Zipporah, Wife of Moses A Novel

The Fugitive That day, and all the days that followed, Horeb remained silent. The dream lingered for a long time in Zipporah's body, like the poison left by an illness. For several moons, she dreaded the night. She lay on her bed without moving, without closing her eyes, without even daring to touch her lips with her tongue for fear of finding the taste of the stranger's mouth on them. She thought for a moment of confiding in her father Jethro. Who better to counsel her than the sage of the kings of Midian? Who loved her more than he did? Who better understood her torments? But she said nothing. She did not want to seem too weak, too childish, too much like other women, who were always ready to believe their hearts rather than their eyes. He was so proud of her, and she wanted to show him that she was strong and sensible and held firm to all the things he had taught her. With time, the images of the dream faded. The Egyptian's face became blurred. A season went by without her thinking of it once. Then, one morning, Jethro announced to his daughters that young Reba, the son of the king of Sheba, one of the five kings of Midian, would be their guest the next day. "He has come to ask counsel of me. He will be here before the end of the day. We shall welcome him as he deserves." The news provoked a great deal of mirth among the women of the house. All of themJethro's daughters, the handmaidsknew what was going on. For more than a year, barely a moon had passed without Reba coming to seek Jethro's counsel. While everyone bustled to prepare the next day's banquet, some preparing the food, others the reception tent and the carpets and cushions that had to be laid out in the courtyard, it was Sefoba, the eldest of Jethro's daughters still living in their father's house, who, with her usual directness, said out loud what everyone was thinking: "Reba has had more counsel by now than anyone needs in a lifetimeunless, behind that handsome little face of his, he's the stupidest man Horeb has ever created. What he really wants to know is if he still appeals to our dear Orma. He's hoping Father will think his patience a sign of wisdom and agree to make him his son-in-law!" Orma shrugged. "We all know why he's coming," she admitted. "But what's the point of these visits? They bore me. They're always the same. Reba sits down with our father, spends half the night chatting and drinking wine, and then goes home again, without ever making his mind up to say the necessary words." "Yes, I wonder why," Sefoba said, pretending to be thinking deeply. "Perhaps he doesn't find you beautiful enough?" Orma glared at her sister, unsure whether she was joking. Sefoba laughed, pleased with her teasing. Zipporah sensed that they might be building up to one of their customary quarrels. She stroked the back of Orma's neck to calm her, and received a slap on the hand by way of thanks. Although they had the same mother, Sefoba and Orma could not have been more dissimilar. Sefoba was short and round, sensual and tender, with nothing dazzling about her. Her smile revealed her lack of guile, the honesty of her thoughts and feelings. She was completely trustworthy and, more than once, Zipporah had confided to her what she did not dare tell anyone else. Orma, on the other hand, was like one of those stars that keep their brilliance even when the sky is already flooded with sunlight. There was no woman more beautiful in Jethro's house, perhaps in the whole of Midian. And certainly no woman prouder of this gift of Horeb. [read more]