“I’m glad you’re here,” cried Aaron to the crowd, smiling broadly. “You should have been there! Pharaoh’s lackey, Jannes, the priest of that false god Amon, almost croaked when I called him an old frog!”

  A few laughed, but one cry from the crowd silenced them. “That insult cost us hours of extra work every day!” Cries of angry assent swept the crowd.

  Aaron laughed and shook his head. “Don’t you see that God is showing all the people of Egypt how weak and ineffective Pharaoh is? He thinks that he can come between the children of Israel and the prophet the Lord has sent to them. On the contrary! God will come between Pharaoh and his people, until they groan for him to let Israel go. Israel will stand together! But Egypt will fall apart.”

  “What’s going to make them hate Pharaoh!” demanded a woman.

  “The power of God,” said Aaron. “Stand firm, and let the Lord work his will.”

  “In the meantime we work ourselves to death!”

  “For a few days we work harder,” said Aaron. “Is that too high a price to pay for freedom? I’ve heard many a man among you say he’d gladly die to win our freedom from bondage. Is death so easy? The extra bricks you make will show your faith in God! Every brick is a gift to God!”

  “It’ll go into Egyptian buildings all the same,” someone called.

  “Egyptian buildings that your children will never have to look at, because they’ll be in the promised land! Moses knows that you’re suffering! That’s why the Lord sent him here—to change that suffering to joy. Be joyful as you work now, for you are not working as slaves! Pharaoh is no longer in control of you. He can only respond now, to what the Lord says to him. God rules in Egypt now!”

  The hecklers were still there, but now the bulk of the crowd was with Aaron. Miriam had to admire how smoothly Aaron handled it, turning Pharaoh’s punishment into a heroic burden borne for God’s sake. This is fine today, she thought. But what speech will you give the next time, when Pharaoh makes it even worse?

  “I look out upon the people,” cried Aaron, “and I see the children of Israel, men and women of every tribe. But where are your leaders? Why are they hiding? Why do they not stand beside the prophet of the Lord? The day will come when every man will claim that he stood beside Moses the whole way. But you are my witnesses—they were not here today!”

  “Not true!” cried a man.

  “Ephraim is here!” cried another.

  The first man came forward. “I’m Caleb, and I stand here for Judah.”

  “Caleb,” said Aaron, “I should have known that of all the elders of Judah, you would be the one to stand with us.”

  The man from Ephraim also came forward. He was painfully young, hardly more than a boy.

  “I don’t know you,” said Aaron. “You weren’t at the meeting of the elders.”

  The young man nodded. “My father was, and told me all that took place. Today he was plagued with pain in his knees and elbows and fingers, so he couldn’t walk, but he sent me in his place. My name is Joshua. My father is Nun.”

  “That grand old man!” cried Aaron. “Israel, do you hear? Joshua stands up for his father Nun, an elder of Ephraim. And Caleb stands up for Judah. Men of Judah! Men of Ephraim! Your tribes are known to have faith in God! And I stand here for Levi. But you men of other tribes, where are your elders? When God brings Israel out of Egypt, do you want your tribe to be left behind because you repudiated the prophet instead of trusting in the Lord?”

  At once there was a flurry as men ran off in search of their tribal elders. Miriam caught Aaron’s eye and smiled at him. Well done, brother.

  The meeting lasted an hour, as each of the tribal elders arrived and tried to outdo the others in affirming how loyal they were to Moses, and how firmly they would all endure Pharaoh’s persecution without complaint, because they trusted in the Lord to deliver them.

  Miriam did her part. She refrained from laughing in their faces. Weak and frightened men—soon enough new leaders would emerge from the tribes, while the timid old ones drifted off into meaninglessness. That elder of Judah, Caleb, he was a good one, Miriam knew he had a name for courage. And the young one, the boy Joshua—what a surprise he turned out to be. A son of Nun was bound to be bookish and quiet, she would have thought. Instead, he outdid Aaron in fervency until Moses had to silence him by gathering him into his embrace and taking him aside to talk in private.

  Afterward, when the three of them were alone in the moonlight, sitting on the ground outside Miriam’s hut, she asked Moses what he said to the boy.

  “Not a boy, Miriam,” said Moses. “A man. I told him Aaron mentioned that his father, Nun, was a painter, writing inscriptions on stone. I asked if he had learned to read and write, and he said yes. I’ve made him my scribe.”

  “A mere child!” said Miriam.

  “Why, did you want the job?” said Aaron.

  “I wanted your job,” said Miriam. “I never would have thought you had it in you, Aaron. Standing up to all that heckling without letting them bully you.”

  “I don’t let people bully me,” said Aaron.

  “Not anymore, anyway,” said Miriam. “I’m praising you, Aaron, so please don’t argue with me about this.”

  “Sorry,” said Aaron. “I didn’t know what praise sounded like, coming from you.”

  “I was just as surprised to see courage and vigor coming from you,” said Miriam.

  Moses roared with laughter. “Nothing changes! Gone for all these years, and nothing changes!” He threw his arms around Miriam. “Have I ever told you how I honor you, for speaking honestly when no one wanted to hear? The Lord’s will has not been forgotten in Israel, not by anyone within the sound of your voice.”

  Miriam was taken aback. No one ever embraced her, not since she started speaking so boldly in the name of the Lord. But startled as she was, she rather regretted it when he released her. And his praise brought tears to her eyes. No one had ever thanked her or honored her—they had only avoided her or tried to get her to hold her peace, or at least speak more tactfully.

  But then she realized: He was handling her, dealing with her. “I think you’re flattering me, Moses,” she said acidly. “I don’t do what I do to be praised.”

  Moses smiled, a little sadly. “Can’t trust anyone, can you?”

  “You’re still the same man you were when you left, Moses,” said Miriam. “Look what happened today—it was Aaron who saved the situation with the crowd. You didn’t even raise your voice.”

  “The Lord gave me Aaron to be my spokesman,” said Moses. “It would be foolish of me, then, not to let him speak.”

  “You’re so complacent,” said Miriam. “You have nothing at stake here. Your family is in Midian, safely out of harm’s way. While we have everything on the line!”

  Moses shook his head. “My life is on the line, Miriam. If I seem complacent, it’s because I believe the Lord’s promise, spoken to me in his own voice. Why should I be afraid? And you, Miriam, haven’t you known from childhood on that God would do the things that he’s doing now?”

  “Yes!” she cried. “I loved the Lord and I loved Israel when you were playing at being Pharaoh’s son in the palace!”

  Moses regarded her in silence for a few minutes. “And now the Lord has shown himself to me, and called Aaron in a dream. We’re the ones who were called, and not you. Which is it that galls you more, that God chose us for the job, or that we’re doing it better than you thought we could?”

  “I don’t know how you could do it worse!” said Miriam. “There isn’t even a glimmer of a plan in what you’re doing. Despite Aaron’s fine words, it’s Pharaoh who’s in control of the situation.”

  “I’ve spent years of study and prayer, learning how to turn my life over to God, without trying to make plans of my own,” said Moses. “As for Pharaoh, he’s in control of nothing. God rules Egypt as he rules all lands. Generally he doesn’t interfere, letting the fools be foolish while the wicked do their worst. Miriam, God called me and Aaron because he wanted us to do something different from what we were doing before. You, however, have been serving him exactly as he wished, from childhood on—from the day you spoke boldly to Hatshepsut and brought our mother into the palace to be my wet-nurse. Why should the Lord call you again, when you’re already on the right road?”

  Miriam glared at him. “More flattery.”

  “More truth,” said Moses. “We need you to listen to the complaints of the people, and assure them that their suffering is worthwhile because God is turning all their pain and grief into a miracle.”

  “That’s fine for you to say,” said Miriam. “But when does the miracle start?”

  Moses sighed. “Some people can’t see miracles when they’re right in the middle of them.”

  “Better than seeing miracles where they don’t exist,” said Miriam.

  “You’re determined to stand entirely alone, aren’t you,” said Moses.

  “That’s where I’ve always stood,” said Miriam. “And isn’t it just typical that when you decided to turn to the Lord’s way, you couldn’t come stand beside me, you had to leap on ahead and play the prophet as if you were the first person ever to speak the words of the Lord to this people.”

  “What you don’t understand,” said Moses, “is that if they’re the words of the Lord, what does it matter who says them? I am standing beside you. So stop trying to elbow me off. There’s room for all of us in the Lord’s service, not just us three but every man and woman of Israel.”

  “Is that what you think? That you can turn Israel into a nation of prophets? Go back to Midian, Moses, but stay in the shade, the sun has been cooking your brains.”

  Moses patted her hand. “Stay alone, then, if you want.”

  “I don’t want to be alone, I am alone, and I always have been.”

  “That’s how it feels,” said Moses, “to everyone who hasn’t found the Lord.”

  “I’m alone because I found the Lord.”

  “That’s why you’re not alone. But if you insist, we’ll all be very quiet and pretend not to be here, so you can go on believing in your own isolation. In the meantime, I hope you’ll help us with the people.”

  “I’ll help the Lord.”

  “Good,” said Moses. “He loves you even more than I do.”

  With that, Moses got up and went inside the house.

  “Well,” said Aaron, “that was as childish as I’ve ever seen you act.”

  “Shut up,” said Miriam.

  “Envy is so ugly, especially when it’s so nakedly expressed.”

  “While your envy is all dressed up as loyalty,” said Miriam. “But some of us see through the costume.”

  “Aren’t we the complicated family,” said Aaron. “We chased Moses all those years, and now that we’ve finally caught him, we don’t want him.”

  “But we’ve got him anyway,” said Miriam.

  “The truth is, Miriam, that Moses is not the same man he was. None of that I-know-everything attitude. He really does live for the Lord now. He’s humbled himself. I’m trying to do the same.”

  “I live for the Lord, too.”

  “I know,” said Aaron.

  “I did sound envious, didn’t I. But that wasn’t how I really feel. I’m tired. I can’t believe I said the things I said.”

  “Miriam, everyone who knows you often has said the same thing: I can’t believe Miriam said the things she said.” Aaron laughed and gripped her hand a moment, then got up. “I hope Elisheba has heard the rumor that I got back from the palace alive. She was worried when I left her this morning, and so were the children.”

  “I know,” said Miriam. “I helped her care for your children half the day. Nadab and Abihu are useful at making bricks, but the younger boys can’t stop scampering right through the bricks before they’re dry, leaving little footprints.”

  “Thank you for watching out for my family,” said Aaron.

  “Your family is my family.”

  “Do you think we’ll ever meet Moses’ wife and children?” asked Aaron. “Or even that father-in-law he can’t stop talking about? The one who taught him to read Hebrew?”

  “Didn’t you hear the prophet? We’ll all be together to serve God at the holy mountain.”

  “Or die trying,” said Aaron.

  “Do you think he really saw the Lord? Or just a bush on fire on a hot day?” Without meaning to, Miriam had blurted her own worst doubts.

  But Aaron only chuckled. “It’s not the way I would have done it, but Miriam, he got us in to see Pharaoh, we spoke boldly to him—it was exhilarating. Why shouldn’t it be true? Maybe my dream was just a dream and Moses only happened to be returning to Egypt while I was there waiting for him. But I think God’s hand is guiding him. If I’m wrong, you’ll be burying me quite soon.”

  “If I’m not also dead because of Moses.”

  “Good night, Miriam,” said Aaron. “I have to hike all the way to the palace again tomorrow.”

  “What, aren’t you going to haul straw for us?”

  “I’m a talker these days, Miriam, not a doer.”

  “In other words, you haven’t changed a bit,” she retorted.

  He laughed, kissed her on the cheek, and went back to his own hut, leaving her alone as always.

  But no, not alone. Moses was asleep inside her house.

  The Lord’s prophet—and he told her that the Lord chose her, that she had done well, that he loved her, that the Lord’s cause needed her.

  Maybe it was all flattery to try to persuade her to help him keep the people calm. But she knew in her heart that it wasn’t flattery, it was the truth. God did love her. God had noticed her, and all her faithful service.

  Chapter 10: Blood

  It was the younger priest, Jambres, who spoke for Pharaoh this time, greeting Moses and Aaron with a bright, cheerful smile. Pharaoh, too, seemed in good spirits as he gazed at them.

  “I’m happy to tell you that we are getting remarkable savings from the changes you encouraged us to introduce,” said Jambres. “Are you here to tell us that you’ve found even more leisure time, so that we can get the tally of bricks for even less expense?”

  “The Lord God is angry at your rebellious spirit,” said Aaron. “The Lord has said to Moses, Tell Pharaoh he has one last chance to let the children of Israel go.”

  “Is this a threat?” asked Jambres. “The god whose people don’t even know his name is going to do what, exactly? No doubt you’re going to tell me that your god is so powerful he holds the clouds up in the sky! Your god makes it rain! Your god makes the wind blow!” He laughed. “I’m sure he does all those things. Now, if you can speak a word and get him to stop.” Jambres laughed. “Do you think you can frighten us with threats of what your god will do?”

  Moses whispered to Aaron for a moment. “We don’t want you to obey out of fear,” said Aaron. “We want you to obey because what God commands is right and good. But if you do not choose to do what is right for its own sake, then fear will have to do.”

  “Throw your staff to the floor,” said Moses.

  Aaron obeyed, and it turned into a hissing serpent.

  Jambres laughed again. “Any god can do that,” he said. He and Jannes stepped forward, brandishing rods of their own. They spun around and threw down their rods and they, too, were snakes.

  Aaron was startled, but Moses whispered to him, “They made the switch while they were spinning around. They were already holding snakes before they threw them down.”

  Aaron was relieved—he had never expected the priests to match what God had given them power to do. He was about to reach down and take his serpent by the tail when it slithered away, rushing toward the priests’ snakes. In moments it had seized one by the head, and then, in a few writhes and twists, it swallowed the whole thing. It did the same with the other snake. Then Aaron picked it up, and it became a rod again in his hand.

  It was Aaron’s turn to laugh. “Did you think you could fool God?” he asked. “You know that what you do is only illusion. But what God does is real.”

  Jambres was putting a good face on it, though. “So far all I’ve seen is that your snake was hungrier than ours. In Egypt the gods with power are Egyptian gods.”

  Moses whispered to Aaron.

  “Moses is grieved that you don’t care about the welfare of your people,” said Aaron. “The Lord God told us to demonstrate his power in this harmless way, so you would have the chance to repent of the evil you have done to the chosen people of the Lord, without bringing harm upon your people. Instead you answer him with these childish illusions. Very well, Pharaoh. Tomorrow you will see the power of the Lord stretched out over Egypt.”

  “If you’re thinking of rebellion, Moses,” Jambres began.

  But Jannes touched his arm, interrupting him. The two priests turned and conferred with Pharaoh.

  “No straw at all,” said Jannes. “Let the bricks dry by themselves in the sun. The Israelites will be told that this was because you continued your insulting ingratitude, instead of doing homage to Pharaoh for his great mercy in allowing the Israelites so much leniency and freedom.”

  Moses and Aaron wordlessly turned their backs and left.

  * * *

  At dawn, Pharaoh and his wife and son went down to the river to drink, to pray. Soldiers stood guard nearby, but as always many people were gathered to present petitions on the riverbank. Tuthmose found these intrusions tiresome, but it was good for Ptahmose to see his father being magnanimous to the common people. It set a good example.

  He should have expected that among the petitioners were Moses and Aaron. To the captain of the guard he said, “Those two—why were they allowed here?”

  “We inspected them for weapons,” said the captain. “You’ve been seeing him in court, so I thought . . .”

  “No, you did well,” said Tuthmose. “It’s good for my son to see this, as well.”

  Tuthmose took his son up onto his shoulder and walked to the petitioners. “I see that two slaves have come here, perhaps to apologize for their foolishness yesterday. Pharaoh is a forgiving god. I will hear their petition.”