the guards spotted them while he spoke and fell to his knees. “Take your people and go,” he shouted. “Leave us, or all of Egypt will die.” Other guards rushed toward Eleazar and Moses, begging them to leave.

  Moses showed them the gate key, and they eagerly escorted them. Hands shaking, Moses nearly dropped the key in the dust.

  Impatient, Eleazar shouted through the gates. “Hoshea? Are you there? Hoshea?”

  No answer. They heard only wailing from inside.

  Moses finally unlatched the heavy iron lock, and the Egyptians helped swing open the gates. The sparring arena was strewn with dead slaves and others who mourned them, but torchlight glowed in all four guardhouses.

  “Hoshea!” Moses shouted, hurrying toward the nearest shelter. The curtain rustled, and Hoshea appeared in the doorway.

  “Are we free?” Hoshea hesitated.

  Tears burned Eleazar’s eyes. “We’re free.”

  Hoshea ran from the guardhouse into Eleazar’s embrace. Others poured from the shelters in numbers far exceeding his expectations. Hebrews first, and then foreign slaves walking gingerly. Eleazar held him at arm’s length. “How many agreed to be circumcised?”

  “Not many at first, but I told the Hebrews in each house to recite the ancient stories—Creation, Noah, and Abraham’s journey—and the foreign soldiers listened from outside. Before midnight, many believed and filled the guardhouses.” Hoshea’s wide-eyed wonder was infectious.

  Moses shook Hoshea, eyes glistening. “You’re no longer Hoshea, my boy, because you weren’t merely saved as the name implies.” Wrapping his arm around the boy, he declared to the gathering crowd, “This man is now called Yehoshua—Joshua—because Yahweh saved all of you through his faithfulness.” A great roar rose among the soldiers, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Eleazar joined the victory cry, energy pumping through his weary body.

  Moses shouted at Eleazar over the noise. “It’s up to you to get weapons to every household in Goshen by the time we leave at dawn.”

  “Not me,” Eleazar said, gripping Hoshea’s shoulder. “The men have a new commander—Joshua.”

  Joshua’s eyes looked as big as the moon. “But you’re the slave commander.”

  “True, but I see no slaves here.” Eleazar spread his hands over the sea of rejoicing soldiers. “You rallied the men, and Yahweh saved their lives. It’s you who will assign their defensive positions as Israel marches out of Egypt.”

  Abba Aaron arrived then, covering his ears against the ruckus. “What did I miss?”

  Eleazar patted Joshua’s chest. “Abba, meet Israel’s new military commander, Joshua.”

  Abba’s eyes sparkled, and he opened his arms, welcoming the young man who’d escorted him safely across the Sinai. “I can think of no one better to lead us—except perhaps my son.” He released Joshua and studied Eleazar. “What will you do now?”

  “I’ll return to Goshen with you. Those who have been too afraid to ask their Egyptian neighbors for gold, silver, and clothing should have no problem doing so now.”

  58

  The Israelites journeyed from Rameses to Sukkoth….Many other people went up with them, and also large droves of livestock, both flocks and herds. With the dough the Israelites had brought from Egypt, they baked loaves of unleavened bread. The dough was without yeast because they had been driven out of Egypt and did not have time to prepare food for themselves.

  —EXODUS 12:37–39

  Waiting for official word of their deliverance was excruciating, but the required patience grew less painful when families found musical instruments among their treasures and began singing to Yahweh. As sounds of praise echoed in Goshen’s villages, Egypt’s wailing ebbed. The night wore on. The praise endured.

  When Eleazar and Aaron finally returned home, the household celebrated loudly enough to alert their whole village that Yahweh had kept His promise. By the time Moses returned to Goshen near daybreak, he found Hebrew men wearing spears and bows across their backs as they tethered baskets and bedrolls to donkeys and oxen. Children draped in gold and silver jewelry chased sheep and goats down the alleyways between long houses. Tired imas dressed in Egypt’s finest linen kneaded bread dough without yeast—timbrels and drums strapped to their backs.

  “Why are you making bread?” Moses shouted at
Miriam when he found her kneading like the others.

  “It’s what women do when we’re nervous.” She pushed to her feet, clapping excess flour from her hands. “You’ll be happy about it when your stomach growls at midday. It’s not like Yahweh will drop bread from the sky.”

  The call to march had come, and kneading troughs—with bread dough still inside—were wrapped in fine linen and tossed on strong Hebrew shoulders.

  Miriam sat beside Hur on the wooden bench of an ox-drawn cart as the sun peeked over the eastern hills. Taliah lay snuggled in the cart on a cloud of blankets with eight elderly caretakers to tend to her. Aaron and Elisheba’s cart pulled up beside them, carrying the precious cargo of their ancestor Joseph’s bones. Miriam had feared there might be bloodshed when the Hebrews broke into Joseph’s elegant mastaba on palace grounds to retrieve his mummified remains, but Eleazar assured her, “The Egyptians will give us anything as long as we leave quickly.”

  Hur reached for her hand. “Look to the east, Miriam. It’s the last time we’ll see a sunrise in Goshen.”

  She scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder. Married. She was married.

  A warm breeze lifted her sheer linen head covering. She didn’t consider whether it was Yahweh’s breath or simply the wind. She knew now that Yahweh could speak in any way He liked. She need only lean into the people He placed in her life to hear Him clearly.

  “Prophetess, prophetess!” A little voice called up from beside her cart. She thrilled at the sight of Haji, younger brother of Masud and Tuya. “You’re wearing a lot of gold!”

  Touching the heavy jewelry on her neck and wrists, she unlatched an ankle bracelet and tossed it to the boy. “Give this to your mother.” All three children walked past the cart with their parents. The boys and their father were in pain but joyful. They’d searched out Taliah at the front of Israel’s procession to deliver the happy news that they’d obeyed Yahweh’s commands and now believed in the One God.

  Miriam scanned the sea of faces behind them. So many—some familiar, some foreign—stretched through the streets of Rameses, ready to embark on uncharted freedom.

  Moses used Miriam’s cart as a ladder to climb the pedestal of Ramesses’s statue. He raised his staff above his head and shouted on the morning breeze, “Remember this moment—this day—and tell your children and their children that Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, brought you out of Egypt with a mighty hand.” Thousands cheered, sending a rumble through the foundations of Egypt itself. Eleazar and Joshua helped Moses climb down—the man who was once Egypt’s prince had become Israel’s deliverer.

  Miriam raised her voice with the others. What a joyous day. Glancing at Aaron and Elisheba in the cart beside them, she saw even Elisheba laughing. Was the old ox losing her sharp horns? Never. Miriam laughed all the more.

  Joshua mounted the black stallion he’d been given by a happy-to-be-alive, second-born Egyptian soldier. Eleazar led the two oxen pulling Miriam’s cart, and Nadab led his parents’ oxen and cart.

  Miriam watched as they passed the Egyptians lining the streets. Most were silent. Some wept. One soldier cried out, “Canaan is northeast. You’re already lost.” A few joined the mocking.

  Troubled, Miriam shouted to Eleazar, “Does Moses know where he’s going?”

  Eleazar cast a wry grin at her, and Hur patted her leg. “Yahweh is leading us, not Moses. We will do well to remember that in the coming days.”

  When they stopped for a midday respite, her questioning became a bit more subtle as she asked her husband questions quietly. “Eleazar spoke of the Way of Horus when he marched to Canaan. Why aren’t we taking that well-traveled highway?”

  Hur brushed a stray hair from her eyes and offered her the last bites of his bread. “Moses said the Way of Horus was a shorter route to Canaan, but it’s traveled by many merchants and patrolled by foreign armies.”

  “But we have weapons,” Miriam said. “Yahweh is with us.”

  “Our men may be armed for battle, but they’ll run back to Egypt like whimpering children if we face war now. Most of our men aren’t trained, and until now Yahweh has fought and won our battles for us. We’re learning to know Him, but we have no idea who we are as a nation.”

  The second part of their day was longer and harsher. The sun cooked both men and beasts, and their meager supplies ran low before they reached the first encampment.

  “Sukkoth is over that rise,” Moses said. “There’s water for the animals, and we’re out of Egypt’s grasp.” Joshua sent his messengers down the flanks of the procession, spreading the message to the nation. A cheer rose from behind them, giving hope to finish strong.

  When they crested the rise, Miriam saw what looked like paradise after the dry plain they’d traveled that day. A wadi flowed through softly rolling hills with a few patches of grass and clustered palm trees. Dozens of shoddy tents were already set up there, but she resolved to keep her questions to herself.

  Miriam squeezed Hur’s arm, letting the reality of the moment settle in. “Our first night of freedom.”

  He bounced his eyebrows. “Our first night as husband and wife.”

  Miriam swatted his arm, her cheeks warming. They were too old for such nonsense. Surely, he didn’t think…

  He pulled her into a tender kiss. Her body responded, deepening her blush and speeding her heartbeat. When he looked into her eyes, she saw the man she’d loved since she was a girl.

  “You’ll always belong to Yahweh,” he said, “but He shared you with me, and we’ll honor Him every day we’re together.”

  Those already camped at Sukkoth came out of their tents to see the mass of people descending on their quiet camp. Moses approached a few, embracing them like long-lost friends. Perhaps his years as son-in-law to a Midianite chieftain had prepared him in more ways than Miriam realized. Yahweh wasted no experience, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

  The weary Hebrews made camp, the women baking more of the bread dough they’d kneaded before dawn. Small cook fires littered the countryside as far as the eye could see. Aaron and his family joined Miriam’s household while Sattar nestled beside her, exhausted from his busy day of herding sheep, playing with children, and keeping watch over an entire nation. Taliah lay in Eleazar’s arms, sore from the jostling, but refusing to complain. No one spoke, weariness claiming them all. Freedom, they were all discovering, was hard work.

  The night was utterly still when Moses left their fire, climbed a nearby rock, and let his voice carry on the wind. “Commemorate this day, the day you came out of Egypt, because the Lord brought you out of it with a mighty hand. When the Lord brings you into the land of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Hivites, and Jebusites, you are to observe a special ceremony in this month, on this day each year: For seven days, we will eat bread made without yeast and on the seventh day we’ll hold a festival to the Lord. On that day tell your children, ‘We do this because of what the Lord did for us when He delivered us from Egypt.’ ”

  One man shouted, “We will!” Others took up the chorus, and the nation rose to their feet and shouted as one, “We will! We will! We will!”

  Moses returned to their family circle amid the chorus of commitment, looking as weary as Miriam felt. “I’m not sure we have enough grain for seven days of bread, brother.”

  He grinned at her. “We’ll have enough.”

  Of course, they would. Why must she always question? Exhaustion swept over Miriam in a wave, and she leaned against Hur. “I’m tired.”

  Eleazar was on his feet immediately, helping both Miriam and Hur to stand. “I’ve prepared your wedding tent,” he said with a wink.

  She swatted him. “Stop that!” Her cheeks flamed as Hur placed his hand at the small of her back, gently guiding her to the tent made of sticks, linen sheets, and palm branches.

  Sattar followed, but Hur stopped him at the tent flap. “You sleep outside tonight.” The dog sat at the entrance and watched Miriam crawl into the small space. She
rolled onto their sleeping mat and felt the warmth of Hur’s body beside her.

  “Come,” he said. “Lie in my arms so we can stay warm.”

  She obeyed without a word, trembling like a maiden. Who had ever heard of an eighty-six-year-old virgin?

  Hur kissed her hair and whispered softly, “Yahweh created man and woman to delight in one another. On the night you rest in my arms without trembling, we’ll explore those delights.”

  59

  Pharaoh will think, “The Israelites are wandering around the land in confusion, hemmed in by the desert.” And I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, and he will pursue them. But I will gain glory for myself through Pharaoh and all his army, and the Egyptians will know that I am the LORD.

  —EXODUS 14:3–4

  On the seventh morning of Israel’s freedom, Miriam sat beneath the canopy, watching children playing in the sand. Yahweh had sent a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night to lead them off the well-traveled paths into uncharted wasteland, through a valley until they reached the sea at Pi Hahiroth.

  Miriam hummed a wordless tune and tapped gently on the timbrel that had become a comforting friend. She, Elisheba, and Taliah had prepared their food earlier in the day—fish over the coals, nuts, dates, figs, and plenty of flat rounds of the unleavened bread they’d eaten since leaving Egypt. Tonight, Miriam would mix a little flour with warm water and honey to begin a new start of leavening for their family. Yes, a new start.

  “Why are you smiling, Miriam?” Taliah reclined against a rock, hands beneath her belly as though to lift some of the weight of it.

  “I’m thinking of all the new things we’ll see on our way to Canaan.” She pointed at the families splashing in the water. “They’re swimming with dolphins and sea cows, animals I never knew existed until a few days ago.”