Free Counted With the Stars by Connilyn Cossette

about her father, I was anxious to change the subject. “I really should get back before Tekurah misses me. I don’t have time to bathe today. But I am impatient for the end of your story about this mysterious Hebrew prince. Let’s fill our pots and get back to the villa.” I wiggled my fingers at her. “You can spin your tale as we go.”
    Shira beamed, all disappointment swallowed by pleasure at my interest in her stories. “Where was I?”
    â€œThe Deliverer?”
    â€œMosheh.” Her voice swelled with reverence reserved for gods and kings. “Mosheh was born during those black days, when crocodiles in the Nile still devoured our babies and weeping mothers vowed to give birth to ten more sons to replace those who had been murdered. Mosheh’s mother, Yocheved, devised a plan. She succeeded in hiding him from the Egyptian overseers and corrupt Hebrew supervisors for three months.”
    â€œYou mean some of your own people spied for Pharaoh?”
    â€œGold is a powerful persuader, even among my own, and many have turned from the God of Our Fathers.”
    A sharp laugh startled us. Someone was coming up the path.
    We slipped into the tall rushes near the edge of the canal, squatting there among the feathery plumes of grass and shoulder-high weeds. A group of three slaves, two of whomwere from Shefu’s household, undressed and waded into the water to bathe.
    â€œThat was close,” Shira whispered, her eyes glimmering with mischief, as if she enjoyed our childish game of hide-and-seek.
    â€œWe will have to wait,” I whispered back.
    She nodded. “Won’t Tekurah be looking for you?”
    I flushed, caught in my lie. “Actually, Tekurah was up nearly until dawn at a banquet. She will sleep for hours.” I yawned, having only dozed for a couple of hours myself.
    Shira pursed her lips and arched her brows. “So you just needed an excuse to get away from my brother?”
    I deflected. “Tell me the rest of your story. But keep your voice down, it may carry across the water.”
    She stared at me a moment, settled into a cross-legged position, and then continued in a low tone. “Yocheved was a wise woman, full of the audacity all mothers summon when forced to fight for their children. She formed a basket of papyrus reeds, made it watertight, then placed her precious treasure inside and set it afloat on the Nile.”
    Shira brushed at a yellow-and-black-striped spider that had taken up residence on her tunic, and she continued. “The baby’s sister, Miryam, guarded the little boat, hiding in the rushes.” She smiled and winked. “Just like we are doing now.”
    I peered through the tall grasses at the glint of sun off the river, imagining the young girl watching her brother float down the river in his makeshift ark. I almost expected the little papyrus boat to glide by.
    â€œYocheved knew Pharaoh’s daughter bathed and swam each morning in the river. This royal daughter was widely known to be compassionate—as well as stubborn. But most importantly, Pharaoh cherished this beloved daughter, the only child of his favorite wife.”
    This sounded familiar. I had grown up with tales of a princesswho became a regent in the land. She held power unrivaled by most women in a world ruled by men. Could it be the same woman?
    â€œYocheved counted on the princess finding her baby and prayed Pharaoh’s daughter would have mercy on her child. And, of course, Elohim heard the devoted mother’s prayer.”
    I interrupted. “What tribute did she offer?”
    â€œTribute?”
    â€œYes, how did she make Elohim protect her baby?”
    Shira cocked her head. “She just had faith.”
    â€œFaith?”
    She smiled. “She knew Elohim had a special purpose for the child. He was . . . different in some way. The tales handed down speak of his quiet nature, an unnatural calmness to the