Free The Priest: Aaron by Francine Rivers Page A

yeast. The hours wore by. No one spoke. Moses rose and closed the window openings, securing them as though for a sandstorm. Then he sat with the family and covered his head with his shawl.
    The smell of roasting lamb filled the house, along with the bitter herbs Miriam had cut and put on the table. Aaron cut into the lamb. “It is finished.” Miriam added oil to the ground flour and patted out thin cakes of bread that she laid over a round pan and set over some coals she had raked to one side.
    Night was heavy upon them. Death was coming.
    The men rose, girding their loins and tucking their cloaks into their belts. They put their sandals on again and stood at the table, staffs in hand, and the family ate of the lamb, the bitter herbs, and unleavened bread.
    A scream rent the air. Aaron’s skin crawled. Miriam stared at Moses, her dark eyes wide. No one spoke as they ate. Another scream was heard, closer this time, and then wailing in the distance. Outside someone cried out in anguish to Osiris. Aaron shut his eyes tightly, for he knew Osiris was nothing but an idol made by men’s hands, his myth crafted by men’s imaginings. Osiris had no substance, no power, other than the fictitious power men and women had given him over the centuries. Tonight, they would learn what men design cannot bring salvation. Salvation is in the Lord, the God of all creation.
    The screams and wailing increased. Aaron knew by the sounds when the Angel of Death had passed over the house. He felt a rising joy, a thanksgiving that swelled his heart to bursting. The Lord was trustworthy! The Lord had spared His people Israel! The Lord was destroying His enemies.
    Someone pounded on the door. “In the name of Pharaoh, open the door!”
    Aaron looked to Moses and at his nod rose to open the door. Soldiers stood outside, and they bowed low when Aaron and Moses came through the door. “Pharaoh has sent us to bring you to him.” As they went out, the soldiers fell in around them.
    “Pharaoh’s son is dead.” The soldier to Moses’ right spoke softly.
    Another spoke to Aaron. “He was the first in the palace to die, and then others fell, many others.”
    “My son.” A soldier wept behind them. “My son . . .”
    All of Thebes was wailing, for every house suffered loss.
    “Hurry! We must hurry before all Egypt dies.”
    They had barely crossed the threshold when Aaron heard Pharaoh’s anguished cry. “Leave us! Go away, all of you!” He hunched on his throne. “Go and serve the Lord as you have requested. Take your flocks and herds, and be gone. Go, but give me a blessing as you leave.”
    Aaron stood in the flickering torchlight, hardly able to believe he had heard Pharaoh relent. Was it over? Was it really over? Or would they get no farther than the streets of Thebes and find out Pharaoh had changed his mind again?
    Moses turned away without a word. “Go!” one of the guards urged Aaron. “Go quickly, or we will all die!”
    As they hurried through the streets, Aaron shouted, “Israel! Israel! Your day of deliverance is at hand!”

    Egyptians rushed from their houses, crying out to the Hebrews. “Hurry! Hurry! Go before Great Pharaoh changes his mind and we all die!” Some gave them donkeys and added gifts of goodwill as they helped to strap possessions to the animals’ backs. Others gave portions of what little they had left from the plagues. “Take whatever you want and get out of Egypt! Hurry! Hurry before another plague falls upon us and we are no more!”
    Aaron laughed in exultation, so full of emotion he couldn’t think of anything but rushing, rushing. Miriam and his sons and their families caught up to him and Moses at the front of the congregation. The noise was deafening. People called out praises to the Lord and Moses and Aaron. Large flocks of bleating sheep and goats swirled alongside the mass of population. Herds of cattle followed so that the people would not choke in their dust. Six hundred thousand men left on