"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
He looks up; the sun is there, high above him, a bright spot filtered by the wavering water. All he has to do is move toward it. Expecting his father’s face to appear there beside the sun at any moment, reaching down for him, Ben moves his arms and legs, trying to move himself upward, toward the sun, toward the air. But he has never had to swim before and doesn’t know how.
Thrashing wildly now, he wants to scream but is afraid to open his mouth. His lungs feel as if they’re about to burst.
Feeling mud beneath his feet, hope surges through him—he can push himself toward the surface now. He bends his knees and pushes himself upward with all his strength. But his feet sink into the soft mud, and he floats upward only a short distance. Then his exhausted arms reach hopelessly toward the sun and he coughs out the air he has held in his lungs all this time and watches it shriek toward the surface in huge dancing bubbles. He gulps in the murky, bitter water of the Nile, and all goes slowly black around him, fading ...
And then Ben is gasping, unsure where he is. One hand gropes around him for someone, something—
And what he finds is his blanket. He touches the thing he is sitting on. He tries to stop his loud gasping. He hears his father’s snoring. He is not in the Nile, or even beside it. He is on his own sleeping mat on the floor of his family’s home near Rameses, in Egypt.
He hears his mother stirring. “Ben?” she asks softly. “Are you all right?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but his throat tightens and he feels tears burn his eyes. No, he doesn’t want to cry after some little nightmare. Only babies cry about nightmares. Ben closes his eyes and concentrates on stifling the sobs that build in his throat. Then he feels a movement near him, and when he opens his eyes his mother is settling onto his sleeping mat beside him, a dim oil lamp held in one hand. Ben can’t help it; he buries his face in her shoulder and cries.
When he is finished, he leans against her, enjoying the warmth of her hand on his back. She is plump and soft, and not much taller than he is. They sit in a small circle of lamplight. Their floor is sand, covered in most places by rugs or sleeping mats. Ben can just make out the hunched form of his father across the room. He hears, from the small room next to theirs, the sleeping sounds of his grandparents.
“Was it the river dream again?” his mother asks softly. Her sweet voice calms him, as always.
Ben nods.
She is quiet for a while, then says, “It’s all right to be frightened. It was a frightening thing. But you’re 10 years old now. All of that was long ago.”
Yes. Ben remembers the young man who saved him. After Ben lost consciousness in the river, he awoke lying on a sandy bank. An Egyptian man, young, strong, and dripping wet, leaned over him. His expensive clothes, dark with water, were clinging to him. When Ben began to cry, the serious expression on the man’s face changed to relief. “He’ll be all right,” he said, and then stood. Suddenly Ben’s father was there, his face twisted with emotion, gathering Ben up in his arms. And Ben has not seen that man again. But he will never forget his handsome face.
Ben’s mother stretches and makes herself more comfortable. “When Moses was a baby, his mother put him in the Nile in a basket to save him from Pharaoh’s men, who were killing the young children of our people. The river saved his life.” She smiles. “Do you think Moses would be afraid of the river?”
Ben sighs. No, Moses would not be afraid. Moses would not be afraid of anything. Every Israelite knew the story of Moses, how he had been raised in Pharaoh’s own household, the adopted son of Pharaoh’s daughter who had found that basket floating in the rushes along the river. Every Israelite also knew how Moses had rebelled against the treatment his people received from the Egyptians. He had fought a cruel foreman who was beating Hebrew men. In his rage, Moses had killed that Egyptian, so he had fled for his life.
“But he won’t stay away forever,” Ben’s father and the other men all said. “He is the only one strong enough to stand up to Pharaoh. He is a hero of the Israelites, like Abraham and Jacob and Joseph. He will come back when we need him.”
Yes, Moses would come back. And he would not be afraid of Pharaoh.
No, Moses would not be afraid.
But Ben was afraid of everything. Water. Rats. Bullies. The dark. Loud barking dogs. The list of things Ben was afraid of was a long list.
Why couldn’t he be more like Moses?
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.
Shipping:
US$ 3.50
Within U.S.A.
Book Description Paperback. Condition: new. New. Seller Inventory # Wizard1561798835
Book Description Paperback. Condition: new. New Copy. Customer Service Guaranteed. Seller Inventory # think1561798835
Book Description Paperback. Condition: new. New. Fast Shipping and good customer service. Seller Inventory # Holz_New_1561798835
Book Description Condition: New. New. In shrink wrap. Looks like an interesting title! 0.22. Seller Inventory # Q-1561798835