Ok here is the next chapter.
I must say to all who are reading my other story it might take awhile for me to update. I have been away in Melbourne the past week and a half and I am finding it hard to write the next chapter how I want it. So please, bear with me.

Merry Brisnell - I appreciate your comments. I know I don't get a lot of reviews and I know what you were trying to say, so let me clarify where this story is going. Part One is Joseph's story; it is necessary for part two which is set in the years between Joseph's and Moses' stories. So hopefully it won't be something people have read before and that is all I am willing to give away at this time.

Faithflame - Thank you I'm glad you like it.

Kazey - Thanks. I hope it lives up to your expectations... as much as a story can live anyway.

Laurie - I'm glad you like it. Without further ado here it is!

yay!

Chapter 2

'Where's Joseph?' Rueben was frantic. He had come back to get Joseph but he was gone.
'We sold him to some merchants heading to Egypt. Here is your share.' Said Dan holding out a small money pouch.
Rueben backed away like it was a poisonous viper, not money that his brother held out to him.
Simeon came up behind Rueben and put a hand on his shoulder, which made him jump. Simeon hissed in Rueben's ear, 'Do you think father would count you any less guilty than us if you go running to tell him? He will blame you the most because you are the oldest! Why must we all suffer? What's done is done. We can't bring Joseph back now.'
The brothers found a goat and slaughtered it. They took Joseph's coat ripping it and splattering it with the goat's blood. Then they took it back to Jacob.

Jacob recognised it immediately. 'This is Joseph's! Some wild animal has devoured him.' Jacob broke down and none could console him. When they tried he said 'No, in mourning will I go down to the grave to my son.'

Joseph was jolted awake as the wagon bumped down the road. He lifted an arm to his head and cried out in pain. Though still groggy from sleep he could vaguely remember what had happened. After his brothers had sold him he was forced to walk behind the camel of one of the merchants but he had tripped on something and his shouts had gone unheeded for a full five minutes before they had finally looked back to see him being dragged in the dirt. The mercenary who was in charge of him got a thorough beating and talking to and Joseph had been picked up and gently placed in the wagon.

A young face looked around at him from the head of the wagon. It was a boy and he seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen. He had the dark hair that was common in this area and brown eyes. The boy got up and climbed in the back with Joseph and began cleaning his scrapes.

'Ow! That hurts!'

The boy looked amused. 'If I leave it you will probably die, then I'd get into trouble.' He replied wistfully and continued with his work.

Though he was extremely uncomfortable Joseph continued the conversation, as it seemed to take his mind off the pain a bit. 'My name is Joseph. Who are you?'

'It's not Joseph anymore. I expect you'll receive your new name when we get to the slave yards.'

'New name?'

'Actually it is a number, but that will be what you are called. Anyway my name is Kain.'

'Oh. Are you a slave too?'

Kain laughed. 'No my father owns this caravan. It is my first time on a long trip. Father says I'm getting to be quite a skilled driver.' He said proudly.

Joseph's eyes started to tear. He couldn't help it. One minute he was the favoured son of a rich tribe and now he was lower than an animal.

'Hey, it's not all that bad.' Kain looked nervous. He knew what would happen to him if his father caught him crying.

'But it is! I want to die. Slavery is worse than death. My own brothers sold me!' Joseph said tearfully.

'Where there's life there's hope. Well that's what father says. Anyway, isn't God supposed to be with you?'

'What?'

'We have heard incredible stories about your father. I have seen your brothers before so I know who you are. I'm afraid of what father would do if he knew you were one of them. So I won't tell him, just don't say anything stupid and you will survive to become a slave.'

'Why would he care who I am? Why are you doing this?'

'First of all we are Ishmaelites. As you know our people do not get along.' Kain said ironically. 'As for why I am doing this, honestly I don't know. Maybe it's God impressing on me to save your miserable live for some reason. But just give me a reason to tell him and I will do it without hesitation.' Kain said darkly before returning to the front of the wagon.

Joseph lay back and thought on what Kain had said. He hadn't thought of his father's God since he last talked to Jacob. Jacob used to tell them all wonderful stories about God's leading in his life. His favourite story was about the angel. Jacob was reluctant to tell it at first, Joseph wasn't even sure if he had ever told it to anyone else. He was about four when his father came back from wrestling with the angel yet he could remember it well. It was on the trip to meet Esau for the first time. The night he received the name Israel. Joseph was not sure why Jacob was not proud of what he had done. If it were he, Joseph would have made sure all called him by his new name so all would know what he was capable of. Perhaps it is modesty or some wisdom Joseph will learn as he gets older that kept Jacob from sharing. Joseph seemed to know his father better than anyone else. Everyone else saw an open, happy, honest man; Joseph saw that there were some things that Jacob hid behind half-truths and well-practiced smiles, parts of the stories perhaps, that he was not proud of. Ever since that night Jacob's hair had been pure white though the day before it had still been almost black in colour. What could it hurt? He had already lost everything, all he had left was memories and stories of what God had done for his family. So he prayed. During his prayer his exhaustion took over and he fell asleep.

When he woke he felt different… not so alone; perhaps they are more than just stories? He felt like nothing that could happen would matter, that he would always be safe.

For most of the journey Joseph slept. He figured there must be some kind of drug in the food, for he did nothing to cause the exhaustion he felt.

Joseph woke when a particularly large bump caused his head to be thrown up to come crashing back down against the wooden floor of the wagon.

Kain looked back at him as he cried out in pain. 'Hey 123!' (Kain he taken to calling Joseph that since their conversation a few days earlier) Kain pointed ahead. 'Your future awaits.'

Joseph stood exposed. Literally. Trying in vain to cover himself to the amusement of the buyers looking up at him. To Joseph's horror he had discovered in Egypt salves were considered unworthy of clothes.

After hours of standing naked in a line slowly shuffling forward towards the auction block, His skin, unused to exposure to sun was red and felt tight and raw and chafed with each tiny movement. Finally his turn came.

'Slave 1253.' The auctioneer's bored voice called. 'He's a strong and healthy male from a nomad tribe. Do I have an opening bid?'

'10 pieces of silver.' Came a call.

The auctioneer's bored expression vanished 'Are you crazy? Fine. I will start the bidding at…20 sheckles.'

'Thirty!'

'Thirty-five.'

'Forty.'

'ONE HUNDRED!' Bellowed a voice from the back. All the bidders were so shocked and were still looking around for the mad man that no one else made a bid before the auctioneer's voice finally called 'SOLD!'

There were quite a bit of grumbling and nearly audible curses until the buyer came forward to collect his purchase.

'Good bidding Potiphar!' A man who had just finished cursing the buyer's whole family called out.

Congratulations were called out from all quarters as Potiphar, the captain of Pharaoh's guard and a powerful member of his court; led Joseph down towards his transportation and continued until he was out of earshot. At which time the curses started up again but only spoken between friends.

Joseph considered himself lucky. For one thing Potiphar gave him clothes, although it felt strange to be completely bald and not just on his head, everywhere. His face, arms, chest back, legs…everywhere. At first security was tight and he was watched at all times, after all Potiphar had invested a lot of money in him. He worked in the yard and kitchens carrying water and simple preparation sometimes he even had to help out in the stables especially the morning after a party. It did not take long until he was not watched at all, and he was even promoted to house duties; serving at the parties and cleaning. All of that changed in one day when it was discovered that Joseph could write; he was promoted to scribe.

Joseph looked out on the city for a moment before hurrying off to complete his tasks. He has been working for Potiphar for 5 years, and though he is a slave he had never felt happier as he felt God's presence near him everyday. His writing had improved a lot with all the practice he got as a scribe so it wasn't long before he was once again given more demanding responsibilities. His quiet joy did not go unnoticed and as his responsibilities grew he found he enjoyed what he did and had a natural ability for administration. He was a fair, caring and conscientious natural leader, and he quickly earned the respect of the other slaves and even some of the servants; To the extent that they would listen to his suggestions and sometimes take a direct order from him, even though he was just a slave. Which also did not go unnoticed and soon Potiphar had put him in charge of his whole household and all his possessions.

Isofret, Potiphar's wife had also noticed Joseph and how well built and handsome he had grown. Since the first time Isofret had tried to corner him, Joseph had been able to avoid her; but today Potiphar was out and Isofret was determined to get what she wanted.

Joseph was going through some parchments and scrolls checking the accounts and assets of the estate. 'Hmm…this can't be right.' Joseph said to himself when he came to record of expenditure it looked like something had been emitted. Joseph got up out of his seat and left Potiphar's office and was heading to the storage room to collect more records when he was suddenly pulled hard by his cape and found himself in Isofret's quarters.

Isofret stood between him and the door in fact she had closed it and was leaning on it. Isofret tilted her head and pouted at Joseph. 'What is it you require my lady?' Joseph asked trying to keep the dread out of his voice as his eyes downcast, inconspicuously searched for an escape route to no avail. Isofret had planned this well.

'Am I ugly? Do you not find me attractive?' She asked with false misery.

'Of course not… you are very beautiful.' Joseph refused to look her in the eye and now desperate to get out of there.

'Then make love to me!' Isofret cried throwing herself on Joseph and trying to kiss him.

Joseph grabbed her wrists. 'No my lady! I am your husband's servant! I will not dishonour him or God in this way.' Joseph moved Isofret so she was no longer in his path to the door and let go of her wrists. 'Goodbye Isofret.'

As Joseph turned to leave he did not see the calculating look transpire on Isofret's face. 'Yes…goodbye.' Isofret whispered just before she lunged at Joseph screaming. 'RAPE! Help somebody help me!'

'What are you doing?' Joseph exclaimed disbelievingly as Isofret latched onto his cloak. He looked into her wild, crazed eyes and ran.

Joseph sat with his head in his hands. Everything was going so well until this. Joseph knew that Potiphar would take his wife's word over his; after all he is only a slave and Isofret had his cloak. Egyptian punishment was harsh; Joseph knew that he could not escape death. His thoughts were interrupted by a flurry of activity in the courtyard. Potiphar had arrived home. The time has come… Joseph thought to himself; whatever will be will be, I know God is with me. Joseph stood up and headed for Potiphar's quarters before he got halfway he heard Potiphar's enraged roar. 'JOSEPH! GUARDS FIND J… GET…I'LL…FIND HIM!'

Joseph entered keeping his head down. 'Yes Potiphar?'

Potiphar strode over and seemed about to hit him, which caused Joseph to cringe involuntarily. 'How could you… my WIFE! I can't even look at you.' Potiphar turned to his household guards. 'Take him to the Prison.' He spun around and stalked out of the room. Shocked Joseph was taken and thrown into cart used to cart the pigs to market and taken to the prison. All the way one thought ran through Joseph head over and over. Why did Potiphar not order my death?

Joseph sat staring out at the world. Well at least what he could see of it from ground level. During the day he got to watch a great variety of feet hurrying past. He contemplated his position; when he was first brought here Joseph thought that perhaps Potiphar would order his execution to be carried out in the days that followed but he had now been in prison for 6 years with no indication that he would ever get out; either free or to be executed. Joseph wondered if Potiphar; even if just subconsciously, knew that his wife was lying. That would be some explanation of why he has here and not dead. At his weak moments he wondered if God had deserted him but then why when he is in prison does he still have responsibilities and trust? The warden had placed Joseph in charge of all the prisoners and he doesn't even check on him! The Lord is definitely still with him. A commotion broke into his train of thoughts and he heard the warden calling to him.

'Joseph! Where are you?'

'I'm over here Anemhor! What is going on?'

'We've got some new ones. They're in denial.' Anemhor chuckled.

'What do you mean? I shouldn't be here! I am the Pharaoh's chief baker!' Said the tall portly prisoner. He had a self-important look with a chubby face that looked almost comical.

'You WERE. You are now a suspect in an attempted poisoning of the Pharaoh, may he live forever.'

'I would NEVER!' The baker exclaimed affronted at such an accusation.

'Tell it to the judge.' The Anemhor retorted impatiently trying to hide his amusement. 'Joseph, you handle them.' With a wave of his hand Anemhor stalked off followed by the baker's offended remarks. 'Handle? Handle me! Like I'm some common criminal…'

'You're quiet.' Joseph remarked to the other prisoner. He was a short thin man with small beady eyes his face hinted to the hard life he had. He looked permanently tired and his face was lined by stress.

'What is there to say?' The man replied wearily. 'Pharaoh doesn't trust me after a lifetime of service…where do we sleep? I am tired.'

'Come, I'll show you.' Joseph led them to their cells. As he was leaving the robust man spoke up again. 'I was Pharaoh's chief baker. Your situation here is curious to me, you are clearly not Egyptian of birth and yet you are in charge of all the other prisoners…' He paused but when Joseph gave no explanation, he asked 'How did you get here? Why are you in jail?'

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the butler's sudden interest. 'I was a slave falsely accused.' With a slight grin Joseph turned and walked off.

'Accused of what?' The baker called his voice full of irritation but the only answer he received was silence. Turning toward his cell again he caught the butler watching him. 'What are you smiling at?' He snapped before stalking into his cell.