Dreamers (36 page)

then denial. “I am a god. I would know if an invisible god

existed.” He shook his head. “Tomorrow I will call the priests

from every temple in Thebes and set the details of my dreams

before them. One of them will know the meaning.”

He shot her a questioning look, waiting for reassurance, so

Tuya pressed her hand to his back. “I am sure you are right,

my husband.”

I hope you are.

The proclamation went out with the rising of the sun, and

by midday a priest from each of Thebes’s temples had

appeared before Pharaoh and heard the details of the royal

vision. The priests consulted their scrolls, the ancient Pyramid

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Texts, the most gifted seers and the oracles, but no one could

agree on the details of the interpretation.

“If a man dreams of a cow,” one of the priests suggested

in the throne room, “it means a happy day in his house.”

“No,” another priest countered, “it means nothing of the

kind. The seven cows are seven children who will be born to

Pharaoh.” The second priest turned from his colleagues and

nodded to the king. “It matters not what a man dreams, my

king, because we can provide magic spells for the exorcism

of bad dreams. If a man’s face is smeared with pesen-bread

together with a few fresh herbs moistened with beer and

myrrh, all evil dreams that he has seen will be driven away.”

“Dreams do matter,” Tuthmosis declared, iron in his voice.

He extended the crook and flail over the assembled crowd.

“Dreams do matter, you foolish priests! Horus appeared to me

in a dream and promised me this throne when I was a mere

boy! The gods speak in dreams, and I would know which god

speaks, and what he would have me know!”

“Pharaoh must decide which god speaks,” the high priest of

Osiris called, his voice ringing across the throne room. “Pharaoh

has heard from every priest in Thebes, and each has his own

interpretation. Which god, O Divine One, speaks to you?”

Tuthmosis slowly lifted his head, hearing the veiled threat

in the words.
If you are our divine king, you should be able

to tell us these things yourself.

Abruptly, Pharaoh dismissed the lot of them.

Tuya uttered an indrawn gasp when she opened the door

of her chamber and saw Tuthmosis standing in the hallway,

but she smiled and gestured for him to enter. Never could she

recall Amenhotep visiting the chamber of any of his wives; a

king was supposed to command his wives to appear in
his

chambers. But Tuthmosis stepped inside as he always had, as

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comfortable with her as he would have been with a sister. In

a way, she supposed, they had grown up together.

Pharaoh dropped to the floor, where their son was playing

with a collection of small statues. “Shall I send for wine,

my husband?”

He signaled his approval with a wave of his hand, and

Tuya sent her maid in search of the king’s cupbearer. After

the maid left, Tuya sat beside her husband. Tuthmosis’s

handsome face was lined with exhaustion, his eyes puffy from

sleeplessness. A worried crease divided his forehead, and his

hands fluttered in his lap. Her son, oblivious to the king’s

anxiety, toddled over to his royal parent and tried to climb into

Tuthmosis’s lap.

“Not now, Yosef,” Tuya gently scolded the child.

“Let him be,” Tuthmosis answered, his large hands sup-

porting the boy. “Perhaps the god who desires my attention

can speak through the lips of a child.”

A knock rapped on the door, and after a moment Taharka

entered with his slave. “I have brought wine,” he said, carefully

pouring the red liquid into one of Pharaoh’s golden goblets.

The slave tasted the juice while Tuya and the king watched,

then Taharka poured another cup and handed it to the king.

Tuya gave him the smile of an old friend. “Thank you,

Taharka.”

The cupbearer tried smiling at Pharaoh but seemed to sense

that smiling was a bad idea. “I have heard of the commotion

at court today,” he whispered, more to Tuya than to the king

who sat absorbed in his thoughts. “And now I find that I must

confess one of my offenses.”

“I’m sure your offenses are not grievous,” Tuya said, trying

to dismiss him. “Pharaoh has much on his mind.”

“I know.” Taharka stepped closer to the king, then handed

the pitcher of wine to his servant and clasped his hands in an

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attitude of humility. “If it please you, mighty Pharaoh, hear

me. Two years ago Pharaoh, your father, was furious with his

servants, and put me in confinement in the house of the cap-

tain of the bodyguard, both me and the chief baker. We had a

dream on the same night, the baker and I, each of us a differ-

ent dream.”

Tuthmosis gave the cupbearer a piercing glance. “Why do

you speak of things in the past?”

Taharka shuffled his feet. “Because they might aid us in

the present. A slave was with us in the prison, a servant of the

captain of the bodyguard. We related our dreams to him, and

he interpreted them for us. And it came to pass that everything

happened according to his interpretation. Pharaoh restored me

to my office, but hanged the baker.”

Tuya’s blood ran cold. “A slave? One who had served

Potiphar, captain of the guard?”

“Do you know this slave?” Tuthmosis sat upright and leaned

toward her. “You know someone who can interpret dreams?”

Though she sensed she walked the knife-edge of danger,

she had to speak. “Last night, my husband, I told you of one

who once told me that his unseen god often speaks in dreams.

This is the man I spoke of. He is a Hebrew called Yosef.”

“Not the same slave.” Taharka shook his head. “My dreams

were interpreted by Potiphar’s steward, Paneah.”

Tuya pressed her hand to her son’s dark head. Would her eyes

reveal her feelings? “Yosef and Paneah are one and the same.”

“It matters not what he is called. Let him be brought at once.”

Tuthmosis clapped for his guards. “Send a messenger and escort

to Potiphar’s house, and have the captain of the guard bring this

slave to me. He is to be brought safely, and at once.”

The servants outside the door hastened to do their king’s

bidding.

Menkheprure, Pharaoh Tuthmosis IV

Then Pharaoh sent and called Yosef, and they

brought him hastily out of the dungeon: and he

shaved himself, and changed his raiment, and came

in unto Pharaoh.

Genesis 41:14

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Potiphar! Pharaoh summons you!”

The sound of frantic shouting woke Potiphar from a deep

sleep. He sat up in bed, fully awake, as servants pounded on

his door. “I’m coming,” he barked, thrusting his legs over the

side of the bed. He snatched up his kilt and dressed while he

cocked his ear for the noises stirring in the corridor beyond

his chamber. Amid a few smothered laughs he heard the clink

of weapons, so this was no trivial matter. “Master Potiphar!”

his servant’s voice came again. “Pharaoh’s men await you.”

“Have I not said I am coming? Take them to the courtyard.

I will join them there.” He might be nearly sixty, but he was

still captain of the king’s guards and capable of performing

his duties. He stalked through his chamber, his hand reaching

for the sword and dagger resting on a stand near the door.

The crowd of callers, whoever they were, had left the

corridor. Potiphar swept forward, his eyes intent on the court-

yard beyond, but a sudden movement in the dimly lit hall

startled him.

“By all the gods, what’s this?” a male voice slurred. Potiphar

snapped a torch from its bracket in the wall and stepped toward

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the intruder. In the gleam of torchlight, he saw Sagira uncon-

scious on the couch, her mouth open to the ceiling, her breath

punctuated by drunken snoring. Her latest paramour knelt on

the floor, blinking rapidly as he struggled to rise.

“This is the master of the house,” Potiphar said, bridling

his anger. “And you, sir, had best be gone when I return.”

He turned with a quick snap of his shoulders and strode to

the porch where a contingent of palace guards waited. “What

is the trouble, Bomani?” Potiphar asked, recognizing Pha-

raoh’s personal bodyguard. “For what reason would you leave

the king unguarded?”

Bomani flushed to the roots of his dark hair. “Pharaoh sent

me away. The king demands to see the slave imprisoned in

your house.”

“What slave?”

“The one called Paneah.”

For a moment Potiphar’s mind blocked the name. For six

years he had shied away from tormenting thoughts of the

Hebrew. Why should he be forced to think of the man now?

Surprised by the erratic rhythm of his heart, Potiphar stared

at the bodyguard. “Why would Pharaoh want to see one of

my prisoners?”

Bomani pressed his lips together as a silent reminder that

it was not Potiphar’s place to question Pharaoh. Potiphar

nodded, acknowledging his blunder, and moved toward the

barred gate that led to the prison.

Tuya.
He fumbled with the keys at his belt. The girl had

finally exerted her influence and acted to free the man she loved.

But how did she do it without arousing the king’s jealousy?

“If you must know,” Bomani whispered, falling into step

beside his captain, “Pharaoh has heard that this slave pos-

sesses the power of divination. Our king has been unable to

sleep on account of strange and troubling dreams. I myself

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have seen him wearing the look of a man who wakes to find

himself at the edge of a precipice.”

Potiphar laughed as he fitted his key into the lock of the

gate. “Dreams are but shadows of the mind, Bomani, surely

our king knows this.”

The guard lifted his chin as if Potiphar’s answer had

offended him. “Pharaoh is convinced that a god speaks to him.

He believes this prisoner can divine the god’s meaning.”

Potiphar shook his head as the prison gate swung open.

“Our king can have the slave,” he said, stepping aside so

Bomani could enter. “I surrendered Paneah long ago.”

Khamat blinked in surprise when the captain of the guard

appeared at his door in the dead of night. “Master,” he said,

falling to his knees in fear that a prisoner had escaped. His

eyes darted to the sword in Potiphar’s belt. “What brings

you to me?”

“Do not fear, Khamat, we come only to relieve you of a

prisoner.” Potiphar gestured to the men behind him. “Pharaoh

wants to see the slave Paneah.”

Khamat widened his eyes. “Surely not tonight! Paneah

stinks, he has fleas—”

“Clean him up,” Potiphar said, moving into the lodge. “We

will wait.”

“Paneah won’t want to be bothered tonight,” Khamat said,

wrapping his kilt about him. “He prays at night, sometimes

for hours. He doesn’t know I can hear him, but I’ve stood

outside his cell and listened—”

“Since when does my chief jailer heed the wishes of his

prisoners?” Potiphar snapped. “Bring him now. He can pray

while we shave the filth from his body.”

Khamat snatched a torch from one of the guards and

hurried toward the prison pits.

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* * *

lowered himself back into his pit where he enjoyed the bit of

food in his bucket. After eating, he lay back on the sand and

prayed as he watched night draw down like a black cowl. For

the past four years Khamat had trusted him so completely that

within the prison he was allowed to move about as he pleased.

The knotted rope dangled always in Yosef’s cell, and at night

no one bothered to cover the opening of his pit.

Night after night, as Yosef watched the stars spin across his

small circle of sky, he thought of God’s promise that Avraham’s

children would some day be more numerous than the stars and

as countless as the sand of the sea. Though Yosef could only

see a small section of the night sky, he knew the heavens

stretched well beyond the limit of his vision.

He had learned many things during six years of imprison-

ment. He had come to understand that humility was more

precious to God than success, and that a man’s reactions were

often more important than his actions. He had questioned

whether his old visions of the sun and stars and sheaves of

wheat bowing down to him were inspired by God or im-

planted by the Evil One, and he had realized that his visions

did not matter. When he had sought to fulfill them himself,

the quest brought nothing but despair and disgrace. Better to

be a happy, simple slave than dream of changing the world

and stumble over pride.

Each night he ended his colloquy with a fervent request

that God protect Tuya and her son from whatever dangers sur-