A Man Called Moses part 4

I stared at Ramses and his armed soldiers. Spot stood beside me. I glanced over my shoulder, only to realize that the Calves had already vanished. Damn, those guys could move, a trio of gold-plated ninjas.

I returned my attention towards the pharaoh, whose eyes zeroed upon me with naked hate plus a side order of betrayal. You’d think that I, as a conman, would’ve grown immune to that look.

You’d think . . .

“Moses.” Ramses’s voice quivered. “How could you do this to me?”

My mind spun, sought escape.

Ramses marched towards me. His soldiers followed, spears and swords raised.

“I forgave your past crimes,” Ramses whispered. “I took you back into our home, our family. Why do you value those lowly Jews more than me?”

Because I’m not really your brother, I didn’t dare say. Because I’m a conman who just looks like Moses. Because I want to live as a prince of Egypt while I earn a favor from God.

“Darkness,” I whispered. “If the Jews remain under your heel tomorrow, God shall plunge your world into darkness.” I prayed that my calculation for tomorrow’s eclipse would prove correct.

“I don’t care if I never see the sun again,” Ramses said. “I will never release the Hebrews.”

I swallowed. Then, I went for broke. “After the sun vanishes, it shall return, only to herald the worst plague of all. Ramses, if you do not release the Jews by the time the sun returns . . . God shall kill your children. One a day.”

“What!” cried Spot.

I slapped my forehead. I had forgotten that one of Ramses’s sons stood right behind me.

“What?” a woman whispered.

Everyone redirected his attention towards Nefertari, who stood at the doorway.

Her eyes widened with fright. “Husband, we cannot risk our children.”

Ramses hesitated. “The Hebrew’s god wouldn’t dare to anger me.”

“Yes, He would,” I said. My knees threatened to shake. I mastered them with an effort.

Ramses looked as if he had chewed the bitterest root. He pointed at me. “Arrest that man.”

His soldiers grabbed me. I didn’t bother to resist.

Ramses stepped nose-to-nose with me. “You owe me your fingers and your head, brother. Tomorrow, when the sun fails to vanish, when my children continue to live, when your Hebrew god fails to carry out your threats, I shall take my prizes from you.”

. . . You may find this hard to believe, but Ramses’s prison proved a rather nice place to stay. Fluffy towels. My own personal servant. I slept on a marshmallow of a bed. A guy could get used to this sort of imprisonment.

Ramses would, in the next few hours, order my head removed from my shoulders, which put something of a damper on my enjoyment.

I watched, through the slit-thin window of my cell, while the sun vanish behind the moon, just as I had predicted. It would soon return. None of Ramses’s children would die when that happened, which meant I would.

Perhaps I would get lucky, and Spot would fall down some stairs or something. I didn’t really want that to happen, though. I had grown fond of Spot.

The sunlight returned. I heard, shortly thereafter, the march of footsteps towards my cell. Ramses’s soldiers had certainly come to collect me.

I sighed with my entire, tired body. What made me think I could pull off a scam as grand as this?

The door to my cell unlocked, swung open. Nefertari, her eyes red and puffy, stood at the other side. She stared at me with an expression of suffering and hatred and confusion so intense that I couldn’t break eye contact with her.

She flew across the room. Her fingernails raked my face while she screamed incoherent rage at me. I fought to catch her wrists, but a fury fueled her movements, motivated them to superhuman speeds.

Ramses’s voice exploded. “Stop!”

She froze, as did I. Ribbons of blood dribbled down my face and neck.

Ramses marched towards me. The gold chains that adorned him jingled with his every step. The anger had drained from him. Something far worse had refilled him. Grief.

“Moses,” he whispered. He could say no more.

I glanced from the king to his queen and back again. “What happened?”

“As if you didn’t know,” Nefertari said, her voice a hiss of escaped gas.

“How powerful is this god of yours, Moses?” Ramses asked. “He killed Spot as well as the seven guards I assigned to watch him.”

Nefertari spun to face her husband. “I told you to place our children under more protection than a few guards!”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” I said. “God would have just as easily killed a thousand soldiers to get to His target.” It amazed me that, even under these circumstances, I could lie so quickly, so effortlessly. What was I?

I had, in the past, felt a touch of temporary guilt for my deceptions. Today, I discovered self-hatred . . . to say nothing of confusion. Who had killed Ramses’s son?

I realized the riddle’s answer as soon as I considered the question. The Calves would gain nothing if Ramses killed me. They needed my scam to work. They hadn’t fled Spot’s chamber yesterday. They had remained, hidden, and overheard everything I told Ramses. They had killed the boy and his guardians.

I felt inhuman. It proved a distasteful sensation, the realization that the world officially and irreversibly sucked more for my involvement in it.

“Will your God continue to kill my children every day that I keep the Jews in enslavement?” Ramses asked me.

“Even if you kill me. Nothing will stop His mission to free His people.” The lies flowed from my monster’s lips.

Ramses’s gaze sank towards the floor. “Then take the Jews you love so much and never return.”

. . . The Hebrews had, by the day’s end, packed their few belongings. They cheered for me, sang my praises.

They looked to me for leadership. I could offer them nothing, not even a destination.

My gaze drifted across the kingdom around me. Half-completed buildings surrounded me, which required the Jews to finish them. The crops remained half-planted. All of Egypt would suffer for the Jews’ freedom.

I, with no plan at all, led the Hebrews into the desert.

I discovered, fewer than thirty minutes into our journey, the Calves, who walked beside me.

“Why,” I whispered, “did you kill that boy?”

“You know why,” the first hunter said with a sneer.

“We needed Ramses to grant your request,” said the second.

“So what now?” I asked.

“You owe us a lot of gold,” said the first.

I said nothing. I didn’t have their gold.

“The way we see it,” said the first hunter, “we have two choices.”

The second hunter spoke. “We could turn in your head for your ransom.”

“Or,” said the first, “we could take the slaves, instead.”

“They aren’t slaves, anymore,” I said with little conviction.

The first hunter laughed. “Sure, they are, and we can march them into any kingdom and sell them as such.”

I should have felt horrified by the suggestion. I felt nothing.

The third hunter grabbed my arm, jerked me to a halt. “Decide, conman. You. Or them.”

I closed my eyes. “You already know which I’ll choose.”

I sensed the first hunter’s nod. “Them, then. Very well.”

The first hunter chuckled. “Nice doing business with you, conman.”

I climbed up a pile of boulders near the mountains, raised my hands. Once I commanded the attention of the entire population of the Hebrews, I said, “God has decided that you must follow these three men.” I pointed at the gold-plated Calves. “Do as they tell you. They will lead you to the Promised Land.”

One former slave asked, “What of you, Moses?”

I cringed. “God has decided that I must not join you in the Promised Land. I have . . . committed a wrong. I . . . can lead you no further.”

Then I, without another word, wandered from the pile of boulders and into the mountains. I heard the Jews’ confused cries behind me. I never looked back.

I sat atop one mountain, held my pet snake, Stiffy. He still mimicked a walking staff. I watched the river of former slaves far beneath me, while the Calves led them to their next world of bondage.

I witnessed, in the opposite direction, Egypt, where Ramses’s kingdom would suffer without their slaves.

Heat reflected off my back. I spun around and spotted a small bush that hosted flames. The bush did not appear to burn.

“Oh,” I whispered. “It’s you.”

The bush spoke in a soft whisper. “Moses. Have you surrendered your faith in yourself?”

I snorted. “I’m not Moses. Remember?”

“Who are you, then?”

I shrugged. My mother had, for whatever reason, abandoned me as a child. I had filled my belly via trickery ever since. I could not recall my real name.

“I don’t know who I am.” My vision blurred with tears.

“Then, decide whom to become,” said the bush.

The fire, all at once, vanished. The un-scorched bush sat in silence.

Fire exploded from it, spread, surrounded me. The tears on my cheeks sizzled and vaporized. The fire chased itself into a tornado, rose towards the heavens. I sat centered within it, my eyes wide with wonder.

An unexpected anger overtook me. I leapt to my feet and screamed at the tornado. “You said You hadn’t the power to save the Jews.”

“I don’t,” said the tornado.

I waved at the flames that churned around me. “What’s all this then?”

“Did a tornado free the Hebrews?” asked the tornado. “Did I predict the eclipse? Did I train your snake to mimic a staff?”

I threw out my arms. “I can’t rescue the Jews from the Calves. I can’t save Ramses’s kingdom.”

The tornado grew violently bright and hot. “Do you suspect that I drew your name from a hat? I choose you. Have faith in yourself. Perform your own miracles and quit whining like a crusty twat.”

The tornado vanished. The bush smoked.

My gaze first returned to Ramses’s kingdom. The citizens of Egypt faced starvation without their slave-based workforce. My gaze glided towards the Jews. The Calves led them towards their new slavery.

A tiny particle of ash glowed, drifted past my face. “Your problems provide you your strengths,” it whispered.

My attention darted from one challenge to the next, until they blurred together, and I understood exactly what I had to accomplish.

To be concluded . . .

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