A Story of God and All of Us - By Roma Downey Page 0,22

An enraged Rameses runs at him, and attacks Moses from behind. This violates every rule of combat, and both men know it. Fed up with his cousin's behavior, Moses turns and fights.

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Moses strikes blow after blow on Rameses' shield and says, like an older brother to an impetuous younger sibling, "I will not tolerate this foolish behavior any longer."

Rameses falls to one knee and cowers behind his shield, hoping Moses doesn't take the next step and kill him.

Pharaoh arrives just in time to see Moses embarrassing his son, making the future Pharaoh look weak and unfit. Batya and several palace courtiers are at his side, witnesses to Rameses' shame. Word will soon spread in the palace and throughout the nearby villages, and make it apparent that Moses should be the next Pharaoh. "Stop!" thunders Pharaoh's voice.

But Moses has worked up a righteous lather. He hurls himself at young Rameses again, slamming him into a wall covered in hieroglyphics.

"Enough," insists the Pharaoh. "Leave him alone!"

Moses never intended to go in for the kill, but young Rameses is winded. In the concluding fray and confusion of the moment, Moses' sword blade cuts sharply across Rameses' cheekbone. A gash opens, and blood pours forth.

Rameses will not die from this wound, but it will become a horrible scar once it heals.

" Moses! " Pharoah barks.

A chastened Moses turns from Rameses and looks to Pharaoh.

Rameses screams at Moses in pain. "You will pay for this! I will be Pharaoh.

I will be God!" He then turns to his father. "It is your fault. You should have never let her keep him," Rameses screams, spitting blood at the ground.

Then, a final jab at Moses: "You're not even one of us!"

"He's right," Pharaoh tells Batya.

Moses stares at his mother, who looks away. The truth is starting to dawn on him. "What's he talking about?"

"Tell him," Pharaoh orders his daughter. With that, Pharaoh and a smirking Rameses leave the arena, followed by a small army of unnerved courtiers.

A most confused Prince Moses is left alone with Batya. "Tell me what, Mother?" he asks, not sure if he wants to know the answer.

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Batya bows her head but says nothing.

"What?" Moses pleads. "Tell me. Who is my father?"

A tear falls down Batya's cheek. "Moses, I love you like a son. But you are not my blood."

"Then who... is my mother?" he mumbles in shock. "Where did I come from?"

Batya starts talking, and the words spill forth. "You were the child of slaves,"

she begins, tenderly cupping his face in her hands. "Father killed all the male children of your people--because they were too many, and a threat."

"Just as I am now a threat to Rameses."

"Yes."

"What do you mean when you say, 'my people'?"

Batya takes him to a window. In the distance they can see the Hebrews laboring in the hot sun. "The slaves, Moses. You were a slave child. I saved you. You also have a brother. And a sister. But they are not like you and me.

They worship the god of their ancestor Abraham, and he has deserted them."

"And my real mother? Where is she?"

Batya falls silent. Moses rushes out of the room. He must see these people--

his people--for himself.

Moses walks, haunted. He is horrified by the sight of slaves being beaten, and then kicked once they fall to the ground. He watches men, women, and children labor in the blazing sun. The heat is like an inferno. Their faces are weary and their spirits are broken. His people are without a hope or a future.

In his eighteen years in the Pharaoh's court, Moses has never paid these people any heed. They have always been beneath him, a separate people he never noticed. Until now, he has never known nor witnessed the cruelty they suffer in daily existence. His heart is in conflict, for this could easily have been him. Somewhere among them is a family he has never known.

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Moses hears an anguished shout: "No!" He turns to see an Israelite slave being dragged into the shadows of a nearby building. "Please, no," the slave screams. Moses follows the sound into a blind corner, where he finds a slave master beating a young man with a large club.

"Filthy slave," sneers the overseer, spitting on the Hebrew.

He lands blow after blow, even though the man cowers and tries to cover his face. Moses doesn't know what to do. This is not his business. The slave surely did something to deserve these painful blows. As the stick rises into the air and comes