Something creeps forward from in the back of the hole. I pray it is not a serpent. There is the click click click sound of pincers striking against a rock. It may just be a harmless creeping insect seeking nighttime food, or it could be something more sinister. The ground seems to stir and shuffle beneath me. I shudder and squeeze my arms as tightly around myself to bring heat into my body.
My throat is raw from screaming. I have been shouting and crying in terror until the sun has died off. Now I am alone in this eternal darkness, save for that horrible scratching sound. Fear has staved off hunger, but I fear I may perish from lack of water.
If I could go back but a single day, I would have done things differently. I would have prostrated myself before my brothers and begged their forgiveness. I would have concealed my fine cloak and worn it only on the Sabbath instead of strutting around in it every day like a proud peacock. I would have addressed my family with downcast eyes and a respectful tone.
But I was one day too late. Now I am one day closer to my death.
"Coward, coward," I berate myself. Yesterday I was a laughing boy of seventeen who thought himself as blessed as a king. I believed I could beat down mountains with my fists. I believed I could run as fast as a deer and swim swiftly as a fish. Now I have been overturned by ten men who discarded me as though I was some dirty rag not worth saving.
Something brushes over my arm; a flash of moonlight illuminates a six-legged beetle upon my skin. I shout and flap my arms around me madly. It is gone, but I am alone again. And the madness of this void and the uncertainty of what is to become of me is taking its toll upon me.
I thought the firstborn might return to save me. Or did I mistake that look in his eyes? Was it a pitiful look he gave me or frank contempt? It been much time since he has left. So now my dread increases within me when I think he must have forgotten me.
I will perish here, alone and forgotten. I should get on my knees and pray to God for a swift and painless death. I should confess my sins and admit how my gossiping has driven a wedge between myself and my brothers. I should pray that my father and beloved little brother will be safe for all the rest of their days. But dread has saturated my limbs and stifled my strength. Prayer is the last thing in my mind. I hurl myself against the sides of the well and tear my fingers into the rocks, clawing and scraping madly at them in futility.
"Help!" I scream out. "Please, help me!"
I repeat the mantra endless times until my throat has dried up and my fingers are bleeding. It was all in vain. The stone walls encircling me have swallowed up my voice. I collapse in the dirt. My body heaves as deep sobs roll over me and tears are streaming down my face. I may as well be a weaning child instead of a young man. I do not care if anyone seems me in such a miserable state. I just want my suffering to end.
But no one hears my cries. Perhaps God has sealed all gates to me.
It is too much for me to bear. A lamentation descends over me as I cry myself to sleep.
I am alone. I will forever be alone.
A-A-A
Many years before I was born, there dwelled a governor in the Northern Kingdom of Egypt.
This man's name was Potinofret.
Governor Potinofret had earned a good reputation as a lawgiver in his district and the Pharaoh of his generation had paid him generous compliments. As a result, many of his descendants were named after him in the hopes that they too would find favor in the eyes of their Pharaoh.
Among these descendants were Potiphar and his cousin, Poti-Phera.
This cousin's full title was written on every document as Poti-phera, Chief of On as a matter of protocol but his occupation was the Chief High Priest of Amun-Ra.
For six years, the temple of On in the city of Nagada was my home. For six years, Phera was my father and I was his dutiful daughter and priestess raised in his supervision.
Ker-nack! Ker-nack! Ker-nack!
The distinct pattern of rapping knuckles woke me up at once. I blinked and squinted in the darkness of my room. A sliver of pale blue light was coming through the cracks under the door. Daybreak had not yet arrived, but night had officially ended.
"I'm up!" I called through the door. The knocking ended and footsteps shuffled off. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, then threw the blanket off my body. Opening the door, I was greeted with the round face and still sleepy eyes of a boy of about thirteen. His full name was too much of a mouthful for anyone to speak so we all called the son of the high priest Young Phera.
"Best make haste," Young Phera told me.
I groaned but followed him to the small pool behind the temple. Judging by the damp strands of his hair, he had already bathed. The water was always freezing this early in the morning, but we had to be thoroughly clean before the temple was opened. At least I wouldn't need the pool to myself for long. I had learned from experience that it was better to get the ordeal over with quickly. I stripped off my frock and with gritted teeth, plunged myself into the pool. A quick scrub with a clean rag completed my washing in a few minutes. I hastily exited the pool and dried myself off, teeth clattering in my mouth.
By the time I had re-entered the rooms behind the temple, my limbs were already warming up in time for the sun to start creeping up over the horizon. There was a plate of some bread from yesterday. It was just starting to get stale, but it would hold me over until later. I snatched a piece and chewed on that while throwing on a robe to warm myself further.
Young Phera returned with a spring of rosemary for me. I thanked him and together we chewed on the herbs in silence. We must have looked like two dull cows as our jaws worked up and down for several minutes. When we were done, he passed me a bowl of hot water. We rinsed our mouths clean and spit upon the floor.
The gods prefer clean breath.
While Phera went into the inner room to prepare the statue of Amun-Ra, I dressed myself in a simple dress of tan-colored linen linen and tied a patterned sash around my waist.
I had no copper mirror but now that sunlight was dancing over the rooftops, I could peer into a fresh bowl of water to meet my reflection. The bruise from my childhood had healed, leaving a thin line of a scar that began just above my left temple and disappeared into my cropped hair. It was barely visible, and I could conceal it entirely with a cloth cap or wig over my head during the daytime. But at night I could run a finger over the skin and feel the grooved texture of that scar. It gave me no physical pain, but it was the shadow of a memory from days that had soured in my childhood. I thought I had put those thoughts into my past and buried them as deeply as the dead Pharaohs in their massive tombs, but from time to time they would surface again until I forced them back into the abyss of my dreamless nights.
I knew I was fortunate not to have been cursed with skin blemishes, maimed limbs, or mouth rot. The adequate condition of my teeth was credited to a visiting physician who advised me to eat one radish every morning and consume a spring of mint every night. I had been following his instructions and was fortunate to keep a strong steady smile of clean teeth for our visitors.
Phera said the presence of a priestess who was pleasing to the eye was an asset at his temple. If I wasn't remarkably beautiful or striking, then at least my features were adequately formed and passed his judgement. I could run a hand down my body and feel the curves where my breasts and hips had taken a woman's form. One still had to belt the waist and bind the chest just so in order to make certain everything is in its place. One cannot run around a temple if one cannot breathe from being laced too tightly, nor can one work if ogling eyes are distracted by the presence of too much flesh.
I still wished my nose to be of a different shape and size, but there was little I could do to alter that. Nor could I soften my jawline, which I thought clashed with the rest of my facial features. If I turned my head one way and then another, the angles of my face appeared to be hewn from iron. Perhaps my father had been a great warrior to give me that jawline while my mother had blessed me with fine eyes and a delicate brow.
I desired further things, but the gods had yet to bestow them upon me. I sighed and picked up a stick of kohl. This I applied around my eyes before adding one soft line of green paste and another of dark yellow upon my eyelids. Another glance into the water bowl confirmed I was ready for the day's work. I added several discs of ivory to my wrists and then exited the room.
Young Phera had just set out buckets and rags around the statue of Amun-Ra. About the height of a man and seated upon a high heavy base, the statue sported harsh features, a long narrow beard, and a high double-arched crown perched upon his noble head. It was overall an intimidating creation.
Phera had educated me well over six years. The statue itself did not require food, he had explained to me, but Amun-Ra's spirit would inhibit the stone limbs if we appeased him sufficiently. It was our responsibility to keep the statue clean, clothed, and well-fed.
Young Phera and I scrubbed the statue down with cool water, then wiped it dry with fresh cloth. While Phera adorned the statue with a fine linen tunic and green robe, I set about applying cosmetics to his lips, cheeks, and eyes.
Phera appeared in time with a box containing our finest jewelry. He was a thick sturdy man with a slight protrusion of the belly somehow held up by spindly legs. Despite the girth of his waistline, he was brimming with energy and strode around the temple with the vigor of a child.
"Well done, well done you two," he complimented us. "Amun-Ra will be pleased indeed."
He opened the box and took out two heavy gold chains, a carnelian bracelet, and a malachite beetle set in gold. When the statue was properly adorned, we stepped back to admire our work.
Now the dawn had fully emerged, and our daily business was open to the public. We opened the front doors to the temple. "Welcome, great honored priests!" Phera called aloud cheerily. "Come join us as we pay homage to Amun-Ra!"
Six priests walked up the steps to the temple and joined us as we all walked around the room together. They chanted and raised their hands high while I sang with them:
Hail to thee, maker of all these! One and only one, with many arms!
At night wakeful while all sleep, Seeking good for his flock!
I was given time to break my fast formally while Phera discussed the gifts of grain and cattle with the other priests. They had brought food from other services; people pay well with bountiful baskets to offer to Amun-Ra. Young Phera, and I relished the bread that one of the priests had gotten from a bakery. You never know sweetness until you sink your teeth into that first fresh bite from a loaf that has just come out of the fire. I smeared the rest of my slice with honey, ate a slice of melon, and then washed everything down with beer.
Yes, my life had become stable and secure. The food was good, my garments were clean, and there was no other woman in the temple to harass or replace me. Phera could be a bit pompous in his mannerisms and theatrical in his temple service, but he was good to me and treated me as one of his family.
Yet in my heart I did not feel much affection towards him or devotion to my work. I told myself it was because I had been handed to him after being cast out from the estate. Or because I was fourteen when I had met him, so I had little experience in understanding the adjustment to having a new father.
Or maybe it was something else, a thought that niggled in the back of my mind and only took form in the depths of my sleep at night. I could not give this thought sufficient form but knew it was something akin to a hunger. But it was not the hollow sensation that hunger gave to the stomach that I felt. It was something deeper and heavier; an ache that came all over my body in the deepest moments of night and left at dawn, with only the memory of that ache in my mind.
"Asenath? Are you well?" asked Young Phera. He was looking at me from over his cup of beer with curious eyes.
"I am well," I assured him.
"You seem pensive," he said. "Have you received a vision in the night? Perhaps had a dream?" he added hopefully.
I smiled and shook his head. "What that I could have such powers and enrich our lives," I told him. "But Amun-Ra does not speak to me in dreams or words. Nor does Neith."
"Oh." He swirled the dregs of his cup. "I wish I had the gift of second sight. I am sure it would assist Father."
"Perhaps," I said. "But we have the gifts of steady hands and healthy bodies. We can use those best to help Father."
He smiled me and I smiled back. Any further conversation was interrupted when I heard Phera's loud hearty voice in the next room. He must be already addressing our newcomers, who would come to pay respect to the temple—and leave generous gifts behind them. Most of these were simple but useful things such as woven baskets, blankets, food, and oil. On rare occasions we were lucky to get a large piece of meat or a good jug of wine.
"Blessings to Amun-Ra!" Phera cried out jovially. "Never before have I seen such fine jars of oil presented to us, great lady. Oh yes, your son will grow up to be strong and healthy indeed."
I knew what was coming and mentally counted in my head. One..two…three…
"ASENATH!"
"Coming!" I called out. I gulped down the rest of my beer and headed back into the sanctuary of Amun-Ra. Already, a small pile of baskets and clothes had appeared at the feet of the statute and several people were mulling around the room.
Phera turned around to face me and smiled brightly. "Here is Asenath, praise be to Neith who shined her light upon this temple. Blessed be the beautiful and graceful priestess within our walls."
"Praise and good morning to you, most respected priest," I acknowledged to him.
"Harrumph!" grunted the woman standing before me.
She had a dour expression on her face and held a baby in her arms. Or rather, she was wrestling with a slippery fish that was her child. One more fling of his limbs and he looked as though he could go flying onto the floor.
"I want to ask Amun-Ra to make my son as strong as ten lions," the woman sniffed. "Do you have the power to make this happen?"
"Of course," Phera assured her. The babe was passed into my own arms as he led the woman towards the statue where she could prostrate herself and make her plea to Amun-Ra. I looked down at the child's face and imagined it as that of a wrinkly old man. The child had a puckered mouth and a brow with many creases. At least his black eyes were bright and brilliant. I smiled at him, but his eyes squinted shut in misery. Though I attempted to coo and rock him, he kept wailing and whining.
The woman, attempting to pray with great reverence, stopped long enough to glare at me.
I stared back at her with a wary eye.
"Ahem!" Phera cleared his throat and gave me a rare but warning look of rebuke. It would not do to have our visitors snubbed.
I managed to find a fig in one of the baskets and brought it to the fussy child's lips. His mouth puckered at first but then his eyes lit up as he greedily sucked at the sweet treat.
Now that he was satiated, I managed to walk and down the room and hum softly to him as he ate. Despite their fussy times, I did like children and was fond of seeing them in the arms of mothers or being raised up by happy fathers. Sometimes my arms ached to hold a child of my own. I was twenty years old and such a thing could happen at my age.
"Oh priestess, how lovely you look with that child in your arms!" trilled a girl. "All you need is a headdress to adorn yourself and then you could pass yourself off as a maiden of Isis."
"Or the servant of blessed Hathor," chirped another. "You will join us at the celebration of Hathor, won't you?"
"Perhaps," I responded coolly. Perhaps a bit too coolly, as they exchanged odd glances and then shuffled off. But I had my reasons for being aloof.
I was just civil enough to our guests in order to satisfy Phera. But I did not seek out female companionship in the temple or in the marketplace. Zulekia's cruelty towards me had hardened my heart towards womankind. It was woman's hand that had flogged me and woman's tongue that had driven me into exile. I dared not trust another woman lest I suffer that torment again in my lifetime. So as much as I thought it would be pleasant to be like the other girls who chattered freely beneath the shade of the trees and laughed cheerily to themselves, I kept all of my kind at arm's length.
But will I do this for all of my days? I thought to myself. Will I forever serve in this temple by holding children and painting statues? Will I never share in the laughter of sisters or know a mother's gentle embrace?
The babe in my arms had now gotten a grasshopper stuck to his wrist. Fascinated by the newcomer, he was trying to eat this too. My attempts to prevent his fingers from getting into his mouth caused him to let out one long shriek. Several heads turned in my direction.
"Hush!" hissed one of the priests to me. "Do you want to offend Amun-Ra?"
"Surely Amun-Ra is aware of our daily trials and tribulations," I thought irritably. But if we humans were this judgmental to each other, then how much more so would we be meted out harshly by the gods?
I suddenly realized the grasshopper had disappeared and the baby's pudgy mouth was munching away.
I sighed aloud. I could have tried fishing around in his mouth with my fingers but doubted he would tolerate it quietly. By the time the mother took him out of my arms and left the temple, I prayed the child wouldn't grow extra arms and start hopping around the yard.
"A bull! A bull!" Young Phera ran up to me, gasping with delight. "He's tied up right behind the temple. Can you take it to the butcher?"
My mouth watered as I thought of fresh meat tonight. Perhaps we would have a good stew of meat and lentils with more bread to make a feast. That did lift my spirits a bit.
"But it's from him," Young Phera added in a low voice. I felt my spirits sink again.
Still, meat was meat. I bid Phera and the other priests well and then exited the temple. On the left side of the building where we stacked all of the old, withered baskets was a bull sitting idly by. He was a big fat beast who starred at me with his bleary eyes. He'd be no trouble on the way to the market.
I managed to pull gently on the rope around his neck and make my way down the tiny street to my destination. I sighed and my shoulders relaxed with ease as I let the heat of the sun melt my taut limbs and bring up the corners of my mouth.
"Is that all it takes to bring a smile to your face?" said a voice.
I spun around and cried out with delight. "Akun!"
The man clasped his arms around my waist and swung me around, then pressed his lips to my mouth. His kiss sent a sweet thrill through me, driving away any bits of shadow that had clung to me. I was almost dizzy with happiness when he released me.
"Why so upset, little lotus?" Akun asked me.
"Oh, nothing," I brushed off his question. "But I must have this bull slaughtered for Phera. Will you escort me?"
"I will," he agreed. "But it is a terrible business to make the priestess to go the slaughterhouse."
"Worse for the bull," I responded. We laughed together and continued the journey down the street.
Akun was a soldier in Pharaoh's army and had joined a campaign to drive back the nomads of the west. He would not be summoned for another month, hence his presence often at the temple. He was such a tall angular man that I barely reached the center of his chest. With a wide smile that took up much of his face and a dimple touched within his chin, I thought him the most handsome soldier in the town. He sought me out whenever he was in On and I welcomed his company. I enjoyed his attention and the small copper ornaments he gave me when he greeted me at the temple gates.
"How long can you stay in town?" I asked him.
"Only a few days," Akun told me. "Then my legion has been designated to move north. Along the way we're expected to escort a new group of prisoners to Ombos and then protect the fishing boats off the coast of Karnak."
"Is it far?"
"No more than half a day's walk," he assured me. His eyes danced with merriment as he added, "I wish you could come with me."
"You want me to preach to your prisoners and bless your fishing boats? What would Phera say?"
"He'd say you would improve the lot of us."
I laughed again until Akun asked about the bull. "Another one of your wealthy donors?" he suggested.
I frowned, a cloud slipping briefly over my inner sun. "A foreigner," I said at last. "He must know you come often to the temple in the afternoon, so he comes early in morning."
"And always with a bull?"
"This is the third time already."
Akun made a ticking sound of disapproval with his teeth. Handsome and healthy he might be, but Akun did not make enough money to buy three animals, let alone acquire one bull.
"Does this foreigner have a name?"
"He calls himself Eliphuh, or Zelipha, I think. He has an enormous beard and teeth that could chew up the delta." I added with a deeper scowl, "I think he wants to buy me off Phera with his bulls."
"What does Phera say?"
"Nothing yet, but I hope he will not relent."
Akun's hand suddenly found mine and gave a squeeze. "My offer may not be as generous as his, but it still stands."
My feet halted in the path. I gawked at him with wide eyes. Though fond of him, I knew other women had lifted their eyes towards Akun when he was in town, and he had plenty of smiles for them as well. Was his offer any better than the foreigner's offer?
"Think about it," Akun whispered. "You are nearly over twenty years old and still you have withheld yourself from every man's bed. What are you saving yourself for? When will you surrender yourself to that swift joy that will bring you from maiden to womanhood?"
His soft breath tickled the side of my face, but my lips were mute. Part of me wanted to leap into his arms and his offer, but part of me held back. That undercurrent voice within me was cautioning me not to be hasty. The bite of sweet fruit I took could turn rotten swiftly in my mouth.
"I hope to see you at the Festival of Hathor in two full moons time," Akun said. With a radiant smile, he leaned forward and touched his lips to the side of my face. I felt them linger there for a moment, teasing me with his proposal. Then he turned on heel and was gone.
My head was reeling from the touch of his kiss. There was much for me to consider that day. I had a charming but hazardous companion on one side of my path, a foreigner on the other. And in front of my path were two gods I had sworn to obey. Amun-Ra, supreme god of the kingdom, was waiting with his stern countenance as an impatient father and Neith, the cool unseen matriarch, still demanding my ever-giving repentance to pay for the sins of my childhood.
And in your past is a man who serves One above all else…my thoughts whispered to be.
"Be still," I said aloud. "He is dead."
A man who had been sitting on a stump untangling a net looked up from his work. "Who is dead?" he asked me.
I looked around the dusty path and only saw the two of us.
"Nothing. It is just a memory," I said.
The rest of the day was spent tending to the bull. As soon as the butcher had done his messy work, I walked back to the temple as fast as I could with two heavy baskets full of fresh meat. Cow flesh is a coveted delicary in our land and I did not want flies (or thieves) taking this prize from me.
That night Phera, his son, and I all feasted upon a good hearty stew and other delicacies that had been left by the guests. I had decided that the foreigner could give us all the bulls of the earth, but it did not mean I must accept them with gratitude. I just had to eat to live and to live in order to serve the gods. I owned nothing to no man, not to Akun or the foreigner.
I should have been content. But why did I not feel satiated at night even when my belly was full?
A-A-A
The foreigner appeared in the street five days later. I was carrying a jar of olive oil back to the temple when he appeared in my path, his great length of body blocking out the sun from before me.
He wore a long cloak of green-and-black striped wool and a broad leather belt adorned with bits of fur. Two swords were sheathed to his belt and I noticed a dagger strapped above his right thigh. A man of at least fifty years I presumed, but his hair and beard were still black and sprinkled with the gray of age and the dust of travel. His hair curled like ram's horns around his forehead.
He had all of his teeth. He was generous to Phera. Though he was an outsider, he waited quietly outside of the temple while we conducted our rites from within. But something about the man's presence made my skin chaff as though it was being scrubbed with unwashed wool. I suspected his politeness was merely a farce and something uncouth lay below the surface.
"I will speak with you now, priestess," he announced to me.
His boldness startled me. I did not like the sound of my name upon his tongue. It was several moments before I could compose myself and say formally. "You may speak to me, but I will only listen if I desire to do so."
I sought to advance on my path, but he stepped aside to prevent me from going further. "Take heed and listen for your own sake. The pillars and statues you serve do nothing for you, Asenath of On. Your guardian will perish one day. And you will perish too."
"So do all men and women in their time. What is my death to you?"
"Your death is nothing. Your life is everything." He took out a pouch and held it above my head. "In this bag are five silver talents. It my pledge to you and a promise of more to come. I will give you thrice this amount every year if you come with me back to my father's homeland in the north."
The North! Canaan? My childhood memories of tales from forgotten lands broke into my thoughts as water streaming back into parched land. Something in me wanted to leap at the offer and fly away from my life, run away to anywhere else or be anybody else. But the offer was not complete yet.
"You wish me to go with you and be your priestess?" I inquired curiously.
He gave a brief thick laugh. "No, dear one. As one of my concubines."
All of my flesh recoiled in disgust as his words, yet the foreigner spoke further.
"Do not be so hasty as to dismiss my offer at once," he continued. "I know something of the proper treatment of women. All of my wives and concubines live in good stone homes and have much wool and linen to keep themselves comfortable. Timna is my favorite. She can testify to my generosity. I have given her five copper bracelets and a pendant that weighs at least half a talent. She will be your family-sister and put your house in order for you. I will bring you much wealth from my excursions and you will give me strong sons who will grow into warriors."
Every one of his explanations was another stone cast upon my head. Ten curses and frustrations all swelled up in my throat, but I was too enraged to respond properly. He must have known the same thing because the foreigner just gave me a cool look as though I was a child who had lost her temper again.
Finally, I managed to sputter, "I would not be your concubine—or, or your slave or water-girl or handmaid—for all the silver in the world!"
He had been smiling until now, but it widened gruesomely as a crocodile widens its jaws to clamp around a fish.
"You will when you know me better," he continued. "In Egypt I am a stranger but in my own land, I am a prince. Didn't you know? I am Eliphaz, son of Esau of the Red Limbs. The fatness of the earth and the dew of the heavens flows in my family's veins. Moreover, my father is the master of the Mountain of Seir and commands four hundred generals who are loyal only to him."
He spoke with such reverence that my heart was instantly vibrating painfully inside of my chest. An impressive lineage indeed, but his description of this powerful and intimidating bloodline confirmed that Eliphaz was a man who would not deny himself anything.
My voice trembled but I managed to say, "I don't care for your father's generals or his mountain. Have you nothing of your own to boast of?"
He reached out and his fingers clamped around my wrist. I struggled to break free but the bones his hand had become hard as iron. I found myself trapped in a brace of flesh and blood. A mad light flickered in his eyes as he rasped, "You will show more respect for my father when you meet him."
I squirmed in place before he let out a short bark of a laugh and released me. Then he strode off while I rubbed my wrist in pain. Terrified, I ran all the way through the winding streets and back to the temple. My lungs ached and my legs cried in pain, but I dared not stop until I had safely crossed the threshold.
"Asenath? What troubles you?" asked Phera.
I collapsed on the floor before Amun-Ra, raising my hands upwards to him and begging to be rescued. There was already a bruise forming on my wrist while the guests murmured over my pious behavior.
"No. More. Bulls," I gasped aloud.
A-A-A
Two months later:
"Ombos," groaned Phera. "I'll not have you go half a day and back on your own. I need you to be here for Hathor's festival tonight."
"I will return in time," I assured him.
"And what if some vagabond attempts to carry you off?" he pressed further.
I laughed briefly. "Do not worry, Father. I will be standing among many mourners to keep myself safe. No one is going to snatch me off when there will be guards attending such an expensive funeral."
He tugged on his right earlobe. "All right," Phera relented. "Go in peace, daughter. Return safely. And remember to be here before nightfall."
"And bring you back some good date wine?" I suggested.
"Hmph." He almost smiled that time. "You know my weakness."
Young Phera handed me two dresses. One was a tattered and dusty mess, the other fresh and presentable. "I'm sorry you must bear this," he whispered to me.
I managed to sigh and smile at once. "It will only be a day," I assured him. With the dresses packed into a basket along with a jug of beer and a loaf of bread, I was ready for yet another day of service.
There would be no temple work for me that day. Instead, I would be "rented out" as a professional mourner for a funeral procession. The first time I had done it, I came home with a mouthful of dust from wailing with a wide mouth. I had learned since then to show sadness with a demure expression and wary lips. It was still dusty and hot work, but you got to eat your fill at the feast after the burial was complete. Furthermore, my presence would remind people that their prayers could still be heard at Amun-Ra's temple, and they would be welcome to pay respect there whenever they wished.
Hence the need for two dresses. During the procession, the mourners were expected to get filthy and even rub dirt and dust on themselves. I could never bring myself to do that so at least I could play the part, wash off the façade, and then don a clean tunic for the way back.
I had good brisk walk to Ombos and enough time to eat half of my loaf and put on the ragged dress before noticing a line of people standing on the edge of the main road. This must be the procession, for several men were bearing a mighty coffin that glinted with gold and gleamed of polished onyx in the brilliant light. There were even a pair of twins among the mourners, their kohl smudged around their eyes and vacant expressions upon their faces. Such an expense confirmed that this procession had been arranged for an esteemed person.
Someone called to me, and I approached her. A woman and her mother, both in ragged dresses, exchanged words with me about the deceased woman. "She had been the wife of an overseer," said the mother. "And he wants his late wife's funeral to be the talk of the town."
I glanced at the heavy-laden coffin and the litter bearing the ivory jars that held her organs. Further men were carrying bowls of food and pitchers of drink, so that she would have what to eat and drink in the afterlife. It was then that I noticed one of the twins had a scroll clutched in her hands. The Book of the Dead, no doubt written by some great scribe who labored painstakingly over it without omitting a single word. The wife of a great lady would not do with a cheap scroll that some lowly apprentice had scribbled across.
"He must have loved her very much to have arranged all of this," I said aloud.
"I hated the whore," someone snapped irritably. All three of us turned to see a man with a malachite collar standing before us. The widower, no doubt. He stomped in place and thrust his hands upon his hips petulantly.
"She was an ungrateful shrew ever since the day I married her," he added. "But one has to keep up appearances."
A-A-A
The widower's expression remained sour and still as we journeyed down the lane. The mourners cried and wailed to the sky. The mother and her daughter flung handfuls of dirt in the air and tugged at their heads. I let out soft moans from time to time but mostly restrained myself.
"Osiris, have mercy upon this noble woman!" shrieked the daughter.
"Do not forsake us, Isis!" cried the mother.
"Neith, guide her graciousness into the afterlife," I called out.
It would have been almost comical if you did not understand why we did these things. The more mourners, the greater the procession. The greater the procession, the more honor given to the household. It did not occur to me back then that all of this wailing and moaning and lying about one's detestable spouse was but a gauze curtain draped over the heavy gold funeral ornaments.
"Turn here! Turn here!" the widower suddenly shouted, breaking off his silence. "I will not have my wife's funeral interrupted by filthy beggars!"
"Prisoners of Pharaoh!" came the correction, as five soldiers escorted a group of men with ropes secured around their necks and wrists. But they veered sharply off the path so that the great lady's sacred mummy would not be tainted by these lowly creatures. All I could see were the backs of the prisoners and the guards, who were shuffling them into a depression that sloped into the ground.
They would be buried there in one part of the land while the great lady's body would rest in a great chamber elsewhere. But all would be in the earth together someday.
The procession continued onward, and we were sweeping past the prisoners without another glance. Standing at the foot of the slope was a man who had not veered like the soldiers or shuffled along like the prisoners. It was but a flash of light, a moment so swift I could have blinked and forgotten it. But a moment was all I needed for my head to turn in that direction and see the man standing erect at the foot of the hill.
The heavy midday sun had tanned and beaten his skin to a bronzed hue and gave his hairy head no shade. Broad of shoulders was he and there was no stoop in his spine. My eyes had lingered upon his body for a moment too long and it was in that blinding foolish moment when his face lifted up and over to the procession and my world faded away.
I saw eyes the color of the midday sky and with the expression of a stormy night staring at me. Piercing and defiant, they saw nothing of the world around them and only myself in his way. A terror rushed through me, and my knees nearly bent in half when I realized I had seen a spirit, some unholy demon that had resurrected itself from the grave and was now clad in the flesh of a prisoner to torment me.
"Priestess?" called the mother. She was already wiping her face clean with a rag. "Are you coming? The procession is nearly over."
"I..I…" I was straining to breathe but my lungs were full of hot thick air. "I must…"
Must what? What?! I could not say for my lips were not moving. But my feet were moving of their own accord, off Neith's path yet again and towards the prison.
No! I rebuked myself. I cannot betray her again! She has laid out my path and I must follow it.
But those eyes, those eyes! I had to be sure and then once my curiosity was satisfied, I would return to Neith. That is what I told myself as I walked across the road towards the prison. Perhaps the mother watched me, perhaps she forgot about my presence and rejoined the funeral rites. I had no thoughts of her, the widower, or the great lady.
All I could think about was the man.
A-A-A
The prison consisted of six large rectangular cavities dug into the ground, each one so deep that that no man could climb out of the sides on his own. Even if he climbed upon another man's shoulders, there would still be too much space to the top and someone could have noticed them trying to escape. There were jagged spikes thrust into the ground all around the prison to hinder escapees further and in between them were the stoic guards. In these large cavities, I could see slatted wooden planks that made up the prisoner's cells and formed rustic roofs over their heads.
But the planks were not good as stone. They would not give the prisoners much shade in the day or much warmth at night. I nearly turned back in fear, but curiosity burned brightly within me, urging me forward. I would have walked right up to the head guard in all of my disarray if my senses had not temporarily taken hold of me again. At least I had enough reason to go into an alley where I changed into my better dress and washed my face with water from a bucket.
Once I looked presentable, I strode to the prison warden. His squinty eyes peered down at me. "What do you want?" he demanded.
I cleared my throat and composed myself. "Peace unto you, chief warden of the Pharaoh's prisoners," I greeted him politely. "I am Asenath, the daughter of the High Priest of On. I am here to inquire about one of the men I just saw here," I added.
"Have you?" he demanded. And he sudden let out a rusty laugh. "If I only knew all it took was to get arrested so that a fair woman to visit our prison, the men here would have committed many more crimes!"
The other guards joined him in laughter that did not settle my nerves. Nevertheless, I persisted. "He was just standing on the ledge not long ago," I explained. "This man is tall and young, a Semite who—"
"Semite!" he blurted out. I nearly jumped in alarm. "Of course, the Semite. With terrifying blue eyes, eh? Blue as the rising Nile! Those eyes have bewitched nearly anyone who approaches him," he added with a dry chuckle.
"Careful, priestess," another guard called to me. "He might cast his spell upon you too."
"A curse on the Semite," a third spat into the ground. "He is a filthy outcast who will not utter a single word of reverence for our gods."
I could barely contain myself. No longer trembling with fear, I was now shivering with anxiety. There is only one man who could be this person, I knew in my heart.
The guards were still ranting on. "Call him a skeptic if you will, but filthy he is not," the warden declared with indignation. "Why, my prison is cleaner than every street in Ombos. Even if he does sweep it twice a day when once is more than necessary—"
"May I speak with him?" I interrupted.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, deliberating whether or not it was worth the effort. Hastily, I pulled the jug of beer out of my basket and offered it to him. I had only drunken a little. Perhaps the rest might suffice as a bribe.
To my astonishment, he shook his head. "No need to wet my parched tongue with drink, priestess. Go speak to the Semite if you wish, but do not anticipate turning him towards Amun-Ra. He is stubborn as a donkey. But if your pretty eyes can match his gaze, then tell me afterwards. For it will be a story we all want to hear."
"Thank you! Thank you!" I nearly cried in joy. But then he added solemnly, "Take heed in the prison. Mind your step and do not get too close to the cells. The Semite may be of stronger stuff but the others in here are little more than wild animals."
Taking his advice, I lifted the hem of my dressed and descended down the steps into the prison. The sun still shone overhead but its light did not reach every corner around me. No sooner did I reach the last step then dozens of sweaty hands thrust themselves out from between the slates of the cells, voices jeering and praying and wailing to me in a dozen tongues I did not understand.
"Poor fools. At least they're down here in the cool dark and not scorching their heads like the slaves who make bricks all day," said the warden. "Follow me."
I stayed as close to him as I could as we walked past several cells. "Great lady! Pretty lady! Come to me!" screeched one prisoner. His hand struck out like a snake, and I felt his dirty nails claw at my shoulder. I screamed in instinct and leaped back.
"Away with you!" shouted the warden. He thumped his fist upon the cell door and the prisoner drew back. We now approached a door made of the same rickety room and he slapped his palm against it twice before opening the door.
I had to duck my head down to enter the room safely. Even before I could stand up straight again, I could sense Joseph's presence around me. His aura filled the air with melancholy peace. Even in a prison cell, his handiwork was evident. Here was the floor swept smoothly as the courtyard of Potiphar's house. Here there were no rats scurrying across the floor or in and out of cracked jars. These jars were old but had been mended well and were sitting on high shelves where no pests could get at them. The shelves were full of scrolls arranged in neat stacks while two open scrolls were spread out upon a plank of wood at my feet.
"Ho, Semite! Hallo, honorable resident of Pharaoh's prison!" announced the warden. "Here is a priestess who has come from the temple of Amun-Ra to speak with you. Treat her with as much respect as you do for all of the men within these walls, and she may reward you with a blessing or better yet, a kiss!"
I could not blush for the man in the center of the room had risen from the floor and stood to his full height. His head nearly brushed against the low ceiling as his eyes met mine, but I could not meet his. My heart was too full of emotions and my head full of too many thoughts to collect myself.
"Thank you, warden," the Semite said at last in a low voice. "May I speak with her alone?"
The head guard threw me a wary glance. I found myself stammering, "A-all will be fine. He would be unwise to harm me here."
"No, he will not do that. I know him too well," the warden agreed. "But I will wait outside. And should I hear so much as a cry from her, my spear will find its way through your heart, Semite."
The prisoner inclined his head in respectful agreement.
It seemed to take forever for the warden to leave the room and shut the door. I was alone with the man who had opened a new world to me and then shut it closed with his departure, leaving me alone and in darkness. We could say nothing, only take in the sight of each other as nearly a decade of time had altered us greatly.
The pretty lanky boy of childhood was gone, replaced with a fully-grown man of nearly twenty-seven years of age with corded arms and hard muscles that moved and rippled along the curves of his bare chest and back. The former sweet curves of his face that once shaped playful smiles had now firmed into the masculine resolution of a firm jawline and resolute lips. Labor had not broken his body but strengthened it, stretched it broadly, and hardened it into tempered metal. If this was any other man, I would have trembled in knowing he could snap my neck between his large agile hands.
His hair had grown thick and full, barely contained with a leather strand that loosely bound the hair at the nape of his neck. No longer burnished copper, it now looked dull and brown and had become greasy with time. A scraggly beard stretched over his chin. I only then realized he must not have had access to a razor, let alone a knife to trim his beard or cut his hair. Prisoners couldn't be left alone with dangerous things.
But those were his eyes peering out of the prisoner's face. I could blink and stare all I wanted to, and he would not vanish like an apparition in the night. He was as real as I was.
At last, I found my voice and managed to croak out his name.
"Joseph."
His head inclined slightly to me, oddly comical as though were being introduced for the first time.
"Priestess."
Sometime in his tone pricked me. "Joseph, it is I, Asenath," I stumbled forward. "Do you not remember who I am?"
"I remember who you were." His tone was calm and even. I was surprised even I wasn't screaming or shouting in bewilderment. My joy was already ebbing away.
"Were?"
"You were a friend to me in Potiphar's house. You understood things that I dared not share with anyone else," he said. He sounded tired or perhaps, even disappointed. Was he angry with me? What had I done to deserve his contempt?
"But now you have forsaken all that I taught you," Joseph went on. "You have fallen back into the ways just like all the others. To serve gods of stone and statue who cannot hear or see you."
Irritation pricked me. After all this time, all these years, all he could do was rebuke me?!
"I had no choice," I protested. "I thought you were dead!"
"As you can see, I am alive. Imprisoned, but very much alive," Joseph said.
"How?"
He shrugged and lifted up his hands. "It was Potiphar's decree that I be placed here."
"I tried, Joseph. I did attempt speak up on your behalf," I explained quickly. "But it didn't matter. Two years after you were taken away, Zulekia cast me out of her house. I've been living in On and working with the high priest all this time."
"And are you content with your life?"
Seeing Joseph seemed to open up a well of hidden anger within me. It was not rational or sensible. It did not repay me in goodness or kindness. But anger tips all the scales into its favor and I was ready to heap my desires into it as well.
"I am more content and fortunate than you!" I suddenly blurted out. "You are no longer the head of the estate. You are just 'the Semite' again. You are walled up in here with all of the other prisoners."
"If that is God's will," he began. But this was too much for me. I could not bear to listen to him bring up the past.
"Do not dare mention your God to me!" I shouted at him. "What good has He done for you? What good has He done for me? We have both been forsaken, Joseph!"
Something flashed in Joseph's eyes. It wasn't the angry spark of pride I had seen in Eliphaz's eyes, but something clearer and brighter, far more brilliant and terrible. He took two strides towards me, causing me to back up against the wall.
"Curse me," he growled. "Hate me and flog me for all I care. But do not curse the name of God."
"Why not?" I argued bitterly. "If He is all powerful then how can a curse harm Him?"
The light in Joseph's eyes did not dim but he did take a step back, away from me. "It can harm you, Asenath. It can destroy your soul."
"My soul is going to the afterlife where Osiris will judge me and console me," I said, repeating the words of my childhood. "Yours will starve and suffer for three thousand years."
"Are you sure of that?" Joseph's voice was hard again. I could not meet his gaze and starred at some bleak patch of earth on the ground.
But then his tone softened. "Forgive me, Asenath. I did not know that you were cast out of your home. I should have been more considerate of your sorrow. If I have spoken harshly with you, it is only because I believe you were capable of doing better."
"I do as well as I can," I retorted. "What you see before you is the product of my society."
"But you need not become the product of your society," he urged me. "We are not bricks to be made automatically by dulled hands, to be shaped and scooped out with no grace or beauty within us. Our lives are not fixed by walls of stone or roads of cedar that force us to walk every step as unthinking beings."
His eloquent words place for this prison. He should have been composing poetry for Pharaoh. Those words touched my heated heart, almost cooling it. I wanted to hear more of what he said but restrained myself.
"My path was made for me by Neith," I explained to Joseph. "If I detour from it, she will force me back upon my road of destiny. What would your God do if I leave a path He dislikes?"
"He will guide you." Joseph tapped his finger to his chest. "That is the wellspring, Asenath. It has given me strength every day to endure all these years. I saw the wellspring in you too, as a little girl. I beg you, seek it out!"
I wavered at that moment.
"You ask too much of me," I answered bitterly. "I am not without feelings."
"Nor am I, Asenath. I have a man's emotions. I have his desires, his wants and feelings. And yes, even a man's wishes and dreams."
"What dreams could you possibly have in such a place as this?"
Here he merely lowered his eyes to the ground. I chose to let this question pass and proceeded further.
"Tell me, Joseph. If you have a man's desires, then how did you manage to stand cold as stone before Zulekia that day?"
It took all of my strength not to break away from his penetrating stare.
"You overestimate me, Asenath. I was not stone that day but a man of flesh and blood," he told me.
"When Zulekia approached me that day and burned the incense before my face, I breathed it in and felt my flesh scathed with desire. There was fire behind my eyes and fire coursing through my veins. In my eyes she was the most beautiful of all women and I could not withhold myself from her glorious presence. The only thing that could quench it was more fire…the fire writhing out of her body. I did not care if I burned for an eternity or suffer consequences for all of my days. All I desired was to burn within her arms and kiss her lips and take her into the sun."
I wanted to scream but miraculously, managed to bring my voice to a low hoarse whisper of wrath so that the warden could not hear my next question.
"Then why, Joseph," I rasped furiously. "Then why didn't you sleep with her? Why did you not just do as any man does and neither of us would be standing here right now!?"
For the longest moment he said nothing. Then, in a faint whisper so only I could hear, Joseph said something for my ears alone.
"I saw my mother's spirit," his voice ghosted over me. "Her presence cooled the fire within me. She saved my soul."
"But not your life," I said bitterly.
Unwilling to show weakness before him, I turned and fled out of the prison with unshed tears rising up in my eyes.
A-A-A
I could hear music trailing out of the temple far long before my steps reached the gates of Nagada. Twilight had fallen and the trees were black shapes pressed against the fading orange sky. Torches flickered along the lane but there was still darkness in my heart and the merry sounds of drums and flutes could not stir it to action again.
The inner chamber of the temple was glowing warm with further lights that flickered upon the limbs of many people. Already the celebration had begun, and I could see our guests laughing, dancing, and writhing with joy. Someone had brought a statue of Hathor and erected her next to Amun-Ra, so that the gods may look with favor upon us and make their love in the heavens above us. Her stoic presence, clad in a bright red dress and anointed with a great two-pronged diadem, was a sharp contrast to the merriment around us.
Phera broke off from a circle of guests and waved to me, his voice ringing loud and clear even over the lively drumming.
"Welcome home, Asenath! Hail, priestess of On!" he cried out.
"Hail the priestess!" cried several people. Then more and more calls followed until everyone was shouting, "Hail Asenath, priestess of On!"
On any other day I would have declined their attention. I would have excused myself and let my heavy heart guide me out of the chamber, excusing myself by wishing to celebrate in solitary mediation. But my heart was not only black with grief. It was red with anger towards Joseph. I wanted to drown the anger, to drag it into the Nile River filled with rich red wine and sink it into the bottom just as Hathor had drunk in her days long ago and become intoxicated from her madness.
So, when Phera approached me with a wine-filled goblet, I took it from him and raised it high above my head. "Blessings to you all, most honored guests," I cried out as loud as I could. "May this food and drink being us life and joy, may Hathor save us all from death and sorrow."
Everyone echoed my sentiments, and the sound of their praise tickled my ears more than the drums. As I drank deeply and felt the cool tart wine running down my throat, my muscles tingled with the pleasure of attention from everyone. I placed the cup down and instantly felt the effect of the liquor loosen my limbs, unspooling all of my frustrations.
"Ha ha, careful Asenath," Phera warned me with a merry laugh. He helped me down several steps and towards the guests. The girls from before were there and they all lined up before me, faces beaming with sweat and eyes bright with hope. They asked me to bless them, and I raised my hands, echoing all of their sentiments for good husbands, wealthy homes, fine health, and chests full of jewels.
The music rose higher and higher as circle within circle of people wove and wandered around the room, dancing feet and hands slapping together in ecstasy. I took another cup of wine, then a third one. Red, yellow, and purple drink all flowed into me and through me. Hathor and Amun-Ra were a blur of deep red and bright green while Phera and his son were two white lights flitting around the room. The sensations of the celebration muffled the heated thoughts of the day but not fulling silencing them. Even as my mind was spinning from the wine, in the center of it all I could still sense a twinge of irritation imbedded in my spirit. Try as I may, I could not drown, drive, or pluck it out. And though I was smiling just like everyone else, a sliver of bitterness remained there.
What that I could throw Joseph out of my mind as easily as Zulekia cast me out that day! I suddenly thought. Just thinking about it blurred my thoughts together further and I thought I might cry. I reached for another full cup of wine and as I seized it, some of the contents splattered onto the floor.
"I think perhaps you have had a sufficient amount for tonight," Akun said. He had magically appeared and picked the cup out of my trembling hands. Unlike myself, he didn't appear frazzled or confused by all the merriment. I attempted to open my mouth and speak but instead, I staggered backwards upon my heels.
His arm caught me around the waist before I could fall. "Careful!" he cautioned brightly. We both laughed at my mistake. Akun was looking directly into my face. His dark eyes reflected the lights of the torches around us, and his clear brow was sprinkled with perspiration. The soft laugh on his lips died away and I saw his head tilt, then felt his lips press against mine.
Sweetened honey spread through my veins and my limbs relaxed in his embrace. I closed my eyes as I felt both of his hands come to my waist, cupping the skin there and securing me in place. No sooner did we break off the kiss then I tilted my head aside and took the initiative, kissed him again on the mouth.
"Come," I whispered to him.
"Perhaps I should lead," he whispered back, barely suppressing his laughter. I may have been drunk but I managed to guide him by the hand out of the hall and into the back room where we kept the linens and wax for storage.
I do not recall which of us shut the door, but I welcomed the darkness and the muted joy just out of our range. I do not recall who was kissing who first, only aware of the rising thrill in my heart as Akun's hands found my waist again and then began to move up and down my body. I allowed myself respond to his touch, to tremble with pleasure, as he laid me down upon a woven mat and helped me to remove my garment. My arms reached for him in the darkness and once I found his shoulders, my arms slid around the base of neck and I clung to him, savoring the heat of his skin against the coolness of the air around us.
Somewhere in that night, Joseph was sitting alone in his bleak little cell room surrounded by scrolls and unanswered questions to his God.
Somewhere in that night, Phera was chuckling merrily as his guests drank themselves into stupors and flung random trinkets at the feet of our gods.
Somewhere in that night, I lost myself in the arms of a man I barely knew, only to make myself forget a man who knew me better than I knew myself.
A-A-A
"If you don't know what you're living for, you haven't lived yet." -Rabbi Noah Weinberg
A-A-A
The next morning, I was barely aware of waking up in Akun's arms.
All I could think about was the grinding pain in my head and the foul taste of rotten fish on my tongue. I couldn't wait to untangle myself from his limbs and clean out my mouth. But once I had slapped water on my face and rinsed out my teeth, I felt better and was able to guide Akun out of the temple so that he could slip away long before our regular services began.
We embraced one last time and he slipped an amulet into my hand. I was startled to see the glimmer of gold that adorned the surface. Surely a typical soldier such as Akun could not afford such a luxury, but he told me, "It suits you."
I turned it over in my fingers to admire twisted knot that represented the Buckle of Isis. It was meant to protect people from troubles. I could not have asked for a better gift. Winding the amulet around my wrist, I smiled at him and said I would anticipate his next visit to the temple. He bid me farewell and left.
As my headache receded, the memories of that night also faded away into my thoughts. Things proceeded as usual for three weeks. Akun did not appear, but I went about my duties, made prayers, cleaned the temple, and listened to Phera's instructions.
I only began to fret when a fourth bull arrived at our temple and this one had horns plated with a thin layer of gold. What's more, strapped to each side of his body was a woven basket laden with jars of wine. This was generous, far beyond our usual donations. Eliphaz was becoming more than a nuisance and a bother. He was becoming a threat to me.
The next time he found me in the lane, I pressed the amulet of Isis tightly into my palm and looked him in the eye.
"I have told you before, I will not go back with you to your father's mountain," I told him.
"You will, priestess. You will," he answered coolly.
"How do you know?"
"I know many things about you." He unhooked his ankles and stepped towards me.
"Your feet move as an Egyptian's feet move. Your tongue speaks the Egyptian tongue. But you cannot conceal the truth that is engraved upon your face."
"And what 'truth' is that?"
Eliphaz lowered his chin. From within his beard, his lips parted and spoke thoughtfully "You were not born in this land. I will wager that you do not even know your lineage."
I dared not respond to his question at once. But my stomach clenched up as I stared at him. Trying to sound nonchalant I remarked, "I suppose you are a prophet or soothsayer in your own land."
He gave a short bark of a laugh. "No, pretty priestess. I am not stick-waver or spell-caster. My sword is far more effective than any magician's wand."
Here he patted to the weapon strapped to his waist. They were bigger than the swords and spears I saw among the guards in Nagada. And while our local weapons had more grace and skill, his seemed capable of doing more damage.
"It would be hearsay to speak thus in this land," I cautioned him. "Or do you think your gods have power above Amun-Ra?"
He merely wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword. "My father and I have no need of gods," Eliphaz announced. "A man enters this world from darkness, and he leaves it into darkness. There is no afterlife, no need for your pageantry of wealth and splendor to adorn dead bodies and deep tombs. There is nothing to believe in except your own strength."
"And I suppose you have found some comfort in that," I muttered dryly.
"Indeed, Asenath." He drew himself up to his full height and for a moment, I dared to believe he could duel Amun-Ra and be the victor.
"Superstitions hinder a man from achieving his greatest potential," said Eliphaz. "Once he has cast off the chains of watchfulness, he can be as strong as he wishes. As powerful as he wishes. As wealthy he wishes. We all die one day, so what is the purpose of waiting for some other world or judgement to reach us? Let us take what we desire and enjoy the fruits of this world as much as we can."
He spoke with such conviction and warmth that I confess, for a slight moment, I almost wanted to believe him.
Eliphaz continued. "Egyptians at least have some sense of respect for power and glory. But there are those who have incited my father's wrath by daring to say there is only one God who is more powerful than all the rest. They say He is invisible, but He can see into the hearts of all of men, from the mightiest king to the lowest peasant."
If my eyes betrayed the thoughts of my heart, Eliphaz did not notice. But his expression darkened as he added, "My father detests this God with all of his spirit and so do I. We have sworn to destroy His legacy as long as breath is in our bodies."
He is mad, I warned myself. Aloud I ask, "And how do you propose to do that if He is invisible?"
"His followers create no statues of Him. But they say all men were made in His image. Imagine that-all men!" Eliphaz snarled. He raised a clenched fist into the air. "As if I was no different from some lowly crippled beggar on the street! I, the son of the Prince of the Mountain of Seir! If my father and I cannot destroy this invisible God, then we will smite all who serve him!"
This must be what it was to have a bolt of lightning strike descend from the sky and strike you in the heart. I was staring at a man who was everything that Joseph was not, who spoke words opposite of the Semite's instructions and loathed anything that was lower or weaker than himself.
The simmering anger in Eliphaz's voice died away but his eyes were just as dangerous as they narrowed at me. "You have not spoken to anyone who serves this God, have you?" he nearly accused me.
I clamped my jaws together to present a single word from spilling out over my tongue. When I said nothing, Eliphaz shrugged. "No, you wouldn't have. You know better than that."
"Even if I did, it would not change my decision or my opinion of you," I said, attempting to veer the conversation back on the original track. "Egypt is my home, and the temple is where I have my occupation. I will not renounce either of them to comply with your wishes."
Eliphaz's hand lashed out and suddenly slapped upon my wrist. In confusion, my palm opened, and the amulet of Isis toppled onto the ground. Before I could reach for it, he covered the amulet with his foot. I hissed between my teeth at his open act of blasphemy.
"Fire can undo gold, Asenath. Iron can slash through ivory," he warned me. "Just as a son of Esau can tame a rude tongue and rebellious spirit. I will take you to our mountain and then you will know your lineage."
"I will not go with you."
He remained in place. His brow did not crease, and he did not clasp his fingers around his sword. But I saw his eyes flare with barely concealed fury.
"Then you will know nothing," Eliphaz cautioned in a soft dangerous tone.
"Then let me know nothing!" I blurted out frantically. "But leave me alone!"
I turned on heel and ran off, too frightened to look behind me lest I see his face again.
A-A-A
"Close the gates! Close the gates!" the rider hollered. His horse left clouds of dust in the path, and we all coughed and sputtered in annoyance. Who was this newcomer to stir up trouble in Nagada?
"Did no one hear from Thebes?" he shouted, rearing his horse into a half-circle. "Pharaoh has had an omen of death!"
At once our annoyance had spun itself into worry. Everyone was talking and murmuring fearfully.
"An omen?"
"It cannot be!"
"Has Amun-Ra been appeased?"
"Surely we have served him well all these years."
"What has to be done?"
"What is this omen of death?" demanded Phera, who had walked forward to the rider. He remained firmly in his saddle, even as his voice and hands were shaking.
"Pharaoh was given a sign by the visions of the night. Horus spoke to him in a dream," the rider told everyone in a loud clear voice. "Nine nights ago, Pharaoh had a dream that he was standing in the courtyard at his palace in Thebes. A black feather descended from the sky and landed upon the ground. It transformed into a shadow that stretched out across the palace and finally, all over Egypt."
I heard the gasping and wailing of people around us. It was indeed a bad omen, one that signified death was approaching.
"Since then, a plague has swept up and down the Nile," the rider continued. "People take a fever and then are carried off to their death within three days. Do not vex the gods! Seal your gates! Pray to Amun-Ra to lift this death omen from us!"
He dug his heels into his horse's flanks and rode off, a flash of black and brown against the piercing blue sky. No sooner did he leave then the gates were closed and everyone was chattering madly around us. I could already hear wives telling children and fathers telling sons that they must flee On for other grounds.
"This will not bode well," Phera warned his son and I. He rubbed a hand over his round chin. "If people fear to go out, they will cease to bring offerings to the temple. Amun-Ra will be displeased."
"Perhaps the plague will not reach us," suggested Young Phera. "Or it will be a mild one at On."
"We do not know for certain," his father cautioned him. "You two must get back inside the temple. And Asenath, no more going out into the lane or market until I say so."
"But father," I began to protest.
"That is sufficient. I have spoken." His tone was not as harsh as that of Eliphaz but as his daughter, I was obligated to listen to him. I sighed and followed him and Young Phera back to the temple. As we walked back to our home, I lifted my eyes upwards and into the clear bright sky. There was not a cloud to mar this fine day or even a grasshopper to eat a single blade of our crops.
How could a plague harm us? I thought.
A-A-A
Never had I thought such a foolish thing would undo my life and turn it upside down. Within a week, we heard about the plague that seeped into people's homes and burned within their veins. The young and strong seemed to survive and emerge from their beds a few days later, but the young and old were carried off to the Afterlife within a day or two.
At first some of our patrons ventured out long enough to made generous gifts to Amun-Ra, praying that he take pity upon us and lift the curse. During the first fourteen days, I had no need to go out to the market and we ate well.
But during the next week and the one after that, things took a turn for the worse. Already Phera had estimated that twenty-three people in all of On had perished. We kept the door of the temple opened only a crack during the day and locked it at night, if only to keep out the wailing and howling of families mourning the dead. I tumbled in and out of dreamless light sleep and hated being awake to bear the sound of people suffering. During the day I pressed my face to the floor before Amun-Ran and begged him to lift the plague.
We had no more guests and few payments left at our doorsteps. With little else to do but clean the temple and wipe down Amun- Ra's statue, I found myself thinking about Eliphaz and Joseph more and more. Which of them was right and which of them was wrong? Was it all a futile effort to feed and clothe a god who remained mute, or was I searching for something that remained hidden from me, so high up that I could not reach it anymore than straining my arm to find a star?
And what of Eliphaz and his words of my lineage? Did he truthfully know who I was or was it all a façade just to lure me into his dangerous hands?
It seemed to be my lot in life to forever be having questions and seldom finding answers. Neith had flooded my path with sorrow and try as I may to walk forward, my feet had become heavy these days, weighed down with the worries of the unknown.
After the sixth week, a cool breath of wind blew through the streets of On and it seemed that all would be well. But the damage had been done. Too many people had fled in the night, bearing their goods and wares with them. We had lost too many patrons. Soon we were down to eating coarse barley bread and drinking weak beer every day. It was more than others had but I was not accustomed to reducing my formerly comfortable position in life.
"But you cannot do that!" I heard Phera shouting one day. I got up from the table and went into the main hall where he was arguing with some of the other priests.
"We can and we have the authority to do so," one of them said. He handed Phera a document. "By the powers of the magistrate of Nagada, we have permission to take ownership of this temple and all of its possessions within it."
"You will seize it from my dead hands," he snapped at them.
"Peace be to you, Phera," said one other priest. "Let us not quarrel about this. A man of your abilities can find just as good occupation in Thebes. I am informed that the plague has already left there many moons ago."
"So, you will uproot my family and I for your own gain," Phera remarked. "Have you no respect for my son and daughter? At least take them into consideration if not myself."
"You need not worry about young Phera. I can find your son a sufficient job in Luxor as an apprentice scribe," assured the priest. "As for Asenath, I understand you have a wealthy patron who visits here?"
My stomach clenched up in disgust.
"He has not come for many moons," Phera told him. "And he is a foreigner."
"But a rich one," the priest reminded him. "His gold can secure a robust life for the priestess."
"Let Asenath be heard. She is a good girl." Speaking thus so, Phera called me forward. I brushed off the front of my skirt before parting the curtains and advancing towards him and his guests. I bowed respectfully to the priests and seemed calm and collected on the outside, but I could feel my heart banging loudly against my ribs.
"Daughter, it seems that we must part ways," Phera told me reluctantly. In a few words, he explained to me everything I had just heard.
My tongue was dry upon my mouth as I said, "Is there no way I can stay here in the temple and provide further service to these new owners? Surely I can be of use, having lived here many years."
"If you are able to accept the gifts of this patron with good grace, then you may stay," said the head priest.
"But he does not want me to stay," I found myself arguing with him. "He wants me to leave Egypt with him. Will you deny the temple of its priestess?"
"Asenath, be civil," Phera chastised me. I clasped my hands before me and mumbled an apology.
"We must do what is best for Amun-Ra," said another priest.
A thought sparked up in my mind. "What if…I had another suitor? Someone Egyptian?"
The words all but leaped out of my mouth. I regretted them as soon as the Phera and the priests pressed me further.
A-A-A
A few patrons must have dared to leave their homes because we managed to get by for several more weeks. When I knew Akun was returning to On, I made sure to inform Phera about his presence and then extended Akun the invitation to our evening meal.
We had saved two fresh loaves of bread for him, and a somewhat stringy goose cooked as best as one could do under the circumstances. Phera even brought out a tiny bottle of date wine for our guest. As I set everything out upon the table, he looked over me with a concerned eye.
"Asenath, are you certain this is what you want?" he asked me.
As fond as I was of Akun, I did not know if my hasty decision to propose this alliance was truly what I wanted. Would I be content? Would I satisfy the desires of my heart, or those of Akun?
I assured Phera that it indeed was what I wanted. And when Akun appeared at the temple with his spear in one hand and a bag of fresh vegetables in the other, my spirits instantly perked up. He set his goods aside and gave me a warm kiss on the cheek. We sat down to eat and discussed light conversation for some time, while Akun assured us that the plague was already leaving the land.
"Now it is not a matter of death but theft for Pharaoh's guards," he said. His cheeks were glowing as he carefully sipped his wine. "Once in a while we have heard of an empty house or mansion that was looted by thieves. But the fools should have known better than to steal anything marked with the seal of the master of a house."
"How does the court of Pharaoh bear it?" inquired Phera.
Akun shrugged. "As well as one can be. Pharaoh has diverted several of his troops into the middle districts to put a stop to any local threats and to restore order throughout the kingdom. The plague could have been much worse without his prophecy. Sacrifices to Horus and praise for Pharaoh are already boosting moral."
Phera set down his cup carefully upon the table. "Speaking of moral, Asenath has spoken highly of you in the past. As our circumstances in On have become, ah, rather unstable lately, I wanted to address the subject of matrimony with you."
You would have thought Akun was sentenced to death by Pharaoh himself from his reaction to the proposal. His eyebrows arched up highly and some precious wine spilled out of his cup.
"Matrimony? Are you mad?" he blurted out. "I am but a humble soldier in the army. Moreover, I am obligated to go wherever my captain commands me."
Phera threw me a look that clearly stated everything he wasn't speaking aloud. Was this man the same playful soldier who had flirted with me and made love with me behind the temple? Had I misread his affection and interpreted it as a sincere relationship, rather than a temporary emotion?
In a few brief sentences, Phera spelled out our problems to our guest. He added that he did not want to see me dragged out of the country and forced to bed some wild barbarian. Moreover, my marriage to Akun would secure protection for me.
But Akun's face clouded over, marring his handsome features. "And what of my own needs and concerns?" he demanded as his voice suddenly became sour. "I have a man's wants and desires as well."
I knew this was true—Akun had made no secret to me about his previous visits to taverns and inns to see other women. But I had hoped he would give them up for my sake. It seemed he would not. Nevertheless, anything was better than Eliphaz at that moment.
Had I slipped so low and lost sight of so much in my life?
"I do not mind," I heard myself say softly. "So long as you can provide a roof over my head and call me 'wife' in name, what you do in your own time is of your own matter. I will strive to be a respectful and dutiful wife."
This comment seemed to restore some of Akun's pleasant countenance. "Really? Are you certain?"
I nodded my head weakly. "I would be glad to bear a son." At least this was honest on my behalf. My arms had ached to hold a child for years."
Phera must have read the exchange between us because he let out a sigh of relief. "I am glad to hear that," he said. "And perhaps the new owners of the temple will permit Asenath to continue her work here if they knew that her sons will become priests one day."
Akun's dark eyes drifted from Phera back to me. He spoke a few words aloud with mild acceptance.
"Then let us be wed."
A-A-A
Six weeks later:
I was betrothed to Akun, which bought me some precious time. His sporadic visits lifted my spirits temporarily and he gave me another trinket or two, while saying he would try to find some modest accommodations should I be turned out of the temple.
The priests were still being tightfisted and Phera was still fighting to keep possession of the temple. Though the plague seemed to have lifted its cloak of death from On, there were still random instances of people carried off in the middle of the night. Fear had caused many to flee and others to remain indoors.
Every day seemed to last a week and the mere fluttering of a leaf made me jump. I was growing frightened and restless. I had to do something besides temple service to take my mind off my worries.
One day I rose early and smelled fresh bread even before I entered the chamber of Amun-Ra. There were six new loaves sitting at his feet, along with oil, beer, and a pot that contained some cooked fowl.
A fresh thought sparked in my mind and brightened my spirits. I placed two loaves and a bit of the fowl into a basket. I was about to write a message for Phera when I saw Young Phera in the doorway, yawning and rubbing his sleepy eyes.
"Asenath? What are you doing?" he inquired.
"Tell Father I am going to Ombos for the day," I told him.
"Ombos!" Young Phera was awake in a heartbeat. "Why? For what purpose?"
"It is merely business."
"What if he is cross?"
"I will speak to him when I return," I assured Young Phera. Then I slipped on my reed sandals and began the trek back to the prison.
Back to Joseph.
A-A-A
The ward was amused to see me again. "What powers does this Semite have over you to make you return to us?" he asked.
"No power over me, I assure you," I answered firmly. "I have come of my own accord."
"So you have. Well, let us see if you can convince him a second time to change his mind."
I was permitted inside and fleeing quickly past the jeers and calls of the prisoners, banged loudly on Joseph's door.
He greeted me politely, as though our past encounter had never happened. I still felt awkward as I thrust the basket to him.
"Here, eat this," I coaxed him. "It is good food. It will keep you strong and well."
Joseph accepted the basket from me but did not open it at once. "Thank you, Asenath," he said gently to me. "Thank you for your kindness."
I felt myself blushing from his words. Joseph poured a tiny bit of water over his hands and rubbed his palms together while murmuring softly in his ancient Semite tongue. How strange it looked to me, and yet so familiar! As though a memory from a dream had crystalized before me, turning those faint thoughts back into actions.
He took a bite of bread and smiled. "This is delicious. Do you have a baker in On who makes this bread, or did you do prepare yourself?"
"Neither. It was a temple gift."
Joseph stopped chewing. "It was set out for Amun-Ra?"
"Yes. We always save the best for—"
He instantly spat out the bread and wiped a hand across his mouth. "I am sorry, Asenath. Your gesture is appreciated but I cannot accept it."
I could feel some of the old fury resurfacing from within me. "You are being ridiculous," I told him. "Just a moment ago you said it was delicious!"
"And it is. But I still cannot eat it."
"Why? Because it was set aside for a god?"
"Yes."
I threw up my hands in disgust. "Why do you insist on being so obstinate? It is just food set before Amun-Ra's statue! We eat it all the time!"
"Do as you will. I cannot."
"You cannot or you will not?"
"Does it matter?"
At this question, I let a mild curse fly from my lips and paced the small room. "I am not asking you to serve Amun-Ra. I just wanted to let you know there are other options in in your life. You don't have to be stuck in this dirt hole praying to an invisible God of dust and wind who does not answers your prayers."
"Is that why you returned here? To attempt to sway my heart?" Joseph asked me, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Asenath, I have lost my family, my good name, and my freedom. Will you take my one bit of solace from me as well?"
"I'm not taking anything from you, Joseph," I argued with him. "I'm trying to give something to you. What solace can your God provide you in a place like this?"
His shoulders sagged as he sat back upon the rickety bench. I watched him run a hand over his thick tangle of hair. "I wish I could explain it to you, Asenath. But it is a difficult thing to describe in words."
"Try," I coaxed him. "Tell me why you cannot serve your God in your heart and just accept Amun-Ra to the outside world."
At these words, something sparkled defiantly in Joseph's eyes. "That I can explain," he said warmly. "If you can explain to me how Zulekia could sleep with me one day and her husband the next and there would be nothing wrong with that."'
"Of course it would be wrong," I agreed with him.
"It is the same, or at least as close can be, to my God and I," explained Joseph. "He is benevolent but also jealous. To praise Him one day and then show devotion to a pillar of stone another is a betrayal of fidelity."
"Are you saying that to turn from Him is as bad as taking a married woman to your bed?" I asked.
"Yes."
To this I had no further questions, no accusations towards him. Crass as his allegory may have been, I could not deny the realization in my mind as though a missing riddle was now given the answer.
"But He does nothing for you!" I went on. "You have been confined in this prison for years and Potiphar has never even considered reexamining your case. You have no allies or prospects to defend you."
"I had a friend. I think I still do," Joseph said softly.
At these words, I felt my face flush, but it was different from the blush I received from Akun's smiles. This was a warmth that went from my head all the way throughout my body, even touching my heart.
A great emotion, heavy and strong, seemed to descend over me. I felt the urge to reach out to Joseph and to...to touch him? Embrace him? I could not put my emotions into actions. But in spite of his meager conditions, I could sense something inside of him that flared as a brilliant flame and made him remarkable. I wanted to know the source of that flame, to warm myself by the fire.
But Neith drew her cool hand over my heart, and I drew back from Joseph.
He must have seen my expression because he went on. "My God gives me breath in the morning, returning my soul to my body when I wake up," he said. "My God makes my limbs strong so that I can rise from my mat and stretch my body. He gives me eyes to see, ears to hear, and a tongue to speak. That is not nothing, Asenath. It is far more than I deserve."
"But if He can do all these things, then why doesn't He release you from this prison?" I begged.
"I have wondered that for many years. I do not fully understand His ways, but I believe I must atone for a crime I committed years ago."
"A crime? You mean-" I could not believe he had once done the thing that Zulekia had accused him of.
Joseph must have read my thoughts because he quickly said, "No, I did not do that. But I did something even worse than Zulekia."
"I find that difficult to believe," I remarked dryly.
"She only slandered against me. But I have done worse by slandering against ten men who dwell in my homeland," he confessed. There was an edge in his tone that cautioned me he would speak no further details.
But he added, "These men did me no wrong yet I repaid them with evil. At the time, I thought I was being clever by telling my father of their misdeeds. But these were false reports. My judgement was biased against them, based on my rash thinking. What that I could undo all of those wicked words I spoke at the time."
I stared at him in disbelief. This quiet meek defiant Semite had been a talebearer? A gossiper?
He rubbed his forehead and said thoughtfully, "Now that I know it means to be brought low, perhaps I can be better in my life. I will strive to speak better of others and give them benefit of the doubt."
To this I could not expand upon. But I declared, "I am to be married, Joseph. To a soldier in Pharaoh's army."
Was it my imagination or did I mistake that look in his eyes for disappointment? Or longing?
Aloud, Joseph asked me, "Do you love each other?"
"What a question!" I retorted. "We enjoy each other, of course."
"That was not what I asked you."
My entire body seemed to flinch from his remark. I writhed beneath his stare and felt as though I was being interrogated.
"I am sure we will come to love one another in due time," I said aloud. Though I could not tell if I was assuring Joseph—or myself.
"Does he respect you? Is he a good man?"
"I-I am under no obligation to answer such questions," I snapped at him. "That is none of your business."
Joseph lowered his eyes. "Forgive me. You are correct. It is none of my business, as I am an outsider and a prisoner." He lifted his eyes back up. "But as a former resident in the same house you once dwelled in, and as a former companion and tutor, I am concerned for your well-being."
Once again, his thoughts sent my emotions into turmoil. One moment I was irritated with his presence and the next, I was warming towards his words.
But annoyance overruled me that time. "I thought you were concerned for my soul," I remarked.
"Your safety and happiness matter to me as well."
An invisible hand came to my throat, and I could not breath for several moments. My lips said I would wed Akun, bear his sons, and raise them to serve Amun-Ra while he fought to defend our borders. But why did my heart continue to resist Neith's orders and strive into the unknown?
Why could I not be content with the life that was laid out before me? The restless curious girl of my childhood was still alive inside of me. I could feel her under my skin, impatient and eager to break out and explore the world, asking questions and learning the answers to everything.
We all have to grow up. We must put away the questions and accept everything in this world without defiance or disobedience. I had a duty to follow and a goddess to serve. Straight, forward, and direct. That was what Neith was promising me.
"Thank you, Joseph," I replied coolly. "But I think it is best that I do not come here again."
Upon hearing this, he rose from his seat. "I understand. I thank you for taking the effort to come see me, Asenath. And I wish you happiness and peace in days to come."
The flame within him flared up again and I had to leave before I could come under its spell. I mumbled my thanks clumsily to him and hastily exited the room.
A-A-A
My trek back to On seemed to take longer than the trip to Ombos. Every step I took stretched into a field of dust as I struggled to keep moving. Halfway through my walk, I rested against the wall of a house and instantly felt my body reel with nausea.
It was too early in the month for my blood moon. Nor did I feel the usual fatigue in my head and breasts. This was a dizzy sensation that started in my stomach and made waves of green pain rise up into my throat.
I wanted to lie down and sleep until it passed. But I still had a long way to go. Foot after foot, one step after another, wondering if this would never end. The sun's rays were thick sheets of heat threatening to flatten me into the ground. The air around me seemed to be sucking all of the energy out of my lungs. All I could think about was going, going, and going until I could come back to my residence. I stumbled a few times on my journey but finally reached the steps of the temple. But I could come no further because the muscles in my stomach contracted and I bent over, vomiting onto the ground.
A passerby saw me and shouted, "The plague! The plague!" before running away in mortification.
I pressed a hand to my forehead and felt it scorching beneath my skin. Those were all the of the signs. Was Neith punishing me again for speaking to Joseph again? Great Neith, I swear I will not contact him again, I vowed. But for now, I had to get inside and rest.
My footsteps wobbled as I crossed the threshold. The mighty pillar of Amun-Ra was there in the corner of my eye and thoughts, and I finally reached my sleeping room, collapsing upon the mat. My limbs ached in relief and sleep began to blacken my mind, a blessed and welcomed relief from the day's disappointments.
I heard the familiar banging on the door and groaned. "Young Phera, go away!" I called from my mat. "I am unwell!"
"So is Father," came his muffled response from the other side of the door. "Shall I fetch a physician?"
"No, just let me sleep," I called back. He must have mumbled something from the other side of the wood but even my ears were too weary to accept his words. My mind staggered into a strange slumber that was black for hours and red with fever for others.
For three days and nights I lay in agony upon my mat. My bones seemed to scrape against each other every time I moved my limbs. A horrible pressure had built up in the front of my skull and another in the back, as though Osiris had placed the weights of his scale inside my head. Everything hurt so much, I thought my head would crack in two. I managed to wake out of a sweaty haze and crawl towards one of the drinking pitchers for a mouthful of beer. No sooner did the liquid touch the bottom of my stomach then it spewed out again, causing me to vomit out of my mouth and nose. I moaned and turned my head away from the foul-smelling mess on the floor, not even having the energy to wipe it up.
How low I had fallen. How much more could I bear?
I could do no more but draw a blanket over my shivering form and wait for death to take me or Osiris to release me. In the back of my thoughts, I saw strange swirling forms, not fully-clarified dreams but twisted slips of my memories and thoughts crammed together in chaotic frenzies. Some of them were the forms of Zulekia, who was draped in linen veils and swathed in chains of gold. Her skin would change from blue to red to green as she laughed lustily and praised her glorious beauty. In other mental torments, I envisioned Potiphar standing before me. He had the head and torso of a horse while human hands and feet sprouted out of his body. The disfigured creature let out dreadful whines as it stamped and clawed at the earth.
I was sure I woke up screaming from those nightmares. My skin was glazed with sweat that I dabbed away with my blanket, and I lay in agony upon my mat, too terrified to go back to sleep.
But back to sleep I did go and even then, my dreams were half-formed stories that were clouded with secrets. Somewhere in those desolate, I recalled the Sabbath meal Joseph had given to me and how he had placed his hand upon my head. My mind recalled the words he had spoken, and they echoed among the memories.
El Nah, Refah Nah Lah
A-A-A
On the morning of the fourth day, my fever broke. I blinked my eyes and starred up at the ceiling, then slowly shifted myself over. Flies were already buzzing around the mess I had made. I made a sound of disgust and then threw my blanket over it. At that moment I realized the goodness that had been bestowed upon me: I was well again. I could move.
But I could not move fast. My knees trembled as I slowly came to my feet. I felt hollow, like a gourd that had been scraped out. Using the smallest footsteps possible, I made my way over to a water jug and took a tiny sip. It stung my throat but stayed in my stomach. After drinking a bit more water, I used the rest to splash my face and arms and to clean up the mess on the floor.
I wondered how Phera fared but did not have long to get an answer.
Young Phera was knocking at the door, but a meek tapping that was unlike him.
"It's all right, I'm well again," I assured him.
"Are you sure?" This time there was a chocking sensation in his voice.
"Yes, I am. What's wrong?"
The door opened wide. Young Phera's eyes were red, and his skin had a sallow yellow complexion. He must have also had the plague, but it was not him that the tears were for.
"Father."
A-A-A
We knew something was wrong without having to approach the body. There was no sound of breath coming from him, not even a gasp or a wheeze of sickness. His limbs were stiff as wax and lurid purple shadows had surfaced on the skin around his eyes and lips. It was as though someone had attempted to paint his face but used the wrong pigments.
Neither of us wanted to get close to him. Young Phera was still clinging to one of the pillars, too afraid to see his father's corpse.
"It must have been yesterday morning," he sniffed, wiping his nose across his hand. "I heard him coughing all day before that. Why is it that you survived, and he perished?"
"I, I have heard the young and the strong were more likely," I heard myself say mechanically. But my mind still could not register everything nor accept the facts as they were. The once vibrant and great priest of On was dead. His soul would go down into the Underworld and be judged.
As for us…what would become of us? Would Akun come for me or forget about me? What if Eliphaz came back? And what of Young Phera?
"Asenath." Young Phera tugged at my sleeve. "He needs to be embalmed."
"Yes," I heard myself say. His voice seemed to bring me back to the present. "I, I will go to the embalmer as soon as possible."
As I drew in a breath to compose myself, my scattered thoughts began to sort themselves out properly. I must remain calm. I cannot go to pieces before my brother.
Glancing aside, I felt remorseful for not making more of an effort to bond with my adoptive little brother. I had been so caught up in my own problems as of late without paying attention to Young Phera's troubles. He was mourning the only father he had ever known. The least I could do was offer whatever assistance I could manage at this time.
"I am sorry for this misfortune," I said to him, mustering as much warmth as I could in my voice. "Father was good to us all these years."
"Very good," Young Phera agreed. He gazed up at me with worried eyes. "What will happen to us now?"
"Didn't the central priest say could become a scribe?" I recalled. "Go pack your things and go to him at once. Say you will go to Luxor."
This seemed to calm his spirits. He gulped and nodded weakly. "I will, I will," he promised. Young Phera turned to go but then looked back at me. "What about you? Will you be well?"
I had to be strong for him, if not for myself in this moment. It gave me the courage to nod my head to him. "I will be well. Akun will come for me, remember? You must leave before the other priests arrive to take over the temple. I will take care of the burial arrangements."
Hearing this, he rushed back to my side and gripped my hands in his pudgy ones. They were clumsy hands; I hoped they could hold a scribe's reed pen. But those hands needed bread to sustain the rest of him and he had no chance of earning bread in On any further.
"Thank you, Asenath. You have been a good sister and a fine priestess," he told me. "I hope you and Akun will make a good life together. May Amun-Ra protect you."
"And you," I echoed his words.
A-A-A
The plague had impoverished us, but the embalmer's job was still necessary. I could not go immediately but had to wait until he had time for me. There had been too many other bodies, too many requests for expensive coffins and intricate masks to take up his time. I had to overcome my fear of the corpse by wrapping it up in the last of our linens and then dragging it to a corner of Phera's sleeping room. All the while I attempted to imagine it was a bundle of clothing or some dough, rather than a human being, to keep myself from fleeing the room in alarm.
Besides this problem, I had been quarreling with the priests for half a day. I begged them to let me stay in my temple chamber until Akun would return for me. A messenger had arrived from Thebes saying that Akun would be here in anywhere from four to nine days.
"It is of no business of ours whenever he returns," said one of the priests.
"It could be anywhere from tomorrow to a week!" I cried out in frustration. "I beg of you, do not turn me out of the temple like a beggar. If not for my sake, then for the temple's sake."
With an irritated little huff, he grudgingly allowed me a morsel of time to stay in On.
But when? When?! Every day I went to the gate of On to see Akun but he was not there. I asked every person who entered the city, but they had no sight of him. Between the fear that Akun had forgotten me and the priests' control of the temple, I would have collapsed in despair. But oddly enough, the preparations for Phera's funeral kept me focused and moving forward.
I had spread word throughout On of his funeral but even after the plague had left, people were skittish to attend. The other priests had confiscated Phera's funding. I could not provide him with a lavish funeral, let alone a banquet after the funeral for all attendees. A poor way to give credit to one who gave his life for this city, I thought grimly. At least I could do this much for him.
It took all of my strength not to vomit when I reached the embalmer's shop. Situated several steps below the street level, one could smell the horrible stench of strange fluids, hear the sound of organs being cut and slashed out of the body, and see dancing shadows thrown upon the walls from the dim lights of torches. All around me, men were rubbing spices into the corpses and chanting aloud prayers.
"Oh Osiris, Son of Ra," one called aloud. "Lord of Rejuvenation, reunite the parts of this departed one. Hail to you, lord of Maat…"
To another I explained the situation. "I need a good solid coffin of cedar wood and an appropriate mask with gold and onyx stones for the High Priest of On," I explained.
His brows knotted as he folded his arms across his chest. "We are in short supply of many things, lady. I must charge more for further accommodations. Unless you want to wait two more months."
"Two more months?" I blurted out. "But you have to start promptly! His corpse will be rotting away by then."
"Have you the extra money?"
"No," I admitted feebly.
I felt cheap to be haggling over my adoptive father's burial rights as though I was picking out melons in the market.
"Is there nothing that can be done that is more affordable? Or reasonable?" I asked.
The man's eyes blazed with annoyance. "I suppose you can go out to the desert, dig a hole, and stick his body in that!" he snapped. "That will cost you nothing!"
I nearly jumped back from the harshness of his words. He heaved out a sigh of exhaustion and ran a hand over his scalp. "I did not mean to be so blunt," he muttered. "My apprentices and I have been run ragged these last several months with burial arrangements. What that I had the time and means to make a great mask and coffin for the High Priest of On…"
Hearing his words, I tried to smooth things over. "Of course. No doubt you have been under extreme pressure lately and are doing the best you can given the circumstances," I attempted to assure him. "Anything you can provide for Phera will be most appreciated. And you will have the gratitude of myself in this world and the gods in the other."
This seemed to ease his stressful countenance a bit. "Very well," said the embalmer. "I will immediately prepare a coffin for him out of palm wood."
I winced. Palm wood was inferior, but it was also my only option.
"A ceramic mask will be made for him," the embalmer went on. "That can be prepared while the process of preparing his body takes place. We have some amulets in this workshop leftover from a previous funeral so we will place those into his coffin too. If you have any linens in your household, bring those and I will wrap him in them."
"I will," I promised him. I handed the last of our meager money over to him and all but fled out of the workshop.
Coming back onto the main road, I felt as though I had just escaped from a glimpse of the Afterlife. I had no desire to go back there. My knees were still weak, so I sat upon a stump to rest myself.
The gods had not gifted me with prophecy or second sight, but my intuition could, at times, rise like the Nile waters and murmur tiding into my ears. At that moment, I looked up into the sky and saw the great mighty sphere of Ra, the blazing sun, spreading vibrant orange rays across the horizon.
It was a sight I had seen many times before. But in that moment, the colors did not seem to blend together harmoniously nor appear pleasing in my eyes. Somehow, someway, I knew something was wrong.
Akun should have been here by now. The messenger said he was arriving from Alam. What events were taking place? Where was my river of destiny leading me?
Fear spurned me on, and I rushed as fast as I could back to the temple. "Akun! Akun!" I kept shouting, hoping my voice would reach his ears. Oh, if only he would be here and reassure me with his lovely smile and teasing ways!
"Akun! Akun!" I repeated, my flimsy sandals slapping against the dust as I bounded down one lane and up another, ignoring the aches in my sides as I hurled myself to my destination.
The temple! The temple! My last sanctuary against the madness around me! I had to get there at all costs and as fast as I could. I forced myself to run faster than I had ever done before in my life.
At last, I reached the temple and bounded up the steps as swiftly as a flying bird. My hands reached the doors and parted them, as I had a thousand times in this lifetime.
There was the statue of Amun-Ra, mute and severe as he always ways. Lying at his feet was no offering of food or drink, but flesh and bone.
Akun was sprawled before the mighty statue, resting in a pool of his own blood. Hathor's drunken rage had spread her great crimson veil around him.
Eliphaz was standing over him. His cloak was drawn back, revealing the broadness of his chest and his great height. He had been glancing down at Akun but now lifted his head up to mine. His expression was not glowing with delight or leering at me with lust, but merely one of satisfaction. As though this is what he did every day and today was no different.
He proceeded to wipe the blood from his sword with a corner of his cloak.
A shrill sound rose up from the ground and filled the empty chamber. I realized it had come from my throat. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, a terrifying high-pitched wail that sounded like a madwoman. Blind with grief and hatred, I rushed towards Eliphaz, unaware that he could merely catch me by the wrist and haul me out. But instead, he cuffed me across the forehead with one clenched fist. I went sprawling back against the steps.
"I will return soon to take you back to my land. No one will defy me now," he said calmly.
He slung his satchel over his shoulder and walked out of the temple, leaving me in a crumpled sobbing mess next to Akun's body.
A-A-A
Once again, I had to go to the embalmer. Once again, he grimly agreed to make another coffin of cheap wood. Once again, I had to divide up the last of our sheets and hand them over so that they could be cut into bandages for the mummies of Pharaoh's high priest and his soldier.
Sorrow kept me from screaming again. I had to go through the process of our ancient traditions, carrying out the procedures that had been drummed into my head for many years. I managed to persuade a merchant of the gifts he would receive in his afterlife if he agreed to transport the bodies of Akun and Phera to the embalmer's workshop. I escorted the bodies and when we arrived, I handed over the linen sheets to the master worker. I recited prayers to Osiris, begging the lord of the Underworld to show favor to these great men and to judge them well. I left both deceased men in the hands of the embalmers and returned to the temple alone.
This time, the temple felt more like the Underworld than the workshop. The pillars seemed to stretch on forever and the shadows swallowed up everything in the corners of the rooms. A meager light flickered in a cupped lamp at Amun-Ra's feet.
Akun's blood still stained the floor. I wet a rag with some water and managed to scrub most of it out. When I wrung out the rag, pink water coursed over my fingers. Blood of men, water of the Nile. This is what we were give and what we gave back in return.
The other priests would be here at dawn to evict me from the temple. I was alone again.
I stood before the statue of Amun-Ra for many hours, my mind as empty as a bowl that had been overturned. All of my thoughts and feelings had been poured out like water. I just starred at the statue, imagining that I was one as well. Perhaps the gods would take pity on me and turn me into a pillar of stone so that I would feel nothing, no pain in my heart or hunger in my stomach. Or better yet, transform me into a bird so that I could fly away and go…go where?
There was nowhere else for me to go. There was nothing left for me to do.
Slowly, life began to flow back into my veins. Dark heated thoughts flushed up my neck and into my head. What had I done to deserve such contempt? Was I being punished for visiting a Semite twice? Surely Neith and Amun-Ra were not jealous of him. He was nobody, a nothing. Not worth a flicker of fury.
And I, I who had washed and clothed this statue for years had been stripped away of all of my security. What had Amun-Ra done for me?
I was told his presence would inhibit the statue. But in all of my time as a priestess, I had never once heard a single world pass this statue's lips.
A terrible thought had worked its way into my head. A horrible thought, one that was heretical and depressing. What if…no! But what if-
"Where are you?" I asked aloud. "Amun-Ra, I am here. If you can hear me, give me a sign. I am desolate and poor. I am without friends. Help me, guide me."
The statue gave no answer. I took a step towards it as a wave of heated fury swelled up within me.
"Where are you?" I repeated. "I am here!" I added with a shout. Again, only silence answered me.
That was when the rage rushed out of me, burning and frothing from years of unanswered questions, of mysteries beyond my grasp and stolen dreams from better days.
"WHERE ARE YOU!?" I hollered as loud as I could. Rushing forward, I slammed both of my hands into the statue. I had been certain the base was steady and secure but could not imagine what strange that fury had put into me. As I leaned forward with my entire will, the statue began to topple over. I cried in a frenzy and stumbled to right it, but its own heaviness caused it to fall backwards, onto the floor with a deafening crashing sound.
The statue had fallen into three pieces. Amun-Ra's head and right shoulder had been severed from his left shoulder and torso. His legs and feet were intact, but bits of stone scattered the floor in a mess of black pebbles.
I shrieked and clasped my hands to my mouth. Surely a bolt of lighting would descend and consume me. Or my flesh would immediately shrivel up and fall off my bones. I stood trembling in my place, my heart pounding madly and my mouth dry as I waited for my punishment.
But as there was nothing before this event, nothing came after it. Even as my feet grew numb and my shoulders ached, no divine form appeared to strike me down. The statue remained at me feet, a sad broken mess of stone.
I dared to inch my way towards it. There it was, the illusion of my life dissolving before me, washing away the façade and leaving me with the bottom of the river.
My stomach trembled and gurgling sounds came out of my throat. I suddenly found myself laughing, clutching my belly and shaking with laughter as though I was insane. Perhaps I was.
"I'm going mad," I said aloud.
No, I was not insane yet. But I would be very soon if I stayed in this chaotic state. If this would be madness, let it take me from this place forever.
I turned and fled from the empty temple and the forlorn bit of stone that was one revered thought our land.
A-A-A
I do not know how long I journeyed back towards Denderah.
My thoughts were muddled as the days blended into each other. All I recall is how I went into my tiny chamber, gathered up the last of my possessions, and ran out of the temple—and On—many hours before the sun could come up. One could only wonder what the priests would do when they saw Amun-Ra in his pitiful state upon the floor. As for me, I wondered no more for a bit of stone in the form of a man.
Yes, perhaps I was mad to go back to my childhood home. No doubt Zulekia would gloat over my demise and Potiphar would be disappointed with my cowardly behavior. Or perhaps he would take pity on me and let me stay. But would that be any better? No doubt Zulekia would make me her personal slave and torment me the rest of my days.
Or she would be good on her promise to me. "Never show your face at this estate again or you will die."
That was a risk I was willing to take. After all, what harm could death to do me? If there was no Amun-Ra to protect me in this life, perhaps there was no Osiris in the next. Perhaps all we had to look forward to was an endless abyss in which we slept for all eternity.
I was terrified of being found by Eliphaz and sought to travel by night to avoid his roaming eyes. But I had no torches and was just as worried about stumbling over a rock or into a hole. So, I slept in the early hours of the day and in the late afternoon when the sun's rays were not piercing into my eyes. I hide in tall reeds while I slept to keep myself hidden but even then, my rest was broken up by thoughts of terror. Anyone who passed me on the road could be Eliphaz, or a spy sent on his behalf.
In order to acquire food, I traded it for my ivory bangles and the amulet that Akun had given me. I hoped his soul would forgive me as I also needed to eat to satiate my gnawing belly. But I couldn't bring myself to part with Potiphar's signet ring or my amulet. I would need the ring to prove to him who I was, and I needed my amulet to remind me of what I could be.
When I had nothing left to trade with, I begged at doors for a crust of bread. Pride is a terrible thing, but hunger is worse. Some shut their doors to me with scorn bust most people took pity on me and gave me a piece of bread. One kind woman gave me an entire loaf and I thanked her with tears in my eyes.
At one door, man answered my request with a silky voice. "Come inside," he offered to me, gesturing into his house. "There is food on the table, drink in the pitcher, and a wide soft bed to lie down upon."
Terrified, I turned and fled from him. He did not run but followed me quickly with eager steps as I ran off his property and onto the main road. All the while he kept coaxing me to come back into the house and lie with him. In a frenzy, I seized a stone off the ground and hurled it at him. It hit the side of his face and caused him to stagger backwards. He touched his fingers to his face and then drew them back, aware that he was bleeding. He roared aloud and called me an ungrateful whore while I sobbed and fled down the lane.
I could sense the hardships taking a toll upon my body and transforming it into something unpleasant, if not grotesque, from the inside out. I must have been a terrible sight. Without a wig or covering on my head, I could feel my hair growing out into thick shaggy clumps that stuck to my scalp with sweat. My lips had become chapped in the dry air. My skin felt drawn tight over my bones and was itching from the biting of insects and the lack of oils to soften it.
Let Zulekia sentence me to death, I decided at last. I can bear no more.
But when I came to the base of a small hill, I recognize a triangular pile of gray stones that marched the entrance to the estate. A strange bittersweet sensation came over me. Home! I had come home! True, I had been driven out of there when I was fourteen, but it had been a pleasant childhood to me for eleven years. How strange did all of those memories seem to me, now as a tired and haggard-looking young woman standing at the base of that hill.
Truth be told, it had not been all bad in my years there. Just as Zulekia and Potiphar had not been all hard to me in that lifetime. If Zulekia wanted me dead, so be it. If she wanted to keep me around to harass me, at least she would have to feed me.
And if she turned me out of her house again? So be it. I would lay down in the lane and let fate take me.
If I perished, I perished.
As I made my way up the steep lane to the edge of the fields, there was a growing realization that something was wrong. The sky had turned a lurid shade of pale green and seemed to be hanging low over the land. I could not hear the familiar hum of activity. There was no sound of a horse's hooves beating against the earth. Nor was there the sound of ploughs digging in the earth or servants gossiping as they washed the laundry.
When I reached the top of the hill, my foot almost sank into the black rich silt. The Nile had flooded the fields as usual, but they lay empty and damaged. There were no familiar waves of lush golden barley that danced in the wind. All I could see here and there were random clumps of dull yellow husks that had sprang up half-grown from the earth. Several locusts were chomping away at the stalks.
Where were the slaves and farmhands? I wandered around the edge of the field and made my way towards the main house. All the while, I did not see a single soul. Nor did I smell the aroma of flowers in the garden or food being prepared in the kitchen.
As I entered the inner gate of the estate, my eyes took in the sight of the great house that had fallen apart, just like the statue of Amun-Ra. Part of the roof had caved in. The windows had been stripped of curtains and looked like sad holes bored into the one proud house. Thorns and weeds sprang up in thick clumps around the base of the house. Two diagonal cracks ran from the balcony all the way down into the ground. The great door had been torn off its hinges and lay on the front steps, making the entrance appear a foreboding black abyss.
What had happened here?
"Walk the ways of your courtyard," a voice from within sang out. The words were slurred together. "Let us rejoice together, hurrah! Hurrah!"
A heavyset man stumbled out of the open door and onto the cracked steps. A jug was dangling loosely in his right hand. He looked bloated and confused. His cheeks were covered in stubble and as he staggered forward, I could see the throbbing red veins in his nose and eyes.
Upon seeing me, he bellowed loudly. "Be off, mad one!" he roared. "Or Amun-Ra will come out from behind the clouds and smite you!"
He seemed so drunk that I doubted he could do any damage to me. I advanced towards him still closer until I could recognize his face. "Manu?!" I asked in bewilderment.
"That is I," he declared. "Who are you?"
"Manu, it is I. Asenath," I answered gently. His drunken eyes squinted at me, and the fumes of his mouth hit my nostrils. I hastily stepped backwards and away from him.
"Asenath!" he thundered, slapping his thigh and shaking with laughter. "I should have known it was you. I remember those eyes. So, the young rascal has finally grown up."
He held up the jug. "Drink with me," he offered. "We must celebrate your return."
"No, thank you."
"Good. More for me!" With a heave and a groan, he squatted his massive body onto the steps and helped himself to the contents of the jug, spilling some of it on his chest the process.
"Manu, where is everyone?" I inquired.
"Gone or dead," was the answer.
"The plague?"
"Yes."
"Did it carry off Potiphar and—"
"No. Thrown from his horse five years ago," Manu interrupted me. "And Zulekia fell off the roof. Right there." He lifted a finger and pointed groggily to a random space around second balcony.
"Half the servants perished in the plague. The other half took whatever they found in the house and fled. I am all that remains. Me, Manu! Head of the estate!" He wobbled back in his seat and splashed more liquid around him.
I gritted my teeth to control myself, "Manu, are you sure that the lord and lady of the house have perished? And that there is no one else save you and I here?"
He stared at me with a glazed expression for several moments. At last, he said, "I swear by the beer within me, and around me, that that is true. But come and enjoy it with me. They didn't take everything, just most of it."
Manu began to sing again in an off-key tone. "Grant us gifts and grant us gold, hey ho," he rang out.
"Old fool," I grumbled to myself. I went up the steps, past him, and into the house.
The rooms had indeed been plundered. Tapestries had been stripped from the walls and rugs stolen off the floor. There were no flowers to perfume the rooms. The garden in the back was also overgrown with weeds, but I managed to scrape my hands into the dirt and pull out a few radishes. One of them was so bitter that I chocked and could eat no further. I tossed it aside in disgust, then found myself wandering from room to room in disbelief.
Was this where the head of the household once dined on rich foods and entertained his guests? Now the table was broken, the chairs had been stripped of their ivory, and several rats scurried across the floor.
Was this chamber where the lady of the house once adorned herself in the finest garments? Her chests of clothing had been ransacked and her bed had been slashed by a sharp knife. I searched a few boxes and should have known all of her jewelry had been taken away.
Where these the once rich thriving fields of the Pharaoh's chief steward? I stood on the balcony and looked out at the sad flooded fields. There would be no harvest celebration this year.
How strange that I should live in terror of Zulekia all this time!
Had I known she was in the Afterlife, I would have…would have what? I thought. I did not have an answer to that. I was relief to know she could do me no harm at last but did not feel any desire to rejoice over her demise. Perhaps it was the sight of so much devastation around me that depressed me.
I gazed down at Potiphar's ring in my hand. Perhaps I should leave it here and go somewhere else.
Else? Ha! I laughed at myself. There was nothing for me here or in On. My destiny had led me down a road that had concluded. My story could end right here.
A shaft of light pierced through the clouds and left bits of yellow glows across the estate. The ring brightened up a bit in my hand. No, there was one final option. I could go back to Ombos and ask the Semite prisoner what to do.
It would be a bitter return. But what other choice did I have? I could not plough these fields by myself, and Manu was in no condition to assist me. Very well, I decided. I will go back to Joseph.
Instead of misery, an odd sense of relief came over me. As though a new road had opened up before me and there was hope that I could walk once more. I returned the ring to its pouch and began rummaging throughout the house again. But this time, I made sure to take anything left of value.
Manu had been right when he said most goods had already been confiscated. But here and there were odds and ends that had been overlooked by greedy hands. A dusty cloak had fallen on the floor in the back room where Potiphar had kept his travel garments. Despite the stains, it felt warm under my palms and would be a great comfort on chilled nights. I found a coil of rope in the stables and some folded sheets near the yard where laundry was washed. Back in Zulekia's room, there were several tiny oil bottles. I uncorked one and sniffed at it. The oil had clouded over but it still smelled fine. I rubbed a few drops into my cracked palms.
A crackling noise from the courtyard distracted me. No longer a regal place with a fountain and flowers, now it was residence to a twitchy-eared donkey. He was using his great blunt teeth to tear out the last of the shrubs from between the stones. A pungent smell filled the courtyard from the droppings he left on the ground.
I managed to get the rope around the donkey's neck and guide him out of the courtyard by offering him some plucked thistles. I could ride him or trade him for passage to Ombos.
The donkey I tied to a stake near the kitchens while I heard Manu still singing in a broken tune. At least he had the decency (or the drunkenness) to leave me to my work. The kitchens had some dried fish but that smelled too rotten to eat. On the shelves in the storage room, I finally found a sealed crock that contained honeyed figs. I scrambled with my fingers to fish them out and crammed the figs into my mouth. Their sweetness was as good as bottle sunshine in my mouth. I devoured the entire contents of the jar and then went down to the river to wash my hands and drink of the water.
Another jar held more figs and a third contained olives. I found two pouches that contained dried grapes. They looked tiny and withered, but still tasted sweet on the tongue. These I packed securely with a blanket around them and then left them just outside the donkey's reach.
But there was another room I had not yet examined: the smaller storage room. Despite my full stomach, I instantly felt sick inside. It was inside that room that I had seen things that caused my fate to unfold. I had been a witness and by doing so, cast lots for Joseph and I. I wondered what would have become of both of us had I never gone into that storage room on that terrible day. Would he still be the master of Potiphar's house? Would Zulekia have accepted me as her genuine daughter with open arms?
I dared not seek to find answers to these riddles. Nor did I want to approach that room. Yet something inside of me whispered, I must, I must. It did not have to be a long experience. I would go inside, have a look, and then close the door on those questions at last.
The room seemed even smaller than I remembered. I had to bend my head down slightly as I stepped over the threshold. A few large jars still stood in place but two had fallen over and broken, no doubt a result from some hasty thief. Some leather straps where inside one jar so I took them out and wrapped them into cords around my hands.
The wind stirred over the estate. I could just hear Manu's voice out of way like the faint buzzing of a bee. The donkey must be munching on grass again by now.
My eyes scanned the room for anything else of use until they rested upon a small hole in the wall. The eye of Horus it could have been, for I saw things that Zulekia wished to conceal that day. Back then, I had to lift myself up upon my toes to get a better look. Today I had to squat down to put my eye to the hole.
There was nothing to see in the hole but the other side of a blank wall. As I breathed in the stale air and sensed the dust settling around me, the details and colors of that day began to flood back into me.
I straightened myself up again. Then I looked down at the hole and suddenly gasped. I bent down to the hole and snapped back up again. No, no! It couldn't be, could it? My thoughts were all crashing down around me at once and this time, I dared to ask all of the questions.
How could there have been a clear path cut straight through the high barley field that day?
Who had sealed the front doors shut?
Why had my monthly courses come just before midday?
Why was there a tiny crack just large enough for my eye and just the right height for a girl of eleven to see?
Oh.
I sank to the floor and pressed my forehead against the cold dusty stones. There was the question I had been asking myself ever since I met Joseph as a tender child with a curious soul.
Neith could not have calculated every single detail down to the last moment. Not Amun-Ra, Osiris, or any of the other gods. Someone had been planning the events of that day to unfold in a precise way. It has been arranged so that I could be a witness that day. So that my words could not keep Joseph out of prison, but at least save him from death—and myself as well. The same Someone had seen to it that I would be exiled from my home, but I would not perish. I would not be carried off into the Afterlife by the plague, be thrown from a horse, or fall from the roof of a house. I would live and endure.
Someone had been watching me all this time. Someone was still watching over me.
I lay still upon the ground. There was no need to ask anything else or cry my questions aloud. I knew in my heart what I had been running from and why it frightened me. It scared me to think of a God who could see into my mind and heart, a God who created the fastest wind and the greatest storm. I was in awe of a God who would not be appeased with lies or false flattery, who did not want to be pacified with gold, oil, or blood-stained bulls.
No, what He desired was one thing I could give: the truth.
Gradually, my pounding heart began to steady itself again. I gently rose from the floor and felt some of the dust sticking to my face. I put my hand to my cheek and found it damp with tears. As I blinked, two more tears trickled from my eyes and streamed down my face.
I breathed out deeply and let a final sob of relief come from my throat. I was no longer miserable or desolate. In spite of the fallen house around me, a sense of calm relief had come over me. There was nothing left to fear.
I would go back to Ombos and present the truth to Joseph. It was the least I could do for him.
A-A-A
I left Manu to his drinking and singing. He seemed none the worse for having an entire house to himself, albeit an empty one.
The donkey would walk next to me but not let me ride him. As soon as I climbed onto his back, his feet remained firmly planted into the ground. No amount of rebuke or coercion would get him to move again until I slid off his back. But I managed to trade him to a wool seller in exchange for passage in the back of his cart. This time, I was not riding away in disgrace but riding in hope towards my future. I was able to rest comfortably in the cart and whenever we stopped, oil was traded for cucumbers and melons.
Overall, this trip had been less harrowing one compared to my trip to Nagada. If there was a downside, it was the growing concern I had for the results I would get in Ombos. I only hoped Joseph was not too angry with me. He had every right to be proud and cross with me, but I would bear it as well as I could. I only needed him to hear me for a few minutes.
There was a new warden at the prison, a young man who looked irritated with his new post. But because the plague had taken the first warden, and several prisoners, he had to be content with the position thrust upon his slim shoulders.
"No, I have no time for talking," he growled at me. But before he could tell me off, he waved a piece of parchment in the air and yelled down into the prison, "Semite, come up here!"
So, Joseph was unharmed by the plague. I should have known better. He bolted up the stairs at once and looked astonishingly at me but had not a moment to speak to me. He must obey the warden's orders.
The warden thrust the parchment under Joseph's nose. "Do you think we are cooking for Pharaoh's court here?" he ranted away. "Three measurements of fine flour! What madness possessed you to purchase it?"
Joseph lowered his eyes humbly. "One of the men cannot eat barley bread."
"He will eat what every other prisoner eats!"
"He coughs up blood if he does."
"Perhaps he is deceiving you."
"Perhaps. But four times I have watched him eat and four times he became ill," Joseph persisted gently. "Fine flour in his bread is the only thing keeping him alive."
"I don't care! You're not wasting expenses on a stupid Kushite."
"His name is Kidus," Joseph said in the same low firm tone. "If it distresses you further, then I will have you reimbursed for twice as much."
"Twice as much? Fine!" spat out the warden. "As for you, girl, make haste and get off!"
I hastily gripped the last jars in my pouch. "I have—I have some merchandise to sell," I said quickly. "And your Semite seems to understand measurements and purchases."
"No fine flour?"
"None. Just some standard oil and—"
"Fine. You two, get out of my sight!"
Joseph gestured for me to follow him, but his eyes warned me not to speak a word. With relief, I swept past the warden and followed Joseph back into his little work room. Most of the prisoners were dozing in this sleepy afternoon hour and did not pay attention to me.
Once alone again, I noticed he had ceased to grow in height, but his arms were now laden with muscles and there was more breadth across his shoulders. He must have been doing more than scribe work to look so strong. The freshness of his youth was all gone and now a mature steadfast expression replaced his face.
This time his eyes were calm and steady, though they flickered with life when we were alone again.
"Asenath!" he started in bewilderment. "I heard the temple was taken over. Where have you been all this—"
But I held up both of my hands and interrupted him.
"I beg you, Joseph. Let me speak first and have my words released. I cannot hold them in any longer," I pleaded. With unspoken benevolence, he nodded and permitted me to speak further.
"I was wrong," I confessed aloud. "I was wrong about everything, Joseph. I was wrong about my duties in the temple and your devotion to your God. I was wrong about Potiphar and Zulekia, who are both long dead and have gone into the afterlife. But most of all, I was wrong about you."
"I was blind and deaf to your advice, Joseph. Anger clouded my judgement and made me haughty. I only thought to hurt you by being defiant and withholding my feelings. But in doing so, I hurt myself. The plague took Phera, and his son has left the city. The other priests have driven me out and taken over the temple's domain. I have been made homeless and am without family or companions. So I…I have come here to beg for your forgiveness."
It was several moments before Joseph spoke at last. His voice was so gentle and soothing that all of the knots within me were unraveling from the moment he parted his lips.
"There is no need to ask for forgiveness, Asenath," he assured me gently. "You have not harmed me. My own pride has been my undoing and I am trying to amend it. I only wish we had spoken sooner. I did not know how much pain you have been in all this time. Now I realize you have been hurting as much as I have."
His empathetic words and the kindness of his tone did more to undo me then all of Eliphaz's threats. I let out a sob of relief as the pillars within me came collapsing down.
"Oh, I am hurting, Joseph! I am in much pain and anguish!" I cried out.
"Then sit here, Asenath." He gestured to the slab of wood that suited as a bench "Please, rest yourself and tell me your problems."
"What good will it do? What can you do?" I cried out.
"I can listen to your sorrows," he offered. "To share a burden is to shoulder half of it."
With that motivation, I told Joseph everything. I spoke of the plague that had weakened me and killed Phera. I told him how I knocked down the statue of Amun-Ra and fled, causing a strange light to rise up in his eyes. But he said nothing of it. He let me speak further as I told him of my return to the estate, only to find it barren and empty.
When I spoke the name of Eliphaz, Joseph reeled backwards as though struck by a blow. "Eliphaz!" he declared. His palms slammed against the walls of the prison room.
"Are you sure he said he was the son of Esau?" he demanded. I confirmed it. Joseph cursed between his teeth and pushed the tent of hair out of his face.
"You know Eliphaz?" I asked.
"I know his father," Joseph said grimly. "I had to bow down before Esau to appease him when I was a small child. May it be the first and last time I must prostrate myself before the likes of him." He stepped away from the wall and began to pace the floor.
"Esau fears no one. Not the Lord, not any other gods. He puts all his strength into himself and has raised his soldiers and sons to be just as proud and spiteful. His arrogance spurns him to tear down his enemies at any cost. He will sacrifice anything, suffer all things, just to get what he wants."
I felt a cave materialize within my chest where my heart once was. All I could do was nod solemnly to Joseph. But his warmth and animation restored my spirit when I saw his instant concern for my well-being. Here he was in prison, yet his thoughts were focused on assisting another person.
"Oh Asenath, what that I could offer you protection!" he cried out. "Is there no one else you can take refugee with?"
I shook my head sadly. "I have no guardian or betrothed to speak of," I confirmed. "That is why I have come to you seeking advice. You have wisdom. You have skill. Can you think of a place I can go or to a person who can offer me protection against Eliphaz?"
He clapped a palm to his forehead, his lips moving but no speech coming out of them. Then he dropped his hand and reaching for a shelf, took down several large scrolls of parchment. I mustered myself to be still and patient while he conducted his research.
"Yes, yes!" he said at last. "I must help you find refugee and I will."
"Have you a solution?"
He nodded to me. "For a young woman without family or friends, there is one road I see clearly for you to take. You must go to Thebes and serve the royal family."
It was my turn to be taken aback. "Thebes? To Pharaoh's court?" I gasped. "It is impossible!"
"Not so. Thebes is reachable by boat or cart in less than a week."
"But I have no experience suited for the task," I protested further. "Who am I to serve Pharaoh?"
Joseph's face smoothed out. "You have several years of experience working in a temple and you have no record of dishonesty or misconduct. That will suffice," he assured me. "The court gates are not impossible to enter."
"How do you know?"
He gave a dry smile. "There are many prisoners here who have served Pharaoh's subjects and told me of their experiences. The road ahead is possible, but we must move quickly. You will need a letter of introduction. I can draft one for you. But a gift or some token of goodwill would be most helpful—"
Here he stopped briefly. Then Joseph asked, "Have you anything of worth to offer Pharaoh?"
I spread my hands apart to show him I had nothing save for my clothes and the contents of my bag. My silence caused Joseph to release a deep sigh of concern. Our hands were not only tied but empty of provisions.
But the I recalled the day I had been cast out of my childhood home. I untied the strings of my purse and took out the ring of Potiphar. Joseph's eyes widened in astonishment as it glinted faintly in the late afternoon light. He accepted the ring from my outstretched hand and turned it over in his fingers.
"How did you acquire this?"
"Potiphar gave it to me the day I left the estate," I told him "But the house is empty, and the fields are barren. No one lives there but Manu, who goes around drinking all day."
But Joseph's eyes danced with joy as the dawning sun dances upon the surface of the blue river.
"Asenath, don't you see how this little piece of jewelry could save your life?" he cried with relief. "If no one has claimed the estate then it must rightfully belong to you! No one would question your inheritance if you have the late master's signet ring."
Here he took a seat at his stool and was scratching out letters as he spoke. "In Thebes, you can redeem the land for a good price. I will compose an estimate of the value so that the buyer will know how much it is worth. After you have sold the estate, you can give the money to Pharaoh in exchange for service to him."
"Service to Pharaoh?" I repeated.
"Or better yet, his wife," Joseph added. "Yes, you would make an ideal attendant to the queen."
The queen! My head was spinning from all of his words. "Please explain everything to me, Joseph," I begged him. "I cannot fully grasp the meaning of your words."
He lifted his head up from writing long enough to say, "God has given you a chance to get out of harm's way. We must seize the opportunity immediately. If you speak to the queen herself and offer this financial gift in exchange for service to her, you can secure a steady occupation for yourself. The palace walls can keep you safe from Eliphaz's eyes."
"You make it sound so simple, but I don't know how to carry out these things," I protested again. "Where in Thebes does one go to sell land?"
"To the accounting house," he answered calmly. "There are at least four large ones in the city."
"And whereabout is Pharaoh's court?"
"That I do not know for certain. But it cannot be hard to miss. Soldiers and guards will direct a priestess properly."
"Former priestess," I reminded him.
"Yes, a former priestess," echoed Joseph. "Thank you, Asenath. I will add this into your introduction letter. You formerly served Amun-Ra in the temple. After survived the plague, you decided to direct your energies to serving the queen and therefore improving the life of all of Egypt."
I shook my head at him. "Even of all of these events were to line up in my favor, it does not guarantee me and audience with the queen. Nor can it promise that she will allow me to serve her."
He lifted his head up. "No, it does not," he confirmed. "Your hand can only reach so far. The rest of the journey is up to God."
His comment made me uneasy. I had served Amun-Ra and prayed to Neith for years. Perhaps the God of Joseph would not want me after my other deities had abandoned me.
"Asenath, are you willing to trust me? Are you willing to try a different path in life?" he asked me softly. "I cannot guarantee it an easy or smooth journey. But it is an honest one. When you walk with Him, you are not alone."
He was asking me to step into the unknown realm of his world. I was afraid in my heart to go forward and into a world that was formed and ruled by a Maker I could not see or make an image to serve. But in searching the depths of my being, I knew I was more afraid to stay stuck in the present. Desperation would encompass me like silt and drag me down, leaving me paralyzed until Eliphaz found me again. Better I take this risk and potentially save myself then remain in place and be devoured for certain.
"I do not know if I am ready to devote myself to your faith," I admitted slowly. "But…I am willing to try."
"That is all one can do."
He opened a box and took out a weighted coin. "This is a quarter talent of silver," he said. "It can get you to Thebes by boat in four days. If you are thrifty, there should be enough for food and lodgings for a week."
Joseph raised the coin up and I saw it glint against the golden light of dust drifting around it. "Won't the warden be angry to learn that you are spending more of his money?" I inquired.
The corners of Joseph's mouth drew back just a bit. "It is my money," he told me. "I have been receiving wages here these last four years."
"And now you give it to me willingly?"
He rubbed a thumb over the coin. "I cannot buy my way out of captivity. Let my wages be put to good use by aiding another in need."
"What if the queen refuses to accept me?"
"Then use the money from the estate to travel back here. I will think of something else." His eyes glinted at me. "But if I do not see you in four weeks, then I will take it as a sign that you are settled within the palace."
A thought flashed in my mind, and I brightened up. "And once I am situated in the palace, I can plead to Pharaoh on your behalf," I realized eagerly. "I will tell him at once how you were wrongly accused-"
"No!" Joseph interrupted me. I was startled by his rejection of my offer. "I beg of you Asenath—no, I insist you promise to me that you will not do such a brazen thing! It is death to approach Pharaoh with such a bold request."
Here I frowned at him. "But you just told me to accept this employment."
"For your sake, yes. But not for mine," Joseph said grimly. A flicker of shadow passed over his brow. "Pharaoh is the supreme law-giver of this land. The power of life and death in his hands. I will not have you putting your life in danger for my sake."
My palms were growing damp as I heard him dash my plans. "I do not understand, Joseph. If I can be in a position to help, then why will you not let me assist you? Do you not desire freedom?"
"I do," he agreed. "But not by jeopardizing your own freedom and safety. If you approached Pharaoh in haste, it would only diminish yourself in his eyes. You must not do anything to try his patience or harm your future."
His thoughts turned around in my head. Begrudgingly, but slowly, I began to realize that he was correct again. "I do not know how I can reside under Pharaoh's protection while knowing you are still confined in this prison," I told him.
Joseph looked hard in thought. "If you are willing to do this thing then heed my words," he said at last. "Serve the queen well so that you will find favor in her eyes as well as the eyes of Pharaoh. After three years, you can approach Pharaoh with a petition on my behalf."
"Three years!" I exclaimed in horror. "But that is so long!"
"It means three more years of life for both of us," he assured me.
"Can nothing be done to hasten that time?"
"Not unless Pharaoh himself extends his scepter to you," Joseph cautioned me. "Otherwise, you must bid your time and be patient."
"You ask me to be patient for a lengthy time," I warned him.
Joseph held up the coin again. "I will not give this to you until you promise me that you will hold yourself to this contract for three years."
Joseph placed the coin in my hand. It was small but remarkably heavy. I lifted my palm up and down for few moments, aware of the fine quality of this silver that could carry me to safety. My fingers closed over the heavy coin.
He gestured to a corner of the room. "I can bring you some straw," he offered. "But you must be quiet. The new warden and the prisoners will cause a ruckus if they find out. You must leave before dawn tomorrow."
"I will," I assured him. He brought some straw and took pains to arrange it as well as he could for my comfort. As darkness came swiftly over the prison, I lay down and wrapped my cloak around me with my head for a pillow. In the other side of the room, Joseph sat bent over a scrap of board and piece of writing, a meager lamp for his light.
"Joseph?" I asked. "You will wake me in the right time?"
"Yes, I will," he assured me. "Please, get some sleep, Asenath. I will stay up and keep watch."
How odd that I should feel so secure and reassured in this little corner of a prison! As long as Joseph was present, I did not worry. I felt my eyes grow heavy even as I watched him concentrate on his work, never looking once in my direction. Before long, I felt myself succumbing to slumber. It was not the terrifying sleep of the plague or the restless sleep while hiding in a field, but as content and soothing as a familiar melody.
Over my head, stars glistened, and the moon gleamed while beside me, the single lamp flickered, and Joseph's pen scratched out numbers and messages. In my mind there was only the peace and comfort of knowing there is goodness in your tomorrow, of hope in your prison.
A-A-A
I woke to feel someone gently shaking my shoulder. "Asenath? It is time."
I yawned and rose from the prickly hay, dusting myself off. All was still dark around me, but Joseph guided me by the hand though the hall of the prison. We climbed the steps to where the new warden was dozing lightly by the gate. Threads of purple stained the sky around a faint orange glow, guiding us to where the sun would eventually be coming up.
He lifted a finger and pointed. "Follow the light of the sun. The docks are down that way."
Then Joseph pressed several packets of paper into my hand. "The larger one is a letter of introduction to Pharaoh's court. I have signed it as the Scribe and Prison-Head of Ombos but have omitted my name and heritage as a Semite," he explained.
"The smaller ones are details of Potiphar's estate and an estimated value of the property. I've added instructions to the accounting house not to sell it for anything less than the amount written down. Do you have the coin I gave you?"
I reached into the folds of my cloak and drew it out. There was just enough light from two torches for Joseph to see it and nod in satisfaction. "Go in peace, Asenath." And with those words, he drew back to return to his place in the prison.
I could not part so abruptly and I called out to him.
"Joseph?"
He stopped, turning back to me. "Yes, Asenath?"
"We were good friends once, weren't we?"
He nodded to me. "Indeed, we were."
"And we can still be friends, can't we?"
"Of course."
"In that case, will you take my hand in friendship?" I extended my hand to him, feeling a little foolish.
But I saw Joseph stare at my hand, then at my face. In two strides he was back at my side and had clasped his great large hands around my smaller one.
"Go with God's blessings, my friend," Joseph said to me. "May He watch over you and protect you from all harm."
"Thank you, Joseph." And then, feeling a little foolish, I asked him, "May I pray to God on your behalf?"
From beneath his curly beard, I saw his mouth open slightly. His eyes seemed bright as stars in the dusky light. "I would be grateful for that."
Was it my imagination, or did I feel the pressure of his hand upon mine tighten for just a moment? Did his eyes seem to glisten with unspoken words meant for only me? But then he slipped his hand from mind and was back inside the prison.
I stood in the lane alone, clutching the packet of papers to my chest and feeling the gradual warmth of the sun on my back. I knew I had to head to the docks, so I turned around and began walking down the path.
It was a good thing I came back to Joseph, I told myself. Again, and again I…
Why? Why did I keep coming back to him? It had not just been for advice or estate papers or even just to beg for help. Perhaps it was because of his striking blue eyes or the familiar sound of his voice that I had missed all those years.
No, that was not the truth. I owed it to myself to be honest at last.
At that moment I knew something I had kept so secretive within me that I had not even shared it with myself.
I loved him.
I had loved him for years, ever since I was a child running up and down the estate. But that innocent affection I had towards Joseph was the same I would have given an elder brother. Now it had warmed and blossomed into something stronger and far more intimate than I had ever imagined. It was not the fleeting thrill I had ever felt with Akun. This was a light I had sensed within him that was growing within me every day, guiding my way upon my new path. Despite all the trials I had endured thus far, I felt grateful to have been a witness on that terrible day in the estate and relieved that I had been given sufficient courage to speak honestly to Potiphar on behalf of another human being.
According to our Egyptian laws and culture, it did not matter that Joseph was a stranger in this land. He could be a foreigner from Canaan or any other country. But a man who served his God alone would be condemned and humiliated throughout all of Egypt.
It was not that I did not care. On the contrary, I did care about such things. Joseph would never abandon his God. He would choose death before doing so. And now I began to realize that to love Joseph, I would have to learn to love God, and to listen to His love. Perhaps I could not bear it as well as Joseph could, but I would bear it as well as I could.
Never before had I loved Joseph so much, never had my pain grown so great within me. But it was a pain I knew I could tolerate, even accept with courage and hope. I had been given another secret to hide safely inside of my soul. So be it. This must be a gift I had to discover within me: the gift of being able to keep secrets.
I would hold onto my secret, and my sacred love, as I followed the rising sun towards my new future in Thebes.
A-A-A
Everything is the same as before. The same wooden slates cover my cell. I breath in the same dusty air. The guards will change from four to six stances before midday—security tightens at daytime lest any prisoner attempt to flee in the heat. The warden is ranting and raving about the heat already.
But upon my palm lingers the warmth where her hand touched mine. I want to remember the sound of her voice in my ears for as long as I can. It has been so long since I have heard beautiful music…
I cannot stand for long. I fall to the bench and cup my hand to my chest, then press it over my heart. Here is where I will keep the memory of her within me, so deep that no other human being can take it away from me. It is but a drop of honey in my mouth or a tiny coal upon the hearth but to me it is the world. What that I could go with her, if only to protect and guide her! But this is a journey she must take alone.
No…she is not alone. The Almighty has kept her alive thus far. It is to Him I pray to guide and watch over her.
Nor am I alone. I have almost forgotten myself but seeing her with my own eyes has reminded me of who I am and whose son I am. It has taken me a long time to understand that I am the same man whether I dwell in a tent, mansion, or prison cell. I am the same man whether revered, hated, or adored. I have survived years in this place and have sufficient strength to go on for as long as I can.
Her face is familiar, a vision from my past. The shape of the mouth and the curve of her lips is something I try to recall but seem to struggle to find. It's as though a veil has been thrown over my memories and I reach out in the dark to find them.
Is she who I think she is? If so-God Almighty!
