My Name Is Moses -Chapter II Episode 1

I awoke early and washed my face as night brightened into day. Kissing Nubia softly, I quietly dressed for the day. I gazed at my sleeping family, knowing my world was about to change, helpless to avoid the coming storm. Nubia called softly. Returning to her side I kissed her deeply. “Mom asked me to return early, this morning.” “I love you Moses,” she assured. Drawing a roll of scrolls from beneath her bed covers she spoke. “Take these with you, you will want them. These are all the histories you have copied for yourself. Moses, never forget us!” Nubia understood, though I didn’t know at the time, this was the last I would see of my Egyptian family. I left her reluctantly, passing out of her life. 

Turning toward the mud pits, I walked confidently, a man of purpose. The morning breeze was soft, greeting me comfortably as I strode along. Passing the reservoir, I acknowledged the guard at the water valve above the pits with a nod and proceeded on my way to Goshen. The slaves were already at work, the squishing sound of stomping feet in the soft mud and running water in the troughs was unbroken by any workers’ chant. Every face noticed as I passed, but none acknowledged my presence. I reached the last pit where the skirmish had occurred the day before. It was back in use, and two quarreling slaves were hammering at each other with closed fists. 

The guard sat watching, amused by the spectacle. Turning to speak directly to them I asked what the problem was. Both glared at me. Then one of them, looking me straight in the eye, asked quietly, “What are you going to do? Kill us like you killed the master, yesterday?” My blood froze. My deed was known in Goshen. 

I turned, going straight to my family’s home, entering without knocking. Mom was busy cooking bread and biscuits. She had packed a bundle of dried mutton and fish, and had filled one large skin with water, another with wine. “Moses, you cannot stay,” she said. “Your crime is known in Goshen and will soon be known in the palace.” “I know,” I said, sitting down. “I was informed by men in the pits twenty minutes ago.”  She gave me a pair of newly made leather sandals, then returned to the cooking biscuits. “Put these on. When you leave, walk proud. You are an Egyptian Nobel. Go to Jethro in Midian. Leave soon, you’ll have a head start. Your life, here, is forfeit now.” She said tearfully. “Good-bye! Know that we love you! God has a purpose for you.” I thought of the scrolls Nubia had handed me that morning. Mom made sure my bundle strappings were secure. She held me in a tight embrace of urgent reluctance, then shoved me into the street, closing the door behind me. 

An hour of walking left Goshen behind. I headed north, on the trade route to Midian.