Till Shiloh Comes (16 page)

The Prison

The prison where Joseph was sent was called Khari-de-Sun, meaning “Place of the Doomed Ones.” Prisoners at Khari had no political power or money to buy their way to freedom, so most of them were there for life.

The acacia-wood burden boat that ferried Joseph upriver to Khari was designed mainly for transporting goods up and down the Nile. Ufa had been put in charge of Joseph, and he spent the long journey doing everything in his power to make the time as unpleasant as possible for the prisoner. Joseph tried to distract himself by watching the boat's crew. Four oarsmen stood on a raised platform on the forward deck, two crewmen worked the ropes and sails, and a steersman attended the tiller.

One afternoon Joseph was sitting with his back against the forward mast, his arms bound tightly to it. The ship was going past Memphis, and he knew from overhearing the talk of the boatsmen that they would reach the prison that evening.

As the ship sailed on, he studied the life of the Nile, observing the hippopotamus herds in the water and crocodiles swarming the banks. White ibises sailed gracefully overhead. The Nile made a green, twisting ribbon down through the arid desert of Egypt. On both sides the floods had deposited thick, black alluvial soil for a distance of several miles. These sections were carefully cultivated and controlled with canals and irrigation ditches that had to be dug again each year. The engineers figured out exactly who would get how much water from the Nile. Woe be it to any man who displeased them and consequently did not get his share, for it meant starvation for him and his family.

Joseph sat listlessly thinking of the other boat trip he had made ten years earlier when the Midianite trader had brought him to Egypt and sold him to Potiphar. That journey had seemed like an eternity ago to him! He had been without hope then, but his life in the house of Potiphar had become tolerable as he rose to a level of respect and authority among the servants. Even though he still mourned the loss of his family, he had been living a reasonably comfortable life in Egypt. But now that life had been destroyed, and here he was heading toward a future that seemed even more hopeless than a life of slavery. He was weak with hunger and thirst. The dry tissues of his mouth craved water, which Ufa doled out to him sparingly. He tried not to imagine what his life at the prison was going to be like, for it only caused him to despair. He was well aware of the prison's evil reputation for devouring its inmates.

He thought of his youth when he had been the spoiled darling and pet of his father. And he thought often of his prideful behavior toward his father and brothers. Though he had often cried out to God for mercy and forgiveness, he had never ceased to regret his sins against his family.

He looked down at his slave's hip apron, the same the crew wore, and he thought with sadness of all the finery he had worn in Potiphar's house. He thought of the curled wig, the enamel collar, the armbands and necklace of red and gold, and the fine linen tunic Lady Kesi had ripped from him as he fled her embraces. The memory was bitter.

Ufa's ugly face suddenly appeared before him. “Well, I see you are asleep! Good that you are asleep, prisoner, for you will get little of that in Khari-de-Sun! I have a letter here from the master with orders for the prison to work you until you are merely bones crumbling under the sands.”

Ufa squatted down in front of Joseph, his eyes burning with hatred. He had hated Joseph from the time the young Hebrew had first gained favor in Potiphar's house. The keenest joy of his life had come on the day when Joseph's dark hour of judgment had fallen. The only thing that would have given Ufa more pleasure in seeing Joseph punished for the lies about his behavior with the mistress would have been if he himself had engineered it. As it was, he had informed Potiphar that he was suspicious of the pair but had been unable to get sufficient evidence to prove it to the master.

“Ah, you're not so high now. Not so mighty, eh?” Ufa gloated. “Where is all your pomp and ceremony now? You had all the servants fooled, but you never fooled me. I knew you were an evil man from the first time you came to our house.”

Joseph sat quietly staring into Ufa's face, making no reply. He had not spoken one word to him on the entire journey. It enraged Ufa that Joseph never cried out or begged for mercy when he was mistreated, and now he said roughly, “Unfortunately, I have to feed you. I am not allowed to let you starve.”

Joseph did not move as Ufa reached into a bag and pulled out a coarse chunk of bread and tried to stuff it into Joseph's mouth. His mouth was so dry he could not swallow it, however, and with a curse, Ufa got a water bag and squirted a small stream into Joseph's mouth, which only made Joseph choke.

“It gives me great pleasure to know that you will die in this place,” Ufa spat. “I am sick of you. This gives me even greater pleasure than if you had been staked out for the crocodiles—although it would have been fun to watch those black monsters devour you alive! But never fear, Khari will make you pay for your crime much more slowly.”

Joseph finally managed to swallow the bread without responding to Ufa's taunts in the least. In frustration, Ufa slapped Joseph three times on both cheeks. “I'd like to take a cane to you—and I may yet. Why don't you try to escape and give me an excuse?” When Joseph remained silent, Ufa got up with a curse of disgust, walked to the aft, and began speaking with the steersman.

Joseph breathed a sigh of relief for the momentary reprieve. He closed his eyes and thought of his little brother, Benjamin. He would be a young man now. Of all his memories, Joseph's memory of Benjamin was the sweetest. So he put his head back against the mast, swaying with the craft as it sliced through the water, and thought of his lost brother.

****

The prison had been designed for misery. It consisted of a collection of mud buildings, irregular in shape, thrown together on a peninsula on the eastern shore of the Nile. The buildings included barracks, stables, and storehouses clustered around a tower that served as the residence of the governor of the prison. All of this was enclosed by a high wall of unbaked bricks from which jutted out bastions and platforms. The landing bridge and the fortified gate admitted the boat, and Ufa shouted that he was bringing a prisoner with him.

A squad of tough-looking soldiers came to meet the boat. Ufa stepped onto the wharf, addressed himself to the soldier in charge, and gave an evil report of the prisoner.

“He's a crafty one and not to be trusted,” he spat out, motioning toward Joseph. “It would be well if you beat him now while I'm here. Just give him a taste of what he's going to get from now on.”

The officer gave Ufa a sour look. “We don't take our orders from anyone except the governor. Now, be off with you.”

Ufa turned and marched back to the boat disgusted, accompanied by two of the soldiers. As they untied Joseph's bonds, Ufa cried out, “Better keep him tied. He's vicious.”

One of the soldiers grinned crookedly, exposing a mouthful of broken teeth. “Where is he going to run to, fellow? Now, on with you.”

Joseph stepped out of the boat onto the wharf, each arm grasped by a soldier. He never looked back but heard Ufa cursing him, praying for his death.

The officer in charge said roughly to Joseph, “Well, come along. The governor wants to meet all new prisoners. What's your name?”

“Joseph.”

“What are you, a Hittite?”

“No, a Hebrew.”

“All the same,” the officer grunted. “The rest of you go back on duty. I'll take this violent criminal.” He wore a bronze sword at his side and laughed as he added, “He won't be escaping from this place, will he?”

The officer led Joseph through the busy prison yard where many prisoners were working and a smaller group of soldiers were watching them. As they crossed the open space, Joseph prayed silently,
O God, I am in your hands. I know you have made me for a purpose, and I await, O mighty everlasting God, to see what it is
.

****

Joseph accompanied the soldier inside the tower and walked down a corridor into a large room where a stocky figure seated at a table waited for them. He wore a brown wig and had dark eyes that he fixed on Joseph. His beard was thick, and he appeared totally uninterested in this new prisoner. “Who is this, Captain?”

“He comes from the house of Potiphar. Here is the letter that accompanied him. His name is Joseph.”

“The house of Potiphar, eh?” A flicker of interest came to the governor's eyes as he took the letter. He then addressed the prisoner. “I am Governor Rashidi. You will please me, or things will go badly for you.” He waited for Joseph to answer, and when Joseph merely bowed, he grunted and opened the letter. He read it and then laughed.

The captain who had brought Joseph in asked, “Is it amusing, sir?”

“It is rather.” Rashidi turned to look at Joseph, his eyes closing slightly as he studied him. Grinning, he turned and said, “Well, Captain, we get mostly murderers here—revolutionaries, robbers, defilers of the gods—but this fellow is ingenious. He has committed a new crime.”

“A new crime? I didn't think there were any,” said the captain with a smile.

“Well, Joseph here has found one. He is guilty of endeavoring to plow in his master's field. I refer to Potiphar's wife, the Lady Kesi.”

The captain laughed shortly. “And Potiphar did not have his flesh stripped from his bones?”

“Apparently the prisoner was not particularly successful. He merely attempted to force himself on the lady. Is that right, prisoner?”

“It is what the letter says, Governor,” Joseph replied.

“Rather a raw sentence, don't you think? Life for something you never did.”

The captain prodded Joseph in the ribs with his thumb. “You should have had the wench. At least you would have gotten something out of it.”

“I doubt he'd still be alive if he had accomplished his evil purpose. That's enough, Captain. I'll call you after I've interrogated the prisoner.”

Joseph watched as the captain left, then gave his full attention to Rashidi. There was something unmilitary about the man, but then he was not a soldier but an official of some type. The keepers of most prisons grew ugly along with their ugly trade, but there was a geniality about Rashidi that encouraged Joseph. The mildness of his expression, the gentleness in his eyes, belied the man's reputation.

“Tell me about yourself,” Rashidi said and, without waiting, turned back and sat down in a padded chair. He poured himself a cup of wine and stared at Joseph. He listened as Joseph gave him a brief account of his life, and when he was through, he said, “So you have been educated. Tell me this,” he said, “how many beasts of burden would it take to carry food to five hundred workers along with all of their officers and overseers?”

“I would think about fifteen oxen and thirty asses might be about right.”

Interest flickered in Rashidi's eyes. “And how many men would you order to drag a block of stone three feet square for five miles to the river?”

“At least a hundred,” Joseph said, “depending upon the territory they would have to cross.”

“Would you use men or beasts for such a task?”

“You would want to use men because men are cheaper than oxen.”

For some time Rashidi questioned Joseph, and finally he said, “You have a fine education, but we're not here for your benefit. You will work in the fields and at hard labor. Some think that the prisoners brought here are kept in cells. None of that loafing will do! The pharaoh has many projects that require much labor. Someday, perhaps, your education may come in handy.” He hesitated, then said, “You read also?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you enjoy poetry?”

“Very much.”

Rashidi stared at him. “I am a poet,” he announced. “If you do well, I may allow you to read some of my work.”

Joseph smiled for the first time. “That would be a blessing indeed, master.”

Rashidi studied Joseph, wondering about the smile. “We will see if you survive the fields. If you live, we may find better use for you.” Getting up from his chair, he walked over to the door and called out, “Captain, put this man to work.”

“I'll put him under Yafeu,” the soldier said with a curt nod.

“A rough one indeed, but he will tell us whether there's anything of use in this wife stealer. Go along, wife stealer. Let me hear no evil reports about you.”

Joseph bowed to the governor, turned, and walked away with the captain. When they were out in the open air, the captain said, “You will get a little break. No work today. Just a meal. Tomorrow you can start with Yafeu. Let me give you a bit of advice. Don't aggravate him. He's got a temper like a cobra.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Joseph said. “I will do my best to please him.”

“You won't do that. Just don't get his temper stirred,” the captain warned. “More than one man who did wound up as food for the crocodiles. Now, come along.”

****

Joseph's overseer, Yafeu, was indeed a hard man. He demanded that every prisoner under his care arrive at his sleeping mat at night absolutely drained of energy. Anyone who did not haul with his full strength on the rope or did not dig fast enough to exhaust himself found the taste of Yafeu's whip on his back.

Joseph was stronger than many of the criminals who came to the prison. When he was delivered into his hands, Yafeu walked around him, carefully observing him. He prodded Joseph's muscles, squeezed his arms, and nodded. “You're the kind I like, wife stealer. You belong to Pharaoh now, and you owe him all of your sweat. If I don't get it out of you one way, I will another. You understand?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“What fine manners,” Yafeu said with a sneer. “They won't do you much good here.”