Settlement: Into Egypt, #3

By Angelique Conger

Egyptus dreamed …

And prayed they were only dreams.

Settling in a new land,

Egyptus and her family face unexpected challenges —

Unexpected weather…

Different plants…

Unusual animals…

Each causing unforeseen challenges.

But the dreams caused the greatest concern. What if they were visions? How would her family respond? Would they continue to accept her leadership?

If you love historical novels, you will love the third book in this series. Download Into Egypt: Settlement and read the fictionalized account of life in earliest Egypt.

Get it now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Southwest of Zion Publishing
• Release date: Dec 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781946550613

Angelique Conger

Angelique Conger worked as a teacher in the years her children were growing. Writing about the earliest days of our earth, those days between the Garden of Eden and Noah’s flood, helps in her efforts to change the world. Many would consider her books Christian focused, and they are because they focus on events in the Bible. She writes of a people’s beliefs in Jehovah. However, though she’s read in much of the Bible and searched for more about these stories, there isn’t much there. Her imagination fills in the missing information, which is most of it. Angelique lives in Southern Nevada with her husband, turtles, and Lovebird. Her favorite times are visiting children and grandchildren. She loves mail and is happy to respond to your questions. Happy reading.

Book preview

A Strange Fish

Aterrifying scream echoed off the walls of the village. Gilit. Egyptus grabbed her cloak and joined other women who stepped from their homes seeking the cause. Most men of the village were already outside, surveying the changes to the river in the rain as the long dry spell had ended in the night.

Is a hippopotamus bumping against the gate, frightening Gilit?

It would not be the first time the animals claiming the river as their home had terrified Gilit. She had proven fearful of both small animals and big ones.

Egyptus pulled her cloak over her head and hurried toward the screaming woman. Others followed closely behind Egyptus, hurrying toward the screams.

She found Gilit encircled in her husband Animim’s arms as he attempted to soothe her fears. Her shrill screams continued to ring through the area as she pointed at the ground. He backed away with her from the place where she pointed, surprise filling his face.

What is it? Egyptus’s son, Pharoah, asked Animim before she could speak.

I do not know, Animim said.

The ground opened up, and that crawled out, Gilit stammered. It looks like a fish, but until it rained, no water covered this part of the land.

A fish? People around her gasped.

We specifically built our walls to avoid the animals who live near and in the river, Egyptus said.

This one forgot to tell us he was here, Animim said, a grin fighting to spread across his face.

Egyptus stepped close and bent over the creature to see it better. It flipped its length into the air, almost touching her nose. She shrieked and jumped back. What is it? she asked.

A strange fish, Pharoah said. Look! It has legs and feet! How different. Fish do not have legs and feet.

Egyptus stared at the creature. Unusual. I have never seen a fish with legs.

The fish moved away on his feet, then flipped again.

Spotted like a leopard, Pharoah murmured. Esrom? he said, calling his son.

Yes, Papa? Esrom said, pushing to the front.

Go get something to help this fish find its way back to the river.

Fish? The fish flipped up, moving away from the people toward the wall nearest the river. Is that a fish? I suppose it is. Yes, Papa, Esrom said, turning on his heel and rushing away.

He wants to get back to the water, Egyptus said.

Makes sense. He is a fish, the village healer, Isa, said from near Egyptus’s shoulder.

Where did he come from? a woman in the crowd asked.

He broke through the mud here, Gilit said, still trembling from the shock. I was walking toward Isa’s home and something moved beneath my feet. I jumped back, and this wriggled out of the mud.

Egyptus’s stomach churned. That had to be frightening.

I almost fell, Gilit said, obviously enjoying the attention. This was not the first time she had screamed in fear of animals surrounding their village.

That fish is big enough it would trip you, Pharoah said. I have never seen a fish wiggling from the mud.

It is a fish I have never seen before, Animim said.

Where is Esrom? Pharoah asked.

Here, Papa, Esrom said, running up to the group surrounding the fish with a basket. He dropped it over the fish.

How will you get it to the water like that? his friend, Chayim, asked.

Esrom knelt next to the basket and glanced up at his friend with a shrug. I do not know. The fish bounced the basket, causing Esrom to sit on it.

Chayim said. If we use a covered basket, we should get it to the river. I will get another basket.

Before Chayim could rush off for another basket, Pharoah threw his hands into the air. You do not have to carry this fish. It has legs. Just direct him out the gate and toward the river. He will be happy.

The fish bumped into the basket again, bouncing into Esrom.

Chayim knelt next to Esrom and the basket. What shall we do?

Papa said we can direct it. Maybe we can push it toward the river the way we herd the sheep that do not want to go where they must?

The basket bounced once more.

That should work, Chayim said with a shrug.

Esrom took a few quick breaths. Are you ready to help?

Wiping his hands on his tunic, Chayim nodded. We can do this. Count to three, and lift the basket.

Esrom counted, then lifted the basket as the fish leaped up once more. Esrom and Chayim stood between the fish and the crowd. The fish flipped high into the air, then propelled itself away from the people and the basket.

Flipping and crawling on its feet toward the wall, Chayim moved beside the creature, encouraging it to move toward the gate. One of the other young men hurried around them to open the gate, allowing the walking fish to walk and flip itself out toward the river.

Egyptus and the others followed from a distance, watching and laughing at the boys’ antics as they followed and herded the odd fish toward the water. When Esrom tripped over a low shrub, Egyptus gasped. He jumped up, face red, glanced back at the watching crowd, and continued to herd the fish toward the river through the rain and mud.

After her gasp, Egyptus struggled to cover her giggles. The boys  bent over in a squat, waddling behind the fish as it neared the river.

It flipped one last time, then walked the final distance, quickly disappearing into the river. The two boys leaned forward and set their hands on their knees while they fought to breathe through their gales of laughter. Egyptus and Isa allowed their giggles to escape, soon laughing as much as the boys and their papas.

I have never heard of a fish with legs, Isa said as she and Egyptus turned to get out of the rain. Mud clung to their feet.

We may see animals and fish we never heard about, Egyptus said. Papa said animals would change because of the flood.

They would, Isa said, as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. Animals change. I think even people changed because of that flood.

It changed Mama, Egyptus said. She learned we could be happy, even when we carry this mark on us. She pointed at the bruise that marked her neck.

The mark of Cain? Isa asked. It fades with each generation.

That is what Mama said. She said her mark stood out less than her mama’s, and it was less visible than her grandmama’s. Each of my children’s and grandchildren’s marks have dimmed. Perhaps in a few generations, it will disappear entirely. Egyptus ran her fingers across the rough marking on her neck. We have mixed our blood with the sons and daughters of Adam since the Shulonite sold Ziva and Nat in Nod.

Isa nodded. Papa Canaan told us the same thing.

Egyptus nodded. Canaan, as her older brother and Isa’s papa, connected the women. Canaan is the only one of Mama’s children whose mark has not dimmed. Your mark, along with most of your brothers and sisters, has dimmed with age. Mine has dimmed more than some. Mama says it is because we follow the commandments of Jehovah.

Papa struggles to obey sometimes, Isa said. He is learning.

I believe that is what Jehovah asks from us — obedience. That is what Afra told me, especially when he watched Canaan struggle to obey.

Afra was a good man. I miss him, Isa said.

When I think of his last hunting trip, I am filled with sorrow. The journey to this land and living here would have been more joyful if he had not tangled with that lioness.

Isa put her arms around her friend. The lioness took much from you, and me — the love of your life, and my uncle. I miss him, too, but not as much as you do.

Egyptus chewed on the inside of her mouth, struggling to fight back the tears. You would ..., she breathed in ... think by now ... She took another big breath, ... I could make it through ... Giving up, she wiped the tears from her face. ... a day without tears.

No, my friend. It will take many years, perhaps all your lifetime, to stop the tears from falling. Afra was a good man.

And I miss him. Egyptus lifted her face to the rain, letting it wash away her tears.

Egyptus wiped away the remaining tears from her face as she entered her small brush hut near Pharoah’s and Xenia’s bigger brush hut. They had invited her to live with them, but her youngest, Rebecca, still lived with her until she married, and she enjoyed the peace of her own home. She could help her children without needing to explain to anyone.

In the months since they had settled in this new land, she had spent time with her younger grandchildren teaching them to read and write and understand their numbers. She cheerfully helped with any of the grandchildren who needed her assistance.

She returned to her little table and relit her three candles where she had been working before Gilit screamed. With no windows, she needed the candles to see her writing.

She pulled out her belt knife to sharpen the end of her stick and set it in the fire, before returning to copying the words she remembered from the Book of Commandments, written on scraps of birch bark. Working to organize and copy those scraps onto squares of birch bark, she planned to tie them together into a book until she found something better to use.

She read back through the words she had written earlier, then checked the point on her burned twig and started writing once more.

As she wrote, her writing slowed to a stop, remembering the early days with her grandchildren when they first settled in this land.

In the months since they chose this land and stopped traveling, she had helped the men put up the brush walls of her hut and helped to thatch the roof with both sycamore and palm branches. They would make her something more stable in the coming months, but first, they needed to ensure each family had a brush hut and walls around the village to protect them from wild animals and the weather.

After they completed her home, the men refused to allow Egyptus to work with them to build the homes of the other families. During that time, she had brought the little children, too small to help with the building, into her home. She told them stories, watched them play with the few toys they had brought with them from Shinar, fed them, and sang songs to them while they dozed off into their afternoon nap.

Now, however, the children’s mamas cared for them and Egyptus used the time to remember and write the words of the Book of Commandments.

She had gathered goose feathers after the geese stopped for a drink along the river. She hoped to use these as she had in Shinar. However, she still needed to create the ink to use in the feathers. For now, she continued to use the burned end of twigs to write.

Egyptus lifted her pen and growled. A burned spot covered words she had written before. She grabbed a bit of cloth and rubbed at the page, trying to wipe away the extra marks. It left a spot on the birch bark page.

She wanted this to be perfect for Pharoah and she could not cut it away. He would have to ignore the spot and hope to find something better to write on.

She looked at the words she had written about the holy Priesthood and the beautiful and sacred words of the marriage rite, words that filled her soul with hope, even now she had lost Afra. Their covenant had promised eternity.

She set aside her burned twig, thinking of Pharoah, who knew better than to use those sacred words or claim the rights of the Priesthood. Noah had cursed Canaan and some of his children. They would never have the right to the Priesthood of God.

The night before Pharoah performed the rite to marry his daughter, Dora, to Emer, he had sat with Egyptus and Xenia.

What words will you use to perform the marriage? Xenia had asked.

I cannot use the same words Grandpapa Noah used when he married us, Pharoah had said. In the years before the flood, only one man in a generation received the right to serve Jehovah as his holy prophet, carrying the priesthood. Although that may change, for now, even though we are on the other side of the flood, Jehovah continues to allow only one man in a generation to receive that priesthood and serve as prophet. Grandpapa Ham was not the son chosen in his generation. That privilege went to Shem. I will never have the right to Jehovah’s priesthood.

I understand that, Xenia had said with a sigh. What words will you use to marry our daughter if you cannot use those words Grandpapa Noah used?

Pharoah had turned to Egyptus. What do you recommend, Mama?

Egyptus had thought back to the words in one of Uncle Nat’s journals from Nod. Crites did not have the right to use those words, either. He used the words given to him by Jehovah after days of prayer and fasting.

I do not have time for days of prayers and fasting, Pharoah had said, tapping a finger on his knee. I do not know what to do or say.

Take some time now, Xenia had suggested. Go where it is quiet and pray. Ask Jehovah for the words you can use tomorrow. I believe He will bless you with the correct words.

The next day, when the time came to perform the rite, he spoke words similar to those Grandpapa Noah had used, without claiming the right of the priesthood.

Egyptus lifted the burned twig from the table and checked its point before recording the change in the words Pharoah had used and noting how it was different.

Sucking in a big breath, she continued copying the words she remembered from her reading of the sacred book.

She planned to give this copy to Pharoah. But there had to be something better to write on. Birch bark worked for now, but saving the words and reading them from the bark would not be easy. Certainly they were intelligent enough to discover another source of material to write on.

I am going with Kib, Rebecca said, bending to kiss her on the cheek. Do not expect me for dinner.

Be safe, and remember who you are, Egyptus said.

Kib will come to me soon, asking for permission to marry Rebecca. Too bad they were not old enough to be married before we left Shinar. They will not receive the blessings of the marriage covenant Noah could give.

She returned to copying her writing. After writing a short time, she heard a tiny knock on her front door.

Egyptus wiped tears from her face, brought on by the memories of the marriage rite, and blew her nose on her square of white linen before she opened her door to the soft knock. No need for others to see my tears.

Grandmama, you are crying again, little Ami said as she removed her cloak, revealing her dark, glossy hair, when Egyptus opened her door.

Egyptus sniffed and looked up at the gray clouds. You caught me. Come in out of that rain.

Ami shook her cloak before she entered, then hung it on a peg behind the door and took off her shoes.

Mama sent me. She says to tell you that you are to come to dinner tonight. I am not to take no for an answer.

You are not? Egyptus said, lifting her eyebrows.

No. Mama said I am to tell you she expects you.

But I started a pot of beans for Rebecca and me.

Ami set her fists on her little hips. Grandmama. Your beans will wait until tomorrow, and you know Rebecca went to dinner with Kib and his family.

Oh? Egyptus allowed her eyes to widen in pretended disbelief. And how do you know this?

They walked past our door together before I came to visit you. Auntie Rebecca did not notice me. She never misses me.

Egyptus tossed her head back and guffawed. You are right. I fear she and Kib will soon come asking my permission to marry. What will I do? How can I live without my Rebecca?

I will come live with you, Grandmama, Ami said, throwing her arms around her waist.

No. Your mama needs you at home. I am surprised she sent you over this afternoon. Adok is quite a handful.

He is, and when Mama prepares dinner, she will need me to play with him. He sleeps now, or Mama could not have sent me to visit with you alone. He would have tagged along behind me.

Tagged? I thought you loved to bring him with you?

Most days I do, Ami said, pulling a scrap of birch bark from her little pocket. But today, Mama said you may help me finish writing my memory.

Write?

The little girl nodded and climbed to sit at her grandmama’s table.

What are you writing?

I am writing the story Jov told about the serpent making the trail we followed down the mountain. Do you remember it?

Egyptus grinned. I do remember that story. I wanted you children to stop running on the steep path. Only Jov had a story to share that day.

Who could make up a story better than his? I spent all the rest of that day and night trying to think up a better story. It is so good that I wanted to keep a copy.

May I read what you have written? Egyptus asked.

Ami handed her the scrap of bark and sat kicking her legs at the table while she waited. Egyptus joined her, leaning close to the candles, and read the words the little girl had written.

Your handwriting is clear and beautiful, Ami. I can read it with little trouble. You even spelled most of your words correctly.

"Most of my words? Ami squealed. Which words did I not spell correctly?"

I tease you, Egyptus said. Your writing amazes me. Few children of your age can write as clearly and with so few misspelled words. Your retelling of the story is good.

May I sit here and finish my memory? Ami asked. If I go home now, Mama will set me to work peeling tubers or watching Adok.

Certainly, Egyptus replied. If you do not mind that I write as well? I still have some of the commandments to write, so we have a copy. I have a nagging fear I have left something out, but I do not remember what it is. Perhaps we can ... She lit another candle and set it near the top of her granddaughter’s writing and bent over her own writing, forgetting to complete her sentence.

The two sat scratching words onto their bark. Egyptus continued copying the words she had written in the evenings when they journeyed from Shinar to their new home while Ami continued writing her story.

What should we call our village? Egyptus asked her granddaughter.

Call? We always call it The Village. Does it need to be called something else?

There will come a time when others will want to know how to distinguish this village from the other villages in the world. We once lived in Shinar. What will we call this village?

Ami leaned on her palm, her elbow leaning on the table. I never thought about a name others would know. Maybe we should ask Mama and Papa tonight at dinner. If they have no suggestions, Lim and  Omer will. If not them, Esrom will have one. He always has a suggestion for everything. He thinks he is smart.

Egyptus glanced