No one saw him in the courtyard of the palace, not even the pharaoh who wept over his first-born. All of Egypt bathed in lamentations; each home cradled a deceased beloved in their arms. No one saw him walk almost blindly past the colossal columns and down the sweeping stairs. He did not bother to grip his stick, instead allowing it to drag beside him like an unwanted gift that he knew he had to keep.
He had tried to hold in his grief as long as he could, but now all alone, so cold and lonely, Moses hardly noticed his stick clattering to the floor, away from limp, shaking fingers. Now with no one near him, the palace so dark and unwelcoming around him, Moses leant against a wall, his sobs tearing at his heart. He didn't care that he was sobbing. He wouldn't have even cared if someone had seen him. Let them see. Let them stare. No one could comfort him now. How could he be comforted when all the firstborn were dead? How could anyone tell him it would be alright, now he knew Rameses no longer thought him brother?
Shutting his eyes tight against the sorrow threatening to burst his heart, Moses allowed himself to slide down the wall, fingers gripping his hair as he wept for all the land, for his brother, for the permanent loss of his relationship with Rameses. Moses had lost Rameses—which pain was worse? The pain of losing his lifelong friend and brother, or the agony of knowing he had been partly responsible for the loss of Egypt's first-born? Moses didn't know, didn't want to know.
Collapsing against the wall, he slid down to the ground, shoulders shuddering with lamentation; he hid his face from God. Moses didn't care if God struck him down for crying for all of Egypt's first-born and his brother! How could one man carry all this sorrow and not weep? Why did God have to cause him so much pain? Did he ever regret having to sever Rameses and Moses' tight bond? Why couldn't Moses console Rameses? He wanted to be there for him—but knew he couldn't. With two words—leave me!—Rameses made it known he didn't want to see Moses' face again. Though he knew it was foolish, some part of him—perhaps the boy who remembered all the good times—wanted to return to his brother, show he grieved as much as anyone. Moses wanted to be there for Rameses, and yet knew that was impossible now. Rameses' harsh rebuff and cold command at Moses to leave had cut a raw wound in Moses' soul. His brother loved him no more. Their past would be forever a bittersweet reminiscence. Memories of racing chariots, harassing the priests, and getting up to mischief were now all gone, all tarnished in one night.
And all those firstborn…how could Moses ever comfort the many grieving families? Moses clamped his hands over his ears, desperately trying to muffle the keening. All the innocent who suffered and died, and those poor mothers and fathers! Moses tried to imagine himself in their place—if he had been a father, would things have been different? Would he have tried to stop God, or would he have still agreed to the plan? Could he ever look on his own first-born knowing he had once allowed God to take all the Egyptians' first-borns as Seti had the Hebrews' so long ago? He should've found a better way to warn the Egyptians. Had it just been pharaoh's son who perished, surely he would've let the Hebrews go all the same. He had to!
But now, all he could do was just weep, to sorrow all alone with no one near him. He didn't care—he wanted to weep, and so be it. God could disapprove all he wanted—Moses wanted to grieve with his old home, Egypt, and not even God could stop him as he buried his face in his arms. Tears ran down the new lines on his face, disappearing into his beard as he sobbed like he would never stop. He didn't know how long he stayed huddled against the wall, as though desperate for some comfort even from stone, and nor did he care. Egypt mourned, and so would he.
First light played over the folds of his robes as the keening gave way to a deep silence. His sobs having now given way to silent tears, Moses looked up with reddened eyes. The twilight had lightened, heralding the arrival of a new dawn. The chill of pre-dawn air crept under his clothes, sending an army of goose-bumps up his arms. His eyes were itchy and dry from crying, and he felt the salt of tears on his upper lip. The wall's chill seeped into his robes, colder even that of the twilight breeze playing through his brown hair.
Moses pressed his palms gently against his swollen eyes, dragging a shuddering breath into his chest. The sharp intake of air jolted his heart out of its mourning. His feet were numb from the cold and having been in one place for so long. How long had he wept? He knew there had to be at least a guard or two mingling around the courtyard by now—but surely even they had lost firstborn. Naturally, then, they would stay with their families, to lament their loss as Pharaoh did.
Pressing one hand against the ground beside him, and the other against the wall, Moses eased himself upright until he was fully standing. His legs, numb from cold, threatened to buckle under him. Moses allowed himself to lean his forehead against the cool touch of limestone, closing his eyes. For a moment, he saw the face of his adoptive mother, Queen Tuya. Her eyes, always so alluring, gazed back at him with sorrow, and yet with understanding.
Go, Moses imagined her voice's whisper, Go back to your people.
Her face fading from the backs of his eyelids, Moses opened his eyes once again. He started to turn his head to take one last look at the palace, but then abruptly stopped himself. No. He must not. All those memories in that palace…it would be too much now. He must push aside the past and start anew with his newly freed people. God had willed him as his servant, and he must obey. Pharaoh was now a memory. Pharaoh's name was but a name from the past. He was Pharaoh, not Rameses. Pharaoh was not his brother. Aaron was his brother, his true, blood brother. He had Aaron now, and Miriam. His wife, Tzipporah. They were his true family. They would be waiting for their leader to return and tell them the good news.
Good news at the cost of Egypt's first-born, Moses thought to himself as he picked up his stick, Good news at the cost of my brother, now Pharaoh.
Gathering his fragmented resolve, Moses walked away from the palace into the dawn of freedom for his people. It was time to lead them to freedom. His past life in Egypt was no more, and now he faced a new life and future.
All at God's hand and mercy.