CHAPTER 1
A/N: Quick note here, it was not uncommon for a master to rename their slaves so, claiming litaray license I have decided to have Potiphar rename Joseph 'Kontar' though to keep things simple, I will only use this name in dialogue while continuing to call Joseph by his true name. The meaning and purpose for Joseph's slave name will become aberint in later chapters.
Joseph fought against the bonds that held his wrist behind him, the trader noticed the cold-fire of the slave's blue eyes. "Do not look at me with those defiant eyes," Amir said backhanding Joseph, "every time you look at me with that defiant look in your eyes I will have to punish you."
Joseph spit a bit of blood to the ground, I will never submit to you or this fate, Joseph vowed silently as he struggled to sit up.
"Amir, do not damage the merchandise," Abba scolded his son.
"Defiance such as his must be dealt with," Amir said looking at his father. "It must be beaten out of him, a slave such as this one must be beaten into submission."
"That is not our job, my son, bind him, no food or water until I order it."
"That won't do much," Amir muttered as he took out a length of rope, "he doesn't eat as it is."
Joseph continued to walk through the hot desert, the hot wind brought with it grains of sand that whipped and stung his back.
"Drink," Amir ordered as he handed Joseph a wineskin that would help dull the pain that he knew would come when the slave was branded. "You will need the strength for what's to come. My father has no wish for you to die."
"I have no wish to be a slave," Joseph countered turning away.
"Fine, die for all I care," Amir sneered before turning to one of the traders, "do it."
The slaver took hold of Joseph's right arm as he took hold of the white hot knife and painstakingly carved three small words on his arm that would seal his fate. "That will remind you what you are, slave."
Abba watched as his son carved the slave mark into the arm of the young slave. The other slaves had ranged from screaming and crying to fighting, this slave, however merely winced, his cold blue eyes took on a dead distent look.
I am dead, Joseph thought to himself, no, I am of the living dead. Joseph knew that he would never be able to return home, maybe he would be able to make it in Persia, there he may still be alone but at least he would be free.
The rough hemp ropes bit into Joseph's already raw and bloody wrists as he continued to struggle against them. His blue eyes angry and defiant. They were eyes that didn't belong to a slave.
Potiphar walked in front of his overseer, he trusted Abasi but when it came to slaves he liked to be there to judge there character himself, when he spotted an old friend, "Abba," Potiphar called to the slaver as he looked at the slave who nearly glared at him. "Tell me of that slave."
"He is stubborn, my lord," Abba told the captain of Pharaoh's guard as he tilted the slave's chin. "Though given time I am sure that he will submit to his fate."
"Never," Joseph spat, he wasn't able to understand all of what the two were saying but he understood enough to answer, to tell them that he would never submit to a life of servitude.
He has a fire in him,Potiphar admitted silently to himself. Though under all the pain and anger he saw strength, courage and beneath that the look of betrayed loyalty. If Potiphar could tame the fire in the slave, he would have not only a loyal servent but a devoted warrior as well. "Buy that one as well, Abasi." He told his overseer.
"That slave will cause nothing but trouble, master," Abasi told his master.
"As I recall, my father said the same thing about you," Potiphar reminded him, "just the same, did you just question my judgment?"
"No my lord, of course not."
Joseph knelt bound to the post just outside of the stable, he should have just killed himself when he had the chance. Death would be better than this, his father already thought him dead, that was the only thin his brothers could have told him.
"What's going on here," Potiphar asked Abasi as he noticed his new slave's raw back.
"He and Hazor got into another fight," Abasi said, "if I had my way I'd kill him. He's not worth the trouble."
"You think me a poor judge of character," Potiphar asked before turning to Joseph, "I paid good money for you, slave, I wish for you to stay and serve me, however if you insist on causing trouble I swear by all the gods of Egypt to sell you to the mines."
Joseph's head jerked up at the word 'sell' no, not again, I won't go through that again, he thought to himself.
"Kuy, take this man to Eshe, have her tend to his wounds and feed him." Turning back to Joseph, "eat something, Slave, I'll not have you falling ill."
Kuy unbound the new slave he could hardly stand but refused to lean on Kuy, as he lead him to Eshe's hut.
Joseph lay on his stomach on the reed mat, Eshe had spread aloe vera on his raw back and had covered it with linen. She was seriously getting sick of tending to this slave's injuries, "Slave, if you have no wish to live, I will not force you to," she said placing a small knife next to him, "here is a way for you to end your suffering if you so choose. If you do choose to remain among the living give up all notions of escape, and serve your master faithfully." Eshe said gitting up, "perhaps this is your penance."
Penitence, Joseph thought, for my pride, this is my penitence, I refuse to remain her forever. Ten, he decided, ten years I will stay and will serve, one year for every brother I have harmed, after that, however, I will escape.
Asaneth had heard that her uncle had bought a slave; most of his servents were royal servents from Pharaoh. Potiphar was wealthy but he didn't often by buy slaves when Pharaoh would give him any number of slaves if he asked. He must have seen something in this one, and she wanted to see it as well.
She entered the hut where Eshe kept the slave that she was looking for as he healed from his last whipping. The hut was dark as she crossed the threshold, the only light came from the dying embers of the fire that offered the only light in the room and seemed to set the mood in the room. The slave lay on he reed mat, his eyes were closed. She didn't know whether to be greatful or not, she had heard that he had the eyes of Ra and was looking forward to seeing them. She turned her attention to his unkempt sandy blond hair and rough unshaven cheeks. He looked both god and demon, as if he were Seth incarnate.
"Eat," she said holding out a piece of bread to the slave. He didn't open his eyes or move at all until she reached for his linen wrapped upper arm.
"Get out," he said in his native tongue. She couldn't understand the words that he was saying but needed no translation to tell her that it was not something a slave would normally say. This young man held none of the docile demeanor of a slave.
Neth protect her, what sort of man was he. "Who are you?" she demanded. As she expected the slave said nothing. He rolled onto his side; Asaneth silently shuddered at the sight of his raw back. Nearly every inch of his back was stripped of flesh, had welts or was scared; the whole of his back was crisscrossed with the welts or scares of one whip lash or another where there was skin. "If you don't eat you will die," she said.
Death, would that be any worse then the life that he was forced to live, he wondered, it no longer mattered, "my life is no longer my own, it will not end unless Malik wills it," he said, his voice was calm, but Asaneth could see the pain and anger in his eyes and she could sence a seething rage and uncontrollable grief just under the surface. He seemed a wild animal ready and willing to strike out at anyone offering any compassion.
Joseph silently smiled as Asaneth left, for the first time since the betrayal of his brothers; he felt the urge to laugh. How fitting that God would send one of his angels to calm him in his hell. The irony did not escape him as he slowly eat the stale bread.
His body reviled against the food as it had since he was betrayed, but he forced it down, he had to. As he had told Asaneth his life was not his own it belonged to Potiphar, his master, his Malik. He had to protect his life for his master, it belonged to him and Joseph was just living it.
"You wished to see me, Malik," Joseph asked as always he said master in his native tongue, as he entered the room and knelt in front of his master.
"Ah, yes, I did call, Slave."
Slave, how he hated that word, it stung him. Stung his very soul just as the lash stung his back, and he involuntarily shuddered each time he was called it. This is your penitence, he silently reminded himself. He knew, he knew when he excepted this life when he allowed the slaver to carve the words 'slave til death' what his life would entail. What he was giving up. Though he was no longer a son of Israel and doubted whether he ever would be again, still he would not...could not give up his name. "My lord," he whispered softly, accepting his fate with the silent grace and dignity of a nobleman, not a slave."I know what I am, please do not remind me of a fate I can not escape."
He has changed, Potiphar thought silently to himself. This slave was angry and resentful just a week ago, and he wondered what had happened to him to make him accept his fate. "Then tell me your name and I will never call you slave again," Potiphar said turning to the strange slave with a calm confidence that was uncommon for a slave.
"Joseph, my lord. Before I was sold, my name was Joseph-" he cut off the last three words. He was no longer a son of Israel, and he could never allow anyone to know that he ever was. Joseph son of Jacob was dead, he died the moment his brothers tried to kill him.
"Well, Joseph, I know you were not born a slave, that brand on your arm," as always Joseph unconsciously stiffened and reached for the scar, "it and Abba tell me that you were captured, is that true?"
"In a manner of speaking, my lord," Joseph said choosing his words carefully.
"You do not seem easily captured."
"It seems, I apparently was, but you are right I was not captured in war, neither did the ishmilites take me. It was...someone else who took me, they sold me to the traders." Joseph said trying to hide the truth.
"How did you become a slave, Joseph," Potiphar said, asking the question that Joseph had been dreading. How could he answer without revealing the truth about who he had once been and what had happened? That his own brothers tried to kill him only to trade his life for 20 pieces of silver, that to them he was nothing more than any other animal. He couldn't bring himself to say that his own flesh and blood had betrayed him that way.
He was no ordinary slave, Potiphar realized looking into Joseph's deep blue eyes. He was hiding something, something painful. Being captured and sold as a slave was a painful experience, if not physically then mentally it was anguish. But the pain in Joseph's eyes were pleading as he softly asked, "do you wish for me to lie, Malik?"
"If you lie I will kill you," Potiphar stated.
"Then please do not force me to."
Joseph walked behind his master, he had learned to keep his eyes lowered. His blue eyes were unnatural in this land and unnerved others.
"I suppose you have already finished the day's work," Potiphar asked.
Joseph stayed silent but nodded. Potiphar wondered why he even asked at times, it had only been three weeks since Joseph had come to his Memphis estate, but Potiphar had quickly learned that he was a faithful servant, even if he did possess the eyes of Ra.
He was alone in Egypt, Potiphar realized, he had no one. Just as Potiphar had during his time in captivity. Don't let him suffer, something within him said. He had long ago learned to trust his instincts, but this time...he was a bit more cautious. Befriend a slave, but isn't that why you bought him?
No, he silently answered himself, I bought him on impulse because he reminded me of my friend, he again reminded himself, yet even as he told himself that he knew it was a lie. He needed a friend, someone he could trust... But a slave, was he insane?
Possibly, war did have a tendency to do that to one, add that to the fact that he knew what it was like to be seen as an object, though he had been a prized object whereas Joseph was a common slave that was no different than the hundreds of other slaves that were bought and sold. But he was different in so many ways, ways that Potiphar was just now starting to realize.
His eyes for one, as well as his overall attitude, it seemed to have completely flipped in the past few weeks, as though he had accepted his fate, but on the rare moments that he caught a glimpse of his Horus eyes he still saw defiance in them.
A test perhaps was in order...