By Way of the Wilderness Read online

  “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.

  She reined in her thoughts and focused on Moses’ story. He was not as good a speaker as many, but he was full of the adventure and could make the battles come alive for his mother. He spun his tale of military conquest while the servants brought and served them a meal. He continued talking with his mouth full, barely pausing long enough to chew and swallow.

  Kali reveled in hearing his exploits. Ever since pulling him out of the Nile as a helpless infant, her life had become focused solely on him. She thought of that long-ago moment now as he sat beside her, glowing with health and strength, and she stroked his hand, proud and happy in his success.

  Finally the story drew to a close. Kali begged for more, but Moses shrugged his should
ers. “That’s all, Mother. Do you want me to think up some lies to tell you about how brave I was in battle?”

  “You don’t have to lie, my son. I’ve heard from your lieutenants how very brave you are.”

  Moses laughed. “They wouldn’t dare speak ill of their commander, would they?”

  “No, that is true.” She paused. “Son, there’s something I must speak with you about.”

  “I think I can guess what it is, Mother.”

  “Yes, you probably can, but I have to say it anyway. You must be more careful in your observance of our ceremonial laws.”

  Moses knew his mother was going to say this, and he sighed with frustration. For reasons he could not explain, he had no interest in the vast pantheon of Egyptian gods. He knew he was not an Egyptian by birth—Kali had not kept that information from him—but being a prince, he had tried his whole life to accept the gods and make them his own. The more he tried, however, the more he hated them all.

  He did not know why he had such a deep aversion for the gods, particularly for Osiris, the Lord of Death, seated on his throne ready to judge the souls of the dead when they were brought before him. He also despised Horus, the son of Osiris, with his falcon head. It was Horus that, according to Egyptian theology, brought the dead before Osiris, took out the heart and weighed it. Then the dead man was either taken to some sort of paradise or transformed into a black boar. Moses saw in Egypt’s religion nothing but death. The pharaohs spent their lives building tombs and collecting riches to go in them, believing they could enjoy the death they could not escape.

  “You know how I feel about this, Mother,” Moses said. “We’ve discussed it many times. Why are you bringing it up now?”

  “Because I think you could be in real danger.”

  “I know that Jafari despises me,” Moses said. “He may be the high priest of all of Egypt and almost as rich and powerful as Pharaoh himself, but he is not going to touch the pharaoh’s own grandson, is he?”

  “You cannot assume that, my son,” Kali insisted. “He is a dangerous enemy. I have been aware of his hatred for you for a long time.”

  “Why do you suppose he hates me so?”

  “Because you are a threat to him. He hates anything he cannot control.”

  “Well, he can’t control me,” Moses said, his eyes narrowing in anger. Then he saw the troubled look on his mother’s face and could not bear her anguish. “I promise you, Mother, that from here on I will be more attentive to the ceremonies of the gods.”

  “But you don’t believe in them, do you?”

  “No, I do not. I wish I could. It would make life much simpler.” He looked at her and turned his head to one side. Reaching out, he put his hand on her cheek and asked quietly, “Do you believe in them, Mother?”

  “What else is there to believe in?”

  “I don’t know,” Moses said slowly, gazing out the window at the distant horizon. “But there must be more than the gods of Egypt.”

  Kali shook her head at her son’s musing. Why was it so difficult for him just to accept what was? But nonetheless she was relieved to have gained at least one concession from him. It was a beginning, and it emboldened her to speak of another of her concerns. “I have one more thing to speak to you about. Why haven’t you married?”

  “We’re back to that,” Moses said with a shrug. “I really don’t know, Mother. I simply have no answer for you.”

  “You could have married many women, Moses—beautiful, wealthy women with royal blood.”

  “That is true, but I have desired none of them. If I could find a woman like you, I would probably change my mind, but I doubt if there is one.” Moses’ face clouded, and he said gloomily, “I’ve thought about this myself so many times, but the best way I can put it to you is that I believe I have some purpose in this life that is greater than marrying and having children.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” Kali lifted her hands in frustration. “Nothing is more important than having a child to carry on your name and your very life. How else can you continue to be a part of this world after you’ve gone to the next one?” Kali reached out for his hand, capturing it between her two small ones. Her love for him radiated from her eyes. “You are my whole life, Moses. You are a prince of Egypt now, and you must think about the future.”

  Moses shook his head sadly. He knew his mother would never understand what was inside him. He had a restlessness that drove him daily to wonder where his life was going, what was he here for? He knew he would never be satisfied with all the wealth and power that Egypt had to offer him, and when it was suggested once that he might one day become the pharaoh, he had merely laughed. “Who would want such misery?”

  Those who had heard his shocking answer had repeated it to others, until the matter had reached the ears of the high priest, Jafari. Suspicious of everyone, Jafari had demanded that his subordinates be on the constant lookout for heresy and immediately report any of it to him. That such disbelief and arrogance existed in the highest echelons of the land infuriated him.

  “I am begging you to be careful, my son,” Kali went on. “Jafari does not like your strange independence. He believes it is not fitting for a prince of Egypt, and he will not hesitate to remove you by any means.”

  Moses gave her another warm embrace. “Don’t worry so, Mother. I will be fine. I do not believe that Jafari’s power is as great as he thinks it is.”

  Kali said no more but could not hold back her tears over her son’s stubbornness. She was convinced that his bravado was going to get him killed someday. She clung to him now, deeply troubled that she could not convince him to conform to the conventions expected of a prince of Egypt.

  Chapter 2

  Moses inhaled deeply of the intoxicating river air. It was like wine to him as he stood in the prow of one of the royal boats that had come to hunt for hippos in the Nile. As the boat plowed through the waters near the shore, the air exploded with the sounds and sights of hundreds of birds rising into the sky. Many varieties flew out of the rushes together, including the black-and-white ibis, sacred to the goddess of the river, as well as great blue herons, geese, and ducks.

  Glancing down, Moses saw movement in the water beneath the hull. He held up his spear with its eight-inch head, honed to razor sharpness. His heart beat faster as he saw a huge form walking along the bottom of the river. The massive animal moved rapidly, even underwater, and Moses shouted to the oarsmen, “Pull! Pull for your lives!”

  Shouts of pleasure and excitement rose from the other boats. The priesthood kept a strict account of the number of hippos living in the river and set a limit on how many could be killed. This day the limit was twenty, which would provide a much needed supply of meat to the Egyptian population, but it would also leave enough of the huge beasts to keep the river’s edge free of the choking weeds that grew so rapidly.

  Directly in front of Moses’ boat, a monstrous form burst through the surface about thirty feet from where he stood in the prow. Moses lifted his spear and shouted again to the oarsmen, who bent their naked, sunburned backs to the task as they sent the craft shooting straight toward the beast.

  Without warning, the monster turned, and Moses found himself looking directly into gaping jaws, jaws big enough to swallow a man whole. Moses lifted his spear high as the animal bore down upon him. He brought his arm forward, and the spear went directly into the huge maw of the monster. It responded with a frightening cry of fury as great fountains of blood spewed forth from its mouth. With its final breath, the dying animal lunged at Moses’ craft, striking it and sending it reeling backward, spilling Moses and his four crewmen into the water.

  As the water closed over Moses’ head, he had one chilling moment of fear. He had known desperate times in battle, but the thought of being cut in half by the huge beast was different. His arms beat wildly as he struggled to the surface. He glanced around to see the oarsmen floundering and making for the shore. Quickly he turned and saw that the hippo was dead, its
body rolling upside down, its four legs sticking up like pillars.

  “Stop!” Moses commanded his oarsmen. “Get back in the boat and we’ll tow this fellow to shore.”

  The oarsmen returned and attached ropes to the dead beast so they could drag him up onto shore. Moses stood off to one side, watching with interest. Although normally only the priests were allowed to eat the flesh of the hippo, one exception was made during the ten days of the festival of Ra, when the common people—including the Hebrew slaves—were permitted to share in the beasts that were killed in the Nile.

  Moses watched as teams of men worked to attach ropes to the huge beasts that had been killed by the entire hunting party and dragged them ashore, ignoring the deadly threat of crocodiles that lurked along the river’s edge. That was foolhardy, for the scaly creatures were known to rush out on shore and seize children playing near the water’s edge and women washing their clothes.

  Moses sat on a large flat rock, letting the sun dry his wet garments. He watched as the men, women, and children on the lowest scale of Egypt’s social strata lined the shore. He was aware of the stories concerning his birth, for his mother had told him how she had found him as an infant in a basket in the river. The story was no secret among the people either, and everyone knew that Moses was not an Egyptian but one of the Hebrews, whose male children the pharaoh was determined to eradicate.

  During his growing years, his mother was unable to tell him very much about his Hebrew origins, but he was intensely curious to know more about the Hebrew people. He did not think of them as “his” people, for having been raised in the royal palace, he saw himself as an Egyptian prince. Nevertheless, he had paused many times to watch the slaves as they hewed out massive stone blocks to build the pharaoh’s pyramids, and in the marketplace he would sometimes watch the emaciated, bent bodies of the slaves and wonder what it was like to live their lives.

  Now he watched those slaves being allowed to haul out one of the hippos. The daily diet of the slaves was monotonous, and the prospect of fresh meat stirred the people to a frenzy. Men and women alike, and even the older children, hauled at the ropes to draw in the carcass. As soon as they reached the shore, the Hebrews swarmed over the hippo, their knives and axes flashing in the sun. Blood and bone flew as the blades cut and sawed. Moses saw more than one of the Hebrews get a serious wound as they slashed at the flesh of the beast with razor-sharp knives.