In the Shadow of Sinai

by Carole Towriss

  Her eyes widened and filled with tears. She gasped and her knees buckled.

  He lunged forward and caught her before she collapsed. He tried to help her stand but her legs were no stronger than papyrus reeds, so instead he picked her up and carried her down the hall toward his room as wails and screams echoed off the limestone walls. Again. Just like the flies. And the gnats. Officers, servants, women, and children scurried through the throne room. Open, oozing sores dotted everyone’s skin.

  He opened the door to the workroom and placed Meri on his bed. Another spot grew on her shoulder. He brushed the hair from her face and leaned in close. “I’ll be right back.”

  Bezalel raced back down the hall toward the kitchen. He grabbed all the honey he could find, careful to include the sticky propolis from the comb. He dumped the honey into the biggest pottery bowl on the shelves, and added a bit of sesame oil to thin it out. He rifled through the herbs looking for thyme and chamomile, knocking containers to the floor. Thank Shaddai he listened when his mother talked about plants and herbs.

  He poured some of the honey mixture into a smaller bowl and looked for a spoon. He put it and the bowls of honey on a large tray.

  Servants had heated a tub of water and left it on a fire for the morning meal before they abandoned the kitchen, and he filled two large cups with the hot water. He threw a handful of fresh thyme leaves in each cup, added chamomile flowers to one, then set both cups on the tray.

  He went to Kamose’s quarters before he made his way back to his own room. The captain looked helpless as he lay in pain, unable to move without causing even more agony by rubbing against the rough linen of his bed.

  “I brought some honey, and some thyme tea for pain.” He helped Kamose sit up. He gave him the smaller bowl and then handed him the spoon. He set the tea on the table.

  “Why, Bezalel?” Kamose’s voice sounded ragged. “Why the attacks from your God?”

  “Ramses has been warned—”

  “Ramses is supposed to protect us. He is a god.” Kamose grimaced in pain as he applied the honey mixture.

  “How can he be a god and yet sacrifice to a god at the same time?”

  Kamose stared at his bare feet but did not answer.

  Bezalel picked up the tray. “I’ve got to go now. I’ll be back later.” He left, closing the door behind him.

  He rushed back to his room, where Meri lay weeping on his bed. He pulled a stool next to it and set the tray down, then shrugged his long-sleeved thawb and tunic onto the floor. As he kicked off his sandals, he sat down next to her, and then helped her sit up.

  She crumpled against his chest. Her whimpers and groans told him she suffered greatly. He dipped his fingers into the honey blend and gently rubbed it onto the raw, red skin on her arm, trying not to cause more pain as he did so.

  He did the same to another boil on each leg. He moved her hair out of the way then carefully repositioned one strap of her tunic to attend to the lesion on her shoulder. The scars from the beating she suffered when she tried to run away had faded until they were almost invisible. She must have been well tended—the pharaoh wouldn’t like his consort too damaged.

  She relaxed against him as the amber liquid soothed the wounds. Finally he finished with the honey and set it on the stool. He reached for the tea and fished out the green leaves and yellow flowers. He blew on it and tasted it to make sure it wouldn’t burn her.

  “Meri, sit up a moment. I have some tea for you. I need you to drink it.” He shifted his shoulder to nudge her up and reached his arm around her head to lift her chin. He helped her to sip most of the chamomile tea, and her eyes began to droop.

  He set the cup aside, scooted back, and settled against the wall. He helped her lean her weight against him so none of her boils were touching him.

  Her side rested against his chest. She held on to his left arm with both of hers, his hand on her waist. She laid her head on his shoulder, the back of her head nestled into his cheek, and he ran his fingers through her hair. It felt delightfully soft and fell onto his bare chest.

  Despite the circumstances, he relished being so close to her. He leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes. The scent of her perfume, mixed with honey, enveloped him. The warmth of her body snuggled into his and the sound of her slow and steady breathing brought a calmness to his world he had not felt in a long time.

  As she slept, the mystery and chaos of all that was happening spun around in his head.

  It was not lost on him that he was the only one in the palace unharmed, that every other person right now agonized. All because he was one of El Shaddai’s “people.” Even though he wasn’t sure he believed in Shaddai right now.

  Well, actually, he had always believed in Him. He was just very angry with Him. Angry with Shaddai for giving him this great talent that could bring him so much joy, and then having that very same skill cut him off from everyone who mattered to him.

  He trailed his fingers slowly down the tattoo on Meri’s arm, each dot barely raised. Her skin felt so soft. Her hair was soft. She spoke softly. Everything about her was soft and delicate—a rarity in his rough and hard world of stone and metal and harsh reprimands.

  The most elusive dream in his life had now become at least a possibility, though he could see no real future for him and Meri. They could never live together here or in Goshen. But he finally had someone he could call a friend, maybe even love. Someone he thought was special. Better yet, someone who thought he was special.

  Did El Shaddai do that? Did He finally answer that prayer? And if He had, could He work out a way for them to have a future? What had Moses said? One step at a time?

  Soon, in the next few hours or even moments, Ramses would call for Moses, the boils would disappear, and by tomorrow Ramses would pretend nothing had ever happened and would not let the Israelites go. And on the next full moon something new and even more terrible would be unloosed upon Egypt. How long could this go on? How many more times would he have to watch Meri suffer? He pulled her closer and kissed her head.

  A future. The future seemed so far away. For the moment, all he could do was sit and think. And wait.

  Bezalel wrapped the necklace carefully in fine linen and placed it aside. He picked up the matching earrings and was reaching for more linen when his door opened.

  “Meri!” He bolted to the door and peered past her down the hall. “What are you doing out of the harem?” He laid his hand on the small of her back, led her inside, and quickly shut the door.

  “I wanted to thank you for last week. The sores all healed. See? They’re just tiny dots now.” She came closer. Jasmine filled the air around him as she moved.

  He put his hand on her face and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “Oh, habibti, you are going to get me in so much trouble.”

  She blushed at his use of the endearment.

  He went to the door again, opened it, and looked both ways.

  She came up behind him. “There’s no one out there. The women are all on the barge with their children and their teachers again. They’ll be gone for hours. And Ramses and the court officers just left for Thebes. The palace is empty.”

  He grinned at her. “Let’s go to the garden.” They slipped out the side door.

  They meandered through rows of sycamore, acacia, and pomegranate trees. Willows leaned over a long, narrow pond full of colorful fish and lotus lilies. Bezalel reached for a lily. “Want a flower?” He winked as he handed it to her.

  She took it and giggled, then knelt and gaped at the fish swimming lazily in the pool. “I’ve never seen fish like these.”

  “Ramses has them brought from all over the world.”

  She straightened and faced him. “Why are you working here in the palace, Bezalel? Isn’t that a bit odd, since you are a Hebrew?”

  “Yes, it is, now anyway. I started out in the brickfields when I was about six, like all the other children. We gathered up unused straw, washed the brick forms, lined them up to be used aga
in, things like that. But I kept playing with the mud, making animals out of it and leaving them out to dry. One of the guards took some home and showed his brother, who was a palace artisan.”

  He gestured toward the other side of the garden, and they started walking again, up and down the rows of trees. “At that time Israelites worked in the palace often as personal servants, so it wasn’t too unusual for many of us to be around. The artisans found I had a great natural skill and trained me, and I’ve been here ever since. As Ramses has grown older and more suspicious of all those who are not Egyptian, the others have been sent away, but I have been forced to stay.” He paused. “And now my own people don’t trust me.”

  Meri put her hand on his arm. “That’s terrible! I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged. “I am used to it.” They reached a pergola covered with climbing ivy and jasmine. He stepped under it and leaned back against the trellis. A large jasmine flower poked through the lattice. He fingered the petals, ripping one off and bringing it to his nose. “This smells like you.”

  She smiled. “That’s what we make the perfume from.”

  “You make it?”

  “There are several of us who do. They showed me how when I came here. We use jasmine and lilies, lotus, many of the flowers from the garden. It takes a long time; you must be patient to make perfume. But I like it. It gives me something to do when they go to the river.”

  He tilted his head. “How did you end up here, in the palace?”

  She tensed.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I had no right to ask.”

  “No. It’s fine. I already told you the worst part. And I said I wanted you to know everything.” She pulled the petals off the lotus flower one by one as she spoke. “We went to Memphis to the temple to pay our annual grain tax. We barely had enough to feed ourselves, let alone pay the tax.

  “While we were there, one of the priests heard my father talking about how worried he was. That priest told another priest, who then told us he had a way for us to avoid paying the tax for several years. The three of them went into another room and talked for quite a while. When they came out, they told me I was to go with the priest.”

  Meri tossed the empty stem aside. “So I came here with him. When I left, the priest told me I would be working in the palace. But when I got here, he brought me to Jambres, who told me my father sold me to him to pay for five years’ taxes! I yelled and kicked and screamed but it did no good. He locked me up in a room for weeks—almost two months—with little food until I said I would cooperate. And … well, you know the rest.”

  Bezalel stepped closer. “Are you sure he really sold you? Maybe the priest lied to you. Or maybe he tricked your father, too.”

  “No, I believe it. He was always complaining about having too many children to feed. He couldn’t handle things after Imma died. It would have been a very easy way to solve two problems at once.”

  Bezalel tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and left his hand there, softly rubbing his thumb on her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been forced to work in the palace and don’t see my family much, but I know they love me. I can’t imagine how it would feel to be here alone and know they weren’t at home waiting for me. I-I don’t know what else to say, but I’m sorry.”

  Meri drew closer to him and laid her hands on his chest. “Ramses doesn’t bother me now. And I met you. So I’m not sure I am sorry anymore.” She looked up at him. Her cheeks had a pink glow to them. Sunlight filtered through the ivy, shining flecks of light on her face and hair. Her enormous brown eyes showed so much trust his heart skipped a beat.

  He cupped her face in his hands and lowered his head. His breath came faster. He wanted desperately to kiss her but he couldn’t bear the thought of reminding her of Ramses on that horrible night. He moved slowly and searched her face for any sign of fear or reluctance. But when he felt her hands slip around to his back he abandoned all caution and brought his lips to hers.

  The kiss was soft, barely a kiss, really. He raised his head just enough to see her eyes again. He wanted to give her another chance to change her mind, to protest. Instead, she embraced him more tightly, grabbing his tunic in her fists.

  Her mouth almost touched his, and her warm, sweet breath caressed his face. Each wisp of air that crossed his lips sent a pulse of heat through every muscle in his body and his heart pounded. He could barely think—the feel of her body next to his eclipsed everything else. He finally surrendered. He slipped one arm around her shoulders and with his other hand cradled her head. He kissed her passionately, again and again, as if her touch could erase the loneliness and isolation of all his years trapped in the palace.

  After several moments he reluctantly pulled back and studied her face—every part of it—as if to memorize it. He stroked her hair and ran his finger over her lips. Her dark eyes drew him in and would not let him go.

  Finally he took a deep breath and scanned the garden. “We should go back.”

  But before he could will his feet to move, he kissed her one more time.

  Nine

  After the morning meal ended, Bezalel stood in the gardens, staring at the blue water lilies that lay open in the pond. The star-shaped jasmine nearby had also opened, filling the air with their fragrance and his mind with thoughts of Meri. He had just picked a few of the flowers when Kamose strode by.

  “Kamose, wait. Can I ask you something?”

  The captain halted. “What do you need?”

  Bezalel shifted his weight and looked at the pool for a moment. “Is there any way to ransom someone from the harem?”

  “What do you mean ‘ransom’?”

  “Free them. Rescue them.”

  “Do you mean that girl I’ve seen you talking to?”

  Bezalel drew in a quick breath and quickly glanced around. “You’ve seen us?” His stomach knotted with fear for Meri more than for himself.

  Kamose chuckled. “Of course I’ve seen you. You’re not that sly.”

  “Meri said everyone was gone.”

  “No one else saw you. Don’t worry. Now why do you think she needs to be rescued?”

  “She doesn’t belong there.”

  Kamose shrugged. “Then she shouldn’t have come.” He started to walk away.

  “She didn’t have a choice.” Bezalel raised his voice.

  Kamose stopped and looked over his shoulder. “They all have a choice.”

  “What about Tia?”

  “Tia had a choice. She made a bad one.” Kamose turned around and crossed his arms. “If she is having second thoughts, there is nothing to be done. Believe me, I wish there were. I’ve been through this before. She’s probably just homesick.”

  “Why would she want to go home?” Bezalel spread his arms.

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Kamose scoffed.

  “He sold her!” Bezalel threw the flowers he held into the pool.

  Kamose closed the distance between them in a few long strides. “What do you mean ‘sold her’?”

  “I mean her father sold her. For money. A priest in Memphis told her father he could avoid paying five years’ grain taxes if she came to the palace. The priest brought her to Jambres.”

  Kamose clenched his jaw, took several deep breaths. He thought a few moments. “That could be your answer. No one can be forced into the harem. I just have to decide how to do this, because he will, of course, deny it.” He paused a moment more. “And where will she go if she leaves? If she can’t go home?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “You love her?”

  Bezalel raked his hands through his hair. “I think so.”

  “You’d better be sure. If I get her out and you have no place for her…”

  Bezalel studied the jeweled armbands on the captain’s biceps. Finally he answered. “Get her out.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I make no promises.” Kamose nodded and left.

  Bezalel lef
t the garden and returned to his room. He tossed his tunic on the bed as he entered, leaving on only his shenti, picked up his chisel, and reached for the alabaster. He tried to carve Nefertari’s ear, but after an hour or so of simply staring at the pink stone, gave up. He tossed his tools aside.

  He’d told Kamose to try to free Meri from the harem, but he had no idea where she would go if he did. Would she marry him? Even if she did, where would they live? There was no way they could live here, in the palace, even in the city around it. A slave could never marry an Egyptian. And she would be seen as royalty, even if she had been sold into the harem, even if she were released. And if she left the harem, the palace certainly wouldn’t want her around.

  Would they accept her in the village? They barely accept me.

  There were many Egyptians who lived in the village. Israelites and Egyptian workers generally got along well. It was the royalty and taskmasters the villagers had a problem with.

  But Israelites and Egyptians did not intermarry. At least he didn’t know of any.

  And no one had ever married a girl from the harem. The gossip … the gossip would never stop. And no matter how many times they tried to explain that nothing had happened with the king, there would be those who wouldn’t believe it. She would always be a concubine to some. Like the marks on her arms, the marks on her reputation would always be there.

  But now Bezalel was making plans for a future—uncertain as it was—after one kiss. Well, several kisses. She had most certainly kissed him back. But was she willing to commit to a future with him? One as vague as he could offer? One that meant leaving Egypt?

  He had to know.

  He opened the door and was shocked to find Meri on the other side. “Meri! What—”

  “I was just coming to see you.”

  He pulled her inside and shut the door quickly, leaning against it to prevent anyone from opening it. “Did anyone see you come here?”

  “No. I was careful. I’m not foolish.”

  “I didn’t mean that. It’s just that … do you know what they could do to me? Or to you?”