Two days later, Ben spent a hard afternoon in the hot sun, a cloth tied across his face to fight the smell, helping the servants from the households in Rameses drag the bodies of goats, sheep, and other livestock to the edge of town, where they were piled and burned.

Hundreds of animal bodies.

Thousands.

Ben had been amazed when Joel had awakened him that morning, hissing from the doorway with the news: All of the animals owned by the Egyptians had died during the night. But all of the animals of the Israelites were still alive.

Actually, not all of the Egyptian animals had died. Moses had warned the Egyptians the day before that if they would take their animals out of the fields and put them in their barns, the animals would be spared. But Pharaoh had laughed at Moses’ words and left his animals in the fields. And so of course the rest of the people of Rameses had done the same.

And only those few animals in the barns had survived whatever sudden sickness had killed the rest.

Even so, Pharaoh hadn’t agreed to let the Israelites go into the desert to make their sacrifices and worship God.

As Ben walked through the streets of Rameses the next day on his way to the Red House, he was surprised to see no Egyptians on the streets, only Hebrew servants rushing on urgent errands. When he got to the Red House, he found out why: His lordship and her ladyship and all of their children lay moaning and complaining in their soft beds, their skin bare because of painful boils that covered them everywhere.

The Israelite servants, none of whom were afflicted with boils, scurried back and forth between the bedrooms and the kitchen, hauling bowls of cool water into which Naomi had poured a little vinegar. Ben and Enoch and the others sponged the red, swollen skin of the Egyptian family with the vinegar-water, trying to bring some relief to them in the hot desert air.

Later, on their way to the kitchen for fresh water, Ben and Enoch stopped in the courtyard in the shade of a palm tree for a moment. “Have you heard of any of our people with boils at all?” Enoch asked.

Ben shook his head. “None. How did this happen?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Enoch asked. “It’s another of Moses’ plagues. He and Aaron brought handfuls of soot to Pharaoh’s court this morning and flung it into the air. The wind carried it high over the city and farther, over the whole land of Egypt. Then it rained down, and all of the Egyptians were suddenly stricken with painful boils. I heard that Pharaoh asked his magicians to copy Moses’ feat —or better yet, make it go away.” Enoch chuckled. “But they were in such pain from the boils that covered their bodies that they could do nothing.”

Ben thought. “None of our livestock died yesterday, and none of our people have boils today. And the flies left us alone too. God has decided to spare us from the plagues He is visiting on the Egyptians.”

Enoch nodded, then grinned. “I guess Moses is doing something right after all. Remember how little faith you had in him, my friend?”

Ben snorted. “Pharaoh hasn’t let us go yet. Either he ignores Moses and the plagues or else he agrees to let us go and then changes his mind as soon as God removes the plague. And I don’t hear many people in my village who want to go, anyway. They’re afraid to go.”

Enoch raised an eyebrow, and Ben blushed. Enoch knew, as did everyone else, of Ben’s fears. But Enoch never teased him. “If it is God’s will for us to leave Egypt,” Enoch said, “then we should be afraid to stay.”

By the third day, most Egyptians had recovered enough from the boils to tend to their business, although their skin was still tender.

Once again the sound of sheep, goats, and cattle echoed from the pens in back of the Red House. On the same day the plague had killed the Egyptians’ animals, Ben’s master had sent servants out to neighboring lands to buy more livestock and bring them back. Most of the other wealthy Egyptians had done the same. The first herds of animals had begun to arrive the day before.

Ben gathered up the linens that had been hung out to air that afternoon. He noticed Enoch talking quietly with another Israelite who served in the palace running errands. After the other servant had scurried away, Ben motioned Enoch over and asked, “Is there news?”

Enoch nodded. “Moses has promised a hailstorm, the worst storm ever to afflict Egypt. He has given Pharaoh and the Egyptians a day to bring their new livestock into the barns for protection. The storm will come tomorrow morning.”

Ben was surprised. Hail? He’d heard of this ice that fell from the sky, but he’d never seen it. Even rain wasn’t common in this part of Egypt; their water came from the river. “We’ll see hail!” he said excitedly.

Enoch shook his head. “It’s not likely to be fun —the whole purpose is to make Pharaoh and the Egyptians suffer because they won’t listen to God. I wouldn’t want to be caught out in it.”

Ben nodded slowly. Yes, but . . . hail! Tomorrow he’d finally see it.

The next morning Ben and Joel and Micah went out into the fields to gather straw. The Egyptian taskmasters still expected the Hebrew men to provide their own straw for making bricks. And straw was becoming harder to find.

But today Ben didn’t mind. And Joel felt the same. Out in the field was exactly where they wanted to be. “When is the hailstorm supposed to start?” Joel asked.

Ben shrugged. “This morning sometime. Look at those clouds.” He pointed toward the dark, looming clouds piled high to the west.

Joel nodded. “It might be soon. And where do you suppose it will fall?”

“Where? What do you mean?”

“I mean the flies were bad throughout Egypt, or so we’ve heard —except where we Israelites live. The boils didn’t affect us; our livestock didn’t die when —”

“Ah,” Ben said. “I see. So when the hail falls . . .”

“It will miss us and hit the Egyptians,” said Joel. “So if we want to see the hail . . .”

Ben nodded. “You know, I think we might be able to gather more straw in the fields over toward the city of Rameses today. We haven’t gathered there yet.”

“Just what I was thinking,” said Joel. He shouldered his bags for straw gathering, and Ben tugged his grandmother’s cart behind him. Joel touched Micah’s arm and motioned for him to follow.

They felt the first drops of rain before they had covered half the distance between their village and Rameses and looked up in surprise. The clouds that had been looming in the west were now overhead and moving rapidly. The rain increased, and the boys stopped to watch in wonder as the clouds sped across the sky, soon covering the sun. A cold wind blew across them, making their now-damp skin shiver. Micah gave a low, uneasy moan.

And then they saw their first hailstone.

It landed with a pebbly rattle in the wooden bed of Ben’s cart. The boys didn’t realize at first what had made the sound, and they gathered around the cart. There it was —a tiny ball of white about the size of a pea. Joel picked it up, and a delighted smile spread over his face. “It’s cold!” he said in awe. “Very cold!”

Ben held out his hand, and Joel dropped the hailstone into his palm. Ben pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. He had lived his entire life in the desert, so this tiny ball was the coldest thing he had ever felt.

And then one hit him on the head. He was surprised at how much it stung. When it bounced to the ground in front of him, he realized it was about twice the size of the one he’d held. Then another hit, and another, and soon hailstones were falling everywhere. They stung and they were cold, and the boys were getting thoroughly wet. But Ben and Joel grabbed each other’s hands and danced and twirled and wrestled and ran, laughing with the sheer joy of this new thing they’d discovered.

But the size of the hailstones grew. From the size of beans, they grew to the size of almonds, then grapes.

“Ouch!” Joel said uneasily. “This hurts!”

Micah moaned again and crowded close to the boys.

Then one the size of an apricot hit Ben on the head, and it hit so hard, Ben felt with his hand to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “Come on!” he said. “Let’s get under something!”

“What?” Joel said, looking all around. “Hey —those palm trees!”

A small group of palms grew a short distance away. Ben grabbed one side of the now-wailing Micah; Joel grabbed the other. The boys raced to the trees. They huddled in the middle of the small grove. But the hailstones —now the size of Ben’s fist —shredded the fronds of the palms and fell on the boys almost as hard as when they’d been in the open.

“This is no good!” Joel said in a panicky voice, trying to tuck the frantic Micah under his body. “Come on —let’s hide in that old furnace!”

Ben turned to look. It was a brick-making furnace, huge and abandoned. “Come on, then!” he yelled, and they rushed through the pounding hail, slipping and falling on the muddy ground. They dove, bruised and filthy, into the sooty, dark furnace.

Then they were safe. The furnace was covered except for a round chimney hole in the middle. The walls of the furnace were thick, made of heavy bricks, and although the hail made a horrible racket pounding on it, the boys knew that the furnace would stand.

A fist-sized hailstone rolled into the furnace, becoming covered with a layer of black soot. Micah picked it up and immediately began sucking on it. Joel knocked it from his hands. “Dirty, Micah! Leave it alone!”

Micah yelled in anger, then stepped outside into the storm, trying to catch another hailstone to suck. When he looked up, a large one exploded on his face, and he screamed. Ben and Joel wrestled him back inside, and Joel reached out to find a big clean hailstone for Micah to hold against his sore cheekbone. “Good thing it didn’t hit his eye or his nose,” Joel grumbled.

Then they stood quietly, just inside the furnace, looking out across a dark, obscured world rapidly turning into a wasteland.

“Ben,” Joel said quietly. “Stop it. You’re scaring Micah.”

Ben turned and looked. Micah was looking at him with big, scared eyes and was beginning to moan in the way he did when he was frightened.

“Look normal,” Joel whispered. “Your face is white; you’re trembling . . .”

Ben took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and looked away from Micah, willing his legs and hands to stop trembling. He was as thoroughly frightened and miserable as he ever remembered being in his life.