Beginnings by William Meisheid (chrysanthemum read aloud txt) 📖

filling the air, the two men disappeared into the darkness toward the village's southern gate.

Miriam finally exhaled, but neither she nor her mother moved for a long time. Well after the sounds of the two men had died away, Jochebed’s heart finally began to slow down. A sense of calm replaced her distress. Her upset had been a warning after all. Taking a deep breath, she reached forward and placed her hand on Miriam’s shoulder.

“That was dangerously close. We would have run right into them if we had not taken the wider route,” Jochebed whispered.

Miriam reached back and caressed her mother’s hand; Jochebed could feel her daughter trembling and said, as much to calm herself as Miriam, “God be praised for his protection.”

Slowly, they both stood up and Jochebed watched Miriam resettle her brother in the carry sling. Amazingly, he had not moved or made a sound the whole time, for which Jochebed thanked God. Stretching her aching legs and stiff back, she recovered from the long motionless squat. Feeling better, Jochebed reached for the basket and swung it onto her head. Cautioning Miriam with her hand, she waited quietly, trying to discern any movement or noise, but heard nothing.

“It is safe to leave. But, go even farther away from the village. I want to make sure we do not run into anyone else.”

Miriam set out and adjusted her course without answering. Jochebed knew the precaution was probably unneeded, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

They eventually found the road, and once on it, they quickly put the Egyptian settlement behind them.

The experience with the two policemen left Jochebed with a growing concern. While her original upset had disappeared, it was replaced by another apprehension. Her original plan to cross the smaller farms using the Memphis road now felt wrong. As they approached the first farm, her distress continued to grow, so much so, she decided to alter their course. It might take a little longer, but since the earlier sense of danger had proven true, she couldn’t afford to disregard this new foreboding.

“I want to take a different path to the river,” Jochebed said.

“Where do you want me to go?” Miriam asked, confused by the change.

“Up ahead, at the edge of the first farm, there will be mounds on either side of the road. They run along the edge of the field to keep the water contained. We need to turn south and follow the mound to the edge of the Great Estate. A cart path runs alongside the irrigation canal separating the Great Estate from the smaller farms. I want to take that path to the river.”

“But we will have to walk across the rough ground.”

“It will be like going around the villages. We can do it. I’m not comfortable after almost running into those two policemen. It should be a safer path to the river since it comes out farther south from the buildings along the riverbank and any people who might get up early.”

“I see it up ahead. We need to leave the road before it begins to rise.”

She turned off the road, and Jochebed followed close behind. They angled toward the mound marking the edge of the field, and then a short distance from the raised earth, turned south toward the Great Estate. The farther they went, the rougher the ground became. There were loose stones everywhere. Cleared from the field over many generations, they had been tossed over the mound and littered the ground that made walking difficult.

“I think I can make out the cart path,” Miriam said.

There was a ramp of dirt piled against the field mound where the cart path descended into an area clear of loose stones. It was used as a turnaround and would make it easy for them to get up onto the path.

Walking through the loose stones had exhausted them. The stones were so numerous that it had been impossible to avoid any but the largest. While they had good leather on their feet, sheepskin with the fleece turned inward for cushioning, they were sore and tired. Also, carrying the basket was awkward, and Jochebed’s neck, arms, and shoulders were beginning to join her legs and feet in rebellion. Miriam’s shoulders and back were showing the strain of carrying her brother and enduring the constant sweeping motion with the stick as she searched ahead. While they would soon be walking across the smoother ground of the path, their bodies, and their feet demanded they stop and rest.

“Miriam,” Jochebed said quietly, “We need to stop. I have to rest. Sweep a place clear near the ramp so we can sit down for a while.”

 

Miriam thrashed the ground in a widening circle around the ramp, and then joining her mother, sat down in the middle of the area she had cleared.

While her mother faced west toward the river with her feet toward the ramp of dirt, Miriam sat on the edge of the ramp facing east and home. Looking at her mother in the dim light, she lifted her brother out of his blanket and carry cloth. She could not believe he had slept through everything that had happened. Oh, he had stirred once or twice, but he never woke or cried out. They had been truly blessed, for which she said a silent prayer of thanks.

“Give him to me,” Jochebed said. “How are you doing?”

“I‘m all right, but it was a lot harder than our practice times.”

Leaning forward, Miriam placed her brother in her mother’s waiting arms. After stretching and rotating her shoulders several times to ease the stiffness, she removed the sling from her neck and folded it. Laying her back against the dirt ramp, she put the folded cloth under her head and then wrapped her arms around her brother’s blanket, holding it close to her chest.

She looked down the length of her body past her mother. The eastern stars stretched out above her village somewhere in the distance. She had never been out this late when there was a new moon. Lying back and looking at the stars, so bright against the surrounding dark, was an unexpected gift in the midst of a long and difficult night. Miriam marveled at the vastness of the night sky, and spread across the heavens was an uncountable number of little lights. As the immensity of it all rushed in, a strange feeling almost overwhelmed her. Wonderful and scary mixed together, it made her feel so small and insignificant, but at the same time, curious and awestruck. As she stared at them, some of the stars appeared to blink on and off, while others almost seemed to move, to wobble ever so slightly.

“I wonder what they are.”

“What did you say?” her mother said.

“The stars, I was wondering what they were.”

“I do not know, Miriam, but our elders say God put them there to be lights for signs and the seasons. They show us that even when the moon is at its lowest, like tonight, God has not abandoned us to the darkness.”

“When I meet God, I will ask Him what the stars are.”

“I think if God were here now,” her mother said, “he would tell you to hold your curiosity for later. Right now you need to get some rest because the most dangerous part of our journey is still ahead.”

 

Disturbing Dreams

Princess Asati tossed fitfully on her bed as a cold sweat broke out making her gown cling unpleasantly to her skin. Most nights her sleep was peaceful and dreamless, like a gentle lover caressing her in the darkness, but tonight powerful visions disturbed her normally tranquil stillness. One intense apparition had frustrated all her efforts to regain the restful blackness. Even awake she could still see its disturbing image painted across the darkness.

She was on the edge of a vast sea. The sun, rising from the distant horizon, fanned luminous rays from the center of its fierce brightness. A breeze rippled across the surface of the water carrying undercurrents of anticipation and premonition. The hair along the nape of Asati’s neck bristled as the wind brushed past her, sending a chill down her back. As she looked out from the shore, the surface of the water began to boil and foam.

She wanted to flee, but her feet had sunk into the wet sand and it held her ankles fast. Imprisoned, she could not turn away but had to face the chaos and wait. Slowly, out of the middle of the upheaval rose a baby, a male child with strong, noble features.

Spellbound by the unearthly sight and afraid to move, she watched as the child began to approach her, floating easily over the face of the water. His tiny arms stretched toward her and he softly called to her saying, “Momma.” The word flew across the water boring into the deepest yearnings of her heart. But he was circumcised, and floating in the water below him was a coarse blanket of the type used by the Hebrews. He was not Egyptian. Recoiling, she pulled back from his advance.

As she held back from his pleading, large clouds began to darken the sky and powerful bolts of lightning arched between the thunderheads and the churning sea below. It was an overwhelming sight, one Asati had never seen, only heard about. But here it was, happening in front of her. Despite the gathering squall, the child waited, persistent and unafraid at the edge of the water, his small arms still outstretched, repeating the haunting assertion, “Momma. Momma. Momma.”

As the dream faded, Asati’s heart pounded in her chest, its beating spurred on by the word reflecting back and forth across the cavern in the center of her being. Even with her hands clasped over her ears, she could not shut out the sound. It seemed to find its way into every part of her, its taunting refrain echoing in her inner emptiness.

Over the five inundations since her marriage, despite the continuous offerings, the innumerable potions tried by the priests, coupled with her own plea-filled prayers, Asati’s womb had remained barren. She had begun to think her name was a curse. In naming her Asati, her father had dedicated her to Satis, the Goddess of the First Cataract, the Protectress of the Nile and the symbol of fertility and love. Instead of blessing her with an abundance of children, the goddess had allowed her field to remain fallow.

At court, whispers floating behind veiled lips suggesting an ill omen had overshadowed her. Asati’s husband, once drawn by her beauty and grace into an endless stream of passion, now sought less the pleasure of her bed than the diversions of his concubines.

With the apparition fresh in her mind, Asati understood with unnerving clarity the gnawing ache that had settled into her womb; the desire for a child had become a ravenous beast, a jackal eating away at the core of her existence, consuming her piece by piece. She curled up and hugged her knees to her chest, giving what protection she could to her fragile center.

Frightened by this sense of inward dissolution, she offered a crying prayer to the gods, asking that this vision, despite its ominous implications, be a sign her prayers would be answered and her emptiness filled. Thoughts that the baby might be a Hebrew were pushed aside. Her remaining hope grasped instead at the idea of a child, a son for the prince, an end to the whispers.

After what seemed like hours, Asati unfolded and slowly began moving her legs, stretching the stiffness and lethargy from her body. She had made a decision. She would bathe early and it would be a special, sacred bath. Then she would inquire of the priests concerning this night vision.

Though not even a suggestion of light was visible through the high window, a vague sense of urgency caused her to call out for her chief maidservant. She closed her mind to the fear that stirred in its depths, that this tenuous hope might be only a