“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’m entering Egypt as Moses ben Amram. I’m here as myself, on the Lord’s errand.”

  “I had a dream from God that brought me here,” said Aaron. “Was it the same with you?”

  “Not a dream,” said Moses. “A vision. God came to me on the mountain, in a fire that burned in a green bush but didn’t harm it. He spoke to me in a voice—oh, Aaron, when you hear his voice—but you must know what I mean. Have you felt how the voice of God fills your body so you hardly need to breathe? It becomes your life while he speaks to you, and when he left me I was so weak I could hardly walk, and yet so light I thought I could fly.”

  As Moses went on and on about his vision, Aaron felt something break inside him. He should have known. Moses left as an unbeliever, but of course he would come back as a prophet, a greater prophet than any that Aaron had heard of—for which of them ever had the experience Moses was telling about? Aaron had his little dream, but Moses had a great vision.

  That’s the story of my life, thought Aaron. I’m the one who feels the pain of Israel, but Moses is the one the Lord chose. From the cradle on. What was I? A spoiled brick, to be tossed back into the river and become mud again? I was invisible to God. Now that he finally notices me, I’m still only a faint shadow in the blinding light that Moses has in him.

  They came at last to the checkpoint, where the soldiers greeted Aaron with a smile. “Here at last, eh? Well, we’ll miss your help, Aaron!”

  They almost passed Moses through without even asking his name, but the duty sergeant remembered at the last moment. “We need to have your name for the records,” he said.

  “Moses,” answered Moses.

  Aaron shriveled with fear, but tried to show none of it. It was impossible that the soldiers wouldn’t know his name.

  The sergeant laughed. “Moses! There was another Moses, you know. Went out into the desert from this very outpost, in the middle of a storm. He used to be the son of Pharaoh, till he killed somebody and had to flee. We figure the desert got him. The sand, the wind.”

  “No, he lived,” said Moses.

  “Well, listen to that! Boys, did you hear what he said? This man knows something about what happened to Moses, the general who—”

  And then, suddenly, he remembered that it was forbidden to mention Moses by name.

  “That is to say, the former son of Pharaoh, whose name we’ve all forgotten.”

  The other men laughed.

  “So what happened to him? How do former sons of Pharaoh live, when they get out into the desert?”

  Several of the other soldiers had gathered around now, and were making mock bets about whether Moses had been sold into slavery or merely forced to marry some toothless desert maiden.

  “Actually, he’s become a fairly good shepherd,” said Moses. “And he would have been happy to remain at that labor, but the Lord God of Israel appeared to him and sent him back to Egypt.”

  “Sent him back!” The sergeant laughed. “Oh, I’d like to see him dare to show his face here again!”

  “Would you?” said Moses. “Then open your eyes, soldier. I’m the one who passed through here all those years ago. I’m the one who’s been tending sheep. And I’m the one who’s here with a message to Pharaoh from the Lord God of Israel.”

  The soldiers fell still. They had no idea what to do now.

  “I suppose we should arrest you,” said the sergeant, making it sound halfway joking, just in case Moses was only having a jest at their expense. It would be too embarrassing to claim to his superiors that he had arrested Moses, only to have it discovered that it was only some desert rat with a sense of humor.

  “Arrest me or not,” said Moses. “Either way I’ll see Pharaoh soon enough. As you can see, I’m not trying to sneak in secretly. Send word to him that I passed through here and that I’m on my way to speak to him, as soon as I visit with my brother and sister. Pharaoh is not afraid of me. If you arrest me, it will look as if he is.”

  Aaron had to admire the bold, cool way Moses addressed the soldiers. He spoke to them as an officer, and they were properly subservient. When it was clear that they had no intention of arresting him or interfering with him in any way, Moses bade them farewell and stepped out smartly, with Aaron hurrying a little to keep up. Moses did not look back. They were well out on the road, with Moses trying to learn everything he could about events in Egypt since he left, when a chariot came clattering up behind them. Moses did not so much as glance at it, just stepped out of the road and kept on walking. Aaron forced himself to pretend to be as nonchalant. It turned out Moses was right—the chariot was not coming to arrest them. But could it be that he really didn’t care?

  “There went the messenger to report that I’ve entered Egypt,” said Moses.

  “The Lord must have shown you everything, for you to know that there was nothing to fear from the soldiers.”

  “On the contrary,” said Moses. “The Lord gave me only a few general predictions—that Pharaoh will not let Israel go until he has suffered greatly under the hands of God. And that the children of Israel and I will gather at the mountain of the Lord, after Egypt has let them go.”

  “But that conversation with the guards—you can’t tell me you didn’t know it would turn out well.”

  “I knew it would turn out as the Lord wished,” said Moses. “Come now, you and Miriam were telling me these things when we were all young. The Lord gives us commandments, but expects us to be resourceful in carrying them out.”

  “But you were so confident. Not showing the slightest doubt.”

  “I was confident in the Lord,” said Moses. “But I had no idea whether I would come before Pharaoh as a free man or in chains.”

  “Well, if it had been the chains,” Aaron pointed out, “they would have arrested me, too. You might have thought of that.”

  “I would have, if you had come here at my command,” said Moses. “But it was the Lord who sent you the dream that brought you here, and you came here in obedience to him, not me. If you’re with me, then we must face Pharaoh together. So if one of us is in chains, or both, is up to the Lord.”

  “Couldn’t you have discussed it with me first?”

  “Aaron, I asked the Lord to send you instead of me. I knew that you were the one who dreamed of leading Israel out of captivity, and I knew you had the abilities that would be needed. But the Lord didn’t take my advice. Instead, he charged me with the task, and gave me a companion—you. You’re to be my spokesman in dealing both with Pharaoh and with the Israelites.”

  “It makes sense for me to speak for you among the Israelites, where I know all the leaders of every tribe,” said Aaron, “but I don’t know anyone in the palace. I think you could guess that once you left, we were no longer welcome at Pharaoh’s house. So I can’t think how I’d be helpful there.”

  “You are to be my spokesman,” said Moses. “Those were the Lord’s instructions. He said that I would give you words to say as God gives words to me. I was to be to you like God, he said.”

  Aaron stopped walking. “Are you trying to hurt me?”

  “Why should you be hurt?” said Moses. “I’m telling you what the Lord said. It has nothing to do with us or our feelings. We’ll be meeting with Pharaoh, and Pharaoh’s a god, remember? I come as the ambassador from the most high God, who is king of heaven and earth, and so I will not deign to speak to Tuthmose directly. He’ll have a dozen, a hundred courtiers there who all treat him like a god. I will have only you.”

  “I’m a proud man,” said Aaron. “But if it’s the Lord’s will, I’ll serve as your spokesman. To have Israel free, I’d gladly die—so why should I let a little humiliation bother me?”

  “We’re brothers, Aaron, as we’ve always been. Back when I was in Pharaoh’s house I was too proud or fearful or—what?—too Egyptian to accept you as I should have. But I know you now as my brother, and you know me. I don’t know how the Lord will bring Israel out of Egypt, but I know he will. I was not glad to be the one called to speak to Pharaoh. I was glad to find out that you would be with me. You have always had courage, Aaron. Boldness that I didn’t have. You have never been afraid to speak your mind, even in Pharaoh’s house, where others were so obsequious and eloquent in their flattery that I could barely comprehend their messages.”

  “Yes, I imagine my messages were always clear,” said Aaron, with a laugh. “When I think of the things that Miriam and I said to you. . . .”

  “I was relieved to find out that the two of you were still alive. I was afraid that some vengeance might have been taken against you. Hatshepsut knew that you were urging me to act like an Israelite, and mothers are very resentful of those who get their children into trouble.”

  Aaron stiffened. “Even now, you refer to that woman lying in her huge stone tomb as your mother, when your true mother lies buried in a grave that no Egyptian will ever tend, and no Israelite will ever visit?”

  Moses looked genuinely surprised. “Aaron, do we need to visit that old question? I was told from infancy that Hatshepsut was my mother. I lived in her house. I grew up as her son. Now that she’s been murdered and put in her grave, must I repudiate her in order to keep you content?”

  Aaron was startled. “The Lord told you, then, that she was definitely killed?”

  Moses laughed. “No, no, the Lord didn’t tell me any such thing. I just know the way that Pharaoh’s house works. Pharaohs who die of sudden illnesses caused by eating bad fruit—that was the official rumor, wasn’t it?—let’s just say that Hatshepsut is the most recent in a long line of sudden deaths in Pharaoh’s house. My only consolation is that those who use poison as a political instrument never eat a meal in peace. Every bout with indigestion will cause Tuthmose to fear that justice has come to him at last. And it will come—but from God, not from poison.”

  “Speaking of things that come from God,” said Aaron, “it’s going to take some planning to figure out how to convince the elders of the tribes that you are indeed the Lord’s prophet. They don’t know you as an Israelite, and—”

  Moses held up his hand for silence. “The Lord has already provided us with all the persuasion we’ll need. Take your walking staff, Aaron, and throw it to the ground.”

  Moses seemed to be amused at Aaron’s fear of the snake, his reluctance to pick it up again by the tail. “No, Aaron, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing to remember how I did exactly the same thing—and I was in the presence of the burning bush. Now, for the second sign the Lord gave us. Put your hand into the bosom of your robe.”

  Fearfully, Aaron did so; when it came out leprous, he cried out in horror. “Have I failed a test?”

  “No test, Aaron. Just put your hand back into your robe.”

  Aaron did, and kissed his own hand when it came out clean. “To be cut off from the land of the living, and yet not be dead,” he said. “How could I bear that?”

  Moses shook his head. “That’s how most men live, and don’t even know it.”

  “Will that happen every time I put my hand in my robe? Do I get a snake every time I drop my staff?”

  “Only when I command you to do it, Aaron. It’s not something you can do whenever you feel like it. The elders will see that it’s not some trick I do, like the priests with their carefully staged miracles. I have only to command, and nature obeys—and power like that comes only from the Lord.”

  And only to you, thought Aaron.

  At once he was ashamed of his resentment. How could he not be glad? Miracles had been done using his own staff, his own body. The Lord was moving to free Israel, and the power of God had flowed through him. If Aaron had power only when Moses commanded him, well, that was better than not having the power of God at all.

  “Pharaoh might well try to forbid a gathering of elders,” said Moses.

  “He might also forbid the wind from blowing,” said Aaron, “but as the wind blows, so also do the elders gather.” He grinned. “They don’t watch us that closely. As long as we live in desperate poverty, and as long as we labor, all of us, even our wives and children, to meet their tally of bricks, then they’re content to let us govern ourselves how we will.”

  Moses nodded, his expression grim. “Governing ourselves—that’s the problem that the Lord will leave to us. When the Lord succeeds in bringing Israel out of Egypt, we have to turn these tribes—half Egyptian in their thoughts and habits—into a single nation that respects and obeys the Lord. I know what it took to prepare me to serve God. I hope they’ll be easier to teach.”

  “Nothing’s easy with Israelites,” said Aaron, thinking of the endless quarreling. The saying was that wherever you had two Israelites, you had three opinions—each man’s true opinion, and an opinion exactly opposite to whichever one was stated first, which the second man will immediately adopt as if he had believed it all his life.

  “What do we do when someone decides that you and I are not really the ones God wants to rule that nation? What if we face a rebellion? Do we become tyrants in order to hold Israel together as one nation? The Lord will free us from Egypt, but who will keep us at peace with each other?”

  “The danger isn’t rebellion so much as division,” said Aaron. “The one thing Israel has maintained far better than our religion is the separate identity of the twelve tribes. Thirteen, really, since Ephraim and Manasseh act as if they were still carrying on their old foolish rivalry and they won’t allow anyone to combine them as the tribe of Joseph. Each tribe has its own leaders, and each one will be afraid that some other tribe will have the ascendancy.”

  “So they’ll assume we intend to have our tribe of Levi rule over all the others,” said Moses.

  “That’s why I never have a council of fewer than thirteen members,” said Aaron. “I can never afford to let any tribe feel left out, or that tribe will be my enemy.”

  “I’m glad to see you’ve already had experience with this,” said Moses. “Governing people is hard enough when they are used to being a nation, and are accustomed to the way government works in their lives. Every person will have his own idea of what freedom means. Most will recognize that we still must have laws and judges, to keep the peace and to protect our nation from enemies. But it’ll take time to bind these tribes into one nation, the children of Israel, the servants of God. A nation of priests and prophets, Aaron, that’s what we must become. When the people all have the spirit of God in their hearts, then we’ll be like the people of Zion or Salem, and without war our enemies will be driven away by the power of God, and without animosity all disagreements will be settled with the love of God in our hearts.” Moses sighed. “In the meantime, I’ll have to rely on your intimate knowledge of the leaders of the tribes.”

  Aaron felt his heart racing, to think of the kind of nation that Moses envisioned. He had never heard of Zion or Salem, but he had some notion of what it might mean to be a nation of priests and prophets. To get to that condition, though, they had so far to go. “Now I’m gladder than ever that I’ve worked to make friends with the leaders of every tribe,” said Aaron. “There is none that has cause to hate me, and I think there’s none that does.”

  “When they see the power of God flow from your hand,” said Moses, “some of them will remember old offenses that didn’t even bother them at the time, and they’ll say, Who is he, that the Lord has given him power like that? Wasn’t he the one who used to quarrel with me as a child? Didn’t I hear that his own children misbehave? Why did the Lord choose him and not me?”

  Aaron flushed with embarrassment. Had Moses read his mind?

  But Moses went on as if his words had no application to Aaron at all, and they spent the next several hours’ journey with Aaron telling Moses about all the elders of all the tribes. Whether Moses could possibly remember all this information, Aaron had no idea. But he was glad to have the chance to show how well he knew the leaders of the people. If Moses had some notion that Aaron resented him, Aaron was determined that he would never have cause to think such a thing again. It was the Lord they served, and the Lord’s people. Both of them were called by prophecy, however different their experience might have been. If the Lord had need of any man, he should be glad to serve, no matter how high or low his office might seem in the eyes of others. For in the service of God all offices were made noble by the nobility of their master, and all yet all officers were lowly servants compared to the one they obeyed.

  Besides, even though Moses was ahead of him and always would be, Aaron couldn’t help but notice that being second in the eyes of the Lord put him well ahead of everyone else.

  * * *

  Jannes and Jambres came to Tuthmose as soon as they were summoned. If they thought of themselves as kingmakers for having helped Tuthmose gain sole possession of the crown, they never showed it. If anything, they were more obedient and subservient than they had ever been with Hatshepsut. This wise humility was an attribute he appreciated in his priests. That way he didn’t have to kill them.

  “What service can we perform for our god Pharaoh?” asked Jannes. Jambres, though he was now a man of middle age, still let his father do the talking on public occasions. This was an illusion, of course. In private, it was Jambres whose keen mind was worth consulting. And Tuthmose knew perfectly well that it was to Jambres that Tuthmose owed the support of the priesthood. Jannes was old, just going through the motions.

  “Do you remember a slave who pretended to be a son in Pharaoh’s house?” asked Tuthmose.

  “Wasn’t that during the time that a woman was pretending to be Pharaoh in Pharaoh’s house?” asked Jambres.

  Jannes glowered at his son. “I was commanded to forget any such slave who went into exile some years ago.”

  “Now I command you to remember again,” said Tuthmose. “He’s back.”

  “We know,” said Jambres. “Our informers among the Israelites told us of a meeting last night on the banks of the Nile. Some magic tricks were done. The bumpkins were impressed.”