Exodus, p.11
Exodus, page 11
Miriam’s stomach tightened. “It’s begun,” she said, wanting to turn away from the sight of the panicked men running toward their water buffalo. The beasts would be dead, that she knew. Moments later, the sound of wailing mixed with shouting reached them. She shuddered, and Caleb tightened his hold on her. They moved away from the river and were crossing the main road to reach the smaller road to their village when they heard a chariot coming, the horses’ hooves pounding on the dirt, causing the very air to vibrate around them.
And then a screeching sound pierced the air, a sound Miriam would never forget. Although Caleb was trying to hurry her away from the scene, she turned and saw the chariot pitching forward.
As if she was seeing the sight one slow moment at a time, she watched the horses plow into the dirt, faces first, their legs completely useless and limp beneath them, their breath and lives cut short by the unseen hand of death. The chariot they’d been pulling continued to barrel forward, crashing into the horses, then vaulting, then rotating in the air. The chariot landed with a terrible thud, and the men who’d been traveling inside were thrown like sailing rocks into the air.
Miriam buried her face against Caleb’s chest as the men’s bodies hit the ground only a few paces from where they had just been standing.
The horses were dead, and the men probably were too. Caleb released Miriam and ran to the soldiers’ sides. Miriam wanted to scream at him to stop, to leave them be. They were probably riding to the Hebrew village to capture their living animals, something that was probably happening all over Egypt. Water buffaloes and horses and asses and camels and oxen and sheep . . . all that belonged to the Egyptians would die.
She felt as if she was in a dream, not quite awake, as Caleb attended to the soldiers. When he motioned for her to bring water, she obeyed, her mind numb. She knelt beside the fallen men and lifted their heads, trying not to see their injuries as she helped them drink. The soldiers were both still alive. Caleb washed the dirt from their injuries and bound their wounds. All the while he worked, Miriam’s heart pounded in fear.
If this was the fate of just one set of soldiers, what was happening to the rest of Egypt? When the soldiers were sufficiently cared for to the point that they could hobble around, Caleb helped them move the chariot to the side of the road, where it sat broken and useless. There was no hope for the horses, and even with three men to move the animals, they could only get them so far to the edge of the road.
The soldiers thanked Caleb as Miriam huddled beneath the trees, her stomach threatening to turn over. When he crossed to her and put his arm around her, she whispered, “You have the courage of ten men.”
Together, they walked down the road, back toward the village paths. The sounds of Egyptians shouting and lamenting seemed to fill Miriam’s mind as they walked. Whether it was real or imagined, she felt and heard their sorrows. As she and Caleb passed by a field, young Egyptian shepherd boys sat silently, lost, as their sheep lay sprawled out on the ground around them, unmoving.
How could the pharaoh not grieve at this carnage? How could he refuse Moses now? As Miriam walked to their hut to collect their things, passing the healthy and living animals of the Hebrews, she didn’t doubt that there would be retaliation against her people. Especially when Ramses saw that the Hebrews’ animals were left unharmed.
And now how would the people survive? She could only imagine all manner of plundering taking place. They gathered bundles of belongings at their hut, then set off toward her parents’. Miriam didn’t spend the time to look around her place. She didn’t want to wait a moment longer before seeing her daughter. As they walked, she stayed close to Caleb, even though they walked in silence. She forced herself to take comfort in his strength and courage because she had so very little. Several times they passed other Hebrews, but their greetings were nonexistent, and time after time, Miriam saw only sorrowful expressions.
“Moses,” Caleb said.
She lifted her head. They’d reached the courtyard of her parents’ home, and Moses and Aaron, along with several other elders, were standing together in conversation. When Moses turned to see them and met Miriam’s gaze, his shoulders seemed to be weighed down by a tremendous weight, and his eyes were like deep hollows of sorrow.
The men waited until she and Caleb reached them before Moses spoke. “We’ve just had word that the pharaoh is traveling to our village,” he said in broken Hebrew, not waiting for Aaron to translate for the elders.
Miriam’s heart stuttered in panic. The pharaoh, here? “What will he do?”
Moses didn’t speak for a moment, and all of the other men simply waited as if they had no answer either.
“He has changed his mind about letting the Hebrews go twice now,” Moses said in a slow voice. “As I told you from the beginning, the plagues are not over.”
The words sent a shudder through Miriam because she wondered how many Hebrews would be left when the plagues were over.
Aaron stepped forward and took the bundles from her arms. Caleb and Aaron carried the belongings into the hut, and Miriam followed, her thoughts spinning but, mostly, her body numb. Sarah ran to her once she saw her enter, and Miriam stooped and embraced her. Sarah was unusually quiet, and Miriam had little strength to cheer her up. Zipporah was in the hut, her boys sitting at her feet as she worked on some stitching. For a moment, Miriam wanted to shout at her for being so calm.
But then Zipporah looked up and met Miriam’s eyes. In that instant, Miriam saw a wealth of agony. It struck her with full force, and she glimpsed the pain that Zipporah was dealing with. A moment later, it disappeared; Zipporah returned to her stitching and her boys. Miriam felt rooted in place with the realization that Zipporah had simply found a way to bury her emotions. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t battling as hard as Miriam and everyone else.
Jochebed came out of the back room, pulling Miriam back to the present. “Are you well?” she asked, taking Miriam’s hand. “You look very pale.”
“I am well,” Miriam said, trying not to let her voice break. “Caleb helped some Egyptians on the road. Their chariot had overturned.” She looked at her mother meaningfully.
Her mother’s eyes widened, and then she nodded. “I understand. The loss of animals will be great today, and it’s not only a sorrow for the Egyptians, although our animals are spared. The land as a whole will suffer.”
“Yes,” Miriam said. “I must go with Moses and the men to the assembly hall. Ramses is coming to the village.”
Her mother shook her head. “You cannot. What if Ramses recognizes you?”
Miriam pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head. “It has been many years, Mother.”
The Miriam and Ramses of long ago hardly existed anymore. Miriam had helped Bithiah attend to wounded soldiers during a battle with the Libyans. Ramses had noticed her and commanded that she join his harem. But Miriam had escaped the military camp. She’d spent days in the wilderness with the aid of the desert dweller, Katu. When she’d finally reached her parents, they had decided to move to a different village so that all traces of Miriam would be gone should Ramses pursue her.
“He will not see my face,” Miriam promised her mother. “I would not be so foolish.”
Her mother relaxed, but concern remained in her eyes. “Stay,” she said.
“I cannot,” Miriam replied. She couldn’t explain it, but she had to go see the arrival of the pharaoh for herself. If something happened to Moses or Aaron, she couldn’t live with herself. She didn’t know how she, as a woman, could protect them from the pharaoh of Egypt, but she would do whatever it took.
By the time she left the hut, more men had gathered in the courtyard. Caleb looked at her questioningly, and she simply crossed to him and threaded her fingers through his. “I’m coming with you, but don’t worry, I’ll stay out of sight of the pharaoh.”
Caleb pressed his lips together in disapproval, but the crowd of men was already moving, and she tugged him along. “Keep your hood up,” he said. “We don’t know if the other Egyptians might recognize you as well.”
When they reached the assembly hall, other villagers were running alongside the group of elders and announcing that the pharaoh’s procession had already been spotted down the road. Miriam’s heart rate increased as she thought of finally seeing Ramses again after all these years. He had been ruthless back then and was ruthless now.
Caleb kept a firm grip on her hand as they walked to the side of the assembly hall and waited. “We will not go inside,” he said to her. “We will listen from here and keep away from any prying eyes.”
Miriam didn’t know what she had expected when she first saw the pharaoh’s procession, but it wasn’t seeing everyone on foot, including Ramses. She expected him to be in a litter, carried on the shoulders of servants. But Ramses walked tall and erect among the soldiers and viziers who surrounded him. His torso was bare, his head shaved, and gold jewelry glittered against his bronzed skin.
His dark eyes were the only thing she remembered from the past. The pharaoh who walked in the middle of the royal procession was hardly the young man who’d singled her out for his harem. But, she realized, his eyes were scanning the crowds, landing on Moses and Aaron, then sweeping away again. Could he still be looking for her after all these years? No, she decided and drew more solidly behind Caleb so she could still have a view of the procession while keeping hidden.
“Keep your head bowed as he passes,” Caleb whispered. “I’ll let you know when he is inside the hall.”
Miriam blew out a breath and lowered her head.
And then she heard Ramses speak. His voice was much the same, deeper now, more authoritative.
“Moses, you have brought a plague that not even my magicians want to mimic,” Ramses said. The surrounding crowds hushed. The pharaoh hadn’t entered the assembly hall yet, so Miriam continued looking at the ground, feeling her face heat with the waiting.
“The Lord has cursed all of the beasts belonging to the Egyptians so that you might be convinced of His insistence that you let His people go,” Moses said, his voice equally authoritative.
Ramses barked out a laugh, and Miriam couldn’t help but glance up. The pharaoh stood to her left, and he faced Moses and Aaron at the entrance of the assembly hall. It was then that Miriam noticed several men standing behind Ramses, wearing pale-green robes. They must be the magicians of the pharaoh’s court.
“What is your answer, Ramses?” Moses said, his words bold. “Has the loss of all the beasts in your possession been enough to turn your heart? Or will you have more plagues eat away at the land of Egypt until it’s a desiccated mess?”
Ramses scanned the crowd, and Miriam moved more fully behind Caleb. She felt her husband stiffen, and dread pulsed through her. What was happening? She didn’t dare look up.
“You fought with us, didn’t you?” Ramses asked.
And in that instant, before Caleb even answered, Miriam knew the pharaoh was speaking to her husband. Her heart raced, and she wanted to run and hide. What if Ramses came closer? What if he demanded to see the woman standing behind Caleb?
“I did,” Caleb said, not adding any more.
Ramses was quiet for a moment, and Miriam listened for any footfall from the pharaoh to indicate he was approaching. “Who is behind you?”
Miriam’s body flashed hot, then cold. What would Caleb say?
“My wife,” Caleb said after a moment of hesitation.
And then Miriam heard the footsteps, loud in the stillness of the crowd. She didn’t have to look up to know Ramses was approaching Caleb. She could no longer hide if Ramses drew too close. She clenched her hands into fists, holding her breath.
“Step aside,” Ramses said, his voice so low that Miriam was sure only she had heard it.
She felt the movement of air as Caleb moved to the side, staying right next to her yet fully exposing her to the pharaoh’s gaze.
She knew he was staring at her, and still she refused to look up at him, refused to meet his eyes. Perhaps the years had changed her enough, both in her appearance and his memory, that he wouldn’t remember her.
“Miriam.” Ramses’s recognition rocked through her, becoming a torrent in her midsection.
Against her will, her head lifted. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. She’d forgotten the dark depths of his eyes and how when he looked at her, it was as if he could consume her. The power behind his gaze had served him well as pharaoh, and Miriam knew she was standing before a man who could change her fate in an instant.
“It is you.” His eyes scanned her face as if taking in every detail.
Miriam knew she was no longer the young woman he’d ordered to his harem years ago. But she couldn’t deny the fire in his eyes now.
“I thought you’d perished in the desert.”
The pharaoh expected an answer, but when she opened her mouth, she couldn’t utter a single word.
“She was rescued by a desert dweller,” Caleb said in a strained voice.
Ramses didn’t seem to hear him but continued to stare at Miriam. “You disobeyed my order.”
Her mouth opened again, and she whispered, “Yes.” Was this it? Would the pharaoh order her back or, even worse, have her executed?
Eyes burning with tears, she looked down, only to be mortified when a tear escaped and fell onto her cheek.
She waited for Ramses’s next words to condemn her, but he turned from her, and instead of focusing on her disobedience, he uttered a terrible pronouncement. “I will not let the Hebrews leave Egypt,” Ramses said loud enough for the crowd to hear. “And if they try, they will have to contend with the military. I’ve stationed soldiers on all roads.”
The crowd’s stunned silence deepened, echoing in Miriam’s heart. She didn’t dare look at him again, in case he was watching for her reaction. Was this a punishment because of what he’d just learned about her defiance?
“With these ashes, the Lord will send a new plague,” Moses declared.
A new plague? Miriam dared to lift her head again as another tear fell upon her cheek. Ramses was facing Moses and Aaron now, who stood in the center of the crowd, holding baskets. Moses reached into the basket and withdrew a handful of ashes.
“With these ashes from the furnace, a dust will spread over all of Egypt, and a boil will break out upon all men and beasts.”
Miriam watched as the ashes spread into the air and traveled with the wind. Then the Egyptian soldiers who’d come with Ramses arrested her attention when they started to cry out, some of them dropping to their knees, writhing and grasping at their faces.
She watched with horror as boils broke out on their skin, covering their faces, torsos, arms, and legs. The magicians staggered about, slapping at their skin and groaning.
Pharaoh Ramses stood in the midst of his men, who were writhing in pain while the Hebrews all around remained untouched. Miriam didn’t miss the boils standing out on the pharaoh’s own skin, although he made no move to acknowledge them. It was as if he was past feeling.
Without a word, Ramses turned from Moses and Aaron, from all of the Hebrews, and began to walk away from the assembly hall. Relief and guilt collided in Miriam’s breast at the sight of his retreating form. And then she grabbed for Caleb’s arm, if only to hold herself up. She’d been foolish to join the crowd, and as Caleb’s arm came around her, she felt his own trembling.
Chapter Fifteen
Aaron
Aaron stared down at his hands covered in dust. That this new plague had come from tossing ash into the air, followed by Ramses’s still hardened heart, astonished him. Even the magicians had followed after Ramses, asking him to reconsider.
He looked over at Moses, who was staring after Pharaoh, not looking particularly upset or surprised. The Egyptian servants and viziers left the village in haste, their cries of anger and pain echoing in Aaron’s heart. If he hadn’t seen the miracle himself, he might not have believed it. But it was true. None of the Hebrews had been affected by boils, and as Aaron looked around, he could see the dismay on his neighbors’ faces, but he could also see their diligent faith shining through.
Despite the hardships and the setbacks, many of them had seen for themselves the conversation between Ramses and Moses. They’d seen Moses refuse to back down before the pharaoh and Moses’s decisiveness in bringing forth the next plague.
Aaron brushed the ashes from his hands and looked over to where Miriam had been standing behind Caleb. Her hood was lowered now, and she was gathered into Caleb’s embrace.
Walking toward his sister, Aaron couldn’t shut out the cries he could still hear from the Egyptians. When Miriam turned to look at him, he could see she’d been crying. His heart hurt for her and for all the Hebrews. They were all praying that Ramses’s heart would be softened, and until it was, the distress would continue.
Aaron placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder. She had more cause to be distressed than most; seeing Ramses again couldn’t have been easy for her, and he knew it had taken a lot of courage for her to come.
She turned into his arms, and he silently held her for several moments. Then she drew away from him. “Ramses is the most stubborn and hard-hearted man to ever live.”
Aaron nodded. “His anger against Moses runs deep.”
“Is that why he will not let the Hebrews go, no matter how his own people suffer?” Miriam asked, wiping at her tears.
“That’s part of it,” Aaron said. He sensed that Ramses resented that Moses had fooled the entire Egyptian court for so many years, and now it was Moses himself who was trying to strip Egypt of its slaves of four hundred years.
“Your life and the lives of our men are more important than escaping slavery,” Miriam said. “We will remain in Egypt and continue to live in bondage if it means we can keep our husbands and fathers.”
