CHAPTER 4

A/N: since I'm not nuts on naming God, God, in my stories I have decided to call him Adoni, a true way of addressing god in the old testament.

Joseph knelt in front of Potiphar, his life hung in the balance. Speak, an impulse told him.

No, he silently yelled at himself, I won't put Malik in that positions. He had been too good to me.

"I thought I could I could trust you." Potiphar nearly growled as he dug his dagger under Joseph's chin forcing Joseph to look him in the eyes. Potiphar hadn't called Joseph slave since he had been told his name, 'slave was a word that was never uttered. Joseph knew what he was and he didn't need a reminder. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Slave. I want to see those Horus eyes of yours when you talk/" Potiphar said softly in a deadly calm voice.

Joseph, however, remained silent, he had to. To protect his master, just as he had his brothers for the last ten years, but then he never really did have to speak for his master to know what he was thinking or feeling. He was one of the few who was able to decipher the subtle shades of his eyes.

As Potiphar looked at his slave's eyes and saw the truth in their haunted depths, and Joseph knew it. His eyes always were windows to his tortured soul, that mow shown only nervous tension without a hint of guilt. He turned away and stayed silent, what else could he do. If he confessed he would be killed, if he denied, his master would force his master to choose between himself and his wife. He refused to do that to his master in that position. If he remained silent there was a chance that his life might, at least, be spared.

"Kontar, please, if you don't deny what my wife says then I will be forced to do something that I don't want to." Joseph turned away again, no longer able to look at the man who had been so good to him how had named 'only son'. "If you stay silent you are condemning yourself to death," his master strained.

Joseph continued to look away but softly whispered, "then kill me if you must, but I won't deny anything/ I am but a slave, an instrument of your will, think of me as a tool to be kept at your side and used as you see fit. And when I have outlived my usefulness...do with me as you will.

Well, it was up to God now, he had done all he could do.

"I vaguely remember you saying something like that when I gave you your position." Potiphar chuckled at his memory.

"I could never betray you, Malik," Joseph said, "Even if it meant my own life."

"Then why are you forcing me to destroy you?" Potiphar asked, but deep inside himself, Potiphar knew. He knew that to Joseph, his life meant nothing, to the slave he lived for one reason only, to serve his master. Closing his eyes and heaving a sigh of resignation Potiphar crouched at Joseph's side and placed his hand on Joseph's shoulder careful of the open whip wounds that covered his back, before he spoke, "this has been made to public Kontar, the law must be upheld. You belong to me still, it may offer some protection to you until I can figure out a way to get you out of this mess." swallowing Potiphar continued, "I once swore by Ra not to get rid of you until you ask for your freedom, at the moment that vow can not be upheld, but it will. When the time comes...when the time comes you will be remembered, this I swear by the god whose eyes you hold. You will not be forgotten Joseph, you will be remembered.

Standing Potiphar clapped twice summoning the Nubian guards, "take him to the pharaoh's prison

Joseph bowed his head again, is back once again exposed by the whip. He would never leave, he knew now that he was going to die here in Egypt as nothing more than a slave.

Joseph sat in the prison alone, his wrists bound to the wall as a length of chain bound his ankles to the same wall. Why had his god not protected him as he had his father and grandfather, Joseph wondered as one day gave way to the next?

At least your not dead, he thought as he looked at the moon. He knew that his father and family thought him dead; he'd never thought much of death before, at least not after Eshe had offered him a way to end his life. But that night, for the first time in his life as a slave, he again felt the all consuming darkness that tore at his heart and soul that had nearly destroyed him when his brothers had turned on him. The small flicker of faith was dying and it wouldn't be long before he followed.

I can't die, his soul silently cried out, father, please help me, help me understand. As his heart pleaded with the darkness that tried to destroy him, man cannot always grasp the ways of God, all we can do is trust in Him.

Yes, Joseph thought to himself, I am a slave. His life was not his own but as the words filtered through his mind he realised that it was true his life was not his own, it along with the life of his brothers, father and even Potipar's they all belonged to God. His fate was not his, not his to control, not his to end either. Not even Potiphar could end his life without his God's consent.

"Adoni, Lord God of my fathers, grant me your mercy. I have nothing of worth to offer you, do with me as you will, I beg only that you do not abandon me for if you do, I shall surely die."

Instantly he felt the glow of hope within him grow.

Joseph looked overhead at the moon in the starry night sky., it reminded him of the stories that he had nearly forgotten over his years of servitude. Tales that his father had told and retold him over the years of his childhood, tales of his grandfather Issac and great-grandfather Abraham.

How long had it been since he had walked free, it seemed forever. At times, he prayed for God to have mercy on him and grant him death,

Joseph walked as far as his chains would allow and stood under the grated ceiling, mocking him. Each morning it shone brightly, he couldn't even bare to look at the sun that shone overhead that seemed to mock him as if it knew that he would never again bask in its glorious rays.

Days turned to weeks which turned to months, Joseph watched as prisoners came, were punished and released, yet he remained...always he remained. As time passed he lost track of it, how long had he been in prison, three months, five, seven...there was no way to tell. He sat in the darkness, his wrist bound to the wall by a length of chain. He twisted his bloody wrist under the ridged cold steel of his bonds. He watched as Potiphar walked through the dark prison. He usually stopped at the various prisons for Pharaoh, but it was the first time he was forced to see Joseph in chains, chains that he had placed him in. How could he of allowed this to happen, he had been nothing but loyal to him.

"Good day to you, Malik," Joseph whispered from the shadows that he seemed to become a part of. As usual, his voice was meek and mild, yet it still held the fire and spirit that had first drawn Potiphar to Joseph in the first place.

"And you Joseph," Potiphar said as Joseph walked as far as his chains would allow, "you seem to be doing alright for yourself," he said, though Potiphar had no doubt that Joseph would survive no matter where he was, and that his God would allow him to thrive.

"As do you, Malik," Joseph said, "I trust the inspection is going according to plan."

"It is," Potiphar said turning away from the man whose only crime was being loyal to him, and this was his reward, his punishment for obeying the law. This young man had done nothing to deserve this punishment and neither did he say anything to deny the accusations against him.

"You know this slave, Lord Potiphar," Hotep asked, completely ignoring the involuntary shudder Joseph always gave, in response to that word.

"Yes, I do, and his name is Joseph," Potiphar corrected sternly.

"Of course, my apologies, but may I ask what he has done to come here?"

"He hasn't told you?"

"No, he hasn't spoken a word since coming here," Hotep said. "It's a shame to confine him like that."

"Oh," Potiphar asked intrigued.

"My scribe is unreliable, I have seen him writing in the sand," Joseph suddenly looked at the warden he had thought he had erased his writings before anyone saw it, "he is unable to leave and can do the accounting."

"Joseph," Potiphar asked as Joseph remained silent, his arms and legs still chained to the wall, "look at me." He had to know if Joseph hated him, he had every right to. Honestly, Potiphar was more surprised at the compassion he saw in the slave's crystal blue eyes.

Joseph saw the underlining question that Potiphar had asked once before, a question that no master ever asked a slave, what do you want Joseph, should I set you free...

Joseph turned from his master's sorrowful gaze and whispered, "I may be in prison, but I am still your... Slave. I have told you before, Malik, I am but a slave. An instrument of your will, think of me as a tool to be kept at your side and used as you see fit and when I have outlived my usefulness," he paused looking around the dark cavern, "do with me as you will."

"Hotep, Joseph belongs to me; I care not what he does. If he wishes to, be may assist."

"I shall do as you wish," Joseph said to the jailer, "though I fear I can do little in these bonds."

Hotep had the bonds removed. But swore it would only be for the day if Joseph displeased him, and that Joseph was still his prisoner and would remain so at night. Though Joseph needed no reminder that he was he was less than dirt.