Why these Crimson Tears?
Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Egypt or any of the characters there within.
I would also like to note that this is set after the rain of fire, but before the white hand that took all of the first born.
He was drowning in the choking metallic darkness that surrounded him. He tried desperately to break the surface, but the liquid was too dark; too heavy, his clothes were like a great weight, dragging him down. So this was how it was to end; drowned in the river of blood that he had created with the staff of God.
Where was the Lord to help his servant that drowned? Moses though as his motions slowed and he sank further into the water. Why did the Lord not save him? Moses shut his eyes to the blood, near black in its menacing presence.
Suddenly, hands came, reaching under his arms and gently but firmly pulling him from the crimson bed of death. The pull of blood around his neck and clothes felt odd and it drew Moses from his surrender, back to life. He broke the surface, gasping and shaking his head, drops of red liquid flying in every direction. His head pounded in unison with his heart and he massaged his temple with a bloodied hand. His eyes cracked open to find that he stood on a bank away from the immense stretch of river, a branch of crimson water from the main tribune.
But who had saved him?
He would have thanked the body of his rescuer.
His eyes cleared to find two women, standing on opposite sides of the bank in which he stood.
The woman to his left was very beautiful—with long black hair, soft eyes, and gently smiling lips. It was his mother, the Queen, her beautiful clothes soaked in crimson, hands dripping with the moisture. Moses came to grips with what had happened, feeling once again the hands that had pulled him from his watery grave. She had saved him. He smiled warmly at her—how he had missed her and thought oft of her in deserts since he had fled Egypt and the memory of crime those many years ago.
She smiled at him as if to say "my how you have grown". They stood for a moment surveying one another until the Queen's eyes slid from him to the other side of the bank. Moses followed her gaze and his heart skipped a beat.
A beautiful woman shrouded in the dress of the Hebrews, hair lifting softly in the breeze, and striking brown eyes gazed back at him—he came to realize who this woman was with a jolt.
His true mother, Yocheved.
As though hearing his thoughts, she smiled a deep maternal smile and her eyes shimmered with unspent tears. Her lips moved and it took him a moment to comprehend her.
'My son.'
"Mother…" he said softly and came forward. She retreated back a step, shaking her head, her eyes smiling at him sadly. Her reaction felt like a blow to Moses—he could approach her no further.
Moses looked back to the mother who had raised him all those years ago. Her eyes were sad. No, he could not approach her either. The Queen looked down at her hands, still running with the blood she had rescued him from. She looked back up at him with pain in those dark eyes.
'Our people suffer, Moses,' her voice, a medium tone of incense that could halt even a pharaoh's rage, fell sweetly into Moses' ears. 'How long must the plagues continue?'
"Forgive me, mother." Moses said sorrowfully, "but it is God's command of this servant that my people shall be set free, if only Ramses would comply…"
'My poor son has missed you terribly, Moses, but he has been a great ruler. Please do not penalize him for his faults.'
"It is not my wish to, mother. I only ask that the Hebrews be set free."
She sighed, a mournful sound that seemed to carry the weight of the breeze itself.
'Ramses is adoring of you and can be as gentle as a lamb, surely you know this. If only you would speak to him. He is lost; as you were in the desert sands. He would heed your word if only you spoke to him as you once did…as his brother.'
Moses contemplated his mother's plea.
"But he will not listen."
'My son,' the woman to his right spoke softly; the voice of an angel. Moses turned to her in wonder and an instinctive, infantile love he could feel gripped him and pulsed in the depths of his heart.
'It is true that our people have suffered at the hands of the Egyptians, but it is now they who have suffered enough.'
Moses pressed the knuckles of his free hand into his eyes.
"I wish for nothing more than to end this suffering of my people—Hebrew and Egyptian alike."
'Your wish will be granted, if you will only lead your people to freedom.'
"Pharaoh still enslaves our people. Until he frees us, I am wont to leave."
'Pharaoh will listen. You are his brother, and shall always be a Prince of Egypt in his eyes.'
"Then I shall speak with him as my brother."
The Queen's eyes sparked with relief, for a moment.
'Please ease the suffering of our people.'
Moses nodded solemnly to her and her gentle smile lifted her features. The expression lifted Moses' heart. He could not remember the last time he had recalled such a smile on his mother's face—one of relief and love and hope. He prayed that he might do all she asked.
'The Egyptians will wage war if something is not done soon.' Yocheved murmured softly. Moses looked to her, his heart sinking once more, for deep in his heart he knew she was right. He looked into her soft brown eyes, but she looked elsewhere, beyond them, to the future. 'I know you did not ask to be God's servant, but He places his faith in you that you would lead His people to freedom.'
Moses drew his gaze back to the water, his eyes beginning to tear.
"I…I do not wish to employ the forces of God against my brother. I wish forever to remain his brother, if it must be only in memory; though I wish it not to befall us so."
'Oh, my poor sons,' the Queen spoke once more, brow furrowed in sorrow and body trembling with pain as a single crimson tear slipped down her cheek. 'Never would I have imagined such a war to divide my children.'
"No mother," Moses began forlornly, forgetting his place and moving forward. The Queen doubled over in pain, more crimson tears beginning to streak down her face. Moses quickly shied back, feeling at once helpless and alone.
'You are never alone, my son,' the Queen smiled sadly as she righted herself again. 'I shall always be with you.'
'As will I.' Yocheved spoke from his right.
"Please," Moses begged, dropping to his knees in the crimson stream. "Tell me what I must do."
'Do not lose faith, my son.' Yocheved smiled. 'I shall always be with you.' She smiled sadly and a breeze formed around her and her image fell away with the churning sands. Moses exhaled a cry, but before he could call out to the leaving spirit, the mother to his left addressed him with equal, sad, finality.
'I shall always watch over you.'
And in another gust of wind, the Queen had gone. Both of his mother's had gone. Moses stood quickly.
"No, wait!"
He had not even had a chance to give thanks, or farewell, or even send his love. The breezes that had taken his mothers formed together as one and the wind rushed forward to wash over him. The wind was warm and smelled of incense and spices—the memory of both of his mothers. The wind washed over him with a promise of love, admiration, and devotion; of pride, knowing, and reassurance. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, as everything around him turned black.
A soft breeze awakened Moses from his slumber. Moses opened his eyes, the lingering effects of the breeze rekindling his spirit. He thanked God for the miraculous visit and slipped from the bed he shared with Zipporah.
He threw on his overcoat as he reached for his staff, his now constant companion. He exited the house and looked to the familiarity of the palace, feeling an ambiance of home he had not had in years. With a short sigh and a deep breath, he strode forward with new resolve.
Perhaps, this time, pharaoh would listen.
A/N: This was one of those stories that had me stumbling out of bed at two in the morning to jot down idea's lest I forget the whole matter; and because of my insanity, I decided to finish this one. I figure it would be an interesting story if Moses' two mother's met somehow. This is what became of the idea. It's a stretch of the imagination, but I think I got it right to where I understood it. Now as for my poor readers in comprehending this...you may not be as lucky.
In any case, I enjoyed writing this story, even though it did trip me up in places! What a challenge!
I hope you all enjoyed and will please Review!
Blackfire 18