Exodus, p.14
Exodus, page 14
“Are you there?” Ramses’s voice came out of the darkness.
If it had been night, even a moonless night, Moses would have been able to make out the pharaoh’s form. But there was no shape that could be distinguished in the absolute blackness. There were no shapes at all. And Moses realized that the sound of the carts on the road had stopped.
“What’s happening?” a man shouted from the direction of the road. “I can’t see anything. Not even my own hand or clothing.”
The darkness brought a new silence, and it was as if Moses could hear the men about him breathing, could hear their hearts thumping, could hear them swallowing their nervousness.
“Moses, are you still there?” Ramses asked again.
“I am still here, standing in the place I was before.”
“What is this darkness that shuts out the sun, the moon, and the stars? A darkness that’s more tangible than air?”
The cart pushers on the road were calling out to each other, some of them cursing.
Moses didn’t say anything for a moment. “The darkness will last three days and nights as a testament of the Lord’s power.”
Ramses scoffed, or it sounded like he’d scoffed. “Magician Busiris, create light so that we might see our own faces.”
The magician’s muttered words were overshadowed by the men on the road trying to navigate their carts with no light. “I cannot,” the magician said. “Nothing will dissolve this darkness.”
Ramses spoke to Moses now. “A clever trick to stop all work again,” he said. “Do you know, Moses, that your people are suffering more than ever? Before you returned from the wilderness, they lived productive lives and could feed their children.”
Moses released a breath. It was strange listening to someone he couldn’t see. “The Hebrews have been in bondage for four hundred years, serving Egypt with nothing in return. They don’t own their homes or lands, and their work benefits the Egyptians. The Lord wants His people freed, and these plagues will continue until you release the Hebrews.”
“This darkness will not change my mind,” the pharaoh said. “The Hebrews belong to me, just as they belonged to my father and his father.”
Moses closed his eyes, but the world was no darker than with his eyes open. “We will return to our village and await any messages.” He stepped toward where Aaron had been standing before the world had gone black.
He nearly bumped into his brother. Aaron clasped Moses’s shoulder and said, “We’ll find our way back.”
Together, the brothers walked slowly, stumbling over rocks and retracing their steps time and time again. The black surrounding them slowed their every move. The land seemed eerily quiet, and it seemed hours had passed before Moses saw the first glimmer of light. They’d reached their village, and the Hebrews had taken shelter in their homes and lit oil lamps.
“At last,” Aaron said next to him, and Moses heard a smile.
They hurried to their parents’ hut to find their families waiting inside.
As soon as Zipporah saw Moses, she rushed toward him and pulled him into an embrace. He hugged her tightly against him. It was such a relief to be in the light again, and they were only at the beginning of the three-day cycle.
Moses’s oldest son, Gershom, hugged him next. “I can’t see anything when I go outside,” he said in a wondrous voice. “Mother told us we have to stay in.”
“She’s right,” Moses said, stroking the curly hair on his son’s head. The adults in the hut had grown silent, waiting for Moses and Aaron to report.
“This darkness will last for three days,” Moses said to the hushed room. “It took us awhile to return from the palace; all of Egypt is plunged into blackness. The Egyptians aren’t even able to light their oil lamps.” He met Zipporah’s eyes. “Only the Hebrew homes will have light.”
Aaron spoke next. “The pharaoh had sent carts out to gather food from the Hebrews, but when the plague of darkness descended, the carts could no longer find their way.”
“A blessing,” Jochebed said. Those in the room nodded their agreement.
The food supply in the hut was sparse already. Baskets of grain and fruit and vegetables were stacked neatly along one wall. But feeding multiple families would be a challenge, even without the Egyptians’ interference. Despite the cheer of the oil lamps flickering in the room, the burden on Moses’s shoulders only increased.
If the pharaoh didn’t let the Hebrews go soon, starvation would spread throughout Egypt. There simply wouldn’t be enough food to feed everyone. The losses the plagues had caused were great, and the fields would take multiple seasons to recover.
Once Moses was done reporting to his family and answering all of their questions the best he could, Zipporah slipped her hand into his. “Let’s go outside for a moment,” she said so only he could hear.
Moses was reluctant to go back out into the blackness again, but if Zipporah wanted to talk privately, there was no other choice. Fortunately the light from the hut shone through the windows. Zipporah turned to face him once they were alone in the courtyard. He could barely make out her features as he grasped one of her hands. He let the warmth of her touch seep through him.
“Are you all right?” Zipporah lifted one hand and stroked the side of his face.
He closed his eyes at the caress. At times like this, he missed their days in Midian when they were able to spend more time alone or with just their small family. He was ever grateful to be among the members of his Hebrew family, but he missed the solitude the desert brought. When he’d traveled as a shepherd, watering the flocks, he’d had large stretches of time to think and to pray. Now he was constantly surrounded and constantly questioned.
He released a sigh and wrapped his arms around his wife, pulling her close until he could feel the thump of her heart against his chest. “I’m all right now, with you here.”
She gave a soft laugh, but her words were somber. “If you’d known the extent of the pharaoh’s stubbornness, would you have returned to Egypt?”
Moses breathed in the scent of her hair—wild flowers—and closed his eyes. He knew the answer, but he took his time so his wife would understand it fully. “When the Lord visited me on Mount Horeb, it was like I saw my past, my present, and my future. I could see the life I’d lived in the palace as a youth had only been a precursor to what I needed to understand and accomplish.” He paused, his tumbling thoughts becoming cohesive. “I didn’t expect it to be easy, and I didn’t expect the pharaoh to comply readily because the Lord told me of the hardness of the pharaoh’s heart. But it’s still one thing to listen to the Lord’s words and another thing entirely to see the devastation of the plagues and witness the hardness of the pharaoh’s heart.”
Zipporah nodded against his chest. “Ramses is certainly stubborn, and I think he is also doing what he must to save face in front of his people. Mered said that even the queen is against his decisions.”
Moses thought about this. “In the Egyptians’ minds, the pharaoh is like a god. Ramses certainly sees himself as all powerful. It is a blow to his pride to acknowledge there is a God greater and more powerful than he.”
“I understand it’s part of their religion,” Zipporah said. “Their belief system.”
“And the Hebrews have supported their economy for generations,” Moses said. “Building their temples and tombs and harvesting their fields.”
Zipporah sighed and lifted her head. “We are taking much more than the pharaoh’s pride; we are taking his lifestyle and well-being.”
Moses kissed the top of her head. “And that is why the plagues must continue. The separation that must take place will be very painful, and the plagues laying the groundwork for our departure will lead up to that pain.”
“How much more can Ramses and his people endure?” Zipporah asked.
“Until their very lives are threatened,” Moses said, feeling the darkness surrounding them become too suffocating for comfort. “As long as Ramses keeps his heart like flint, the Lord will work to soften it. One plague after another. The Lord is trying to protect the Hebrews as much as possible, but we are already suffering the consequences.”
“How can we be sure Ramses won’t change his mind over and over?”
Moses exhaled. “The plagues will become more grievous, enough so that he won’t have a choice when the final terrible plague arrives.”
Zipporah shivered against him. The blackness seemed to block out all warmth. But there was something more besides the black of the sky and air. Moses turned his head to look behind him, but he could see nothing.
“What is it?” his wife asked. “Did you hear something?”
Moses brought a finger to his lips, although he knew Zipporah couldn’t see him very well either. “I thought I heard something.” He grasped his wife’s arm. “Let’s go back inside the hut.” He walked her to the door, and then he stopped, listening.
It wasn’t a sound that had alerted him but a feeling. Spending years living in the desert and much of that time in silence with the flocks had taught him to notice the smallest of disturbances.
“I think someone is here,” Moses whispered. Zipporah went still beside him. They’d reached the door, but Moses didn’t want to enter the hut without knowing what lurked in the darkness.
He turned away from the hut and said, “Who’s there?”
The silence stayed deep, but still Moses sensed another person in the darkness, someone watching them.
Zipporah nestled closer to him, and he whispered, “Move to the door, and wait there.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to find out who’s watching the hut.”
Zipporah hesitated, then she released him and stepped away. Moses walked out into the darkness. He had one reference of direction, and that was the faint glow coming from inside the hut. But the farther he stepped away from the hut, the more the darkness enveloped him until he felt as if his eyes might as well be closed. He stopped and listened.
And then he heard something. A breath coming from the right. He spun and dove into the black space. His shoulder struck a hard form, and he stumbled to the ground, landing on top of the thing.
Whatever it was, it grunted, and Moses grappled to find something to hold on to while at the same time working to defend himself. It didn’t take long before Moses realized it was a person and, by his strength, a man. But he wasn’t fighting back. He was curled up and seemed to be holding his hands over his face.
“Please,” the man rasped. “I have come in peace.”
Moses exhaled and relaxed his grip on the man’s shoulder and torso. “Who are you, and why did you not answer me?”
“I could not see who you were,” the man said, and it was then that Moses realized he was speaking Egyptian.
“Who are you?” Moses insisted.
“My name is Katu,” the man rasped. “I am from Nubia. And I’ve been looking for the family of Miriam for many weeks.”
“Miriam?” Moses said, so surprised that he didn’t school his tongue. He released the man fully and rose to his feet.
“She . . . I knew her many years ago.”
Moses remembered the story Aaron had told of their sister’s escape from the military camp after Ramses had ordered her to the harem. How she’d fled into the wilderness and a desert dweller named Katu had helped her survive. He’d returned her to the Hebrew village and, after some weeks, had disappeared again.
“You’re the desert dweller,” Moses said.
“Are you Aaron, Miriam’s brother?”
“I’m her brother, but I am Moses.”
The man shifted and seemed to sit up. And then, by his movements, Moses knew Katu was standing. Moses sensed the man was of smaller stature than he but plenty strong.
“Why are you here?” Moses asked him.
The man seemed to shift to the side, and Moses tracked his movements. He was still on alert, not sure if he trusted the man, even if he’d known the family years before.
“I have been driven out of the wilderness by the many calamities that have befallen Egypt over the past weeks,” Katu said. “I was nearly to this village when the darkness fell in the middle of the day.” There was a shudder in his voice. “I’m assuming this is another plague.”
“It is,” Moses confirmed.
“Has the end of the earth arrived?” Katu asked.
“The God of the Hebrews has sent the many plagues,” Moses said.
Another moment of silence, then Katu said, “She told me about you.”
Moses knew what he meant. Before Moses knew about his true origins, Miriam had confessed her family’s secrets to this desert dweller.
“And I heard that you fled Egypt,” Katu said. “I took interest in stories about you after I said good-bye to Miriam. She had spoken so affectionately of you that I wondered how she fared upon hearing the news of your departure.”
“I’ve returned now,” Moses said. “To deliver the Hebrews out of bondage to the Egyptians.”
“Rumors reach even the farthest corners of the desert,” Katu said. “I did not believe a man from the wilderness was trying to convince the pharaoh to release the Hebrews. Who would be such a fool?”
“But now?”
Katu again shifted, and Moses tried to see his form in the dark, but there was nothing.
“I have seen the rivers of blood myself and witnessed the plagues of frogs and flies and took shelter during the hailstorm,” Katu said. “But it was the locusts that came from the east, then departed once again, that sped my way in this direction.”
“Are you looking for food?” Moses asked.
“I am always looking for food,” Katu said, and Moses heard the smile in his tone. “But that is not why I came. I want to depart with the Hebrews. Trade the wilderness of Egypt for another wilderness.”
Moses nodded, even though the man couldn’t see him. “Come with me,” Moses said. “I’m sure Miriam will be happy to see you and the others in the family will welcome you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Miriam
Miriam might not have recognized him but for the eyes. The Katu she remembered had been a much younger man, his beard long and scraggly, his body thin and wiry. This man’s beard was cropped short, and his shoulders were broader, his clothing . . . It was that of a Hebrew slave.
She was both surprised and confused. She stared at the man who’d come in with Moses.
“Do you know him?” Moses asked, his hand gripping the stranger’s arm.
But he was no stranger. “Katu?” Miriam said, hardly believing she was saying the name after so many years. He’d once been like a brother. He’d saved her life when she’d almost given up in the desert. He’d taught her to live off the land, and then he’d brought her back to her family, all the while avoiding the Egyptian soldiers.
They’d had many discussions about gods and goddesses and the heavens, until Miriam had thought he might consider remaining in the Hebrew village. But then he’d confessed his feelings for her, and Miriam had watched him walk away when he’d realized she could not return them. Her heart had been heavy, but there was nothing she could have done to stop him. She’d married Caleb and tried to think of Katu as only a fond memory—hoping that he was staying safe and finding ways to survive.
“Miriam,” Katu said in his raspy voice that flooded Miriam with memories. “I’m pleased to see that you and your family are all right.” His dark eyes scanned the faces in the room.
Miriam knew he recognized some of them—her parents, Aaron, Caleb. Others would be new—the children, Moses, and Zipporah. Everyone knew her stories about Katu, so there was no need to catch them up or explain. But she didn’t know his stories. Where had he been, and why did he look almost civilized? And most of all, why was he here now?
Moses released Katu’s arm at Miriam’s confirmation that she knew him. Both Aaron and Caleb stepped forward to greet him, and Katu expressed his surprise at how much the family had grown and changed. His eyes darted toward Miriam often, and she wished she could have a more private conversation with him. She had so many questions.
Instead, she watched as he mingled with the rest of her family. Her mother insisted that he eat and drink something. It was obvious by the speed at which he ate that it had been some time since he’d had a full meal. When he was finished, Miriam and Caleb sat near him, and Miriam finally asked, “Where have you been living?”
His dark eyes seemed even darker in the light of the oil lamps. “I’ve been living in Nubia, working for a man who owns horses. I’ve been his caretaker for a number of years.”
Moses and Aaron crossed the room and settled close to Katu as well.
Katu glanced at the men and then said, “I’ve been learning much about the Hebrew God over the years. And when the stories came out of Egypt about a man who’d appeared and was pleading with the pharaoh for the Hebrews’ release, I became very curious.” His eyes cut to Miriam. “I wondered if he’d succeed. Then word of the plagues intrigued me even more, and I took leave of the man I work for. I crossed into Egypt just before the mighty hailstorm and had to take shelter with an Egyptian family. They told me a lot more than I’d learned in Nubia.”
Katu shook his head, a slight smile on his face. “I didn’t believe a lot of what they told me, but everywhere I looked, there were signs of the plagues.”
“Did you tell any of the Egyptians about your connection to our family?” Aaron asked, his voice deep and firm.
“No,” Katu said, raising his hands. “I never revealed anything about your family or Miriam while searching. I asked a few Hebrew laborers about Amram and Jochebed, but I never mentioned Miriam.”
