Till Shiloh Comes (12 page)

The two women entered Potiphar's house and passed through the western hall, which looked out on an orchard. Asenath remarked, “That's a beautiful sight, isn't it?—where the sunset lights up the columns and fills the rooms.”

Lady Kesi glanced at the scene and said, “You notice everything, Asenath. I suppose I thought it was pretty at one time, but anything you see every day loses its beauty.”

“Not at all,” Asenath argued. “I never tire of the beauty of this home.” She stopped to look at the colorful murals covering the walls and ceiling, with their exuberant nature scenes—wild bulls running, so lifelike you could almost hear them snorting, crocodiles with their mouths wide open about to engulf a woman who was carelessly bathing on the banks of the Nile, white birds with long wings and long beaks flying across the ceiling's painted sky.

The elegant doors leading outside were framed in glazed tiles, which were covered with hieroglyphics in blue, red, and green. The house was a marvel that could only be achieved by a very rich man.

Lady Kesi became impatient with her friend's attention to the surroundings she herself had taken for granted for years now. “Come along. My husband is usually sitting outside in the garden at dusk.”

As she predicted, the two women found Potiphar in the garden, wearing a simple white robe draped over his bulky body. He was alone, and he glanced up at the two women with an expression that neither of them could decipher.

“Well, how was the royal court?” he greeted them.

“Boring—as usual,” Lady Kesi said. She made no move to kiss her husband, for their intimate life together was over, except for public ceremonial caresses.

Potiphar looked at Asenath and said, “You've kept my wife company a long time. I'm afraid you spoil her.”

“Oh no, sir, on the contrary. She spoils me.”

Potiphar listened as the two women chatted, and finally when he'd heard all about their one-sided conversation with the pharaoh, he stroked his jowls and said, “I think the man's insane.”

Both women were startled.

“You surely don't believe that!” Kesi said, shocked. “After all, he
is
a god.”

“Who says that a god can't be insane?” Potiphar shrugged. “Some of the things we worship are downright stupid.”

The two women stared at Potiphar. They did not really believe in the pharaoh's divinity themselves, but they would never have uttered such bold blasphemy out loud.

“He's a self-absorbed child, but I don't think he's insane,” Asenath said with a shrug. “If he believes he is more powerful than all the gods, so be it. In the end, it'll come to nothing.”

“I think you're right—in the end all gods come to nothing!”

“What a terrible thing to say, husband!” Lady Kesi exclaimed, yet her eyes were laughing. “You shock me.”

“I would like to, but I fear it would take more than my heretical comments to shock you, my dear wife.”

The two women enjoyed Potiphar's company. He was witty, knowledgeable, and knew intimately the inner workings of the court of Pharaoh and the vast hierarchy that spread throughout the kingdom.

Finally Kesi rose and said, “Come along, Asenath. We're not going to get any sense out of him.”

“I must agree.” Asenath smiled. “Excuse us, my lord. We are both weary after listening to so much wisdom from the pharaoh.”

“I'm sure you are.”

The two women went back inside, giggling as they walked down the hall. Kesi was laughing at something Asenath had said, and just as they reached an intersection where one hallway crossed another, Asenath had her head turned toward Kesi and did not see the man who came from the other direction. She ran right into the large pottery vase he was holding, knocking it loose from the man's grip so that it hit the marble floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. Even worse, the garbage and night soil it had contained splashed on the feet of the two women and on the lower portions of the man's legs.

Kesi screamed and Asenath jumped back, both of them wrinkling their noses at the rank odor. Kesi whirled and screamed, “You clumsy fool!”

“I wouldn't have a slave that clumsy in my house!” Asenath snapped, her eyes flashing. “Who is this?”

Kesi realized she did not know the man. “Who are you?”

“I am Joseph, Lady Kesi.”

Joseph still had to perform disagreeable tasks assigned by Ufa, such as carrying out the night soil jars.

“Where did you come from?” Kesi demanded. “Never mind!” she quickly added as she saw Ufa staring at them. He appeared to be hiding a smile, and Lady Kesi shouted at him, “I ought to have you whipped!”

“Yes, my lady.” Ufa was stupefied. “But I—”

“Anyone who would have such a worthless, clumsy oaf of a slave needs a whipping.”

“It is not I who bought him but your husband, my lady.”

“Then I will speak to Lord Potiphar. In the meantime I hold you responsible.”

Lady Kesi looked then at Joseph, and her eyes narrowed. “You're not Egyptian.”

“No, my lady, I am a Hebrew.”

“A savage from Canaan, I suppose.”

“Yes, my lady,” Joseph said simply, then stood quietly as both women stared at him.

Asenath snapped, “I would have him whipped if he were mine.”

“You are right,” Lady Kesi said sharply. “Ufa, have him severely whipped.”

Ufa grinned sadistically. “I can assure you he will feel the blows.”

“Don't spare him,” Asenath said cruelly. “Savages like that need to be tamed.”

“I don't trust you to do the job properly, Ufa,” Lady Kesi put in. “We will watch you whip the slave.”

“Of course, Lady Kesi.”

Ufa grabbed Joseph by the arm and said, “Come with me. I'll teach you what happens when you are clumsy.”

The two women, their noses still wrinkled at the terrible odor, followed Ufa to the outer court, where he dragged Joseph. He went over to the ornamental trees lining the courtyard wall and broke off a sturdy stick, the thickness of a man's thumb but strong and hard. “On your knees and bow down, slave.”

Joseph obediently knelt, leaned over, and crossed his arms over his chest. Both women watched as Ufa lifted the stick and brought it down full force on Joseph's back. His thin garment tore, and as the blows resounded again, it was completely ripped away. The flesh began to be crisscrossed with welts and bleeding wounds, and finally Lady Kesi called out, “That's enough, Ufa.”

“I will be happy to continue, my lady,” Ufa wheezed, breathless with the effort.

“No, that's enough. Now have him clean up that mess in the hallway.”

The two women turned, and Kesi said, “Come. We must bathe.” She began calling for her maids, who were not far away. As they left the courtyard, Kesi said, “He was clumsy, but that was an awful beating.”

“He deserved it,” Asenath said with a shrug.

“You know he's better looking than most slaves.”

Asenath laughed. “I didn't notice,” she said, and her eyes sparkled. She knew as well as Masud that the wife of the impotent Potiphar was hopelessly attracted to men, but there was no outlet for her desires. Other women in society had affairs, but Lady Kesi had little opportunity for any indiscretions, for Potiphar's servants kept close watch over her.

“I hope Ufa hasn't scarred his back.”

“He's only a slave, Kesi. Don't worry about him. They don't feel things like we do.”

****

Masud made Joseph stretch facedown on a bench and cleansed his lacerated back. The whipping stick had broken the skin in many places, and Masud used a special ointment with a secret formula to numb Joseph's entire back.

“You are a great physician, Masud,” Joseph said gratefully.

“Yes. I could have pursued that profession, but I didn't.” He continued to cleanse and anoint Joseph's back with the numbing ointment and finally said, “Those two women are dangerous. Both are spoiled to the bone.” He paused and thought, his brow furrowed. “Stay away from them, Joseph—especially the mistress.”

“It's hard to stay away from someone when I'm tied to this house. Maybe she'll go away again. I hope so.”

****

Potiphar listened as his wife told him what had happened. “He's such a clumsy fool,” she said. “I'd like for you to get rid of him.”

Potiphar usually gave heed to Lady Kesi's requests when they did not interfere with his own comfort or his own plans. This time, however, he simply said, “No, that can't be.”

Kesi blinked with surprise. “Why not?” she demanded. “He's only a slave.”

“A slave, yes, but not only a slave. Once in a while one finds a jewel among these people. Joseph is one. He's smarter than half the people in Pharaoh's upper circle. Maybe smarter than any of them. I can use that. The Hebrew is a brilliant scholar. I may have to have Ufa beaten for his stupidity in harming such a valuable slave.”

“But I told him to do it.”

Potiphar smiled. “Well then, perhaps I should beat you, my dear.”

Lady Kesi stared at her husband, then saw that he was speaking in jest. Still, she was upset. “He's only a slave, Potiphar.”

“Nevertheless, I intend to get my money's worth out of him.”

“I hate the look of him.”

“Then don't look.” Potiphar was tired of the argument and turned and walked away.

Kesi stared at him, her nostrils flaring in irritation. “He's only a slave,” she muttered angrily, making up her mind that Joseph the Hebrew would get no consideration from her!

“And so, my lord, by doubling the fields under cultivation with the new methods I have implemented, we have more than quadrupled our crop yield.”

Potiphar sat on a high stool on his verandah, bent over the papyrus charts Joseph had laid out on a table before him, listening to his young servant explain his new farming methods. The master wore only a fine linen apron, his upper body bare in the glaring Egyptian sunshine. His enormous body seemed even larger without many clothes on. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and he did not move as Joseph continued with his report on the progress made over the year and a half since he had taken over Ufa's responsibilities.

Potiphar had become fond of Joseph in his own way, but he was not given to outward expressions of affection even with his own family, let alone any of his servants. Having been robbed of the natural means a man has to share intimacy with the woman he loves, Potiphar had thrown himself into other interests. He had become a collector of fine art and had spent an enormous amount of money on the golden objects he kept in a special room. The quest to enlarge his holdings was a game with him, and with Joseph at work on his accounts during the past months, his treasure had been almost doubled.

But it was not simply the fact that Joseph had been financially profitable that endeared him to Potiphar; it was something else he could not exactly name. He knew it had to do with the god Joseph worshiped. Potiphar was not a religious man, except to declare publicly that Pharaoh was a god. No Egyptian had any choice about this, whether or not they truly believed it. Joseph, however, had an inner strength Potiphar could not understand, and this troubled him, for he was a man who liked to analyze things and assign meaning to them.

Potiphar interrupted Joseph's report by saying, “So your father and grandfather spoke face-to-face with this god you mention?”

Joseph was not completely taken off guard, for Potiphar had expressed an interest in his God before. Joseph smiled and turned to face his master. In the last year and a half he had changed physically. The hard work had helped develop his build, and with his growing responsibilities he now exuded an air of confidence that had been lacking before.

He rolled up the papyrus he was reading from and bowed slightly. “No, sire. They did not exactly speak with God face-to-face, for God has no body. He is not a man. If He were, who would want to serve Him?”

“But Pharaoh is a god.”

“That is the accepted truth in Egypt,” Joseph said blandly.

Potiphar could not help but smile. “You are as much a cynic about the godship of Pharaoh as I am.”

“Yes, my lord. I think we are exactly the same in that.”

“Pharaoh himself worships other gods. That's why I do not believe he is a god.”

“Again I would agree with that,” said Joseph. “A god does not need to worship anyone or anything.”

Potiphar nodded his head and stroked his chin in thought. “But this god of yours—you say he cannot be seen … he has no body. I do not understand how a man can worship something he cannot see. If I were to worship one god, I would rather worship the sun.
That
I can see, and I know it gives us warmth and helps our crops to grow for food. Without the sun we would all die, would we not?”

“Yes, that is true,” said Joseph. “But the sun is just an object. Someone made it, and whoever made the sun is the true God—and the giver of life—not the sun itself.”

Potiphar squinted his eyes in concentration as he considered this novel idea. “So you believe your god, whom we can't see, made the sun, which we see every day.”

“Yes, He made the sun, the moon, and all the stars as well. That is the religion of my father and his father before him. After all, my lord,
someone
had to make them. They couldn't make themselves.”

“I have no answer for that—nor has anyone else that I know of. But do you think your god is … what's his name?”

“He has many names, sire. One is El Shaddai, which means ‘The Strong One.'”

“Then if he is strong, do you believe he takes a role in the affairs of men like me and you?”

“Most definitely, my lord.”

Potiphar sat up straight. “But if that is true, he must be vindictive, for he allowed you, certainly a religious man, to become a slave. If your god were strong, Joseph, he could have kept you from slavery.”