“Come, Ben,” his master said early one afternoon several days after the hailstorm, hurriedly pulling on his headdress. “I’ve just been summoned to Pharaoh’s court. Moses has arrived and demanded —demanded, mind you —to speak to Pharaoh. I want you to come.”

“Yes, your lordship. Is there something you wish me to bear for you?”

“Not this time, Ben,” he said as they rushed out into the street. It had been growing warmer day by day and would soon be summer. “I simply want you to hear what Moses says so that you can report it back to your parents, to the others in your village. I doubt that your people understand how unreasonable Moses is, and how he threatens all Egypt with these plagues.”

Ben didn’t know about that, but he did know that there had been many rumors in his village lately: Moses and Aaron had been killed; Moses and Aaron had fled Egypt. Pharaoh had finally agreed to let the Israelites leave Egypt; Pharaoh had agreed, but then changed his mind and demanded that all Israelite men be jailed and beaten. Moses had announced a new plague —lions would prowl the streets of cities throughout Egypt. No one seemed to know what Moses was up to. Perhaps Ben could find out.

But even though they hurried, sweating in the hot sun, Ben and his master arrived too late. Moses and Aaron, looking stern and angry, were stalking out of the court. Right behind them came some of the court officials and even a few of Pharaoh’s soldiers. They looked just as angry, muttering among themselves and pointing at the two departing Hebrew men.

“What is it, Horus?” Ben’s master asked one of the officials.

The man spat on the ground. “Called down another plague. Moses said that locusts such as we have never seen before will cover all the land and devour everything the hail didn’t destroy. Then they turned on their heels and walked out. Pharaoh never said a word. His advisors and magicians are with him right now, trying to convince him that he has to respond somehow. Moses has already shown that his God can send a powerful plague. If these locusts are as bad as he said they’d be . . .”

But Ben’s master just shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “Pharaoh won’t listen to reason. And he won’t grant Moses’ request. He will never let the Israelites go.”

The locusts came the next day. Ben awoke before his father and grandfather had even left for the brick-making yards. He heard the muffled, anxious voices of people out in the streets. His mother and father looked at each other, but no one spoke. They all knew what Moses had foretold. Ben slipped out the door and joined the crowd gathering there.

A warm wind from the east ruffled Ben’s hair. It was the same wind that had been blowing since the day before; he’d heard it rustling things outside all night long. People were gathered in groups everywhere, talking quietly and pointing at the sky. A few locusts crawled on the ground already, but most were high overhead. Clouds of them were coming from the east, riding that wind and creating a dark smudge across the whole sky.

By midmorning, the clouds of locusts were so thick, the sky was darkened. And on the ground they were everywhere —just as the frogs, the gnats, and the flies had been. But when they landed, they didn’t just sit. They ate. Everything. Every green plant. Cloth, wood, leather, bread —anything their sharp, little mouths could chew. They left behind only dirt, brick, stone, and bone.

Instead of cowering inside, as he would have before, Ben walked away from the village, past the houses and out into the fields. This is one more chance, he thought, to show myself —and everyone else too —that I’m not as frightened of things as they think. He stopped brushing the locusts off his clothes —although he still brushed them from his face. He closed his eyes and stepped across the ruined field, feeling the crunch of locusts beneath his sandals. He could feel them crawling over his clothes, over his skin, across his hair. He wanted to scream, wanted to brush them off. But he forced himself to ignore them, to let them crawl.

Little, scratchy feet across his hands.

The whir of locust wings next to his ears.

Run! his fear screamed. Shake them off, brush them off, stomp them off, and then run home where it’s safe!

But he didn’t shake, didn’t brush, didn’t stomp, and he knew that home wouldn’t be any safer anyway. He had watched his mother that morning, near panic as she and Ben’s father tried to keep the locusts out, or at least kill all those that managed to get in.

Ben stopped walking. Slowly he opened his eyes. He looked down at his arms, his hands, his legs. Locusts everywhere —brown grasshoppers crawling all over him, chewing at his clothes. He fought the fear, the panic that screamed at him to run. He simply stood, trembling.

And when he looked up, there was Joel, covered with locusts.

Joel laughed. “Ben,” he said, “I’m proud of you. Look at you! They’re all over you —and you’re not afraid!”

Ben managed an uneasy smile. “Well . . . I am afraid, really.”

“Even better! I mean, I’m not afraid of locusts, so when I stand here like this, it doesn’t mean I’m brave. But you’re afraid of them, and when you stand here like this, that takes courage.”

Ben was surprised. Yes. He’d never thought of it that way. It wasn’t really that the other boys were braver than he was. They simply weren’t afraid of the things he was. There was a difference.

“I just thought of something, Joel,” Ben said.

Joel raised one eyebrow, his way of asking what Ben meant.

“Just think what kind of power it took for God to make all these things happen. All these locusts. The hailstorm. Turning the river to blood, and all the rest. A God who can do all those things can do anything. Anything!”

Joel nodded. “I suppose. But Pharaoh —”

Ben shook his head. “Pharaoh will lose, Joel.”

Joel looked surprised. “You mean Moses will win?”

“Not Moses.” Ben brushed away a locust that landed on his chin. “God. The Master of all. We’ve been thinking all along that this was some kind of contest between Pharaoh and Moses. But all Moses is doing is saying what God tells him to say. Pharaoh doesn’t know it, but he’s fighting against God. And Pharaoh can’t beat God! He just hasn’t realized it yet.”