By Way of the Wilderness (7 page)

Instead the tall figure turned and said, “He is too weak. I will do his work for him.” Without another word he picked Yagil up as if he were a child, carried him out of the pit, and set him down in the shade of a scrub tree.

The guard stared at him in astonishment. “I do not know you.”

“You know that the work will be done, for you will watch me.”

The guard lifted his whip, but suddenly the eyes of the strange slave burned, and the overseer took a step backward, his eyes filled with alarm.

“What do you care who does the work as long as it gets done?”

The guard watched as the strange slave slipped back into the pit. He looked out of place there, his limbs muscular and rounded, his neck wide and strong. The guard watched for a time, then shrugged. “Maybe he's right. What do I care as long as the work's done?” He walked over and looked at the frail body of Yagil and saw the blood mixed with mud on his chest. “He won't last long anyway.”

****

Berione looked up, shocked to see her husband being helped along by a stranger, a tall man who did not appear to be a slave, yet was dressed in a slave's loincloth.

“Husband,” she cried, rushing to his side, “what is it?”

“He was too sick to work,” the man supporting him said. “I took his place.”

“Put him down over here.”

Moses put the limp form down on the mat and watched as the wife bathed his face and body with water. Yagil was panting, unable to get his breath, but he turned to the man and managed to ask in a weak voice, “What is your name?”

“I am Moses … of the tribe of Levi.”

“The tribe of Levi?”

“Yes. I am the son of Amram and Jochebed.”

Both Yagil and Berione stared unbelieving at Moses. They knew his story, as did all the Hebrews.

“But you are not a slave. Why are you here?” Yagil asked in astonishment.

“I am a Hebrew. I must join myself to my people.”

Moses turned to leave, but Berione said, “Wait. Stay. I have food fixed.”

Moses turned and smiled at her. “Thank you. I am hungry.”

The meal that Moses sat down to was simple—a watery stew with little meat in it. He did not ask what it was. He watched as Berione urged more food upon her husband, but the man seemed uninterested in food.

“I was surprised that the guards permitted you to work for me,” Yagil said.

“Why did you do such a thing?” Berione asked.

“Because my brother here was sick and I wanted to help.”

“All of our people are sick,” Yagil said huskily. His voice was weak and reedy, and an unhealthy pallor discolored his complexion. “You cannot work for all of us—even as strong as you are.”

“No, I cannot, but I will do what I can,” Moses said.

Then he rose and nodded to the couple. “I will come back in the morning. I will find the guard to tell him that I am working in your place. You must rest, my brother, until you are well.”

But Yagil was studying Moses with the eyes of one who knew his fate. “It is too late for me, but I will pray that the strong God we worship will help others who are stronger than I.”

After Moses left, Berione said, “I've never seen anyone as strong as he is.”

“Yes, strong in body but even stronger in spirit. When he put his eyes on the guard, I thought the guard would run away. He is the one sent to help us. Not just you and me, Berione, but our whole people.”

****

After the day's work had been completed and the evening meal consumed, Korah called a meeting of the elders to order. He stared at Moses, displeasure in his eyes.

“Your brother has done a foolish thing,” Korah said bluntly, directing his words to Aaron. “You should have counseled him better.”

“He did counsel me.” Moses spoke up, wearing a simple linen garment around his waist, the muscles of his arms and chest standing out in stark relief. He stood with his legs slightly apart and his arms crossed in the Egyptian manner.

“That is right,” Aaron broke in. “I have tried to convince Moses that he could do more good in other ways.”

“We all agree with that,” Korah said. “Do we need more slaves? There are enough of us as there are. Why have you done this thing, Moses?”

“I have joined my people,” Moses said simply. “I should have done it years ago, but I was thoughtless.”

“What good will your death do?” Jacob demanded. A tall man with thin features and an anxious look, he was second on the council next to Korah. “Sooner or later the Egyptians will recognize you. Then what will they think?”

“That's right,” Eli enjoined. “What will happen to us then?”

“If anything happens, it will be to me,” Moses said calmly. He saw the resistance among the elders and asked abruptly, “Why are you so afraid for me to join you? I am of your own flesh and blood. It is true that I was raised in the court of Pharaoh, but I should have recognized my heritage. Indeed, I have been at fault, but I have come now to join you and must suffer along with my brothers.”

Korah shook his head, and the fat of his jowls and neck quivered. “That is foolishness, man, absolute foolishness! You have a high position in Egypt. You can do much to alleviate our suffering.”

“Exactly what I told him, Korah,” Aaron cried. “You must go back to the palace, Moses.”

“I will not,” Moses said firmly, and his voice was like the closing of a stone door.

Korah shouted in frustration, “You are a fool! What good will your death do to us? Be gone with you!” He rose to his feet and, with a gesture, scattered the council.

As soon as they were outside and on their way back to their parents' hut, Aaron began to remonstrate with Moses. “You should not have been so arrogant before the council.”

Aaron's words surprised Moses. “Me, arrogant? I did not think I was.”

“Why, of course you were. You told the chief elder that he was wrong.”

“Well, he
is
wrong.”

“Who are you to say that? What do you know?” Aaron cried in despair. “You come among us for a few weeks, and you think you know more than the entire council of elders.”

“The council has gotten used to slavery. They wear it like a garment,” Moses said. He was not an arrogant man, although he had developed a certain pride in his place. He was rapidly losing this, however, now that he knew his true nature and heritage. He was shocked at how Aaron and the council and many others could simply accept slavery as their fate. It was true that they expected freedom to come for their people someday, but they could not find it in themselves to rise up and resist the Egyptians now.

When Moses and Aaron reached their parents' house, they listened to Amram and Jochebed argue on the side of the council.

“You should pay heed to the council, Moses,” Amram insisted. “They are wise men.”

“I'm sure they are, but they have forgotten what it's like to be free,” Moses said. “Or more to the point, they have never known freedom.” He suddenly realized that this was the truth. He was talking to people who had never known freedom. That was why they were willing to bargain for an extra benefit or two, another extra morsel of food, or half a day off from time to time—they had no concept of trying to free themselves from their captors. Moses, on the other hand, had known nothing but freedom, and he knew in his heart what it was like never to have to answer to the lash of the taskmasters.

“Leave him alone,” Miriam said suddenly, and her parents and Aaron turned to stare at her in shock. Her eyes were open wide and fixed on Moses. “My brother Moses is right. What good will it do us if the Egyptians give us a little more food or a little time off? We will still all die in Egypt as slaves. Do not listen to them, Moses.”

Moses smiled and moved over to put his arm around Miriam. “You have followed me all of my life to see this day, haven't you?”

“Yes. I knew when I saw the princess pick you out of the water that you were going to redeem Israel from slavery.”

Jochebed suddenly began to cry. “I remember how very hard it was to give you up that day.”

“But now,” Moses said, “God has given me back to you.” He stood tall and strong, and his parents saw the burning light of strength in the eyes of their broad-shouldered son. “God will deliver our people.”

****

When Moses stopped by the hut of Yagil and Berione early the next morning, he saw a guard named Magon, one of the cruelest of the taskmasters, outside the hut taunting Berione. He was holding her by the shoulders and laughing as she protested. Yagil came out of the hut and said, “I will go to work today. Leave her alone.”

Magon reached out and struck the old man a terrible blow in the chest. It drove Yagil backward, and he began gagging and choking.

Berione tore herself loose and went to her husband. She fell down and put her arms around him, calling his name. Moses moved forward, and as he did, he heard her cry, “He's dead! He's dead!”

“Then you need a man now,” Magon said with a cruel laugh, grabbing Berione's arm and pulling her up. He had begun to tear at her clothing and Moses knew he had to do something.

“Let her go.”

Magon turned to see a large figure coming at him swiftly. He dropped Berione's arm and plucked a dagger out of his belt, holding it out menacingly. “On your way, fellow.”

But Moses continued to advance. “You have killed him,” he said.

“And I'll kill you!” Magon growled in a guttural tone. He had killed many of the slaves, and though this one was bigger, he had no doubt he would kill him as well. He leaped forward, thrusting the dagger out, intending to pierce his opponent through the heart.

But Moses' training in arms stood him in good stead. With a quick motion of his wrist, he turned the blow of the dagger aside, then closing his hands over the fist that held the dagger, he put his leg behind Magon and threw him to the ground. The breath rushed out of Magon, and he saw the dagger in his own fist coming down toward his throat.

“No—no!” he cried out.

But it was too late. Inexorably the dagger came down, piercing the throat of the Egyptian, scraping on the bone until it was down to the hilt. Scarlet blood exploded from the struggling man's neck, and a filmy red mist floated from his mouth. He tried to speak, but his mouth was filled with blood.

Moses stood up and watched as Magon made a feeble attempt to pull the dagger out. But it was too late. He shuddered, kicked the ground with his heels, then went limp and still. With one look at Berione, Moses knew he had to get rid of the body of the Egyptian or she would pay the price.

“Here. Let me help you move Yagil inside and then I will come back and see to his burial.” He carried the fragile body into the hut and then, with an easy motion, scooped up the body of the Egyptian. He threw it over his shoulder and hurried away. He looked carefully for witnesses but saw no one, for it was very early in the morning, the light barely dawning. By the time full light had come, he was standing beside a grave he had scooped out with his bare hands and dumped the body of the Egyptian in. He looked down at the man in disgust, feeling no compassion or pity for him. “You will kill no more Hebrews,” he said, then turned and went back to see what he could do for his dead brother.

****

For several days Moses was apprehensive that someone might have seen him. He half expected one of the Egyptians to arrest him, but nothing happened. A week later he began to relax. Although he kept up his work as a slave, it all seemed futile. How could he help his brothers by trampling out mud to make bricks? They needed a redeemer, and he was obviously not the one.

Late in the afternoon one of the Hebrew overseers glanced at the tally and began to yell, “You are two hundred bricks under your quota! You want to get us all beaten to death?” He picked up a stick and began to strike the naked backs of the men. They covered their heads and accepted their punishment mutely.

But once again Moses intervened. He grasped the wrist of the Hebrew, crushing it as the man screamed in pain. Moses said furiously, “Why are you hitting your brother?”

The taskmaster wrenched his arm away. He looked around and saw several Egyptian guards coming and muttered under his breath, “Who made you a prince and a judge over us? Do you intend to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?”

Startled, Moses took a step backward and saw triumph in the overseer's face. Without a word, Moses turned and fled. He did not stop running until he returned to the palace. He went at once to his old quarters, ignoring the cries of his former attendants, and bathed and put on fresh clothes. His jaw tensed as he moved through the palace toward his mother's apartment. “Tell my mother I'm here,” he said to the attendant.

“Yes, master.”

Moses waited until the servant stepped out and gestured; then he entered his mother's apartment.

She gave a glad cry and rushed to embrace him. “Moses, you're here!”

Moses stood absolutely still, not able to return the embrace, knowing what he had to say would crush her.

Kali looked up, troubled, trembling as she saw his stern face. “What is it, my son?”

“I must leave this place.”

“Tell me why,” Kali whispered. She listened in horror as he told her what had happened.

His voice was thick with misery as he explained, “I can do no good for my people here. I am not an Egyptian. I must leave, Mother.”

“But where will you go?”

“I do not know.” He suddenly threw his arms around her and held her tight. “Don't be afraid. I will go find this god that the Hebrews talk about. I must know him, for I have no god.”

Then Princess Kali wailed in grief, knowing that all was lost. She held him tightly, as if to keep him with her forever, but finally she pulled her head back and looked up. “When you find him, Moses, come and tell me where I can find him too.”