The man who captured me was now given the job of escorting me back to our camp to bring Mary, Joseph and Jesus to the Bedouin camp. When we descended to the place where I had left the family sleeping, Joseph was standing with his hands above his eyes, watching us climb down into the wadi.

I waved, hoping to assure him that I was fine. When we arrived, he came to meet us.

"Shalom," he said to my escort.

The man responded in kind.

I quickly began my explanation. "I went in search of water. This man and his tribe have agreed to help us out."

Joseph smiled. "Adonai provides."

The Bedouin looked at Joseph, but said nothing except, "Come."

Mary handed a drowsy Jesus to Joseph. Picking up the bag that contained what was left of our meager supplies, she fell into line with me at the rear.

"I presume you took our water skins with you," she said.

"True. They are now full, but there was no need to bring them. The Bedouin have agreed to let us rest and refresh. Tonight they will escort us to Memphis."

Mary raised her eyebrows. "You must have exceptional powers of persuasion."

"Hardly. Adonai delivered me to the one Bedouin who would be likely to listen to my plea. He sold his future daughter-in-law to the same trader who bought me. He did it to save his people from famine, intending to rescue Amira Bahie before we reached Herod's court. Bahie and I were tethered together. It was she who taught me desert survival skills."

"You said intending. I take it the rescue did not come."

I shook my head. "No. When Khalid returned to his camp, a plague had fallen upon his people. He had to delay until it was too late. After a year in Herod's court, Bahie took her own life rather than bed the evil king."

"How sad."

"Very. I had to tell Khalid of her fate when he tried to bargain water for information about Herod's court so that he could, even now, go to her rescue."

"And he chose to help us anyway."

"He did. I knew I risked his anger, but I felt it was what Adonai would have me do."

"And you were right."

I wondered at the equanimity with which Mary and Joseph accepted the miraculous events that channeled their lives. They seemed not at all perturbed to find themselves in the camp of the usually hostile Bedouin. They graciously thanked our hosts, accepting their hospitality without question. Showing not the slightest hint of unease, they allowed Jesus to frolic with the camp youngsters. Mary chatted with the women as she helped to prepare a simple meal. Joseph offered to mend a camel saddle in return for their generosity.

As I sat with the women, preparing pita for the fire, I overheard a conversation between Khalid and my captor. I did not mean to eavesdrop, but after so many years of listening intently, it was inevitable.

"Why not take that one to wife," Khalid said. "She was Bahie's friend, and she has a kind heart."

I did not look up, but my heart lurched within me.

"No, father," the young man said."I still mourn Bahie and freshly so with the recent news."

"I understand. Go a day's journey into the desert and seek Bahie's spirit. Tell her of your love and your agony. Ask her for release. She would not want you to continue in this life alone."

The young man passed us as he headed into the desert. My heart ached for him, but I knew I was not the one to assuage his pain. I watched as a young woman across me from followed his progress with her eyes. Perhaps she was his destiny.

Briefly I pondered what it would be like to be loved so fiercely. I reined in my thoughts. When I returned to Egypt, father would be hard pressed to find a marriage for me. No one would marry a girl with Herod's tattoo on her neck, not even some old man with failing eyesight. Besides, once they learned of my allegiance to Adonai, they would definitely spurn me. 

Usually, I looked up when I talked to Adonai, but this time I did not halt in my task as I said simply. "I could never settle for a Egyptian with his pantheon of gods, Adonai. This too is in your hands. You are enough."

And with that I was content.

After drinking our fill, eating a couple of hot meals and getting plenty of rest, we were restored and ready to resume our journey. This time, my fantasy of a camel ride became a reality. Mary and I were boosted onto one camel, while Joseph and Jesus rode another. We were given a quick lesson in cuing a camel with the reins, but the leader told us that the animal was trained to respond to verbal commands, and he would make certain that our ride was uneventful.

The desert looked different from the lofty perch atop a camel. The gravel in the wadi bed that made our walking difficult appeared to be an almost smooth roadbed for the camel. The banks of the wadi seemed less steep. The stars looked closer and brighter. The sparse foliage cast twisted shadows.

After traveling for hours in the night, I recognized the hidden valley where the slave entourage had met the Bedouin . I expected the men to deposit us there, refusing to travel further, however, they continued on. Finally they halted.

After dismounting, I asked Khalid, "Isn't this the field behind the farm that the trader Amenhote uses as a base?"

"Used," he replied. "Amenhote, too, has gone to another place. The farm is abandoned. I personally believe that the gods rejected Amenhote and cast him into a place reserved for those with evil souls. I understand he died an agonizing death, holding his chest and cursing the day that he made a bargain with the seer Ramla. You said your mother is a seer. Was it her curse that sent Amenhote to discover the destiny the gods had in store for him?"

"Ramla is my mother," I answered. "I think perhaps it was Amenhote's own fear that caused his demise, rather than the curse my mother spoke. She cursed Amenhote only if he harmed me. Since he kept his end of the bargain, mother's curse should have had no power over the trader. Perhaps she foresaw the way he would die, and so, when his heart began to harden and searing pain gripped his chest, he blamed mother's curse."

We stood and watched as the Bedouin vanished back into the desert, swallowed up by what was to us an unfriendly terrain, but to them was home. Then we turned and walked across the field and into Memphis as streaks of pink, purple, and orange dyed the scattered clouds high above the city.

I led the couple and their excited toddler into the awakening metropolis. Jesus was awed by the boats in the harbor. He clapped his hands with glee when the sails were raised on one that was preparing to disembark. He reached out for the bright fabrics and pretty jewelry in the stalls. He clambered to be put down so he could explore the market. Mary, who had been carrying the boy, was forced to relinquish the squirming toddler to Joseph, who laughed at his son's eagerness to discover the market firsthand. When we finally reached the quieter residential neighborhood where my family lived, all of us were exhausted from trying to distract the child from his determination to see, touch, and taste everything.

As we approached our house, I saw a handsome young man emerge from an enlarged dwelling. He turned with a smile and picked up a tiny little girl who toddled through the door. Kissing the child, he handed her to a young woman. When he turned towards the street, I gasped.

"Akiki?!" I called out.

The young man turned a questioning gaze towards me. "Subira!" he yelled. "Mama! Papa! Come quick! It's Subira!"

The older brother I had once tormented ran into the street, his arms open wide and swept me into a firm embrace. He twirled me around, chanting, "Subira, Subira, Mama's little Peep is home."

The homecoming was ecstatic. We all tried to talk at once. Mary, Joseph, and Jesus were welcomed by a beaming Ramla and Akins.

"We used the money from Amenhote to build a small cottage in the back," mother told us. "One day your father and I will retire to the smaller dwelling as revered grandparents. But we built it early to house the young king during his stay in Egypt. I want to offer our home to you as a safe haven," she finished, bowing to Mary and Joseph.

"You were that certain I would return and bring the child?" I asked.

"But of course," mother said. "The gods would not have sent you on an unsuccessful mission."

Father cleared his throat, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "I was the one she had to convince. I considered divorce when she finally told me the truth of where you were."

Ramla looked embarrassed. "I told him you had taken another post as a domestic with a wealthy family who traveled south on the Nile for the winter. When there was no news of you, he asked the name of the family, determined to make certain you were being well treated. I finally told him the truth."

"I could not believe that she sold you to that mean spirited trader, Amenhote. And as a slave in King Herod's court! I didn't care what the gods had whispered in her ears; it was unforgivable. Had she told me the truth earlier, I would have come after you, but by the time I knew it was too late."

"So what changed your mind, about the divorce, that is."

"I had loved her and trusted her for years. I had seen her prophecies come to be. And then Amenhote died the horrible death she foretold, even though he kept his end of the bargain. I had to put your life in the hands of the gods and trust your mother."

"A god rescued me. But it was not an Egyptian god; it was the God of the Hebrews. It is a long story, and we have plenty of time to tell it. I am home for good."