By Way of the Wilderness (2 page)

“No,” the princess said. “This is one of the Hebrew boy babies. No doubt the mother has tried to save his life by this means.” She reached out a slender finger, and the baby's hand touched it and grabbed it. A smile turned the corners of Kali's lips upward, and she said, “He is strong. He will be a strong man.”

“But the guards will take him, will they not, princess?” one of her maids inquired.

At that moment Miriam almost stopped breathing. Would the Egyptian princess turn the baby over to the guards to be killed? Then she was overjoyed to hear the princess say, “The Nile has given me this infant. He is my son. I will name him Moses.”

“One taken from the water,” the maid said with a smile. “But will the great pharaoh allow it?”

“He will not deny me a son.”

Indeed, Kali had yearned for a son. She had had a brief marriage before being widowed, and no children had resulted. She had chosen not to marry again, so without a husband there was no way for her to have the son she so wanted. She did not hesitate to choose this baby for her own son, the child given to her by the great Nile. “He will be a prince in Egypt,” she said.

“But he is too young to be weaned, princess.”

At that instant Miriam knew why she had been brought to this place, and she stepped forward to make her presence known. The princess turned at the sound of her footsteps.

Miriam bowed down, touched her face to the ground. “Your Highness,” she said, “I saw you take the baby from the water.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Miriam. My father is Amram.”

“What do you want, child?”

“The baby will need a nursing mother.”

Kali nodded. “Why, that is true enough.”

“Shall I bring one of the Hebrew mothers? I know one who has recently lost her baby. She would be glad to nurse your child.”

“Yes,” Kali said. “That is necessary. Go at once and bring her here.”

As Miriam turned and ran away, running with all her strength, she knew now with certainty that God was in the life of the baby that the princess had named Moses. Somehow the great God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob had given Moses back to his family, and she could not wait to tell her parents the news. “Mother will have her baby to nurse and to raise—at least for a while,” she murmured as she ran on toward the slave camp.

Being the favorite daughter of the pharaoh, Princess Kali had several residences, one of which was an apartment in the harem of the pharaoh. There she could visit with her unmarried sisters, who their father kept in the harem for the purposes of making political alliances. He had done this with Kali herself before she was married, but when her husband died, he had welcomed her back, for she was the most intellectual of all his daughters—and the one who pleased him the most.

Kali enjoyed the harem and the friendship with her sisters and with the pharaoh's concubines. She had come to her apartment today to visit with her sisters. Her quarters were close to the main gate and were surrounded by flowers of all kinds, which she herself had planted. Bright murals decorated the walls with images of falcons, fish, and the residents of the harem itself.

Kali had been speaking with two of her sisters when suddenly the cry was heard, “The pharaoh is coming!”

All three girls quickly rose and faced the door. When the pharaoh entered, they bowed low, and the pharaoh smiled to greet them. “Well, girls, are you glad to see your father?”

“It is always good to see you, Father,” Kali said.

“Good. I must talk with you, Kali. You girls run along.”

As soon as the sisters were gone, Kali asked, “Can I get you some refreshment?”

“No, I think not.” Pharaoh Seti I took his seat on one of the curved benches padded with leather and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. He was a small man, and people who met him for the first time were always shocked that the god of Egypt could be so insignificant in appearance. But however insignificant Seti might appear outwardly, he was a shrewd man. He had to be in order to rule over Egypt, with its powerful armies of well-trained soldiers, another army of slaves, and enemies on the borders who sought every opportunity to break through and steal the riches of Egypt.

“Moses is returning,” Pharaoh said. He opened his unusual slate gray eyes and looked pointedly at Kali. “Have you had any messages?”

“Yes, Father. He sent a runner to tell me he would be here soon.”

Pharaoh closed his eyes but did not seem to relax. He opened them again and said, “He has proven himself to be an able soldier.”

“Yes, I am very proud of him.”

“You always were.” Seti sat up straighter and leaned forward. “The most difficult thing for me to understand is your attachment to this man. It has always been a mystery to me.”

“I always wanted a son. My husband did not give me one, so the gods did.”

“You think Moses is a gift of the gods?” Seti smiled suddenly. “The priests would not agree with you.”

“No, they would not.”

In fact, the priests had no use at all for Moses. They called him “The Stranger” and spread tales about him. They dared not attack him, for he was the adopted son of Pharaoh's favorite daughter, but they hated and feared him. After all, the pharaoh had only one son. If that son were to die, it was not impossible that Moses, the adopted Hebrew son of Pharoah's daughter, might be in line for the throne.

“They are envious of him,” Kali said with a smile. “He excels them all in the arts and sciences of Egypt.”

“Indeed he has. It might have been better for him if he had not been quite so accomplished. He would not be such a threat to them if he were stupid.”

“It's a little late for Moses to become stupid, Father.”

“I agree. But I must warn you that the opposition from the priesthood is growing stronger. He does not reverence the gods properly, or so they say. You must have noticed it yourself.”

Kali hesitated. Indeed she had noticed that Moses was not overly religious. She had cautioned him on this already, but now she studied her father, wondering if his message meant more than it appeared to. “Do you think he is in danger?”

“Yes, I do, and I have come to tell you that you must help him join himself to our people and our ways.”

“I have tried, but he is a stubborn man,” Kali said. “He is a strange mixture of sweetness and stubbornness. He will do anything for me except what I ask him to do!” She laughed. “Maybe all strong men are like that. You're like that yourself, Father.”

Pharaoh Seti laughed too and stood to his feet. He came over and put his arm around Kali and said, “You must teach him, daughter.”

“Teach him what?”

“Teach him to at least go through the motions of religion. It may mean the difference between life and death.”

“Yes. I will try. And I'm grateful to you for giving me this counsel.”

Pharaoh kissed her on the cheek and shook his head. “Sweet and stubborn. Try to talk him out of the stubbornness. He needs to be sweet if he's going to pacify those priests of mine.”

****

Amram's family had gathered, along with many others of the slaves. It was one of the rare occasions when the slaves were granted time off from the brickyard, in this case to help celebrate a victory. The Egyptian army was coming back from a conquest, and the overseers had been commanded to line up the slaves along the road down which the conqueror and his troops would come.

In this case the conqueror was none other than Moses, Prince of Egypt. Amram and his family had not spoken to Moses since he had been taken away from them. As soon as he was weaned, the princess had sent for him to be schooled in the palace, where he was thoroughly trained to be a soldier and a scientist, as well as to learn the difficult art of writing.

Amram and Jochebed had grown old, but their children, Miriam and Aaron, were now fine-looking adults. As the family stood along the parade route, Miriam cried out, “Look, they're coming.”

Every eye went to the procession that began to pass. First came the infantry, their spears glinting in the bright noon sunshine. Hardened by warfare and training, they were strong men, their faces burned by the sun.

Next came the archers, with their bows and quivers on their backs. More soldiers followed in a seemingly endless procession until finally a cry went up, “There he is! Moses the prince!”

Miriam fixed her eyes on the approaching chariot and stepped out in front of the crowd. The movement caught the eye of the tall, powerful man who stood in the chariot beside the driver. Moses wore the uniform of a general, and the sunlight made his golden armor flash. Their eyes met, and she saw Moses draw back his head in a strange motion, almost that of recognition. She had seen him before, but it was always from a distance. Every time Moses appeared in public, Miriam made it a point to be there and be seen by him, so she knew he must remember her face by now.

Moses turned his head as the chariot passed, keeping his eye on Miriam, and then he suddenly snapped around, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“He recognized you, Miriam,” Aaron whispered. “All the years of putting yourself before him have paid off.”

“Yes, I saw him look at you, daughter,” Amram said.

They watched the procession sadly as lines of captives shuffled past in shackles—more slaves to make bricks and build Pharaoh's cities. Old and young, strong and feeble, these prisoners of war appeared dazed, confused, and exhausted. Bruised and wounded from their battles, they dragged by in weary resignation of their fate: They would die in this land and never again see the homes from which they had been callously stolen.

When the procession of Egypt's triumphant spoils of war was over, Amram turned to go home, and the family followed him back in silence. When they reached their hut, Miriam prepared a simple meal for them.

Aaron was thinking about Moses as he ate. “I can't get over the way he recognized you, Miriam. I wish he had looked at me.”

“He will someday,” Miriam said.

“That's not likely,” Amram muttered, his mouth stuffed with soft bread. “He will never be a true Hebrew.”

“He
is
a true Hebrew, Father,” Miriam said firmly.

Jochebed studied her daughter. “You've believed for years that the Redemption will come through your brother.”

The
Redemption
was the way the Hebrews described their future hope and dreams of freedom. The more devout among them, at least, believed that a day would come when they would no longer be slaves but free men and women in their own land. Miriam was one of those devout. There was no doubt in her mind of a glorious future for her people, though many had given up any hope and succumbed to a life of despair. Her own father had little faith in the promised Redemption.

“Yes,” Miriam declared boldly. “I do believe that Moses will be used as an instrument of God to bring about our Redemption.”

“I think you're right, sister,” Aaron agreed, excitement dancing in his eyes at such a wonderful idea. “He's close to the pharaoh. He can have great influence.”

“He doesn't even know we're alive,” Amram grumbled.

Miriam kept quiet, feeling it useless to argue with her father and wanting to be alone with her thoughts. She was not of Aaron's mind that Israel would be set free through political maneuvering. God would do something else, something startling. She had heard the old stories of her forefathers—of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—and it seemed God never did what people expected. His actions were always beyond human reasoning or imagination. She kept all this in her heart and said no more, but she thought constantly about the Redemption and how God would bring it about.

****

“Moses, you're here!”

Kali jumped from her couch and came running as Moses entered her apartment. He reached his arms wide and enclosed the small, fragile woman in his embrace, holding her almost like a child. “Yes, Mother, the conquering hero has come.”

She pulled him over to the couch and said, “Come sit down. You must tell me everything. Don't leave out any detail.”

Moses laughed as he sat down beside her and studied her face. “You're looking well,” he said.

“Your mother is growing old, Moses.”

“No, you'll never be old.”

The constant care of her maids had kept Kali looking almost like a young woman, but Moses could see a weariness in her face that troubled him. “You must take care of yourself,” he said, holding her small hand in both of his large ones. “What would I do without my mother to take care of me?”

Moses and his mother had always been very close—closer even than many natural-born sons and their mothers. As Kali felt the strength in his hands and looked into his gentle eyes, she reveled in his youthful vigor, the breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his corded neck. He was a virile, handsome man, and she once again wondered, as she often did, why he so insistently refused marriage. There had been plenty of prospects, with many beautiful young women of royal birth vying for his attention.