My Name Is Moses - Part 5

My name is Moses

Episode 5

Catching my breath, I turned to the slave, her eyes fixed on the open, sightless eyes of her tormentor. Wordless, she turned and limped off, half running, leaving me alone with a big problem. I sat on the wood-lined pit bank, considering my actions and consequences. Could I have handled things differently? Probably. I’d lost my head in a moment of anger, and it had cost a man his life. Feeling an initial panic, I looked around. The area was quiet and deserted. The guard had fallen into the next to last pit in the row, only 50 cubits from open desert. I wrestled the guard out of the pit, tucking one foot under each arm, and dragged him down the cart path as far as I thought necessary. Then I scooped a deep impression in the loose sand with my hands ten cubits off the path. I deposited the guard, and covered him with two cubits of sand, as deep as a pit.

I was tired, scared, filthy dirty, and sweaty. My hands were bleeding from digging in the sand. My fingernails were broken and worn off. My arms ached. I was trembling from the exertion, now that the initial panic had faded. I began to consider what would come of all this. I returned to the running water. Still alone, I washed off the worst of the dirt and sand and drank deeply. But I couldn’t clean my clothes. I walked on to my parents’ home where I was greeted with alarm due to my appearance. Mom was worried and wanted an explanation, so I confessed the morning’s incident. She listened quietly, sitting sat back in her chair, eyes closed her, tears flowing. Miriam and Aaron were looking a little scared. Kneeling beside mom’s chair I stressed that I’d hid the body well. No, she said, that wasn’t possible. Besides, the victim saw what happened. “Go home,” she said. I changed into clean clothes, ate some lunch and rose to go. “Moses” she said, “keep your eyes and your ears open. Return tomorrow morning, as early as possible.”

Walking back through the mud pits all one could hear was the sloshing of the mud, the grinding cartwheels, and heavy breathing of the slaves. The singing had ceased. Water running down the chutes created its own quiet, lonely music. I topped the rise, nodding to the guard by the water gate as I passed. He nodded back, lowering his eyes to acknowledge my royal status. I relaxed. No one knew. Nothing had changed… yet. But how long before the guard was missed? Tonight, a man will be absent from his home. Tomorrow a search. I was quiet through the evening meal. Nubia’s eyes said she knew something was wrong. As was her way, she said nothing until we were alone. By the light of a candle, she asked. Holding her hands in mine, I closed my eyes and said, “I killed a man.”