Signs and Wonders (22 page)

“What the Lord wants must be given without stint or abridgment,” said Aaron. “That is not what the Lord wants or what we require.”

The brothers departed. Aaron raised his staff over the land. He smote the air. An east wind sprang up, and blew all that day and all that night.

And in the morning the east wind was freighted with locusts. An enormous swarm of locusts rode in on the east wind and covered the land like a living carpet. They covered Egypt, covered the realms within and the coasts beyond. No man had ever seen such a sight. Locusts covered the earth and the land was dark with them. They ate herb and stalk and every plant the hail had left standing. They ate the fruit off the trees, and ate and ate until no green thing remained.

The Pharaoh called for Moses and Aaron and spoke in haste, crying, “I have sinned against the lord your god and against you. Now, therefore, forgive, I pray! Entreat your god to call away this crawling death.”

There before the throne, Moses raised his hand and turned his palm. The wind turned. The east wind backed up and became a mighty west wind that blew away the locusts, blew them into the Red Sea and drowned them all. In an hour all the locusts were swept from the land of Egypt and not one remained. But when the Pharaoh saw that the locusts were gone, he hardened his heart again, and broke his promise.

Moses obeyed the Lord and stretched out his hand toward heaven, and a darkness fell over the land of Egypt. A darkness so thick and heavy it was like a weight upon the head of each man. Never had there been such a thick darkness. And it lay on the land for three days. No flame could live in this choking blackness, flame of candle or flame of torch, and there was no light in the houses. But all the huts of the Hebrews were lighted by torch or candle.

The Pharaoh called Moses and Aaron to him and said: “I have decided to let you go. And you may take your women and your children. All of you may go. Leave only your flocks and your herds.”

“It is not to be considered,” said Aaron. “Our cattle, also, shall go with us, and there shall not be a hoof left behind. The Lord requires our cattle, also.”

“But your flocks and herds are the only ones left alive in Egypt. The others have been stricken by the plague.” The Pharaoh could not bear to see his land stripped of cattle, and he cried: “Get out of my sight! Take heed to yourself and never appear before my face again, for the day that I see you, you shall die.”

Moses spoke now instead of Aaron. He spoke to the Pharaoh for the first time in his own voice and said: “You have uttered truth for the first time. I shall see your face no more.” And they left.

The Lord said to Moses: “I will bring one plague more upon the Pharaoh. One more time shall my hand lie upon Egypt. Afterward you shall depart. Now speak to your people, Moses. Before you go, let every man take something of value from his Egyptian master, and let every woman take something from her mistress—all manner of treasure, whatever you can carry, jewels of silver and jewels of gold. Spoil the Egyptians.”

The Pharaoh sat on his throne and waited. He had hardened his heart against the Hebrews and would not let them go, and had set the taskmasters upon them again. Nevertheless, he knew that another plague would fall upon the land, and he waited.

God spoke to Moses, saying: “This month shall be to you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year to you. Speak now to all the congregations of Israel, saying, ‘On the tenth day of this month each man shall take a lamb, a lamb without blemish, a male of the first year. And he shall keep it alive four days, until the fourteenth day of the month. And the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall kill the lamb in the evening, and take of its blood and mark the two sideposts and upper doorposts of the houses. They shall roast the flesh in fire and eat of it with unleavened bread and with bitter herbs. Do not eat it raw or sodden with water, but roasted with fire. Eat it all up, and do not let anything remain; anything that remains burn with fire. But eat in haste—with sandals on your feet and staff in your hand. For this night I pass through the land and smite all the firstborn of Egypt, both man and beast. Against all the gods of Egypt, cow god and falcon god and cobra god, I will execute judgment. I am the Lord. And as I pass over Egypt, smiting the firstborn, I shall recognize the blood upon your doorposts and it will be a sign to me that a Hebrew lives therein. When I see the blood, I will pass over you, and will not smite your firstborn, but pass over and smite an Egyptian house.

“It is the Lord’s Passover. And this day shall burn in your memory forever. You shall observe it as an ordinance forever. And it shall come to pass when your children shall say to you, ‘What do you mean by this service?’ you shall say, ‘It is the sacrifice of the Lord’s Passover, for the Lord passed over the houses of the children of Israel when he smote the Egyptians, and delivered our houses.’ ”

Moses went among the people and told them all that the Lord had said. They bowed their heads and worshipped.

On the tenth day of the month each man selected a lamb. It was kept four days, then killed. On the fourteenth day, each man dipped his hand in the blood of the lamb and marked the doorposts of his house. Then the lamb was roasted and eaten with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. And the people waited.

And the Pharaoh waited. He sat on his throne and waited. Nine times has that nameless god cursed us, he thought. He has killed our cattle and poisoned our waters and smitten us with vermin and sent strange storms upon us. Yet Egypt, wounded, still lives—and I still rule, and the Hebrews are my slaves. I will not let them go!

Then, as he sat in his throne room that night, a sound came to him. A huge, formless sound like the wind, the wind crying in a human voice. A vast multitude of voices, growing louder and louder, coming nearer and nearer, drowning all other sounds in a giant howling of grief.

A mob of people swept aside the guards and stormed into the palace. They stormed into the throne room and pressed about the throne, weeping. “Speak,” said the Pharaoh, and they stammered out their tales. And the Pharaoh knew the nature of the tenth plague. The firstborn child of every family in the land, the eldest son or daughter, all were being stricken in the hours of darkness. One moment, full of life and health; the next instant, without warning, their eyes rolled back, showing only the whites, their bodies went rigid, and they died where they stood.

The Pharaoh rose from his throne, raising his arms to heaven. “No!” he cried. “Fiend god of an accursed race, you shall not rob me of my slaves. Do your utmost—I will not let them go!”

Whereupon, he bade his guards herd the people from his throne room, and summoned his high council. His chief courtiers came to him, led by his son, prince of Egypt, the lean, hawk-faced young man who would succeed him on the throne.

He arose to embrace his handsome son, the only person in the world, man or woman, he had ever loved, and heard himself howling like an animal. The boy’s black eyes had gone white, the supple body was stiffening in his arms. The prince tried to speak but could not; the breath rattled in his throat and no words came. And the Pharaoh, the richest, most powerful man in the world, watched his son petrify and die, and could not help him.

The Lord moved among the families of Egypt and death walked with him, scything down young men and women in the flower of their youth. Eldest son and eldest daughter, firstborn of servant and firstborn of priest. Firstborn of captain and firstborn of millhand—all were dying in the plague. It was the night of the Lord’s Passover, and He strode across the land, smiting the Egyptians with His sword of vengeance, and passing over the houses whose doorposts were marked with the blood of the lamb.

Howling in his grief, the Pharaoh spoke names. Again and again he called for Moses and Aaron. Servants raced into the night and summoned the brothers. They came, and the Pharaoh cried, “Take your Hebrews and depart! Take your flocks and your herds and be gone! Go—and take your curse with you!”

The Egyptians now were mad with haste. They refused the Hebrews nothing that would speed their departure. They gave gold and silver and treasure of every kind. “Begone!” they cried. “Go in haste or we all must die!”

The Hebrews took their dough before it was leavened, and bound their kneading troughs to their shoulders. They coffered up what they had taken from the Egyptians, the gold, the silver, the gems, and the garments; they loaded their donkeys and departed.

Moses went first to the tomb of Joseph. He broke open the sepulchre and took the coffin, thus fulfilling Joseph’s dying wish. The coffin rode behind Moses, as he led his people out of Egypt.

The Red Sea

Jacob had taken sixty-seven people into Egypt. Now Moses brought out six hundred thousand men and women, and a multitude of children. He led them into the wilderness and headed for the Red Sea. It was the largest migration ever to move over the face of the earth. They swarmed across the plain. They were a nation in size, but not a nation. They were a rabble. They had been slaves. Fear had been flogged into their bodies; shame had eaten into their souls. The men were less than manly. The women, concerned more about their children than about themselves, were stronger. But they, too, were terrified of the Egyptians, terrified of being pursued and slaughtered. They were tattered and filthy.

They followed Moses through a pathless wilderness, a great waste of desert and mountain. The sun of an Egyptian April flayed them by day; the night wind racked them with cold. They realized that they were wandering—that Moses had lost his way. They grew sullen and vicious.

Moses called out to God, “We are lost! Show us the way.” He looked up into the burning blankness of the sky, awaiting an answer. None came.

“What is your will, O Lord? Must we wander in the wilderness until we perish?”

The sun’s naked light fell like a hammer on Moses’ upturned face. The sky began to spin. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, the sky had darkened, although the sun was still shining. The darkness broke away and became a cloud, a cone-shaped cloud, spinning furiously on its point, funneling down to earth. The mob of Israelites cringed to earth, moaning with fear. The cloud changed shape as it dropped, becoming a great, fleecy ram with upflung head and curling horns, its legs bent as if galloping upon the bright air. The cloud ram floated eastward. Moses followed it, and the people followed him.

All day long they straggled after the cloud—which changed shape as it went, becoming a bear, a whale, a winged ship, a white camel, but in all its shapes sailing east. Then, at the end of day, its fleece took red fire from the sinking sun. And—most strange—after the sun had gone, the cloud kept burning in the darkness and was a pillar of fire. And Moses kept following it, and the people staggered after him.

God had come down into the wilderness. He went before His lost children as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. He led them to the shore of the Red Sea, and they camped there.

In Egypt the Pharaoh was raging because he had been forced to let them go. “Why have I done this?” he cried. “They are my slaves; they belong to me!” His rage swelled until he could bear it no longer, and he gathered his army. He took six hundred brass-wheeled chariots driven by picked warriors and pursued the Hebrews. He followed them through the wilderness with chariots of brass, and horsemen and footsoldiers. They pressed hard on the trail of the Israelites, and they glittered and jangled like a metal dragon.

Moses waited at the edge of the sea. He waited for the Lord to speak. But waiting was hard. The beach seethed with people. Never was such an encampment seen on earth. The Israelites had no tents. They slept on their wagons, slept on the earth. Moses and Aaron stood on a low hill, overlooking the camp. Aaron said: “Behold our people! Is this a nation chosen by God? It looks like a swarm of maggots when you lift a log.”

“Pity them,” said Moses. “They hate their past and dread their future.”

“It is you they hate,” said Aaron, “for leading them out of the safety of bondage. They will turn on you and rend you limb from limb—and me, also.”

“For shame!” roared Moses. “You who held the serpent staff and threatened the Pharaoh in the name of the Lord, do you doubt His word? Do you dare to doubt? He who made man out of dust can make a mighty nation out of a swarm of maggots.”

Now the Hebrews heard a clanging and saw a far glitter, and they knew the Egyptians were coming. The elders rushed to Moses, crying, “Behold, they come! They will slay us! Were there not graves enough in Egypt, wonderful tall graves, that you took us to die in the wilderness? It would have been better to stay and serve the Egyptians than to come here and die in our own blood, pierced by lance or sword.”

“Fear not,” said Moses. “Stand still, and await the salvation of the Lord. He who took you out of Egypt will not deliver you again into the hand of the Egyptian. Stand and wait.”

He spoke to God, who said: “Do not cry out to me. Speak to Israel. Kindle their spirits with your words, so that they become men instead of slaves. At dawn the chariots will charge. You shall not be frozen with terror; you shall not break and flee. But you shall march toward the Red Sea as if it were dry land. You shall march toward the sea and trust in Him who made the world and placed mountains and seas at His pleasure, whose touch makes mountains tremble and seas divide. Therefore march upon the Red Sea tomorrow, when the chariots charge, and go before your people, holding your staff in your hand. When you come to the sea, raise your staff. And be of good heart, for I march with you.”

The Lord stood between the Egyptian army and the Hebrew encampment. He stood there as a pillar of black cloud. The blackness could not be pierced, so the Egyptians could not attack at night and had to wait until the sun rose.

That night Moses and Aaron spoke to the people and prepared them. Then at the first light the children of Israel roused themselves and marched toward the sea. Moses and Aaron walked before.

Behind them they heard the rattle of weapons and the terrible wheels of brass and the battle cries of the Egyptians, which were like hawks screaming. Bewildered, terrified, the ragged horde streamed after Moses and Aaron, who walked steadily toward the edge of the sea. Moses stood on the shore and stretched out his staff. An east wind blew, a wind that sheared like a knife and divided the waters. Before the astounded eyes of the Israelites stretched a road, running along the bottom of the sea, running out of sight toward the far shore.