four hundred years—but now shared the most fertile banks of the Nile with the new city of Rameses. The king’s palace complex, industrial buildings, and noblemen’s villas perched along the curved Pelusiac branch of the Nile. His fine, glittering city beckoned those sailing along the Nile, while the humble dwellings, waste dumps, and brick yards of Goshen were hidden along the straight base of the desert plateau behind his glitz and glory.
Miriam leaned on her walking stick to rest, scanning what was once a quiet Delta estate. Her long house was among those in the southernmost corner of Goshen where the Nile and plateau met. Her neighbors, like Miriam, had inherited their homes from what used to be Avaris’s village for skilled craftsmen.
She set off again with a sigh. Now skilled workers from the Israelite tribes of Levi, Manasseh, and Ephraim settled together northeast of Miriam’s village, beyond three large dikes and planting fields. “Why must everything change?” she asked no one in particular.
After crossing the first dike, she saw a young ima with her baby strapped to her chest. Miriam had delivered that babe a few weeks ago. Shovel in hand, the weary woman worked with other slaves to widen a canal for the swelling waters of inundation. She lifted her eyes and smiled at Miriam. They dared not wave for fear of the slave master’s whip.
Miriam hurried her pace, anxious to see her sister-in-law. Elisheba and Aaron lived with their older sons, Nadab and Abihu. Their oldest boys had been trained in Aaron’s skill. They walked to and from the metal shop each day, creating jewelry, goblets, and trinkets for the king and for trade. Elisheba worked as a house slave for a peasant’s wife in their village, a shrew of a woman who thought herself as noble as Queen Isetneferet. Miriam hoped to bribe the grouchy peasant with the barley she carried and speak to Elisheba long enough to force her answer.
Taliah needs a husband.
On the day after the first slave driver sought out Taliah, Miriam had sought out Elisheba to suggest a betrothal for Taliah with one of Aaron’s older sons. She knew she needn’t wait for Aaron’s return or his approval since Elisheba had been making all the important decisions in that household since she and Aaron were betrothed nearly seventy years ago. As expected, Elisheba had an immediate answer. “Nadab and Abihu are important men among the tribe of Levi, Miriam. I must have time to contemplate your request.”
Important men? Contemplate? Nadab and Abihu were spoiled old men whom Elisheba had coddled to revulsion. No abba in Israel would offer his daughter as a bride to either of Aaron’s preening sons. Miriam had given Elisheba two weeks to
contemplate
the betrothal—not that Miriam was anxious for Taliah to marry either of her oldest nephews. She really hoped Eleazar would discover one of his brothers had agreed to marry Taliah and would be so overcome with jealousy that he’d marry the girl himself. It was a risk, but Miriam could think of no other way to press Eleazar into declaring his true feelings.
As Miriam neared the village, she saw Elisheba bent over a new basket, weaving a final braid of papyrus around the top. Ima Jochebed had taught both her daughter and daughter-in-law the art of basketry before her hands and body had become too frail.
With a deep breath and renewed determination, Miriam closed the distance between them. “Shalom, Elisheba.”
The woman shaded her eyes from the evening sun. “Shalom, Miriam. Do you bring word of my husband’s return?”
“I’m sorry, no. Eleazar hasn’t heard anything from Aaron or Hoshea.”
“Then I have no time to talk.” Elisheba returned to her basket weaving.
“I brought barley for your lady. Surely, she’ll allow us a few moments to conclude our betrothal business.”
“There is no betrothal business.” She continued braiding papyrus without further explanation.
Miriam steadied her breathing, determined not
Miriam leaned on her walking stick to rest, scanning what was once a quiet Delta estate. Her long house was among those in the southernmost corner of Goshen where the Nile and plateau met. Her neighbors, like Miriam, had inherited their homes from what used to be Avaris’s village for skilled craftsmen.
She set off again with a sigh. Now skilled workers from the Israelite tribes of Levi, Manasseh, and Ephraim settled together northeast of Miriam’s village, beyond three large dikes and planting fields. “Why must everything change?” she asked no one in particular.
After crossing the first dike, she saw a young ima with her baby strapped to her chest. Miriam had delivered that babe a few weeks ago. Shovel in hand, the weary woman worked with other slaves to widen a canal for the swelling waters of inundation. She lifted her eyes and smiled at Miriam. They dared not wave for fear of the slave master’s whip.
Miriam hurried her pace, anxious to see her sister-in-law. Elisheba and Aaron lived with their older sons, Nadab and Abihu. Their oldest boys had been trained in Aaron’s skill. They walked to and from the metal shop each day, creating jewelry, goblets, and trinkets for the king and for trade. Elisheba worked as a house slave for a peasant’s wife in their village, a shrew of a woman who thought herself as noble as Queen Isetneferet. Miriam hoped to bribe the grouchy peasant with the barley she carried and speak to Elisheba long enough to force her answer.
Taliah needs a husband.
On the day after the first slave driver sought out Taliah, Miriam had sought out Elisheba to suggest a betrothal for Taliah with one of Aaron’s older sons. She knew she needn’t wait for Aaron’s return or his approval since Elisheba had been making all the important decisions in that household since she and Aaron were betrothed nearly seventy years ago. As expected, Elisheba had an immediate answer. “Nadab and Abihu are important men among the tribe of Levi, Miriam. I must have time to contemplate your request.”
Important men? Contemplate? Nadab and Abihu were spoiled old men whom Elisheba had coddled to revulsion. No abba in Israel would offer his daughter as a bride to either of Aaron’s preening sons. Miriam had given Elisheba two weeks to
contemplate
the betrothal—not that Miriam was anxious for Taliah to marry either of her oldest nephews. She really hoped Eleazar would discover one of his brothers had agreed to marry Taliah and would be so overcome with jealousy that he’d marry the girl himself. It was a risk, but Miriam could think of no other way to press Eleazar into declaring his true feelings.
As Miriam neared the village, she saw Elisheba bent over a new basket, weaving a final braid of papyrus around the top. Ima Jochebed had taught both her daughter and daughter-in-law the art of basketry before her hands and body had become too frail.
With a deep breath and renewed determination, Miriam closed the distance between them. “Shalom, Elisheba.”
The woman shaded her eyes from the evening sun. “Shalom, Miriam. Do you bring word of my husband’s return?”
“I’m sorry, no. Eleazar hasn’t heard anything from Aaron or Hoshea.”
“Then I have no time to talk.” Elisheba returned to her basket weaving.
“I brought barley for your lady. Surely, she’ll allow us a few moments to conclude our betrothal business.”
“There is no betrothal business.” She continued braiding papyrus without further explanation.
Miriam steadied her breathing, determined not
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