The next day, Ben was again late getting to the Red House. He snuck in the back way, hoping that in the hustle and bustle of preparation for the feast to be held that night, no one would notice one small boy slipping quietly down the long hallway.

A strong hand clasped him by the back of his neck. Strong fingers turned his head until he was looking back at the stern face and dark eyes of Enoch, the older Israelite boy who supervised the younger ones. Enoch’s face was hard —at first. But after a moment, it broke into a grin.

“You’re late, Ben,” the older boy said. “And there’s much to do. Now hurry upstairs. You’re to help her ladyship choose the linens.” He gave Ben a gentle shove toward the stairway. Enoch was never resentful that Ben seemed to be a special favorite of those who lived in the Red House.

The reason Ben was late that day was that so many interesting things were happening in the village. Women, including his mother, had been huddled together in doorways or gathered in small groups in the streets, whispering excitedly, their shawl-covered heads close together. Old men sat in the marketplace arguing loudly, shouting back and forth to each other.

And it was all about Moses.

But Ben was puzzled. He was hearing as much doubt and complaining from the people in the village as excitement. “He’s just another homeless troublemaker from the desert, as far as I’m concerned!” one sour-faced woman had told his mother shrilly. “No good will come of it, you’ll see!”

Upstairs, her ladyship sat staring at several shelves of stacked linens for table coverings, napkins, and guest towels. Ben bowed slightly as he entered the room —blushing as she looked up, smiled, and winked at him to acknowledge his tardiness. “So glad you’re here, Ben,” she said teasingly. “We have much —”

Her eyes rose to the hallway behind Ben, and he turned to see his lordship come up the stairs with the slow dignity he always showed.

“Well, well,” he said pleasantly. “Please, my dear, don’t rise. And Ben, I’m glad you’re here. I was hoping to speak to you. Enoch!” He shouted the older boy’s name down the stairway, and Ben could hear Enoch pounding up the stairs. “Come in, come in.” His lordship motioned for Ben and Enoch to stand beside his wife. “I was hoping you boys would both be here. I have something to say to you about what happened in Pharaoh’s court this morning.”

Ben and Enoch looked at each other with carefully guarded excitement.

“Moses, it seems, has returned.” His lordship began to pace back and forth in the large room. “It’s been forty years since he fled into the desert. Now he has returned and presumes to speak for your people. He asked Pharaoh . . .” His lordship paused as if thinking, looking out the window across the desert landscape. “It was ill-advised. He asked Pharaoh to let your people ignore their tasks and responsibilities for three days to go into the desert to have a festival to worship your God.”

Ben looked at Enoch in confusion. Moses had asked only for three days in the desert? But last night hadn’t he said —

“Moses should have known,” his lordship said, shaking his head and turning back toward them. “He has lived in this court before. Pharaoh wasn’t pleased.” He lowered his voice and took on a stern expression, imitating Pharaoh. “ ‘I do not know your God, and I will not let Israel go.’ Then he accused Moses and his brother of enticing your people away from their work. His lordship appeared apologetic. “So I’m afraid that Pharaoh has taken it into his head to make things difficult for your people. He has given orders that from this day on, the laborers from among your people are to be given no straw for their bricks. They must gather their own straw. But they are nevertheless expected to make their full quota of bricks.”

“But —” Ben started to protest. A quick look from her ladyship silenced him.

“And, further, I’m afraid,” his lordship continued, “that Pharaoh has encouraged his foremen to be, well . . . harsh with your laborers.”

Enoch looked at Ben. Ben’s father was at the brickyards making bricks for which he was being given no straw to mix with the mud. The men would be forced to scavenge for straw, which would slow their work, which would anger the Egyptian foremen.

Suddenly Ben couldn’t wait to get home. But he couldn’t leave. A morning and afternoon of work stretched ahead of him.

At dusk, released at last, Ben raced home through the narrow streets of his neighborhood. The sounds he heard alarmed him: women and children weeping, angry men shouting, other men groaning in pain.

“Was Moses there to gather straw for me today?” Ben heard one man yell. “Was Moses there to take my beating from the foreman when I fell behind?”

Ben covered the final few blocks at a sprint. He dashed through the doorway of his family’s home. His father and grandfather sat on small stools, their backs bare. Ben turned away, unable to look at the welts and bruises on their skin.

Ben’s mother and grandmother bent over their men, damp cloths in their hands. Ben’s mother looked up. “Ben, fill our bowls with fresh, cool water from the cistern, please,” she said quietly.

He did, then stood against the wall in front of his father. “I heard at the Red House,” Ben said. “I came home as quickly as I could. Is there something I can do?”

His father looked up, his eyes dull, exhausted, and hopeless. “You’re a good lad, Benjamin,” he said. “There is something you can do. There is no way I can gather my straw and make my bricks all in a day, and if I fail, I’ll be beaten again.”

“As will I,” croaked Ben’s exhausted grandfather, too tired even to lift his head and look at Ben.

“So, lad, we’ll need you to gather our straw for us each day, after you’re done at the Red House.”

Ben was confused. “But, Father, it’s nearly dark.”

“Yes. But we’ll still need straw tomorrow —enough for me and for your grandfather.”

Ben’s face went cold with fear. He looked up at his mother.

“This isn’t a time to give in to fear, son,” Ben’s father said, his voice firm but not harsh or unkind. “I have fears of my own, but still I must get up in the morning and go back to the same field where today they beat me till I couldn’t stand. And so you too will have to ignore your fears and do what must be done.” He smiled through his pain. “Tonight, perhaps it would be best if your mother went with you.”

Ben shivered only a little less when he heard that he wouldn’t have to go out into the dark alone. He would still be out in the dark.

And who knew what else would go wrong, as long as Moses was stirring up trouble?