The Great House, Pharaoh’s palace, dominated the city of Pi-Ramses. Towers, designed to intimidate the brashest visitor, loomed above the walls.
Guests entered between the first set of stone pylons to an impressive view of Ramses’s prowess and mighty deeds inscribed on the massive gates. As supplicants continued on through an open courtyard and passed under a second set of guarded pylons, they saw Ramses’s divine heritage chiseled on the slanted gate sides.
Those who dared venture forward or those required to answer royal summons continued through yet another courtyard and a third pair of heavily guarded pylons. A brightly lit hall showing scenes of the Nile and river wildlife led to doors opening into the narrow throne room.
The two women, escorted by a servant, walked through the courtyards and pylons. They paused outside huge doors guarded by twin alabaster lions and waited permission to enter.
Summoned within, Shiphrah and Puah stepped over the stone threshold, past the white walls with their vividly painted life-size scenes of Egypt’s gods and goddesses. They approached the dais and knelt on the polished floor before the god of Upper and Lower Egypt—Horus incarnate—known in this life as Ramses.
Without permission, Puah rose from the obeisance. Breaking all rules of court etiquette, she stepped forward, speaking directly to Ramses.
“We have left our duties as midwives to the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and come at your command, Ramses, Pharaoh of Egypt. Our time is precious, we have little to spare.”
The hissing of swords being pulled from their sheaths hushed the courtiers’ murmurings, and they stared at the small, barefoot Hebrew. Even with a guard pressing a well-honed knife against her throat, Puah’s audacity did not waver.
Ramses’s face was inscrutable. Silence uncoiled into the corners of the room—a snake straining forward to its prey.
At last, Pharaoh motioned for the guard to release his hold. “The Hebrew boys live. You disobey.”
Stammering, Shiphrah began, “Great One, my lord, I … I am your m–most humble servant. The b–blame is all m–mine, not hers. I … I meant to obey your order, and I did try, but I couldn’t k—”
“—catch the women in birth, Pharaoh. Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive,” Puah interrupted. “Besides, as you must know, my niece is lame from a childhood injury. She moves slowly, and I…” Puah coughed in a piteous spasm.
“Indeed.” Pharaoh narrowed his eyes. “And the other midwives, the ones who answer to you—are they, too, crippled and sickly?”
“Oh no, Great One, but Hebrew women can be contentious. It is difficult for them to change their ways. They are hard to train.”
Ramses studied the women. The crippled one still knelt, head bowed as if in shame. The other one looked straight … through him. Sheep musk wafted from her clothes. Ramses refused to acknowledge his revulsion. Memories of Umi’s prophecy wedged themselves into his mind.
“Go.”
The talker helped her niece to stand. Together they turned their backs to him and left, one hobbling, the other coughing hoarsely.
Ramses did not blink as he watched them leave. Something was amiss, but it was unlikely that two women were more clever than he. Past unlikely. Impossible.