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THE MASTER OF MICHAELMAS HALL
VANESSA BROOKS
 Copyright © 2020 by Vanessa Brooks

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. The
only exception is by a reviewer who may quote brief excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

Vanessa Brooks
The Master of Michaelmas Hall

Created with Vellum

 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14

From the Author

Also by Vanessa Brooks
 CHAPTER 1

*** 1794 ***

T he vessel groaned, rolling and pitching from side to side,

protesting at the strain it was under, forced to ride out the rough
seas of the English Channel.
Angele was unable to suppress her own moan of complaint—the
turbulent crossing had her stomach roiling.
Small hands lovingly patted her fair hair back from her
forehead.
“Maman, tu est malade?”
“Speak in English please, cherie. Fear not, I am simply feeling
unwell due to the ship’s motion.”
“How much longer before we arrive in England, Maman?”
“Very shortly, I believe. A porter will attend to our luggage after
we arrive. I am sorry to have brought you on such a long voyage
and at this time of year, but it was unavoidable with my homeland in
such a state of degeneration.”
“Tante Marie said it would have been quicker for us to cross the
Channel from Calais, Maman.”
“I know, Christopher, but it would have been unsafe for us to
travel through France right now, which is why we were forced to sail
from the Netherlands.”
“When will the terror end, Maman?”
“I have no idea, cherie, perhaps when the madness that grips
my people ceases, but fear not, for we shall be safe en Angleterre.”
 “You said to speak in English, Maman!”
Angele repressed a smile at her son’s indignation.
“So I did. Come now, help me up. I must prepare for our arrival.
Please hand me my veil.”
Her son screwed up his little face as she held out her hand for
the thick, black garment.
“Honestly, Maman, you should not wear that horrid old thing. It
makes you look like a witch!”
Angele shook her head with a long, drawn-out sigh at this
familiar complaint. “Christopher, you are used to my face, but others
are shocked when they see the scar. I think it best that I wear the
veil, ma petit,” she chided gently.
Grudgingly, he hopped off the cot and fetched it for her, the
hated black gauze which protected her from the condemning eyes of
others.

His complaints about the freezing temperatures they’d experienced

since their arrival in what was to him a very strange land, soon
dissipated as a beautiful manor house came into view. Christopher
gazed in awe at the large mansion. He’d thought his uncle’s villa in
Italy was big, but this house with its many faceted windows was
enormous. Finally the carriage halted at the bottom of a flight of
stone steps.
“Is that my Aunt Mary, Maman?” he asked in excitement,
pointing at a tall lady pushing past the liveried footmen and rushing
down to greet them.
His mother froze at his side, and belatedly he recalled her plan
to pretend she was his aunt—because Maman was fixated by her
scarred face, and she did not want anyone in England to know she
still lived.
“I am sorry, I- I forgot,” he whispered to her anxiously.
She squeezed his shoulder gently, reassuringly. “It is of no
matter, ma petit chou. Mais oui, this lovely lady is indeed your Aunt
Mary. She is your father’s sister.”
Aunt Mary looked extremely flustered. Did I hear you say
Maman?” she asked him in surprise, “as in, your mother?”
He nodded.
“Pshaw! Can it be...Is that you hidden under those hideous
widow’s weeds, Angele? Surely not!”
Since his mother appeared to be pinned to the spot, Christopher
answered in the affirmative.
“No...Can it really and truly be you?”
His aunt stood still staring at his mother, her eyes wide. He saw
his mother give a small nod and his aunt surged forward and caught
his mother up in a huge bear hug. Strangely, he noticed his aunt
weeping.
After a few moments she turned to him, surreptitiously she
wiped her eyes. “So young man, you must be my nephew,
Christopher.”
He bowed low to his Aunt. “Mais oui, I am Christopher Gabriel
St. Nicholas. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tante.”
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine, child. Welcome to
Churchton, dearest boy,” she cried, and spun about to face Angele,
her hands outstretched. “I cannot tell you how overjoyed I was to
receive the letter about the existence of this handsome little fellow,
but to find that you are alive, Angele… My dear, but this is quite…
extraordinary...I find myself quite overcome. Your son is adorable,
Angele. Dear Lord, I cannot quite believe you are here. We must talk
but first I shall call for Miss Pudding, our nanny, to take Christopher
up to the nursery to meet Rudy and Holly. Then you must explain
everything that has occurred over the last five years, in detail, and
properly. I want to know how you escaped and where you have
been. Why did you not let me know that you still lived...No, do not
answer that, at least not yet. Soon we can talk and then you can
explain and leave out...Not the smallest detail!” She swivelled back
to Christopher. “Your cousins are most anxious to make your
acquaintance, young man,” she gabbled, casting a warm smile at
him. “This is all most unexpected but so utterly thrilling.” She
stopped, stood still, and stared at him. “By gad, but you are the very
image of my brother!”
Christopher gazed back at her solemnly, concluding his aunt to
be a very excitable lady. He noted she was pretty, but in his opinion,
not nearly as lovely as his Maman, who was fair-haired, her curls a
spun mixture of silver and gold. Her eyes were a deep blue, like
cerulean Italian skies. Petite, like an angel, her name Angele, suited
her perfectly.
Whereas his Aunt Mary was a tall woman with hair the colour of
a fox’s russet coat. She had eyes like soft toffee. Yes, Christopher
conceded, she was extremely pretty, but his mother surpassed pretty
—she was beautiful. Except for that nasty scar that ran from her
forehead down across her left cheek, but he was almost oblivious to
the disfigurement, which to his adoring eyes, did not detract one
iota from her beauty.
Christopher’s eyes darted hither and thither—there was so much
to absorb as Mary ushered them into the house, leading them
through the huge entrance hall, along wide passages, and finally
into a large salon. Inside, he gazed about him in awe of the opulent
surroundings. A few moments passed while the ladies held a brief
but stifled conversation, which Christopher was certain they curtailed
due to his presence. Then came a sharp rat-a-tat at the door, and a
softly rounded woman, presumably Miss Pudding, a woman well-
named in his opinion, entered the room. She curtsied first to his
aunt and then to his mother. Turning to him, she smiled and held out
her hand. He glanced up at his mother; she gave a nod of
encouragement. Reluctantly, he placed his small hand into the
nanny’s, allowing himself to be led away.
The jolly-looking servant guided him into the unknown bowels
of the house. He had never been inside a structure so big before.
Christopher knew he must be brave for Maman. She had discussed
this journey with him long before they’d undertaken their adventure.
She had explained that the outcome could possibly alter his life
for the better. Christopher was unsure about this, because as far as
he was concerned, his life in Italy was perfect already. He had not
enjoyed the adventure at all so far, and if he was unhappy in
England, he determined that he would tell Maman to take him back
home to her cousin’s villa near Rome, where they had both been
content.
As he was led through the huge, chilly house, Christopher
decided he did not like this cold, strange country his mother had
brought him to. He was uneasy about being separated from her by
an unknown woman. Being rushed along so many draughty
passages and up so many stairs, he panicked. However would he
find his way back to her side? He stopped, pulling his hand free from
the woman’s. She halted, frowning thoughtfully.
“Now then, Master Christopher, don’t you be a silly boy. Come
along with me and meet your cousins. They are waiting to greet
you. I have ordered hot milk and iced buns for your nursery tea. I
expect you are hungry after your arduous journey. Wouldn’t you like
something to eat?”
He nodded but remained stationary.
“Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me all about sailing
across the ocean on a big boat? I should like to know what the sea
looks like,” she encouraged.
Christopher regarded her solemnly for a moment, unsure of her
sincerity. Finally convinced by her candour, he returned her friendly
smile. “Have you never seen the ocean?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I never have.”
“Well, it is an enormous amount of water with big waves; the
boat rocked about an awful lot. My Maman was very scared.” He
puffed out his small chest. “I reassured her so that she felt better.”
“My goodness, what a brave lad you are,” Miss Pudding praised
and gently urged him forward so that they resumed their progress
along the passageway.
Christopher brightened at her show of interest. He explained
how uncomfortable their accommodation had been aboard the ship.
He went into great detail about the head area of the vessel where
the crew went to the lavatory. Engrossed in his lurid descriptions he
glanced across at Miss Pudding, to see how she was enjoying his
tale and noticed how pinched and pale she’d become.
“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked.
 “Not at all...Tell me, what is your favourite type of cake?” she
asked in a sudden change in conversation.
He looked her in surprise, perhaps she wasn’t sick at all, but
was hungry? Christopher came to the conclusion that English
females were extremely difficult to understand.

“I simply cannot understand why you will not tell Gabriel that you
are alive. He would be overjoyed. It is utterly cruel of you not to tell
him, Angele. Have you any idea how desperate and distraught he
has been since your death was reported?”
“So miserable that he is about to marry again?” she retorted
bitterly.
Mary clicked her tongue crossly. “Ah now, to be fair, it has been
five long years since he believed you to have passed. He has the
succession to think of, after all.”
“Oh come now, he is an earl, Mary, not a king!” she snapped.
“Besides, that is the very reason I have undertaken the arduous
journey and returned. Christopher should not lose out on his
birthright should they produce more children.”
Mary snorted. “Have you forgotten that he cannot marry?
Certainly not now that I find his first wife is still alive.”
Angele walked to the nearest couch and dropped onto it.
Wringing her hands, she stared at her sister-in-law, aghast. “I had
not thought that you would feel the need to inform him.”
Mary flung up her hands, gasping with exasperation. “Do not be
a dolt! Your husband is my brother. I love him and will not see him
commit bigamy—not even for the love that I bear you, my dear. I am
ringing for tea. I don’t know about you but I am in dire need of
fortification.”
“Mary, hear me, we must not fall out over this. I am sure we
can resolve the situation to everyone’s satisfaction, but right now, I
simply have no idea how to proceed.”
“Perhaps Robin might come up with a satisfactory plan?”
 “Mais non! Robin must not know about my return! You know as
well as I that he will tell Gabriel.”
Mary spun about and seated herself beside Angele. “Not share
such momentous news with my husband? Are you quite sane? It will
be more than my hide is worth if he finds out that I have kept
something of this magnitude from him. You are his sister-in-law
returned from the dead!”
“Je t’implore! Understand, Mary, that I have no wish to cause
St. Nicholas any further pain. I simply want him to know that he has
a son and heir. He must not be saddled with me, not as I am now.
It’s best he continues to think of me as dead.”
Mary’s eyes misted over. She stretched out a hand and placed it
on Angele’s knee. “It is so very good to see you again, my dear. I
wept such tears of joy when I received the letter explaining that
Christopher was alive and coming to England in order to claim his
birthright, but to find that you, too, are alive… Well, words cannot
express my joy. Please, dearest, explain to me the necessity for
these ugly widow’s weeds?”
“Mais oui, if you insist.” Angele spoke in low tones, telling only
the pertinent facts of her unhappy sojourn in Paris five years
previous.
When she’d finished her tale of woe, Mary hugged her. “Dearest
please trust me, and show me your damaged face,” she asked
hesitantly.
Angele lowered her head and sat quiet for a few moments.
Slowly she did as her sister-in-law requested, and raised the
concealing cloth she wore to protect herself from prying eyes and
ridicule. The familiar knot of shame formed as her sister-in-law’s face
blanched at the sight of her scarred face.
Lifting her hand, Mary halted, and raised her brow for
permission, which Angele gave with a curt nod. Mary traced a gentle
fingertip along the deep groove of scarred tissue that ran diagonally
across Angele’s once beautiful face.
“Does your eye hurt, can you still see clearly from it?” she asked
in a hushed tone.
 “It merely droops due to the inflicted wound. I can see quite
clearly, thank you.” Carefully, she drew down her veil, once again
obscuring her face.
“I am sorry, my dear, but I honestly do not think that my
brother would care one whit about your disfigurement. He loved you
so, Angele, loves you still. His mourning was quite terrible to
witness.”
Angele fixed her gaze on Mary’s face with a frown; she
attempted to determine whether or not Mary was telling her the
truth.
Detecting only sincerity, she leaned towards her sister-in-law,
and the two women, once so close, embraced, remaining clasped in
one another’s arms for a few moments, drawing comfort, one from
the other, each silent, caught up in the depth of their emotion. Mary
was first to draw away. Sniffing, she pulled forth a scrap of lace that
purported to be a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
“It is so wonderful to see you,” she reiterated fiercely.
“It is good to see you, too, Mary. I’ve missed your
companionship, you and Robin both. We four had so much fun
together, did we not?” she reminded her softly.
Angele smiled sadly as she recalled the giddy, frivolous fun
they’d had in the whirl of the London season during the summer
before she had gone to France. She hastily shut down lest she
remember more about that year.
“Tell me about my Gabriel. How is he?” Her voice held a tinge of
longing which she knew the astute Mary would detect.
“He is well, physically. Although I feared for his sanity after the
dreadful news arrived from Paris that you and your family had been
murdered in the uprising. I was so sorry to hear about your parents
and your dear sister. You must know that St. Nicholas blamed
himself for leaving you there alone, without his protection…”
“But I was not alone, I was with my family. How could he have
known that the people would rise up at that precise moment to
begin the terror?” Angele interrupted.
Mary shrugged. “You know my brother. He saw only that he had
abandoned you and that was the consequence of your death. The
remorse ate him up. It is only this past year that he has hardened,
determined to do his duty to secure an heir.”
“This woman he has met, do you like her? Does he, does he…
love her?” Angele held her breath waiting for the reply.
“Noelle is but a child of eighteen, although…” She shrugged.
“Although?”
“I rather think she has a look of you about her. She is a pretty
girl of a pale complexion, flaxen-haired and blue-eyed, but she does
not possess your special kind of fey beauty. Oh, I am so sorry…”
Mary faltered.
Angele stretched out her hand to pat her sister-in-law’s
reassuringly. The mention of her former beauty having seen the
scars obviously made Mary uncomfortable.
“I understand your meaning. Pray continue.”
“I don’t know her well. I would say Noelle is shy since she has
very little to say for herself, and no, before you ask, I do not believe
it to be a love match, at least as far as St. Nicholas is concerned.”
Angele nodded, grateful for Mary’s honesty. “It is an odd time of
year for a wedding. Has Gabriel pre-empted the vows perhaps?”
“No, no, I can see why you might conclude that, but the chit’s
name gives the clue. She was born in December and wished for her
wedding day to fall in the month of her birthday, which is on the
twenty-ninth. Do you think that we were ever that mawkish when
young?” Mary asked with a sigh.
“I believe mawkish to be the wrong word. Try romantic instead,”
she suggested. “And, yes, once upon a time we were both young
and full of romantic expectation. Life soon knocks such foolish
dreams from our heads.”
“Angele, how can you be so unaffected by all of this? I beg of
you to tell Gabriel that you are alive. I can see no other way for this
deception to end well otherwise,” Mary pleaded.
She was staggered that her usually astute sister-in-law should
think her unaffected. Before she could form a reply, there came
another knock at the closed door. This time the interruption was
Mary’s butler. Entering, he was followed by a footman bearing a
heavy tray of tea. All private conversation ceased.
 CHAPTER 2

T hat night she dreamed of Gabriel. The same dreams had

haunted her ever since he’d become lost to her. It was one of those
dreams which left her quaking with her hand thrust between her
thighs, her fingers busy in her wet divide. Her breasts ached for his
touch, her nipples swollen hard as acorns with desire.
Her subconscious tormented her relentlessly with such lusty
recall, while her sharp memory actively provided the physical detail.
In her dreams Gabriel’s sculptured form, as beautiful to her as
any Greek God, loomed over her petite frame. His dark eyes
brimmed with loving lust as they searched her own. His tongue
tangled with hers as his hands, dear God, those skilled hands which
pleasured and punished, toyed with her hardened bud until she
screamed his name. The finale always finished with his magnificent
cock rearing from his groin; frustratingly he never entered her the
way he had so powerfully, and satisfactorily in reality. Her dream
would end there.
She awoke to find herself in a tangle of sweat soaked sheets
and frantically masturbated in an attempt to relive her frustration,
but as always, it was never enough to satisfy.
After three such nights, Angele slept late most mornings. She
would take coffee with Mary and then spend time watching
Christopher play with his cousins. He was a different child since their
arrival. It was clear to her that he was thriving and that he had
lacked the companionship of his peers.
 Mary and she talked endlessly around the thorny issue of
Gabriel St. Nicholas. Angele appreciated that Mary was concerned
for her husband’s welfare, but Mary could only see the situation from
a sister’s perspective and even though both women wanted what
was best for the man they both loved they could not see eye to eye.

It took some doing, but Angele finally convinced Mary she should be
allowed to travel onward and alone to Michaelmas Hall in order to
inform Gabriel that he had a son and heir. Mary did not need to
know she intended to arrive there in the guise of her cousin, Marie.
Angele pondered the right words to explain the situation to her
husband. She worried about how she would cope being so physically
close to her dearest love, actually be able to reach out and touch
him, then she remembered that would not be possible to place her
hands upon his person in her disguise as Marie. She consoled herself
that she would be close enough to breathe in his aroma once more,
a unique scent that belonged solely to Gabriel, a heady mix of Bay
Rum, coupled with sandalwood, and man; a rich bouquet which had
the power to turn her knees to jelly, yet at the same time gave her a
sense of safety and homecoming.
How she longed to hear the familiar rumble of his voice, to feel
the thud of his beating heart under her ear as he held her against
his chest. To once more enjoy the rich sound of his vibrant laughter
as she basked in the warmth of his powerful arms crushing her to
him. Oh to be wrapped in the security of his embrace, his muscular
strength enveloping her. Never had she wanted to be anywhere
else...until the tragedy in Paris.
How lonely she had been without her soul-mate. How utterly
torn by her decision to put him first, before her own craving need for
him, her reasoning simple—her wonderful, handsome husband
should not be saddled with damaged goods, which was what she
had now become. St. Nicholas, her Gabriel, deserved to move on
with his life, leaving behind all grieving. Such a man should not be
forced to suffer the insidious shame of her return. No, her beloved
should be free to find love again with another woman—however
much the thought pained her. Angele knew St. Nicholas could never
be hers, not now that she was sabotaged, ruined, disfigured.
She would not allow herself to dream the impossible, and she
was severe with that small voice that sobbed so hard inside her
head, begging to be heard, asking her to tell him the truth that she
was alive and loved him still. No, because one look of disgust
crossing his beloved face would cast her into deep despair, a
depression she knew she would not recover from—not after the
ordeal she’d suffered in Paris. Better to remember his face glowing
and full of love for her. No one could take away those happy
memories of her marriage, just as they could not remove the bad
ones that had come later in France.
Thank goodness that her cousin, Marie, had married the Italian
count, Alessandro, of Maccia. Together they’d kindly offered her a
home with them. She’d recovered from her grief, far removed from
the madness that raged throughout France, away from prying eyes,
safe in the peaceful hills of Italy, where she’d born a son, her only
link with her beloved husband.
She had not paused to think about how Christopher might feel
if, as a grown man, he discovered his mother had denied him his
birthright. It was not until her cousin-in-law, Alessandro, had gently
pointed out how wrong she was to deny the boy his heritage and
deprive Gabriel St. Nicholas of his firstborn son and heir that she had
pondered on what to do. She had shelved making a decision for
months. It was not until the news reached them that Gabriel
intended to remarry in December, that any action was required.
Alessandro remained intractable, insisting she return to England
before St. Nicholas unwittingly committed bigamy, a happening
Angele was perfectly happy to overlook, but Alessandro had
appeared horrified by the circumstances. He’d insisted that she write
immediately to Mary, Gabriel’s sister, to apprise her of events. She’d
written a letter as her cousin-in-law had requested, omitting the fact
in her missive to Mary that she, Angele, was actually alive. She
informed her only that Angele had born St. Nicholas a son, who
would be arriving sometime between November and December.
 By the time Mary’s reply had reached them, it had been the end
of October. Angele had wanted to wait until spring before
undertaking such an arduous journey, but by then it would have
been too late to halt Gabriel’s marriage to Lady Noelle Bellingham.
Alessandro had given her no option, suggesting that he travel to
England to take Christopher to meet his father and put a stop to the
bigamous wedding. Angele had dug her heels in. She’d decided that
if anyone should travel with her son, it should be her.
Alessandro and Marie had no idea she planned to pass herself
off as her cousin. She had absolutely no intention of stopping Gabriel
from remarrying, regardless of Alessandro’s thoughts upon the
matter. She refused to stand in the way of St. Nicholas’s happiness,
but she would not abandon Christopher’s rights in the process. Her
plan was to ensure that her son reaped the benefits due to him as
his father’s heir.
She had not reckoned on her son giving away her identity to
Mary, not after having explained to him in great detail why he must
call her Aunt Marie once they arrived in England. She gave a deep
sigh. It was wrong of her to expect Christopher to lie to his father,
but what other choice did she have? Of course, there was the truth,
she acknowledged that, but she could not bear her handsome
husband to gaze upon her altered features with pity or disgust.
The answer was to leave Christopher here at Churchton, safe in
the care of his aunt, whilst Angele travelled on alone to Michaelmas
Hall, disguised as her cousin, Marie. There, she could speak with
Gabriel alone, explaining that he had a son, expressing the desire
that he allow Christopher to return with her to Italy, where he would
remain, with her, until the day that he inherited. She winced at the
thought of her beloved’s demise, but it was, after all, the way that
these lifetime entitlements were bestowed.
Angele prayed her husband’s sorrow at her loss, coupled with
the passing of time, would have softened his stubborn nature. She
hoped to be able to deliver her message, returning to Churchton the
following day. If only she could find a means of keeping Mary from
telling St. Nicholas the truth but she concluded she had plenty of
time to ponder on that thorny issue.
“I insist you take a maid with you for it is not seemly for you to
travel about the country unescorted,” Mary exhorted.
Angele had forgotten how exacting Mary’s standards of protocol
were. How taxing the etiquette of the English ton could be. She
found it simpler in the end, to acquiesce, rather than argue with her
tenacious sister-in-law. She agreed to the stipulation.
Angele was relieved to find Christopher was more than content
to stay behind at Churchton with his cousins. He had regained the
colour in his cheeks since they’d arrived. It was quite obvious to her
that he’d developed a hero worship of his cousin, Rudy, a lad almost
two years older than he.
She set forth early on a particularly chilly day. Frost rimed the
windows of Churchton. The maid whom Mary had loaned her for the
visit sat huddled in the corner of the coach, shivering. Angele
ignored her for the most part. She was too engrossed in trepidation
at finally seeing her husband again after all this time.
They had only been travelling for an hour when the maid timidly
commented that it was snowing. Angele glanced outside. It was
indeed snowing, and heavily, too. Thick snowflakes swirled giddily
past the windows but barely settled upon the ground, so she
snuggled back against the seat, glad of her fur-lined cloak and muff.
Remembering the girl, she looked across at her. The maid appeared
to be shaking with cold.
“Do you not have a warm brick at your feet?” she asked,
concerned by the girl’s excessive trembling.
“No, milady,” she replied between chattering teeth.
With a tsk, Angele reached under her seat, pulling out the box
that contained two heated bricks. Opening the lid, she found that
although still hot, the bricks were cool enough to be handled. She
extracted one and held it out to the maid.
As Angele turned towards the girl, a look of surprise crossed the
maid’s face. Angele’s veil had been pulled aside by her action,
revealing the scarred portion of her face. Hastily, she reached for the
black gauze, placing it back into position.
“Milady, there is no reason to be afeared on my account. My
sisters and brothers all had the smallpox when they were young.
Only one brother survived, and ’is face is ruined. My stomach is
strong; you don’t need to stay covered up around me.”
Angele passed her the brick then placed the box back into
position under her seat, thus giving herself time to think before she
replied.
“What is your name?” she finally asked.
“Ivy Shepherd, milady.”
“Ivy, I am most melancholy to hear about your family. When I
am out, I prefer to remain covered, but when we are alone and you
attend me in my chambers, I shall take you at your word and allow
you to remove my veil. However, should it come to my attention that
you have gossiped about my facial disfigurement with other
members of the household, you shall find yourself summarily
dismissed.”
“Yes, milady, thank you, milady. You may rely upon me for my
discretion, milady.” The girl turned her flushed face to gaze out of
the window. “Oh dear, the snow be settling thick upon the ground.”
Angele looked out; it was indeed. At least an inch of snow
coated the verge by the roadside. Snow fell so thick and silent that
the world beyond the carriage appeared blindingly white. There were
no features to be seen, not even a tree. All that was visible now was
the dizzying snowstorm that engulfed them, surrounding them in a
muffled embrace.
The coach halted. The carriage rocked as the driver climbed
down and rapped upon the door. Ivy bent to open it. “Begging your
pardon, milady, but I don’t like this weather. It be making the way
forward difficult. The horses are exhausted, and they need attention.
I suggest we turnabout and return while we still can.”
“We are about half way are we not?” Angele queried.
“Aye reckon we are slightly less than half way, milady. ‘T’would
be best we turnabout.”
“Non, pray continue en route,” she replied.
 “Ma’am, I really think...”
“I will take full responsibility. We will press onward.”
The coachman sighed deeply, touched his hat and closed the
door. Moments later there was a shuddering lurch and the coach
moved forward.
 CHAPTER 3

L ord Gabriel St. Nicholas, Earl of Yulerton, took one look out of the
window and cursed. Setting his cup aside, he strode from the room,
through the house and a myriad of servant passages, until he
reached the boot room. There he donned his warm, waterproof
beaver hat and stout leather boots, before pulling on a greatcoat
and gloves. The two hounds bedded down in their respective
baskets rose and stretched, sensing adventure. Their litter of seven-
week-old pups were cosily asleep in a tangle of heads and tails. The
bitch cast an eye over her litter. She seemed content to leave them
now they were older and not so reliant upon her.
“Come!” Gabriel commanded the two older hounds, opening the
door to the freezing air. The weather was as he’d noticed from the
breakfast room—icy, and snow was starting to fall. He hastened to
the stables. Greeting North, his head groom, he gave instructions for
the exercise and care of his horseflesh should the freezing
temperatures persist. Then he asked for Star, his bay stallion, so
named for the star-shaped blaze between his eyes, to be tacked. If
the weather closed in, it was best he stretch the beast’s legs now to
ensure the animal coped with the enforced inactivity that a
significant snowfall might cause.
He gave the stallion his head from the start, the hounds
streaking behind in an attempt to keep up, finally reining the horse
in as they reached the estate boundary. The dogs zigzagged from
scent to scent, yipping with excitement.
 It was on his return he noticed a coach had stopped just shy of
the gates of Michaelmas Hall.
What the devil?
The masquerade ball was a week away, he expected no guests
before then. Who on earth was this entering his grounds? He clicked
his tongue at Star and headed towards the cumbersome vehicle. As
he approached, a coachman knelt before a broken wheel. The man
must have taken the turn through the gates too wide, possibly
because the edge of the highway was concealed under a thick layer
of snow.
He rode forward, surprised to see his brother-in-law’s coat of
arms emblazoned on the side of the carriage.
“Robin, Mary?” he called.
A black-gloved hand moved the window down, and a woman
stuck her veiled head through the carriage window.
“Non, my lord, your sister was simply kind enough to lend me
her conveyance. As you can see, we are in need of your assistance.”
Gabriel froze in his saddle, and not from the biting winter chill.
Surely he recognised that melodious female voice, and yet it could
not be. His pulse quickened. His temple throbbed.
“Who are you?” he enquired brusquely.
“A distant relative, I will explain our connection later but for now
we require your aid.” the resonant female voice replied with a
decidedly French accent.
He shook himself. Of course it was foolish to have entertained
such false hope. She was long gone.
“How many of you are travelling within the carriage?” he asked,
not bothering to hide his irritation. He hated bad manners, and
unexpected guests a fortnight before Yuletide fell into that category.
“Only myself, and my maid, of course,” the lady replied.
“I shall carry you on horseback up to the house and return to
fetch the maid. Come forth,” he commanded.
“Malheureusement, I should prefer to wait here with my maid
until a carriage can be readied to collect us both,” came her irksome
reply.
 Oh, she preferred, did she? Muttering an obscenity, he
dismounted and strode to the coach. Tearing open the carriage door,
he peered inside the gloomy depths. Seeing a woman dressed head
to toe in black, her face completely obscured by a veil, he concluded
she must be in mourning. A feeling of unease stirred deep within.
Whom had she lost, and what had her loss to do with him?
“Give me your hand.” He softened his tone but spoke
perfunctorily.
The woman shrank back from him into her seat, as though
afraid.
“If your coach is stuck in snow, it is to be presumed that
another would suffer the same fate. Now, give me your hand.”
Still she shrank from him. With a grunt of irritation, he reached
for her. It was as though she realised she couldn’t win against his
determination, for she capitulated immediately, meeting him halfway.
He was able to lean in and scoop her out of the door. She was far
lighter than he’d expected. Her form was slight inside the
voluminous, sombre gown.
Snow crunched underfoot as he carried her over to his horse.
Her arms tightened about his neck. She rested the side of her head
on his shoulder and leaned into him quite passively. He placed her
onto the saddle, climbing up behind her. Securing her to him, with
an arm placed around her waist, he turned Star and set off at a
sedate pace, with the dogs following at their own speed. Large
flakes of snow swirled thickly, but it was not yet deep enough to
upset the sure-footed stallion.
There was something unsettling about the woman that he
couldn’t quite put his finger on, a certain feeling of familiarity that
made him uncomfortable. She sat meekly before him, not
attempting any small talk. He was bemused by the fact she leant
back against his chest without any embarrassment, which he would
have expected from an unknown female sitting in close proximity to
an unknown male. Perhaps if she was elderly, she had a lifetime of
experience that had taught her to be accepting of situations beyond
her control. He could not determine her age; she was too heavily
screened behind the darkness of her veil.
 Again he wondered, with unease, what loss had brought her to
his door.
It was so cold that breath hung as mist in the freezing air. Star’s
snorting gasps looked like the smoke trailing from a dragon’s nostril.
“Not far now. I shall order a hot meal to be prepared for you on
our arrival,” he reassured her.
She merely inclined her head in acknowledgement.
He frowned. Who on earth was this mysterious woman? It
would be the first thing he would ask her once they were back at the
house. He caught an imperceptible whiff of her elusive scent, and an
overwhelming sense of familiarity once again engulfed him.
Thoroughly unsettled, he shifted his knees, urging Star to move
faster. He wanted to get this perplexing female home so he could
interrogate her properly.
On their arrival his housekeeper, Mrs. Berry, took immediate
charge of the unexpected guest. She allocated a bed chamber for
the lady whilst a truckle bed was placed at the foot of the bed for
the maid’s use. Mrs. Berry then left them both to settle into her
chambers and went to speak with cook. She ordered cook to prepare
a simple luncheon of hot soup, buttered bread, and a sweet
flummery, to be prepared and served in the breakfast room, where a
warm fire still blazed.

Gabriel left the widow in his staff’s capable hands and rode around
to the back of the house to the stables. He arranged for help to be
sent out to aid the coach driver with mending the carriage wheel.
Then, cantering back to the coach, he collected the shivering maid.
She appeared terrified by both horse and rider, testing Gabriel’s
patience to the limit. He picked up her quivering form, and despite
her fearful squeals, he rode back to the house, holding her weeping
form secure in front of him. He dismounted and lifted her down; she
muttered her gratitude and fled inside the house. He walked Star
around to the stables, treading carefully in the settled snow. For
once not attending to his horse himself, he left strict instructions for
Star’s care with the head groom. He wanted to get back quickly to
uncover the lady’s identity and her puzzling arrival.
Mid-December was not the usual time for acquaintances to call,
let alone strangers. Yuletide was a time for family and close friends.
Celebrations were only two weeks hence. Who on earth was this
unknown woman?
 CHAPTER 4

A ngele made her way down through the familiar passages of her
old home in nervous anticipation. She had forgotten how Gabriel
could swamp her senses with his presence. After five years of pining
and missing her beloved, it was incredibly disconcerting to come
face to face with the reality of him. She’d discovered that her heart
was totally unprepared for the physicality of the man.
Overwhelmingly, she’d wanted to throw herself into his arms, to
press her mouth against his as it had pursed into a line of obvious
disapproval at her arrival. How well she knew him and the contours
of his masculine body. She drew her mind back from images long
suppressed, knowing that way would lead only to heartbreak.
She recalled the ride from the stranded coach through the
snowy landscape whilst clasped securely within his arms as he’d
controlled the mighty beast beneath them. It was everything and
more that she had dreamed of for the past five years. Seeing
Michaelmas Hall again, a place where she had always felt she
belonged and had looked upon as home, created bittersweet pangs
of misery.
Tears stung her eyes. She’d thought for Christopher’s sake that
she could do this, but meeting Gabriel again, facing the reality of his
physicality, breathing in his scent, being together in this magical
place, where for a few blissful years they had spent so many happy
hours together. It was almost her undoing, yet at the same time it
felt quite wondrous.
 Gabriel, her soul mate, had held her in his embrace. At that
precise moment, she’d desperately wanted him to continue riding
onwards, enfolded in his arms forever. Her despair thrummed, mixed
confusingly with hope.
When he had lifted her from the horse’s back, he had held her
against him, staring down at her, attempting to meet her eyes
through the thick gauze of her veil. It had taken every ounce of her
self-control not to cling to him or cry out her love for him. After he’d
set her carefully on her feet, she’d hurried into the house,
deliberately not turning to look around, even though she could feel
his gaze burning into her back.
As Angele walked about her former home, she reminded herself
that she had to remain strong for Christopher’s sake. He was but a
child, one who had been created out of their love for one another.
He was entitled to his place in English society, a world to which she
could never return. Stopping, she placed her hand on her diaphragm
and took a deep, fortifying breath. Stiffening her spine, she
reminded herself not to weaken when Gabriel was near. She
conjured the image of her son’s sweet face, holding his visage as a
shield against her ragged emotions. With a huge effort of willpower,
she summoned her composure and grew calmer. Finally satisfied she
could face Gabriel, she continued determinedly on her way.
Trepidation flooded through her as he entered the salon. She
had enjoyed her simple luncheon and was about to rise from the
table at the very moment he arrived.
“Your servant, madam?” Instead of a statement, had Gabriel
posed a question.
She understood his meaning and did not hesitate to explain.
“Yes, I am married, my lord. I am in actual fact your cousin-in-
law, Marie, the Countess of Maccia, your deceased wife’s first cousin.
Our fathers were brothers.” She watched as enlightenment dawned.
“Ah, I thought you seemed familiar to me,” he stated, seeming
relieved for some reason. Had he perhaps worried that she had
returned to haunt him from the grave?
She pondered her melancholy thought, then realised that he
was talking, and she had missed the entire meaning of the
conversation with her wool-gathering.
“So you are in mourning?” he asked.
She understood that he had been asking about her widow’s
apparel. Pausing to collect her thoughts, she decided she could tell
him most of the truth without giving herself away.
“I went to my uncle’s bedside to be with him at his end. I was
there when the Parisian mob arrived. I received a terrible wound to
my face and fell unconscious beneath the bodies of my slain cousins.
I have worn mourning and a veil to hide my disfigurement ever since
that fateful day.”
Hesitating to continue, because how could she have produced
an heir if she was already dead? Perhaps he would ask no awkward
questions. Angele realised she was wrong as soon as he opened his
mouth.
“Tell me all that occurred on that day. Did you see my Angele
struck down?” he asked earnestly.
At first she shook her head but then sighed and nodded. As his
forehead creased, she recalled how much he disliked to be lied to.
Her body flushed and grew warm with her recollection of the first
time she’d told him an untruth.
It had been a month after their marriage. She had taken her
horse and ridden at dawn, alone, without the hindering presence of
a chaperoning groom. She still did not know how he had discovered
that she’d disobeyed him but she had heaped further fuel onto the
fire by lying to him about an escort. Gabriel had reacted with swift
retaliation. She’d found herself facedown over his lap in double-quick
time, her riding skirt hitched clear. His hand pounded a salutary
lesson upon her vulnerable derriere. Angele had quickly learned that
when it came to his estate there was little that escaped Gabriel’s
attention.
A wave of nostalgic longing swept over her. She fought her
yearning by again conjuring an image of Christopher. Her body
betrayed her, even as she resisted her aching heart. Slickness
seeped from her secret core, and she was grateful for her veil
because she knew her face was filled with heat.
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five years old, nevertheless she was of the greatest assistance to
her mother in nursing women. Both showed the utmost kindness to
the new-born children, washed and brushed them up, said pretty
things to them, and strengthened the mothers with cordials and tonic
draughts. To their care the Israelites were indebted for the graceful
and vigorous forms of their children; and the two women were such
favourites with the people, that they called the one Shiphrah (the
soother or beautifier) and the other Puah (the helper).
When they appeared before the king, and heard what he designed,
Miriam’s young face flushed scarlet, and she said, in anger, “Woe to
the man! God will punish him for his evil deed.”
The executioner would have hurried her out, and killed her for her
audacity, but the mother implored pardon, saying, “O king! forgive
her speech; she is only a little foolish child.”
Pharaoh consented, and assuming a gentler tone, explained that the
female children were to be saved alive, and that the male children
were to be quietly put to death, without the knowledge of the
mothers. And he threatened them, if they did not obey his wishes,
that he would cast them into a furnace of fire. Then he dismissed
them. But the two midwives would not fulfil his desire.
And when Pharaoh found that the men-children were saved alive, he
shut up the two midwives, that the Hebrew women might be without
their succour. But this availed not. And God rewarded the midwives;
for of the elder Moses was born.
Five years passed, and Pharaoh dreamed that, as he sat upon his
throne, an old man stood before him holding a balance. And the old
man put the princes, and nobles, and elders of Egypt, and all its
inhabitants into one scale, and he put into the other a sucking child,
and the babe outweighed all that was in the first scale.[457]
When Pharaoh awoke, he rehearsed his dream in the ears of his
wise men and magicians and soothsayers, and asked them the
interpretation thereof.
Then answered Balaam, who, with his sons Jannes and Jambres,
was at the court, and said, “O king, live for ever! The dream thou
didst see has this signification. A child shall be born among the
Hebrews who shall bring them with a strong hand out of Egypt, and
before whom all thy nations shall be as naught. A great danger
threatens thee and all Egypt.”
Then said Pharaoh in dismay, “What shall we do? All that we have
devised against this people has failed.”
“Let the king suffer me to give my advice,” said Jethro, one of his
councillors. And when Pharaoh consented, he said, “May the king’s
days be multiplied! This is my advice; the people that thou
oppressest is a great people, and God is their shield. All who resist
them are brought to destruction; all who favour them prosper.
Therefore, O king, do thou withdraw thy hand, which is heavy upon
them; lighten their tasks, and extend to them thy favour.”
But this advice pleased not Pharaoh nor his councillors; and his
anger was kindled against Jethro, and he drove him from his court
and from the country. Then Jethro went with his wife and daughter,
and dwelt in the land of Midian.
Then said the king, “Job of Uz, give thy opinion.”
But Job opened not his lips.
Then rose Balaam, son of Beor, and he said, “O my king, all thy
attempts to hurt Israel have failed, and the people increase upon
you. Think not to try fire against them, for that was tried against
Abraham their father, and he was saved unhurt from the midst of the
flames. Try not sword against them, for the knife was raised against
Isaac their father, and he was delivered by the angel of God. Nor will
hard labour injure them, as thou hast proved. Yet there remains
water, that hath not yet been enlisted against them; prove them with
water. Therefore my advice is—cast all their new-born sons into the
river.”[458]
The king hesitated not; he appointed Egyptian women to be nurses
to the Hebrews, and instructed them to drown all the male children
that were born; and he threatened with death those who withstood
his decree. And that he might know what women were expecting to
be delivered, he sent little Egyptian children to the baths, to observe
the Hebrew women, and report on their appearance.
But God looked upon the mothers, and they were delivered in sleep
under the shadow of fruit-trees, and angels attended on them,
washed and dressed the babes, and smeared their little hands with
butter and honey, that they might lick them, and, delighting in the
flavour, abstain from crying, and thus escape discovery. Then the
mothers on waking exclaimed:—“O most Merciful One, into Thy
hands we commit our children!” But the emissaries of Pharaoh
followed the traces of the women, and would have slain the infants,
had not the earth gaped, and received the little babes into a hollow
place within, where they were fed by angel hands with butter and
honey.
The Egyptians brought up oxen and ploughed over the spot, in
hopes of destroying thereby the vanished infants; but, when their
backs were turned, the children sprouted from the soil, like little
flowers, and walked home unperceived. Some say that 10,000
children were cast into the Nile. They were not deserted by the Most
High. The river rejected them upon its banks, and the rocks melted
into butter and honey around them and thus fed them,[459] and oil
distilled to anoint them.
This persecution had continued for three years and four months,
when, on the seventh day of the twelfth month, Adar, the astrologers
and seers stood before the king and said, “This day a child is born
who will free the people of Israel! This, and one thing more, have we
learnt from the stars, Water will be the cause of his death;[460] but
whether he be an Egyptian or an Hebrew child, that we know not.”
“Very well,” said Pharaoh; “then in future all male children, Egyptians
as well as Hebrews, shall be cast indiscriminately into the river.”
And so was it done.[461]
 2. THE BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD OF MOSES.

Kohath, son of Levi, had a son named Amram, whose life was so
saintly, that death could not have touched him, had not the decree
gone forth, that every child of Adam was to die.
He married Jochebed, the daughter of Levi, his aunt, and by her he
had a daughter Miriam; and after four years she bore him a son, and
he called his name Aaron.
Now when it was noised abroad that Pharaoh would slay all the sons
of the Hebrews that were born to them, Amram thrust away his wife,
and many others did the same, not that they hated their wives, but
that they would spare them the grief of seeing their children put to
death.[462] After three years, the spirit of prophecy came on Miriam,
as she sat in the house, and she cried, “My parents shall have
another son, who shall deliver Israel out of the hands of the
Egyptians!” Then she said to her father, “What hast thou done? Thou
hast sent thy wife away, out of thine house, because thou couldst not
trust the Lord God, that He would protect the child that might be born
to thee.”
Amram, reproved by these words, sought his banished wife; the
angel Gabriel guided him on his way, and a voice from heaven
encouraged him to proceed. And when he found Jochebed, he led
her to her home again.[463]
One hundred and thirty years old was Jochebed, but she was as
fresh and beauteous as on the day she left her father’s house.[464]
She was with child, and Amram feared lest it should be a boy, and
be slain by Pharaoh.
Then appeared the Eternal One to him in a dream, and bade him be
of good cheer, for He would protect the child, and make him great,
so that all nations should hold him in honour.
When Amram awoke, he told his dream to Jochebed, and they were
filled with fear and great amazement.
After six months she bore a son, without pain. The child entered this
world in the third hour of the morning, of the seventh day of the
month Adar, in the year 2368 after the Creation, and the 130th year
of the sojourn of the Israelites in Egypt. And when he was born, the
house was filled with light, as of the brightest sunshine.
The tender mother’s anxiety for her son was increased when she
noted his beauty,—he was like an angel of God,—and his great
height and noble appearance. The parents called him Tobias (God is
good) to express their thankfulness, but others say he was called
Jokutiel (Hope in God). Amram kissed his daughter, Miriam, on the
brow, and said, “Now I know that thy prophecy is come true.”[465]
Jochebed hid the child three months in her chamber where she
slept. But Pharaoh, filled with anxiety, lest a child should have
escaped him, sent Egyptian women with their nurslings to the
houses of the Hebrews. Now it is the custom of children, when one
cries, another cries also. Therefore the Egyptian women pricked their
babes, when they went into a house, and if the child were concealed
therein, it cried when it heard the Egyptian baby scream. Then it was
brought out and despatched.
Jochebed knew that these women were coming to her house, and
that, if the child were discovered, her husband and herself would be
slain by the executioner of Pharaoh.
Moreover they feared the astrologers and soothsayers, that they
would read in the heavens that a male child was concealed there.
“Better can we deceive them,” said Amram, “if we cast the child into
the water.”
Jochebed took the paper flags and wove a basket, and pitched it
with pitch without, and clay within, that the smell of the pitch might
not offend her dear little one; and then she placed the basket
amongst the rushes, where the Red Sea at that time joined the river
Nile.
Then, weeping and wailing, she went away, and seeing Miriam come
to meet her, she smote her on the head, and said, “Now, daughter,
where is thy prophesying?”
Miriam followed the little ark, as it floated on the wash of the river,
and swam in and out among the reeds; for Miriam was wondering
whether the prophecy would come true, or whether it would fail. This
was on the twenty-first of the month Nisan, on the day, chosen from
the beginning, on which in after times Moses should teach his people
the Song of Praise for their delivery at the Red Sea.[466]
Then the angels surrounded the throne of God and cried, “O Lord of
the whole earth, shall this mortal child fore-ordained to chant, at the
head of Thy chosen people, the great song of delivery from water,
perish this day by water?”
The Almighty answered, “Ye know well that I behold all things. They
that seek their salvation in their own craftiness and evil ways shall
find destruction, but they who trust in Me shall never be confounded.
The history of that child shall be a witness to My almighty power.”
Melol, king of Egypt, had then only one daughter, whom he greatly
loved; Bithia (Thermutis or Therbutis)[467] was her name. She had
been married for some time to Chenephras, prince of a territory near
Memphis, but was childless. This troubled her greatly, for she
desired a son who might succeed her father upon the throne of
Egypt.
At this time God had sent upon Egypt an intolerable heat, and the
people were affected with grievous boils.[468] To cure themselves,
they bathed in the Nile. Bithia also suffered, and bathed, not in the
river, but in baths in the palace; but on this day she went forth by the
Nile bank, though otherwise she never left her father’s palace. On
reaching the bathing-place she observed the ark lodged among the
bulrushes, and sent one of her maids to swim out and bring it to her;
but the other servants said, “O princess, this is one of the Hebrew
children, who are cast out according to the command of thy royal
father. It beseems thee not to oppose his commands and frustrate
his will.”
Scarcely had the maidens uttered these words than they vanished
from the surface of the earth. The angel Gabriel had sunk them all,
with the exception of the one who swam for the ark, into the bosom
of the earth.
But the eagerness of the princess was so great, that she could not
wait till the damsel brought her the basket, and she stretched forth
her arm towards it, and her arm was lengthened sixty ells, so that
she was able to take hold of the ark and draw it to land, and lift the
child out of the water.
No sooner had she touched the babe, than she was healed of the
boils which afflicted her, and the splendour of the face of the child
was like that of the sun.[469] She looked at it with wonder, and
admired its beauty. But her father’s stern law made her fear, and she
thought to return the child to the water, when he began to cry, for the
angel Gabriel had boxed his ears to make him weep, and thus excite
the compassion of the princess. Then Miriam, hid away among the
rushes, and little Aaron, aged three, hearing him cry, wept also.
The heart of the princess was stirred; and compassion, like that of a
mother for her babe, filled her heart. She felt for the infant yearning
love as though it were her own. “Truly,” said Bithia, “the Hebrews are
to be pitied, for it is no easy matter to part with a child, and to deliver
it over to death.”
Then, fearing that there would be no safety for the babe, if it were
brought into the palace, she called to an Egyptian woman who was
walking by the water, and bade her suckle the child. But the infant
would not take the breast from this woman, nor from any other
Egyptian woman that she summoned; and this the Almighty wrought
that the child might be restored to its own mother again.
Then Miriam, the sister, mingled with those who came up, and said
to Bithia, with sobs, “Noble lady! vain are all thine attempts to give
the child the breast from one of a different race. If thou wouldst have
a Hebrew woman, then let me fetch one, and the child will suck at
once.”[470]
This advice pleased Bithia, and she bade Miriam seek her out a
Hebrew mother.
With winged steps Miriam hastened home, and brought her mother,
Jochebed, to the princess. Then the babe readily took nourishment
from her, and ceased crying.
Astonished at this wonder, the king’s daughter said, but unawares,
the truth, for she spake to Jochebed, “Here is thy child; take and
nurse the child for me, and the wage shall be two pieces of silver a
day.”
Jochebed did what she was bidden, but better reward than all the
silver in Pharaoh’s house was the joy of having her son restored to
his mother’s breast.
The self-same day the soothsayers and star-gazers said to Pharaoh,
“The child of whom we spake to thee, that he should free Israel, hath
met his fate in the water.”
Therefore the cruel decree ordering the destruction of all male
infants was withdrawn, and the miraculous deliverance of Moses
became by this means the salvation of the whole generation. In
allusion to this, Moses said afterwards to the people when he would
restrain them (Numbers xi.): “Verily ye number six hundred thousand
men, and ye would all have perished in the river Nile, but I was
delivered from the water, and therefore ye are all alive as at this
day.”
After two years Jochebed weaned him, and brought him to the king’s
daughter. Bithia, charmed with the beauty and intelligence of the
child, took him into the palace, and named him Moses (he who is
drawn out of the water). Lo! a voice from heaven fell, “Daughter of
Pharaoh! because thou hast had compassion on this little child and
hast called him thy son, therefore do I call thee My daughter (Bithia).
The foundling that thou cherishest shall be called by the name thou
gavest him—Moses; and by none other name shall he be known,
wheresoever the fame of him spreads under the whole heaven.”
Now, in order that Moses might really pass for the child of Bithia, the
princess had feigned herself to be pregnant, and then to be confined;
and now Pharaoh regarded him as his true grandchild.
On account of his exceeding beauty, every one that saw him was
filled with admiration, and said, “Truly, this is a king’s son.” And when
he was taken abroad, the people forsook their work, and deserted
their shops, that they might see him. One day, when Moses was
three years old, Bithia led him by the hand into the presence of
Pharaoh, and the queen sat by the king, and all the princes of the
realm stood about him. Then Bithia presented the child to the king,
and said, “Oh, sire! this child of noble mien is not really my son; he
was given to me in wondrous fashion by the divine river Nile;
therefore have I brought him up as my own son, and destined him to
succeed thee on thy throne, since no child of my body has been
granted to me.”
With these words Bithia laid the boy in the king’s arms, and he
pressed him to his heart, and kissed him. Then, to gratify his
daughter, he took from his head the crown royal, and placed it upon
the temples of Moses. But the child eagerly caught at the crown, and
threw it on the ground, and then alighting from Pharaoh’s knee, he in
childish fashion danced round it, and finally trampled it under his
feet.[471]
The king and his nobles were dismayed. They thought that this
action augured evil to the king through the child that was before
them. Then Balaam, the son of Beor, lifted up his voice and said, “My
lord and king! dost thou not remember the interpretation of thy
dream, as thy servant interpreted it to thee? This child is of Hebrew
extraction, and is wiser and more cunning than befits his age. When
he is old he will take thy crown from off thy head, and will tread the
power of Egypt under his feet. Thus have his ancestors ever done.
Abraham defied Nimrod, and rent from him Canaan, a portion of his
kingdom. Isaac prevailed over the king of the Philistines. Jacob took
from his brother his birthright and blessing, and smote the Hivites
and their king Hamor. Joseph, the slave, became chief in this realm,
and gave the best of this land to his father and his brethren. And now
this child will take from thee the kingdom, and will enslave or destroy
thy people. There is no expedient for thee but to slay him, that Egypt
become not his prey.”
But Pharaoh said, “We will take other counsel, Balaam, before we
decide what shall be done with this child.”
Then some advised that he should be burnt with fire, and others that
he should be slain with the sword. But the angel Gabriel, in the form
of an old man, mingled with the councillors, and said, “Let not
innocent blood be shed. The child is too young to know what he is
doing. Prove whether he has any understanding and design, before
you sentence him. O king! let a bowl of live coals and a bowl of
precious stones be brought to the little one. If he takes the stones,
then he has understanding, and discerns between good and evil; but
if he thrusts his hands towards the burning coals, then he is innocent
of purpose and devoid of reason.”[472]
This advice pleased the king, and he gave orders that it should be as
the angel had recommended.
Now when the basins were brought in and offered to Moses, he
thrust out his hand towards the jewels. But Gabriel, who had made
himself invisible, caught his hand and directed it towards the red-hot
coals; and Moses burnt his fingers, and he put them into his mouth,
and burnt his lips and tongue; and therefore it is that Moses said, in
after days, “I am slow of lips and slow of tongue.”[473]
Pharaoh and his council were now convinced of the simplicity of
Moses, and no harm was done him. Then Bithia removed him, and
brought him up in her own part of the palace.
God was with him, and he increased in stature and beauty, and
Pharaoh’s heart was softened towards him. He went arrayed in
purple through the streets, as the son of Bithia, and a chaplet of
diamonds surrounded his brows, and he consorted only with princes.
When he was five years old, he was in size and knowledge as
advanced as a boy of twelve.
Masters were brought for him from all quarters, and he was
instructed in all the wisdom and learning of the Egyptians; and the
people looked upon him with hope as their future sovereign.[474]
 3. THE YOUTH AND MARRIAGE OF MOSES.

Moses, as he grew older, distinguished himself from all other young

men of Egypt by the conquest which he acquired over himself and
his youthful passions and impetuous will. Although the life of a court
offered him every kind of gratification, yet he did not allow himself to
be attracted by its pleasures, or to regard as permanent what he
knew to be fleeting. Thus it fell out, that all his friends and
acquaintances wondered at him, and doubted whether he were not a
god appeared on earth. And, in truth, Moses did not live and act as
did others. What he thought, that he said, and what he promised,
that he fulfilled.
Moses had reached the summit of earthly greatness; acknowledged
as grandson to Pharaoh, and heir to the crown. But he trusted not in
the future which was thus offered to him, for he knew from
Jochebed, whom he frequently visited, what was his true people, and
who were his real parents. And the bond which attached him to his
own house and people was in his heart, and could not be broken.
Moses went daily to Goshen to see his relations; and he observed
how the Hebrews were oppressed, and groaned under their burdens.
And he asked wherefore the yoke was pressed so heavily on the
neck of these slaves. He was told of the advice of Balaam against
the people, and of the way in which Pharaoh had sought the
destruction of himself in his infancy. This information filled Moses
with indignation, and alienated his affections from Pharaoh, and filled
him with animosity towards Balaam.[475] But, as he was not in a
position to rescue his brethren, or to punish Balaam, he cried, “Alas!
I had rather die than continue to behold the affliction of my brethren.”
Then he took the necklace from off him, which indicated his princely
position, and sought to ease the burden of the Israelites. He took the
excessive loads from the women and old men, and laid them on the
young and strong; and thus he seemed to be fulfilling Pharaoh’s
intentions in getting the work of building sooner executed, whereas,
by making each labour according to his strength, their sufferings
were lightened. And he said to the Hebrews, “Be of good cheer, relief
is not so far off as you suppose—calm follows storm, blue sky
succeeds black clouds, sunshine comes after rain. The whole world
is full of change, and all is for an object.”
Nevertheless Moses himself desponded; he looked with hatred upon
Balaam, and lost all pleasure in the society of the Egyptians. Balaam
seeing that the young man was against him, and dreading his power,
escaped with his sons Jannes and Jambres to the court of Ethiopia.
The young Moses, however, grew in favour with the king, who laid
upon him the great office of introducing illustrious foreigners to the
royal presence.
But Moses kept ever before his eyes the aim of his life, to relieve his
people from their intolerable burdens. One day he presented himself
before the king and said, “Sire! I have a petition to make of thee.”
Pharaoh answered, “Say on, my son.”
Then said Moses, “O king! every labourer is given one day in seven
for rest, otherwise his work becomes languid and unprofitable. But
the children of Israel are given no day of rest, but they work from the
first day of the week to the last day, without cessation; therefore is
their work inferior, and it is not executed with that heartiness which
might be found, were they given one day in which to recruit their
strength.”
Pharaoh said, “Which day shall be given to them?”
Moses said, “Suffer them to rest on the seventh day.”
The king consented, and the people were given the Sabbath, on
which they ceased from their labours; therefore they rejoiced greatly,
and for a thousand years the last day of the week was called “The
gift of Moses.”[476]
As the command to destroy all the male children had been
withdrawn the day that Moses was cast into the Nile, the people had
multiplied greatly, and again the fears of the Egyptians were
aroused. Therefore the king published a new decree, with the object
of impeding the increase of the bondsmen.
He required the Egyptian task-masters to impose a tale of bricks on
every man, and if at evening the tale of bricks was not made up,
then, in place of the deficient bricks, even though only one brick was
short, they were to take the children of those who had not made up
their tale, and to build them into the wall in place of bricks.[477] Thus
upon one misery another was piled.
In order that this decree might be executed with greater certainty, ten
labourers were placed under one Hebrew overseer, and one
Egyptian task-master controlled the ten overseers. The duty of the
Hebrew overseers was to wake the ten men they were set over,
every morning before dawn, and bring them to their work. If the
Egyptian task-masters observed that one of the labourers was not at
his post, he went to the overseer, and bade him produce the man
immediately.
Now one of these overseers had a wife of the tribe of Dan, whose
name was Salome, daughter of Dibri. She was beautiful and faultless
in her body. The Egyptian task-master had observed her frequently,
and he loved her. Then, one day, he went early to the house of her
husband, and bade him arise, and go and call the ten labourers. So
the overseer rose, nothing doubting, and went forth, and then the
Egyptian entered and concealed himself in the house. But the
overseer, returning, found him, and drew him forth, and asked him
with what intent he had hidden himself there; and Moses drew nigh.
Now Moses was known to the Hebrews as merciful, and ready to
judge righteously their causes; so the man ran to Moses, and told
him that he had found the Egyptian task-master concealed in his
house.
And Moses knew for what intent the man had done thus, and his
anger was kindled, and he raised a spade to smite the man on the
head and kill him.
But whilst the spade was yet in his hand, before it fell, Moses said
within himself, “I am about to take a man’s life; how know I that he
will not repent? How know I that if I suffer him to live, he may beget
children who will do righteously and serve the Lord? Is it well that I
should slay this man?”
Then Moses’s eyes were opened, and he saw the throne of God,
and the angels that surrounded it, and God said to him, “It is well that
thou shouldst slay this Egyptian, and therefore have I called thee
hither. Know that he would never repent, nor would his children do
other than work evil, wert thou to give him his life.”
So Moses called on the name of the Most High and smote; but
before the spade touched the man, as the sound of the name of God
reached his ears, he fell and died.[478]
Then Moses looked on the Hebrews who had crowded round, and
he said to them, “God has declared that ye shall be as the sand of
the sea-shore. Now the sand falls and it is noiseless, and the foot of
man presses it, and it sounds not. Therefore understand that ye are
to be silent as is the sand of the sea-shore, and tell not of what I
have this day done.”
Now when the man of the Hebrews returned home, he drove out his
wife Salome, because he had found the Egyptian concealed in his
house, and he gave her a writing of divorcement, and sent her away.
Then the Hebrews talked among themselves at their work, and some
said he had done well, and others that he had done ill. There were at
their task two young men, brothers, Dathan and Abiram, the sons of
Eliab, of the tribe of Reuben, and they strove together on this
subject, and Dathan in anger lifted his hand, and would have smitten
Abiram. Then Moses came up and stayed him, and cried, “What
wickedness art thou doing, striking thy comrade? It beseems you not
to lay hands on each other.”
Boldly did Dathan answer: “Who made thee, beardless youth, a lord
and ruler over us? We know well that thou art not the son of the
king’s daughter, but of Jochebed. Wilt thou slay me as thou didst the
Egyptian yesterday?”
“Alas!” said Moses, “now I see that the evil words, and evil acts, and
evil thoughts of this people will fight against them, and frustrate the
loving-kindness of the Lord towards them.”
Then Dathan and Abiram went before Pharaoh, and told him that
Moses had slain an Egyptian task-master; and Pharaoh’s anger was
kindled against Moses, and he cried, “Enough of evil hath been
prophesied against thee, and I have not heeded it, and now thou
liftest thy hand against my servants!”
For he had, for long, been slowly turning against Moses, when he
saw that he walked not in the ways of the Egyptians, and that he
loved the king’s enemies, and hated the king’s friends. Then he
consulted his soothsayers and his councillors, and they gave him
advice that he should put Moses to death with the sword. Therefore
the young man, Moses, was brought forth, and he ascended the
scaffold, and the executioner stood over him with his sword, the like
of which was not in the whole world. And when the king gave the
word, the headsman smote. But the Lord turned the neck of Moses
into marble, and the sword bit not into it.
Instantly, before the second blow was dealt, the angel Michael took
from the executioner his sword and his outward semblance, and
gave to the headsman the semblance of Moses, and he smote at the
executioner, and took his head from off his shoulders. But Moses
fled away, and none observed him. And he went to the king of
Ethiopia.[479]
Now the king of Ethiopia, Kikannos (Candacus) by name, was
warring against his enemies; and when he left his capital city, Meroe,
at the head of a mighty army, he left Balaam and his two sons
regents during his absence.
Whilst the king was engaged in war, Balaam and his sons conspired
against the king, and they bewitched the people with their
enchantments, and led them from their allegiance, and persuaded
them to submit to Balaam as their king. And Balaam strengthened
the city on all sides. Sheba, or Meroe, was almost impregnable, as it
was surrounded by the Nile and the Astopus. On two sides Balaam
built walls, and on the third side, between the Nile and the city, he
dug countless canals, into which he let the water run. And on the
fourth side he assembled innumerable serpents. Thus he made the
city wholly impregnable.
When King Kikannos returned from the war, he saw that his capital
was fortified, and he wondered; but when he was refused admission,
he knew that there was treason.
One day he endeavoured to surmount the walls, but was repulsed
with great slaughter; and the next day he threw thirty pontoons
across the river, but when his soldiers reached the other side, they
were engulfed in the canals, of which the water was impelled with
foaming fury by great mill-wheels. On the third day he assaulted the
town on the fourth side, but his men were bitten by the serpents and
died. Then King Kikannos saw that the only hope of reducing the city
was by famine; so he invested it, that no provisions might be brought
into it.
Whilst he sat down before the capital, Moses took refuge in his
camp, and was treated by him with great honour and distinction.
As the siege protracted itself through nine years, Kikannos fell ill and
died.
Then the chief captains of his army assembled, and determined to
elect a king, who might carry on the siege with energy, and reduce
the city with speed, for they were weary of the long investment. So
they elected Moses to be their king, and they threw off their
garments and folded them, and made thereof a throne, and set
Moses thereon, and blew their trumpets, and cried “God save King
Moses!”[480]
And they gave him the widow of Kikannos to wife, and costly gifts of
gold and silver and precious stones were brought to him, but all
these he laid aside in the treasury. This took place 157 years after
Jacob and his sons came down into Egypt, when Moses was aged
twenty-seven years.
On the seventh day after his coronation came the captains and
officers before him, and besought of him counsel, how the city might
be taken. Then said Moses, “Nine years have ye invested it, and it is
not yet in your power. Follow my advice, and in nine days it shall be
yours.”
They said, “Speak, and we will obey.”
Then Moses gave this advice, “Make it known in the camp that all
the soldiers go into the woods, and bring me storks’ nests as many
as they can find.”
So they obeyed, and young storks innumerable were brought to him.
Then he said, “Keep them fasting till I give you word, and he who
gives to a stork food, though it were but a crumb of bread, or a grain
of corn, he shall be slain, and all that he hath shall become the king’s
property, and his house shall be made a dung-heap.”
So the storks were kept fasting. And on the third day the king said,
“Let the birds go.”
Then the storks flew into the air, and they spied the serpents on the
fourth side of the city, and they fell upon them, and the serpents fled,
and they were killed and eaten by the storks or ever they reached
their holes, and not a serpent remained. Then said Moses, “March
into the city and take it.”
And the army entered the city, and not one man fell of the king’s
army, but they slew all that opposed them.
Thus Moses had brought the Ethiopian army into possession of the
capital. The grateful people placed the crown upon his head, and the
queen of Kikannos gave him her hand with readiness. But Balaam
and his sons escaped, riding upon a cloud.
Moses reigned in wisdom and righteousness for forty years, and the
land prospered under his government, and all loved and honoured
him. Nevertheless, some thought that the son of their late king ought
to ascend the throne of his ancestors;—he was an infant when
Moses was crowned, but now that he was a man, a party of the
nobles desired to proclaim his right.
They prevailed upon the queen to speak; and when all the princes
and great men of the kingdom were assembled, she declared the
matter before all. “Men of Ethiopia,” said she, “it is known to you that
for forty years my husband has reigned in Sheba. Well do you know
that he has ruled in equity, and administered righteous judgment. But
know also, that his God is not our God, and that his faith is not our
faith. My son, Mena-Cham (Minakros) is of fitting age to succeed his
father; therefore it is my opinion that Moses should surrender to him
the throne.”
An assembly of the people was called, and as this advice of the
queen pleased them, they besought Moses to resign the crown to
the rightful heir. He consented, without hesitation, and, laden with
gifts and good wishes, he left the country and went into Midian.[481]
Moses was sixty-seven years old when he entered Midian. Reuel or
Jethro,[482] who had been a councillor of Pharaoh, had, as has been
already related, taken up his residence in Midian, where the people
had raised him to be High Priest and Prince over the whole tribe. But
Jethro after a while withdrew from the priesthood, for he believed in
the one True God, and abhorred the idols which the Midianites
worshipped. And when the people found that Jethro despised their
gods, and that he preached against their idolatry, they placed him
under the ban, that none might give him meat or drink, or serve him.
This troubled Jethro greatly, for all his shepherds forsook him, as he
was under the ban. Therefore it was, that his seven daughters were
constrained to lead and water the flocks.[483]
Moses arrived near a well and sat down to rest. Then he saw the
seven daughters of Jethro approach.
The maidens had gone early to the well, for they feared lest the
shepherds, taking advantage of their being placed under ban, should
molest them, and refuse to give their sheep water. They let down
their pitchers in turn, and with much trouble filled the trough. Then
the shepherds came up and drove them away, and led their sheep to
the trough the maidens had filled, and in rude jest they would have
thrown the damsels into the water, but Moses stood up and delivered
them, and rebuked the shepherds, and they were ashamed.
Then Moses let down his pitcher, and the water leaped up and
overflowed, and he filled the trough and gave the flocks of the seven
maidens to drink, and then he watered also the flocks of the
shepherds, lest there should be evil blood between them.
Now when the maidens came home, they related to their father all
that had taken place; and he said, “Where is the man that hath
shown kindness to you?—bring him to me.”
So Zipporah ran—she ran like a bird—and came to the well, and
bade Moses enter under their roof and eat of their table.
When Moses came to Raguel (Jethro), the old man asked him
whence he came, and Moses told him all the truth.
Then thought Jethro, “I am fallen under the displeasure of Midian,
and this man has been driven out of Egypt and out of Ethiopia; he
must be a dangerous man; he will embroil me with the men of this
land, and, if the king of Ethiopia or Pharaoh of Egypt hears that I
have harboured him, it will go ill with me.”
Therefore Raguel took Moses and bound him with chains, and threw
him into a dungeon, where he was given only scanty food; and soon
Jethro, whose thoughts were turned to reconciliation with the
Midianites, forgot him, and sent him no food. But Zipporah loved him,
and was grateful to him for the kindness he had showed her, in
saving her from the hands of the shepherds who would have dipped
her in the watering-trough, and every day she took him food and
drink, and in return was instructed by the prisoner in the law of the
Most High.[484]
Thus passed seven, or, as others say, ten years;[485] and all the while
the gentle and loving Zipporah ministered to his necessities.
The Midianites were reconciled again with Jethro, and restored him
to his former position; and his scruples about the worship of idols
abated, when he found that opposition to the established religion
interfered with his temporal interests.
Then, when all was again prosperous, many great men and princes
came to ask the hand of Zipporah his daughter, who was beautiful as
the morning star, and as the dove in the hole of the rock, and as the
narcissus by the water’s side. But Zipporah loved Moses alone; and
Jethro, unwilling to offend those who solicited her by refusing them,
as he could give his daughter to one only, took his staff, whereon
was written the name of God, the staff which was cut from the Tree
of Life, and which had belonged to Joseph, but which he had taken
with him from the palace of Pharaoh, and he planted it in his garden,
and said, “He who can pluck up this staff, he shall take my daughter
Zipporah.”
Then the strong chiefs of Edom and of Midian came and tried, but
they could not move the staff.
One day Zipporah went before her father, and reminded him of the
man whom he had cast into a dungeon so many years before. Jethro
was amazed, and he said, “I had forgotten him these seven years;
he must be dead; he has had no food.”
But Zipporah said meekly, “With God all things are possible.”
So Jethro went to the prison door and opened it, and Moses was
alive. Then he brought him forth, and cut his hair, and pared his
nails, and gave him a change of raiment, and set him in his garden,
and placed meat before him.
Now Moses, being once more in the fresh air, and under the blue
sky, and with the light of heaven shining upon him, prayed and gave
thanks to God; and seeing the staff, whereon was written the name
of the Most High, he went to it and took it away, and it followed his
hand.
When Jethro returned into the garden, lo! Moses had the staff of the
Tree of Life in his hand; then Jethro cried out, “This is a man called
of God to be a prince and a great man among the Hebrews, and to
be famous throughout the world.” And he gave him Zipporah, his
daughter, to be his wife.[486]
One day, as Moses was tending his flock in a barren place, he saw
that one of the lambs had left the flock and was escaping. The good
shepherd pursued it, but the lamb ran so much the faster, fled
through valley and over hill, till it reached a mountain stream; then it
halted and drank.
Moses now came up to it, and looked at it with troubled
countenance, and said,—
“My dear little friend! Then it was thirst which made thee run so far
and seem to fly from me; and I knew it not! Poor little creature, how
tired thou must be! How canst thou return so far to the flock?”