Free Miriam by Mesu Andrews Page A

could pray that Prince Ram had slept late. It was his only hope of readying the stallion for the prince’s morning ride. Eleazar broke into a jog, hoping the morning air would clear his head so he could craft Putiel’s message.
    Eleazar hated deceiving his master, first about Hoshea’s escape and now sending this message, but he simply couldn’t confide in Prince Ram. Though the firstborn of Isetneferet was the best of Pharaoh’s sons, he was still Egyptian, and Eleazar merely his slave.
    The waters of the Nile rose ever higher during these months of Akhet, and the paths between the canals grew narrower. Eleazar sidestepped a slave driver who was dragging an injured—or dead—Hebrew away from a brick pile. Glancing back, Eleazar noted four Hebrews stacked in a pile awaiting burial and wondered fleetingly how many of his brethren died each day.
    The sad realization spurred the idea for his message to Putiel. Eleazar, as slave commander at Rameses, was within his authority to send a census request asking how many Hebrews remained in Saqqara. Putiel, as Prince Kopshef’s personal guard, would receive the request and order the counting. A slow, mischievous smile crept across Eleazar’s lips. He would simply add a personal note within the scroll asking Putiel for direction on the obstinate she-camel he left in Eleazar’s care.
    Eleazar felt the weight of three chariots lift from his shoulders. He could even gain Prince Ram’s permission to send the census request. One less deception made life a little less complicated.

    Miriam watched Eleazar jog away and replayed his words in her mind.
If you could hear El Shaddai right now, believe me, He’d say I’m not the answer to Taliah’s problems.
But she couldn’t hear Him, and Taliah bore the pain of it. If El Shaddai had warned Miriam—as He would have a month ago—she never would have let Taliah go to the river.
Please, Shaddai, speak to me again. If it’s me You want to punish, so be it, but please give me counsel to help those around me.
    Still she felt nothing but the dry, stale air of another unbearably hot day. Ducking around the curtain, she entered the main room of her long house, poured a bowl of water, and grabbed some towels.
    As she moved past Taliah’s mat, the girl stirred. “Has Eleazar come yet? I wanted to thank him.”
    Miriam paused, considering how much of the truth to divulge. Setting aside the bowl, she knelt across from Taliah and decided to tell her everything. “I didn’t want Eleazar to come inside this morning.”
    Taliah’s right eye blinked her confusion, but her left eye was too swollen from the beating to blink at all.
    “You told me last night that you recognized your attacker as a slave driver. I was afraid if Eleazar saw how badly the man had beaten you, he would have hunted the Egyptian down. He wouldn’t have listened to reason—that the beating you took when you struggled probably saved your innocence.”
    “Are you saying I should be thankful I was beaten?” The girl’s voice rose in pitch and volume, and she pushed herself up to meet Miriam’s gaze. “I don’t think I can marshal that kind of gratitude.”
    Miriam pursed her lips into a knowing grin. This bold, beautiful young woman hadn’t lost her spunk. “No, my girl. Never be grateful for tragedy, but always trust that God can use it in His good plan for you.” She knew she sounded so wise, so sure of God. But how could she tell a girl who already doubted El Shaddai that even His prophetess now struggled to understand Him?
    Taliah pulled her hand away. “If this is your God’s plan, I don’t like it.”
    “Our God always has a plan. We just don’t always know it.” Miriam started to get up, but Taliah tugged at her sleeve.
    “Did Eleazar ask about me this morning?”
    “I didn’t give him a chance.” Miriam saw a glimmer of hope for her wedding plans. “In order to keep him from coming inside, I confronted him at the doorway with a topic I knew