Free Counted With the Stars by Connilyn Cossette Page A

child. Yocheved was able to hide him for three months because he was so quiet. She called him Toviah, which means ‘goodness’ in my language.”
    Jumo flashed through my mind. Unable to speak with clarity as a child due to his afflictions, my brother reserved his precious words only for his family, yet somehow drew people like honey. No one was immune to his sweetness.
    Shira said the princess found the baby, fell in love with him, and determined to adopt him as her own. Miryam emerged from her hiding place among the rushes. She offered to find a wet nurse from among one of the Hebrew women. So the baby was nursed and raised until he was weaned by Yocheved herself. The princess provided food and clothing and extra goods for the family in exchange for the care of the little boy.
    â€œSo you see”—Shira raised her chin—“not only did Elohim protect Moses, as he was named by the princess, but the family was blessed for their faith. Raised in Pharaoh’s own household, educated at Pharaoh’s own expense, adopted by the willful princess—Mosheh enjoyed the full rights of a true royal son.”
    â€œDid Mosheh know who he was? A Hebrew?”
    Shira nodded. “He did. Being raised at the breast of Yocheved, a woman of strength and courage, he was steeped in the stories of our people. Although raised as a royal prince, in line for the throne, his status as an adopted son lay heavy on his heart. And because he was an adopted son, he pushed himself even harder to be worthy of his royal title. He studied and practiced the arts of war with more diligence than any other royal son and grew to be a great general in Pharaoh’s army.”
    I wrinkled my brow, wondering if Akhum had ever served under the Hebrew. “I have never heard of a general named Moses.”
    â€œNo one really knows what happened, but forty years ago, he vanished. Rumors floated around that he killed an Egyptian overseer.” She raised a brow. “I highly doubt that. But, all of a sudden, he was gone. There was no word from him, even to Yocheved. She died before setting eyes on her beloved son again.”
    What an implausible tale. A Hebrew baby floating down a river in a basket, saved by a princess at the perfect moment, raised by the very Pharaoh who sought to have him killed? The longer I listened to Shira, the less I believed her dubious little story.
    â€œAnd then, a few weeks ago, Eben told me Mosheh returned.” She paused as if to gauge my reaction.
    Startled, I arched my brows.
    â€œHe returned from Midian, where he had lived as a shepherd and where Elohim appeared to him on a mountain and told him to return to Egypt—to deliver our people. Here in Iunu we hear only rumors. Mosheh lives among his brothers in Goshen, but we hope to hear from the elders soon whether what we’ve heard is true.” The gleam in her eyes told me she needed no such confirmation. Shira believed every word.
    â€œDid Mosheh take a carving of your Elohim with him on his flight?”
    She waved a hand. “No, our God is not limited in such a way. We do not worship idols. In the days of our forefathers, He talked with them, met with them in various ways, through dreams and visions. At times Elohim even appeared as a man and walked with them.”
    This poor girl was delusional. True, Pharaoh personified the ancestor gods, but only a high priest entertained any sort of interaction with those gods. Perhaps her forefathers served as high priests, schooled in the magic arts, as this Mosheh must be.
    Shira pointed at the river. “The Nile turned crimson to show Pharaoh that the Deliverer is here and that Elohim will bring us out of slavery and pay him back—blood for blood.”
    I restrained a shiver. “Listen. I know that you wish, as I do, that someone might whisk you away from this life. Up until the night of that festival, I hoped Akhum might free me. But this”—I touched the pot