Miriam (31 page)

Take care of [the lambs] until the fourteenth day of the month, when all the members of the community of Israel must slaughter them at twilight.

—
E
XODUS 12:6

M
iriam and Taliah finished their last visit with a family of Libyan slaves. The father and his sons chose to be circumcised, and the family would join their neighbors for the sacred meal, saving them from tonight's grief and securing their freedom tomorrow. Now, past midday, they should still have enough time to make preparations for their own meal and pack the few things they would need for their journey.

Hoshea stood waiting for them outside their doorway, holding the halter of their bleating lamb. “It's your turn to care for our friend here while I do something important.”

Despite her weariness, the sight of the brawny young soldier imprisoned by their tame yearling lamb made Miriam smile. “Caring for our lamb is very important, Hoshea. Did you crush the bitter herbs as I asked?”

He looked left and right, refusing to shout his answer across the alleyway. He'd been appalled when Miriam asked him to help with “women's” work. “Yes, I finished crushing the blue succory,
marrob
root, and coriander,” he said as Miriam and Taliah walked past him into the house. “But I…”

Miriam saw that only half the chores she'd asked him to do were finished. “But what?”

“But I've been thinking about what Moses and I discussed late last night—shelter for everyone in the wilderness, food, water, transportation for the elderly, sick, and new imas.”

“You couldn't work while you were thinking?”

Taliah giggled as she unpacked her basket. “It's all right, Miriam. One woman can accomplish twice as much as a man in half the time. Let him go find Moses.”

Miriam held Hoshea with her sternest look while he waited with raised brows. “Go then.”

“Where is he going?” Moses shoved aside the curtain. “I had hoped to get some bread and cheese. I'm starving.”

“There's bread, hard cheese, and dates in the basket.” Miriam shoved it toward the men with her foot. “Taliah and I have work to do.”

“It's past midday, Miriam. Sit down and eat with us.” Moses slipped the bag off her shoulder, removed the basket from her arm, and then guided her to the mat Taliah had spread for them. “We'll eat quickly and share our news.”

Frustrated but a little relieved to sit down, Miriam sliced the bread and broke off pieces of cheese while Taliah passed the dates. “Taliah and I visited all the villages and were able to delegate some teaching to other women so that every household was reached.”

“Good, good.” Moses bit off a piece of bread and chewed as he talked. “After announcing the plague to Ramesses and his nobles at dawn, I went to the armory and told the Egyptian soldiers. Most of them went home to be with their families—as I'd hoped—leaving me there with the slaves to work out shelter and transportation plans for our departure.” He looked at Hoshea. “Why didn't you tell me there are hundreds of tents and at least fifty wagons at this armory and just as many at Pithom?”

Hoshea's mouth gaped. “I didn't know the exact numbers. Eleazar is in charge of the battle equipment.”

“Where is Eleazar?” Taliah asked Moses. “Was he with Prince Ram this morning when you announced the plague?”

Moses shot a withering glance at Miriam and took another bite of bread. “Yes, he was with Ram.”

“Out with it,” Miriam said. They had no time for hedging.

“Eleazar and Mosi were driving chariots for their princes this morning when I announced the plague. Prince Ram looked like he'd been shot with an arrow—”

“Shot?” Taliah said. “Was Eleazar hurt?”

“No,” Moses said. “It must have been some sort of hunting accident. I left right after the pronouncement, so I assume Eleazar returned to the palace with Ram. I'm not sure where Mosi is. Neither of them came to the armory this morning.”

“When will they come for tonight's meal?” Miriam asked the question she knew Taliah was aching to ask.

Moses issued her a chastising grunt. “They know we slaughter the lamb at twilight. They'll be here.”

An awkward silence followed. Of course, they knew when the lamb would be slaughtered, but Miriam wanted answers. And she wanted to talk to Hur. When she and Taliah had visited his son's village to teach the women, Hur had been at an elders' meeting. When Moses had met with him, it had always been elsewhere, never here in her long house.

Was she really keeping him safe by keeping him at a distance? Suddenly, her finely shaped arguments felt more like thinly veiled excuses.
Yahweh, please speak to me clearly—as You used to. Show me Your will in a way I can't deny.

“We asked Masud's father to reconsider the circumcisions.” Taliah changed the subject. “He refused again.” No tears this time, simply a report of the tragic reality.

Miriam felt a twinge of guilt, pining over Hur when people's lives were at stake.

Moses leaned over and covered Taliah's hands with his own. “I'm so sorry. I know how much you love Masud.”

She nodded. “If you love someone, you don't give up. You don't rest until you're sure they're all right.” She looked up at Miriam. “Right?”

Miriam's throat tightened with emotion. Was Hur all right? She forced the word out. “Right.”

“Absolutely,” Moses said, patting her hands. “We won't give up until our loved ones are safe. I'll find Aaron and send him to the palace to get Ithamar. Though the boy isn't a firstborn, he'll be safer in Goshen with his family.” He turned to Hoshea. “You go to the palace and find Eleazar. He'll know where to find Mosi. You bring them both to the armory, and we'll organize the wagons. I'll go now and ask Hur to have the elders get a count of how many sick, elderly, and imas with newborns need a place on those wagons.” He lifted his eyebrows to the group. “Everyone know their job?”

Miriam wanted to volunteer to speak with Hur personally—but not about wagons. There was simply no time. “Yes, General.” She forced a grin and winked. “Go, while Taliah and I prepare for tonight's meal.” She pushed to her feet, bones creaking and muscles screaming their protest. She hoped Hur saved a place for her on one of those wagons.

Perhaps she could find him when they left Egypt, seek him out among the tribe of Judah. What would she say? At least she could apologize. But for what? Maybe he'd find a nice widow to help him travel. Miriam had cheated herself out of the happiest days of her life.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Miriam refocused on the tasks at hand. They'd need more water for their meal tonight. “Taliah, would you…”

She looked around the room and found herself alone. Well, not completely. Sattar sat at the doorway, making sure the yearling lamb didn't escape. “Where did that girl go?” Miriam asked her furry protector.

He didn't answer, but it was all right. Miriam was almost certain the girl went to plead once more with Masud's father.

For the generations to come every male among you who is eight days old must be circumcised, including those born in your household or bought with money from a foreigner—those who are not your offspring.

—
G
ENESIS 17:12

E
leazar hurried away from Prince Ram's chamber and out the palace gates under the weight of a shoulder bag filled with gold—and the iron key to Egypt's weapons. Unbelievable.

No one tried to stop him; in fact, he saw dozens of other Hebrews with similar parcels full of treasure headed for Goshen. The guards on the walls seemed blind to the evacuation, or more likely they'd caught wind of the coming plague and feared angering Yahweh further.

Eleazar broke into a run just outside the palace gates and sprinted toward the armory. The sun was well past midday, but Yahweh's faithfulness gave his feet wings. He should still have time to unlock the weapons cabinets, disperse the weapons, and return to the palace for Ithamar.

Cresting the rise, he saw the armory ahead. No guards manned the towers, and when he passed through the gates, a chill skittered up his spine. The sparring arena was empty, the forge and furnace areas deserted. He walked directly to the weaponry cabinets and found slaves but no masters. A group of men huddled in the corner in a heated dispute, while the larger gathering idled the day away with wooden swords, wrestling, and games of chance.

“Where are the Egyptians?” he asked the Hittite captain. “And why aren't you making swords?”

The barbarian stood and grinned. “The Egyptians scurried home like rats to their holes when your uncle came this morning and announced tonight's plague. We've been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?”

“Moses said you'd get the weapons key from Ram. I told him you'd have to pry the key out of Ram's dead hand.” He pointed to the men arguing a stone's throw away. “We've got wagers on whether you would bring the key or not.”

Eleazar took a second look at the loitering slaves—Hebrews and foreigners alike. They'd started walking toward him, interested in the conversation. “So Moses told you about the plague and that foreigners willing to covenant with Yahweh and obey His commands will be free when Pharaoh releases the Hebrews.”

The Hittite laughed. “Covenant with Yahweh you say? If you mean any man willing to be cut—yes, we heard that part.”

“What exactly did the men wager?”

“Some of the men think if this Yahweh of yours could make Ram give you the weapons key, He would be a god worth—obeying.” He suddenly noticed the Gold of Praise around Eleazar's neck, and his mouth gaped. “Did you get the key?”

Eleazar reached into his shoulder bag, the Hittite watching every move. Eleazar pulled out a gold ring and grinned. The Hittite narrowed his eyes, not amused. Several in the gathering grumbled. Eleazar reached into the bag again and felt the long shaft of the iron key.

Slowly, Eleazar pulled the key from the bag and lifted it above his head for all to see. “Yahweh is the only God.” He turned to face the men. “And He is worth obeying.”

A murmur rippled through the soldiers, first slight and then building. Men hardened by years of battle and bondage stood on the cusp of freedom but must make a hard choice.

Eleazar returned his focus to the chief Hittite. “Are you with us?”

Only a moment's pause preceded the barbarian's battle cry, and he pounded his fist on his chest in pledge. “I will submit to the knife for a God who can bend the will of Prince Ram.”

Eleazar began to chuckle and then laughed. “I never imagined Yahweh would provide Israel with the best iron workers in the world.” He clamped the man's shoulder. “I don't even know your name.”

“I am Taruna. My men call me Ru.”

“Well, Ru,” Eleazar said, offering him the key. “We must get a weapon into the hand of every fighting man who leaves Egypt with us. I'll find Hoshea to help us.”

“Hoshea is at the palace looking for you.” Taliah's voice squawked like a hen among lions, and Eleazar whirled to find his pregnant wife standing in the lions' den. The men jeered and taunted, and he felt crimson creeping up his neck.

“Touch my wife, and you'll have no need for circumcision.” Eleazar glared at his men, halting their teasing. “Taliah, you will wait by the gate until I'm finished here.” What was she thinking, coming to the armory unescorted? Shouting at him as if he was a child. “Go now! To the gate.” Her cheeks grew crimson, and he regretted his tone, but her fiery spirit needed a bridle.

“Relax, Commander.” Ru nudged his shoulder, drawing attention from his retreating wife. “I'll get the men to help me sort the weapons while you find your apprentice and escort your lovely wife home.” He pointed to the stacks of equipment on the south side of the weaponry cabinets. “Are we taking armor as well or weapons only? What about sandals and helmets—”

“So this is Putiel's she-camel left in your care.” Prince Kopshef shouted across the sparring yard, and Eleazar felt as if the ground tilted.

There by the gate stood his obedient wife with Kopshef's arm around her belly, a dagger to her throat. The prince pulled her head covering off and smelled her hair, her neck. Taliah turned away, whimpering.

Releasing a war cry, Eleazar hurtled across the yard, but Kopshef pointed the dagger at Taliah's belly. “Are you prepared to lose a wife
and
a child today, Hebrew?”

Eleazar skidded to a halt in the dust. “What do you want?”

“I want everything,” Kopshef said. “I want your god to relent. I want the throne. I want my pandering brother Ram to die.” He nodded toward the Hittite. “But for now, I'll take that key to the weapons cabinet.”

Mosi stood three paces behind Kopshef and slowly drew his cudgel from his belt.

Eleazar forced calm into his voice, hoping to give his friend a chance to overpower the maniacal prince. He turned slightly, calling over his shoulder to the Hittite. “Ru, bring me the key.” When he sensed no movement behind him, he kept his eyes on his wife but shouted. “I said, bring me the key—”

Mosi drove the cudgel into Kopshef's side and grabbed for the dagger. Taliah shrieked, and blood stained her robe.

“Taliah!” Eleazar lunged for his wife while Mosi and Kopshef struggled.

The slave soldiers rushed the prince, enraged, with wooden swords and cudgels in hand. Eleazar knelt amid the chaos with Taliah in his arms.

She was shaking and clutching under her belly as blood seeped through her fingers. “The baby, the baby!”

Panic surged through him. Blood. So much blood. He lifted his face to the sky and screamed, “Yahweh, don't take them!”

“I'm well,” she said. “I'm well.” Her eyes rolled back, and she was gone.

“Taliah, no!” He listened for breath and heard it. She'd only fainted, but he must find a way out.

He looked up, heard more shouting—then silence. Moses and Hoshea had joined the fray, shoving the soldiers away from Kopshef, lying in the dust. The prince struggled to his knees and then to his feet.

He ran.

Eleazar scooped Taliah into his arms and started toward the gate. Soldiers gathered around another body.

Mosi.

Eleazar stopped, bending over his friend with Taliah in his arms. “Nooooo!”

Moses saw the blood on Taliah and shoved Eleazar toward Goshen. “Go! We'll bury Mosi. Take her to Miriam. Go!”

Eleazar stumbled through the gate, gained his footing, and ran, heart pounding in his ears.
Yahweh, please, please. Yahweh, please.
He had no words.