The Dreamer's Wife

by Rose Eclipse

The tale of Asenath and her life's journey with Joseph the Dreamer.

7. Chapter 7

"Right and wrong? Right is what we desire, and wrong is what our neighbors desire." -The Egyptian

A-A-A

When I was a child and the tip of my head barely came to the waist of an adult, the world was far too big or insignificantly small.

It was enormous in my eyes because my guardians towered over me and the smallest donkey in the courtyard could have knocked me over with one swift kick. It was tiny because my mind was limited by that which I could see just past the tip of my nose. I did not know how one could measure the length of the Nile by footsteps, by four or fourteen days to plough a field, or how much of Pharoah's presence could fill a throne room.

But time does not stand still. A common pebble will inevitably be kicked around by a stranger's toe. A grain of sand resting upon a dune will tumble over by the faintest breath of wind. Even the humblest seed resting within the earth must stretch itself upwards, out of the cracked bed as it reaches hungrily for the sun's strength. So too it was with me. As my bones stretched and my face elongated, my woman's blood moved with the moon and flowed out of me once a month. These were all physical confirmations I had stepped from child to maiden, and then maiden to young woman.

But what could prove my soul had grown at all? Who can measure the wisdom within the head or the light that shines from the heart? Who can put a price on integrity, courage, compassion, and humility? Such things cannot be weighed out and bartered at the market. We may pinch a bit there and a handful there, but the measurements are not calculated as one measures a fingerful of grain. There is more bitterness in one person, less foolishness in another human being. And I, like millions who have walked the earth before resting eternally with my ancestors, have been bitter, sweet, wise, and foolish in my lifetime.

But the little seed does not instantly grow after drinking from the Nile. It could be consumed by a hungry animal or crushed back into the ground beneath a careless heel. Yet if it is lucky enough to endure these trials, it must nevertheless be patient if it wants to grow into a mighty tree that shades the honorable brow of the Pharoah.

I had come a long way, yet there still many leagues to cover in my journey.

A-A-A

The days flowed into weeks and then the weeks flowed into a full month. The bad dream I had endured the night after the great events in the court faded away into bits of dust in my mind. I had no moment to speak to the queen alone so I did not inform her that I had spoken to Pharoah for a brief time on the balcony, nor did I mention it to Ahti or the other girls. Pharoah had forbidden me, of course, and moreover they would scoff and say I had only had a dream.

Such is the way of things in life. Some events are so peculiar that we do wonder if we did spin them out of our dreams, while our dreams may be so fanciful that it is unlikely, they will take form in the daytime.

Until there came a day too hot to be dreaming.

The yellow baked earth crackled beneath my feet and the air sucked at the pores in my skin as the other maidservants and I shuffled uneasily around the queen's podium. Even with a cloth canopy over her head and four slaves fanning away with plumed staffs, Tiaa appeared discomforted as well.

The queen's wide-brimmed wig was one on the heaviest she possessed, and it was weighed further down further with dozens of small pale-blue beads braided along the temples and topped with a curved circlet of gold that clamped around her noble head like a vise. We were all feeling damp from the wrath of Ra's sun but the queen's eye paint was already congealing where her eyes nearly touched her nose. Her breath came out in reluctant groans from between red lips.

Yet she had remained outside for over an hour and we could not persuade her to move otherwise. Reluctantly, I turned my attention from Tiaa back to drumming sound of Pharoah's horse beating his hooves in a drumming sound against the earth.

Again the horse takes a turn, again I see the master upon it with his neck straight and firm and his hands clenched in the reins. It was so unlike Potiphar who rode slowly with his chin thrust upward and one hand upon his hip, all the better so that the entire estate staff could take notice of their lord's magnificence. Potiphar rode well with the confidence that the beast beneath him was a mark of honor affirming his high status in society.

There was no need for airs of splendor when Pharoah rode, for he knew horses since he had been sitting upon his father's knee. He knew better than to be joggled loosely in the saddle and was capable to controlling his horse with the strength of his limbs and the sound of his throat. The king and the horse, master and servant, were riding as one organ, one body in harmony even as they tore mercilessly up and down the lane.

Even at a distance, I could see Pharoah's teeth barred, bright and flashing against the sun while his eyes were blazing in their sockets. A frenzied grin was spread across his face. His head was bent low over the long-flanked creature beneath him, who snorted and snarled and flicked his head so that the black man flapped against Pharoah's arm with every leap of his feet. Pharoah slowed the horse down as it rounded the curve of the lane, but the beast nearly tangled itself in its legs and began to whine with worry.

"Sheh! Sheh!" Pharoah snarled, seizing the reins and controlling the beast with the strength of his legs. The horse trotted back and forth a few times until it had regained itself, allowing Pharoah sufficient time to remove a bow and arrow from the back of his saddle. He drew the weapon up to his long bronzed cheek and with teeth still clamped in focused concentration, he took aim. The arrow barely made a sound in the still dry air but it hit a wooden target at the end of the lane with with a dull thunk.

The queen gasped, then lifted her hands to clap for her lord and king. I applauded alongside the maidservants, feeling impressed and terrified by my king's public demonstration. Amenhotep is no man to be trifled with, I reminded myself.

And Tiaa's "trifles" should not make her suffer further, my conscious rebuked me.

I had no permission to speak out of turn but by now perspiration was streaming down Tiaa's face. Her skin seemed paler than ever against the darkness of her wig. A small pool of sweat also settled into the hollow of her throat, which was contracting from want of breath.

Shuffling two steps forward and urging my voice to creak out in the heat, I asked the queen, "Will you retire inside to rest for a while, my lady? You may exhaust yourself in this heat."

"I will stay," she mumbled thickly, not taking her eyes off Pharoah. Ahti and the others glowered at me. I stepped back into place with disappointment. There was no use pressing the queen further when her mind was made up.

A puff of dry air brushed against my back, causing the linen to briefly unstick from between my shoulder blades. I watched the ground rippled beneath Pharoah's feet and wished we were all inside, shielded by the cool white stones of the palace and cracking open sweet melons that held delicious nectar to drink.

Twin spots of red instantly blossomed and burned on each of the queen's place cheeks. She let out a gasp, almost a sigh of disappointment, and seemed to be melting in her chair. Her shoulders instantly slumped and within a second, her head sagged forward. She would had fallen off her seat had another maidservant not reached out and seized the queen by her shoulder, frantically supported the queen before her head could crash upon the ground.

This time I had no objection to violating protocol, and reaching out I grabbed the queen by her other arm, tugging her in place. Tiaa's chin had already dropped to her chest, covering her entire face with the wig. The crown upon her head slipped off and rattled at her feet.

"What is this? What is this?!" Pharoah yelled, riding up to the podium. His horse hadn't even come to a full stop before he had leapt off the saddle and landed upon the ground. In four long strides Pharoah was under the canopy while the maidservants, slaves, and I, all seemed to be chattering at once.

"Too intense for this day…"

"Monthly courses must be approaching…."

"Foul air, Amun-Ra must be agitated…"

"Allow us to escort her safely inside…"

But Pharoah would have none of this.

"Out of my way, you fools!" he snarled to us. One slave was knocked aside as Pharoah strode up to the queen, tore the wig off her head, and flung it carelessly aside. He wrapped one arm around the shoulders of his wife and slung the other under her knees. Instantly, we all stood back so that our king could lift his queen high into his arms and carry her away from the podium.

Only one servant attempted to address this breach of conduct. "My lord, permit me to fetch a litter for—"

"No!" Pharoah barked, advancing towards the palace doors. He swung around so quickly that the tips of the queen's toes swiped against my stomach.

"You! Girl!" he snapped at me. "Follow me. The rest of you, go back to your business."

I had no time to watch anyone else's reactions, but I am certain mine was as bewildered as they were. I had to nearly run to keep up with Pharoah's long strides as he carried the queen back into the cool safety of the palace walls. Her head was pressed against his shoulder, one slender arm dangling loosely at her side. In another situation it would have been romantic, even comical, but Pharoah's dark mood forbid any hint of mockery at the moment.

Another slave brushed against me long enough to whisper an inquiry about the situation. Yamun was teaching me to use my words carefully.

"Heat stroke," I whispered back, all the while following Pharoah. "Bring cool water and cloths. Pharoah forbids disturbances."

The slave was a well-trained fellow who needed no further explanations. He hastily retreated as quietly as he had come.

We finally came to a low wide chamber protected by eight cream-colored pillars, all brightly-colored with the pictures of victories and festivities of Pharaohs from long ago. Their browned faces stood out starkly against the flaming red chariots they rode and the blue-painted waters that ran around the feet of the pillars. Around each pillar was a circle of potted ferns, which had been nourished and watered so well that they glowed nearly purple in the shaded room. Heaps of wool and fur blankets covered a low ivory couch resting at the end of the room. A turquoise-studded chest sat upon four legs by the door while two cedar chairs had been perched by the open window, allowing the nobleman who owned them to enjoy his view of the city.

Pharoah approached the couch and placed the queen down upon the furs as gently as though her limbs were made of glass. His eyes did not move from her as he pointed to me and spoke in his stern commanding voice.

"Go to the door. By pain of death, none are to disturb us."

"My lord," I managed to stammer out before turning around and going to the entrance of the room. The sweat on my skin was drying up, only to be replaced with a dreaded chill.

Death! The command was a sword against my throat. Pharoah might overlook an errant fly if it entered the room but my life was over if any crossed that threshold. I planted my feet upon the ground and drew my stomach into my spine to steady myself, ready to stand guard just as Pharoah's sentinels protected his treasuries and granaries.

Soon enough, a member of the court approached the door. "Pardon me, my lord. But Pharoah has forbidden anyone to enter," I said to him.

He sized me up and nearly sneered at me. "Step aside, girl. I have a foreign report to deliver to Pharoah and this matter outranks your orders."

The man was correct. He did outrank me, though I did not want either of us to end up on the gallows. I stretched my arms out, barring him further. "Pharoah has forbidden anyone to disturb him," I pressed on, trying to keep my voice firm yet polite. "On pain of death," I added.

"Your death, perhaps. But not mine," persisted the man.

"My lord, I implore you not to take that risk for your own sake," I reacted. "Could you not wait an hour or two for the foreign report to be managed?"

He rocked back and forth on his heels, deliberating the matter. Finally, he relented by thrusting the scroll into my hands. "Give this to Pharoah, and tell him Lord Katom has done all as he requested." Then he turned around and strode off into the depths of the palace.

I stood there with the sealed document in my hands, frustrated at the new responsibility thrust upon me. Soon thereafter, the slave from before appeared with a tray bearing bowls and cloths. These I took from him and gave him permission to leave. But I still did not dare disobey Pharoah and had to contend by balancing the tray (and report) in my hands while all the while I could hear the activities taking place inside. It was not my intention to eavesdrop, but just like the crack in the wall of the storage room, my Maker's hand has maneuvered me into the gentle silent shadows with purpose.

Pharoah had spoken again, his tone still rough but now low and urgent with concern.

"Flower of my days and moon of my night, are you ill?" I heard him say.

The queen responded, speaking slowly and weakly. "No, king of my dreams. It was but a touch of sun fever. I beg your forgiveness for…for my disgraceful behavior in public."

Pharoah brushed aside her plea. "You may apologize sufficiently by not jeopardizing your health in the future. I will not permit it."

There was a familiar pause before the queen spoke again. I could imagine that faint yet lovely smile upon her face as she continued to speak warmly. "How else may I honor my king if I cannot be by your side?"

"It is your king—and husband-who commands you," Pharoah answered sternly. "I have no wish to see your pride lead you into an early tomb. As Queen of Egypt, you must preserve your health".

"I will," she relented. "Great Pharoah, I am already humbled for causing you distress."

This time it was Pharoah's turn to be silent. Then he grunted, "It is the least of my distresses. But now that you have Pharoah's ear, what else do you require for your well-being?"

There came the soft hiss of skin moving over fabric. "If I have found favor in my lord's eyes, let Pharoah listen to my petition."

"What? My noble queen waits until she is almost burnt up ask for favors?" he declared. "You have my attention right now, gracious wife. State your request."

"I have two."

"Considered them fulfilled," Pharoah announced grandly.

The queen chuckled softly. "My lord, you do not know what they are."

"I am Horus, son of Osiris. My eye is healed, and my hand is strong. There is naught I will withhold from you. Ask for half of my kingdom and it is yours."

"Which half is that? The upper or lower kingdom?"

"Whichever you desire."

My toes curled up at these intimate remarks. Never before had I heard Pharoah speak tenderly or playfully with his wife. But Tiaa sounded serious, even concerned as she spoke further.

"If I have found favor in Pharoah's eyes then this is my request: let me remain as your queen and only wife for all of my days. I will obey any command you give me, heed every order as meekly as the lowest slave so long as Pharoah does not take further wives to the bedchamber."

"What?! Cast aside my shining star, my valiant rose, for a handful of concubines?" Pharaoh's voice ascended with indignation. "Never! I shall have no wife other than you until I have drawn my last breath."

The queen let out a husky gasp of relief—as did I. For who would wish to share their bedchamber—or heart—with a rival? That organ in my chest suddenly pulsed with gladness as Pharoah spoke further.

"From the moment I first saw you in Armant, I knew that you and I were meant to be one. Just as the sun rises into the heavens and the sacred jewel of the moon follows it upon its course, our love was written by the gods before we were born. You have been a gracious and loyal wife these many years. I swear by my fathers' legacies that none other shall take the place where your spirit resides within my heart."

"Amenhotep…."

Here I shut my eyes but could still hear the sound of cloth rustling urgently, of bodies moving against each other. Impressed I was with Tiaa's request, I could not imagine kissing that knife of a mouth or those dagger-like teeth. I was surprised Pharoah hadn't bitten her lips off with his kisses.

They broke apart long enough for Tiaa to make her second request. "If we may journey in this life together, I pray it will be in the afterlife itself. This is my second request. If I have truly found favor in Pharaoh's eyes, may there be a place for his wife's tomb in the Valley of the Kings?"

"Your people are my people. Your life is mine," answered Pharoah. "Your tomb will not be built out in the wilderness among the outcasts. Your bones shall rest with the kings and queens of my ancestors. And when I descend into the sky to join my fathers, my bones will rest beside you too."

There were further sounds of intimacy that caused me to shut my eyes and attempt to block out the sounds by rubbing my shoes faintly against the floor. At least it was not long until I heard Pharoah's footsteps slapping against the stones and his usual proud tone thrust over my shoulder.

"You may enter. Attend to your queen." He strode past me without so much as a glance at his queen's maidservant.

"My lord!" I called to him before he could walk off. I scrambled to get the scroll back around my fingers and extended it to Pharoah. "Lord Katom sent this report in your absence." I extended it to him with a bow.

"Did Lord Katom approach?" Pharoah demanded.

"He did. But I told him that Pharoah and the queen were not to be disturbed."

"Very well." He took the scroll from me, cracked the seal, and glanced over the paper. Seeing I was still there, Pharoah stopped reading long enough to rebuke me.

"Do you not have ears, Asenath? Pharoah commands you to go to the queen!"

"Yes, my lord. At once." I all but fled into the room and hastily deposited the tray of items upon the turquoise chest. A harsh flush remained on the queen's brow, but her expression was calmer than before. Her head looked small without her wig on; the natural hair was thin, straight, and black that barely touched the nap of her neck.

Tiaa looked up as I poured some water into a bowl. "As you feeling any better, my lady?" I inquired.

"I am, Asenath. Today was just a mishap. I will be fully recovered by tomorrow." She had regained her composure and appeared serene as a sleeping baby.

I held up the damp cloth. "May I offer you a compress for your head? Or fetch something from the kitchens?" I offered her.

"No, I don't want anything except rest," said Tiaa. "Shut the door on the way out and tell Yamun not to disturb me until the evening meal."

"Yes, my lady." I bowed and exited the room, then sealed the door behind me.

"Aha!"

I startled to see Ahti and the others gallop forth from their hiding places behind a pillar. Their eyes were bright with mischief. "Well? What happened in there?" asked one.

"What did Pharoah say? Was he angry with the queen?" urged another.

I glanced from one face to another, conflicting emotions of irritation and annoyance clearly visible on my face.

"Surely you have some interesting new to bring to us," piped a third.

"Indeed, Asenath. The Foot-bearer must bring a good report," Ahti tacked on sarcastically. Our eyes locked upon each other as my inward fear of her was rapidly heating up into a new emotion. I who had seen and heard things now and then had endured the consequences of breaking secrets. My tongue had to guard those secrets at all costs.

"Surely such distinguished maidservants as ourselves would not dare invade the queen's privacy," I said slowly and carefully as though speaking to children. "We would do best to respect her wishes—and those of Pharoah too."

The other girls looked disappointed with my answer. "Silly Asenath," muttered one of them. They huffed and flounced off together, but Ahti lingered long enough to give me a sour rebuke.

"You could never control your speech as a child. Now you are deaf as well as dumb," she sneered. Ahti turned her back on me and stalked out of the hall.

The bitterness in her throat cautioned me that she remained a dangerous viper. If the God of Joseph's fathers is always watching over him and I, I need not fear another woman's words, I thought.

But I was afraid, and that cold prickle on my shoulders was returning where righteous anger once burned. I was fortunate this time, but what would happen if my luck ran out? What if Ahti gained the power to cast me down into the sand as Zulekia once did?

"The tongue needs sharpening, but the intention was on target," a voice broke into my thoughts. I had not noticed Yamun approach me until I could smell her doughy skin.

"You've made an enemy of that girl. Best sleep with one eye open tonight," she advised me.

"Have I done wrong?" I asked Yamun.

She shrugged her shoulders. "One can do right all of one's days and misfortunes still descend like locusts. Do you not know why they hunger for crumbs of gossip?"

"Because Tiaa is the only wife of Pharoah?" I suggested.

Yamun let out a sound that came out as a snort rather than a laugh. "You are off target now," she remarked. "But I will slack your thirst with a decent answer. It is because Tiaa did not descend from the gods. Her father was a spice merchant from Abydos and her grandfather was a cloth-weaver."

My perception had been flipped upside down. I starred dumbstruck at Yamun before getting my words together again. "Queen Tiaa is…"

"A commoner," Yamun finished for me. "Not a one drop of royal blood flows through her veins."

My initial shock was washed out by warm relief, followed by the peculiar sense of admiration.

The queen had not been cultivated from the finest families, bathed and anointed all her years and instructed in manners of the court to produce the woman I had been serving all these months. Tiaa's destiny had not been laid out before her birth. It had taken form during her lifetime and she had adapted to it, just I had.

What a remarkable spirit she must have to win Pharoah's heart!

"Do the other girls know this?" I asked Yamun carefully.

"Yes. They serve her because it suits their needs, but they find it amusing to know their king has taken a woman of no greater birth than themselves."

Yamun raised her wood-hard hands and then clamped then over her hips. "What say you, once-and-former priestess? Think you the queen is unworthy of her role now?"

But I could not think of Tiaa. I only thought of a soft-spoken stranger with a growing beard who sat in his prison who lifted up straw baskets and broke apart moldy shingles of wood to improve the meager space which he occupied. I thought of a pair of eyes that illuminated in all dark spaces, driving out danger and chaos to create a tiny sanctuary of peace and decency. I thought of lips that did not curse at the adversity around him but praised the bit of goodness within.

"My God gives me breath in the morning, returning my soul to my body when I wake up."

A deep feminine voice rang from my belly, the strange guiding spirit that seemed to take hold of me at instances. It burned in my stomach and rose up into my throat. With great warmth and animation, I heard myself blurt out to Yamun:

"I could not admire Queen Tiaa any more if she had been formed from the stars—or respect her any less if she was molded from dust!"

Yamun's eyes did not bulge out any further. But her eyebrows did wag a bit at my sudden display of emotion. I clamped my hands over my mouth, alarmed at having blurted out such a brazen comment.

"Hunph," was all she said. And then, "Come, Asenath. Let the queen rest while you have your evening bath."

A-A-A

The queen made rapid recovery and there was no further palace gossip about her temporary relapse.

But Urat gave us much to talk about. He had been confined to his bed from fever and coughs for over five days, . Pharoah announced we must all join at the temple of Amun-Ra, which lay in the center of the palace and was guarded by slanted pillars and stone sentinels of previous Pharaohs surrounding it.

Amun-Ra was no longer the focal point of my prayers, but I couldn't deny the impressiveness of this black granite obelisk sitting before us. It was twice as big as the one I served in Ombos and while it wore no face paint, the stone god sported a kilt covered in several layers of petal-thin gold. The carved double-crown he wore also burned brightly where the sun hit the gold plating at the top of his head.

This statue would not be easy to topple over. Nor easy to plunder like a tomb. By the time a thief got into this room and tried to scrape the gold off with a dagger, Pharoah's soldiers would have their arrows pointed at his head.

Cool and composed again, the queen and her entourage stood on the left side of the statue while Pharoah and nine of his servants stood on the right. Six priests stood before us, divided in two lines of three. The High Priest stepped forwarded and raised his hands upwards. He was a man with heavy-lidded eyes and a fierce jawline, made even more intimidating with a pelt of spotted fur spread across his chest.

"Great Amun-Ra, we beg thee for mercy," he began. "Our lord and master Pharoah Amenhotep stands in your presence so that you may lift the cursed chill that torments Urat, son of Hutap, viceroy who protects the gates of Egypt."

He lowered his hands and struck a drum that had been resting on a table beside him. With the soft thump-thump-thump of the drum blending into the throaty please of the priests, we watched them chant and slowly circle the statue as they called out their prayers.

"Awake, awake, awake in healing

Master of all, rise in glory

O hidden one, reveal thyself

O invisible one, show your ways

All praise to you

All praise to you…"

The sound of their prayers was oddly soothing, nearly lulling me into oblivion, until I heard my name and snapped to attention.

"Is there no one else to bring supplications? Any further gift we may yet offer Amun-Ra?" asked one priest.

"I have been informed there is a priestess among us," boomed the High Priest.

"Indeed!" Pharoah's voice was crisp and clear in the room. "Let Asenath, daughter of Poti-Phera, approach Amun-Ra. For her late father was the high priest of On."

I had no choice but to obey, and my worries began swirling within me as I saw the other items on the table before him. The High Priest poured wine in an enormous golden cup and offered it to me.

"A temple maiden will soften the heart of Amun-Ra. Bring forth this cup and lift it up to the great hidden god, so that he may reveal his secrets to us," he commanded.

A terrible dilemma rose before me. Could I renounce my newfound faith before Pharoah and the queen? Flee the room in a fit of panic?

But my tongue remained passive in my mouth and my hands automatically reached out and took the cup. My heart was heavy as I walked slowly towards the statue of Amun-Ra. Surely the Almighty God would understand my predicament—or would He? I was not as brave as Joseph to bow my head and allow the blade of death to come crashing down upon me for the sake of my faith.

What to do? What to do? The familiar spirit within me was sleeping as well.

I had but a small thought, an inkling of an idea that would send ripples throughout my future.

The intention was only to drag my toe enough across the floor, so that a few drops of wine would spill out of the cup. A minor stumble would disqualify me from continuing the service—or so I thought.

I did not anticipate a small scuffle of my toe to instantly lodge the shoe between the cracks of the stone floor. Nor did I expect the bucket of wine to fly out of my hands and land with a terrible clang upon the floor, spilling wine before Amun-Ra as Akun's blood was spilled out in On. My hands flew out before me and struck the stone steps first before the rest of my limbs collided on the ground and my chin banged against the steps. It was a wonder I hadn't bitten my tongue in half from the impact.

"Clumsy girl!" roared the High Priest. "How dare you violate the sanctity of the temple!"

I lay there in confusion, rubbing my sore chin and unable to lift my eyes up to the queen. I struggled to stand up again, but red-chapped hands clamped around my arms and hoisted me harshly to my feet.

"The fault is mine, great Pharoah," Yamun announced, bowing to him and then the High Priest. "I am responsible for examining the queen's maidservants daily. See here, a small thread snagged and caused Asenath's fall."

Pharoah's attention barely flickered to where Yamun was pointing to the hem of my dress. "My queen, we must continue the ceremony without haste," he said with strained patience.

Tiaa nodded in agreement. "Yamun, take Asenath back to her chamber and bring forth a physician."

I was all but dragged out of the temple room by Yamun and obeyed her command, allowing her to deposit me upon my bed. Then she gripped my jaw in her palm and turned it one way and then the other.

"That is a foul-looking bruise upon your chin," she said. "You had best stay here until it heals. Are you well in your senses and sounds?"

I nodded my head. Aside from a dull pressure point on my chin, there was no other pain. Yamun turned to go but I finally found my voice again.

"Will we be punished?" I asked her meekly.

"I do not know. The High Priest is irked but Pharoah has the final word. Now be still and lie down."

I did as she told me and laid my head down upon the bed. Within moments, the royal physician arrived and rubbed honey and mint on my chin. I was instructed to clean it off at the end of the day and re-apply the next for four days. The ointment hardened as the hour slipped into two, and my thoughts were chased away by hazy dreams of a late-afternoon nap.

I woke to find Yamun shaking me by the shoulder. "Pharoah and the queen wish to see you."

She had my face washed and my dress changed before guiding me into one of Pharaoh's private chambers.

Pharoah and Tiaa were playing a game, their heads bent low over the board of ebony and ivory prongs embedded in a set of wooden tiles. Tiaa had looked up when I entered but Pharoah's eyes were still on the game.

"That step is too soft, Asenath," he critiqued over his shoulder. "Strengthen the sound of your feet when you enter a room or else you will stand mute until midnight."

"Yes, my lord."

He removed an ivory peg and set it against a new tile but turning his attention towards me.

"Confound it, girl! What have you done now?" began Pharoah.

No doubt he read the confusion on my face because he continued.

"I have received reports of your movements from the household staff. You tread up and down the palace with those light steps of yours. You give a listening ear to the servants and slaves and leaving your imprint wherever you go."

I squeezed my hands to my stomach and dipped my head down again. But before I could apologize, Pharoah went on.

"Don't bother blathering out an apology. You have broken no laws. Your Pharoah merely bids you to explain your actions."

"Great lord, my intentions were to inquire after the well-being of the palace staff," I explained. "If they had good news to share, I listened and congratulated them. If they were distressed, I comforted them."

"For what purpose? For what end?"

"For…for the sake of knowing all was done accordingly in the service of Pharoah," I answered slowly.

"Have you heard any words of deception? Or betrayal?" Pharoah demanded.

I answered in the negative, suggesting that anyone who was in direct service to Pharoah would not dare be that brazen.

"Brazen? Ha!" he remarked. "One closer to the throne could just as easily slit my throat."

The queen immediately pressed her hand upon her husband's arm. He patted her hand twice and remarked, "Do not distress yourself, my dear. It seems my adversaries prefer to attack the dead instead of the living."

Amenhotep suddenly laced his jeweled fingers around the queen's hand. Holding on tightly, he turned back to me.

"When your wound has fully recovered, you will continue your daily routine around the palace," he announced grandly. "If you discover any treachery or idleness in the staff's behavior, you will report immediately to Yamun."

Relieved at his verdict, I humbly agreed to obey.

"As for today's fiasco in the temple, that is more complicated to unravel." Pharoah leaned back in his chair and motioned for the nearly-invisible servant in the corner to come forward.

"As I have said before, you do not suffer from iron feet. It is unlikely you stumbled of your own accord. Oh yes, Yamun said it was a loose thread but how often does she make mistakes?"

This question was posed to Tiaa who answered, "Never, great Pharoah."

"Precisely." He extended his empty cup to the slave, who poured wine into it with mute perfection.

"I wonder what you have done to infuriate Amun-Ra, who has caused your steps to become tangled. Or perhaps it is Neith you have vexed. Speak up, girl. What was your crime?"

As these two magnificently dressed and lordly individuals gazed upon me, I waited for the inner voice to speak to me. But this time, all I heard was silence. My crime? I had pushed down a statue of Amun-Ra, and for that the High Priest would have thrown off the highest cliff. But that action was between Joseph and I. No one else need know of it…except the Ancient One. He would judge my previous arrogance and my current circumstances.

I knew no more than the length of my footsteps would take me. I could speak no further than my life's span had existed thus far. I stood in confusion and felt the bottoms of my feet chaff against the soles of my shoes.

"It is a difficult thing to confess one's crime," the queen said in a low yet gentle voice. "But the sooner one speaks it, the sooner one can amend it."

I gazed at the face of this lovely woman, the ordinary citizen of Egypt who had wed the Pharoah. There was no maliciousness in those brilliant bright eyes, no scorn upon her rosy lips. She was as curious about me as I was about her.

At last, I managed to draw my chin back up and speak to them.

"Pride," I said at last. "My crime was having a proud heart.

The queen reclined further in her chair and twisted one of the bangles on her arm. She and Pharoah exchanged a silence glance before he spoke.

"Arrogance is a wicked trait, Asenath. No doubt Amun-Ra has read your heart and brought you low so that you would be humiliated and therefore seek penance," announced Pharoah. "As such, you will have to make amends for this behavior.

"From this day forth you will not participate in the temple service. You will not stand in the presence of Amun-Ra but must linger in the back of the room where only the ends of his shadow can reach you. When the service is complete, you will carry the priests' vessels back into the treasure room with your own two hands. Only afterwards may you return to your original service with the queen."

I managed to keep my eyes downcast and utter, "Pharoah is wise and just. I will obey."

"Very good. You are dismissed."

I exited the room, my heart as light as a feather. Still buoyant, my steps took me back into the kitchens where no doubt everyone had heard of my nearly smashing my head on the stones before Amun-Ra. They fretted to see the bruise on my chin and then plied me with remedies from dried moss to fresh fish entrails. I thanked them for their offers before asking if there were any cakes of olive bread left, along with a flask of wine.

"Excellent suggestion. Barley bread will soak off the blemish," announced Menes.

"No! Something sweet to draw out the sting!" his peer argued back. She pressed a honey cake upon me as well, and I thanked her for the efforts.

With a basket of items in my arms, I made my way through the gardens to a small pavilion at the end of the palace, near the gates. The sky was all ruby and amethyst, with a thin veil of palest blue thrown around the sun. The palm trees around me were fading from bright green to deep blue, their long shadows drawing lines upon the ground.

My punishment from Pharoah could have been much worse. A bruise would heal within time. Someone had seen to it that I would have privacy, solitude, and be freed from service to Amun-Ra. If there was ever a message of what I should be doing at this moment in this I could comprehend it.

I removed the bread and wine from the basket, then spread a cloth out upon the ground. I dared not bring lamps at the risk of starting a fire in Pharoah's gardens, so the sun would have to sustain me for now. The bread was wrapped in a smaller piece of cloth and the wine was poured out.

I filled the cup to the brim and watched three bubbles linger on the lip before they disappeared, one by one. I lifted my cup upwards until my right arm blocked out the fading sun. I wanted no audience to see what I was doing. Alone, but not lonely. Let the insects at my feet, the birds in the sky, and the plants around me bear witness as I too was standing to testify that I would no longer turn my lips to the service of stones and statues. My voice was soft and creaky, carried off by the faint breath of cool night air stealing into the garden. But I said the words slowly and carefully as I had once heard them years ago.

"Blessed are You, the Lord, the God, King of the World who has created the fruit of the vine."

A-A-A

Three months later:

"Blessed are you, the Lord, the God, King of the World who has brought forth bread from the ground."

I finished the daily incantation, dutifully sprinkled some salt on the bread, and took a bite. The small table and stool I had brought out here could be easily stashed behind one of the larger bushes when I was done. No one else came out this far into the gardens, as there were no ornamental flowers to pick or vegetables to gather. I sighed and looked around the little green room of stalks and trees that had become my sanctuary.

It was peaceful here. Too peaceful.

The moon had waxed and waned three times since Pharoah's command. Urat regained some strength, just enough to sit with the court every other day before he retired for rest. Ahti glowered and grumbled but there were no more scorpions in my shoes.

The bruise on my chin did heal in time and my face retained its natural features. I still stood in the back of the temple and remained excused from further services, only intervening to carry the heavy cups and plates back to the guards who protected Pharoah's vaults. In the daytime I stood in the court and listened to Pharoah's commands and the queen's wise words. In the evenings I washed my feet in the pool and imagined names for the stars.

And once a week I broke bread for His glory. But what He wanted else from me, I didn't know. I was still safe from Eliphaz, but no closer to freeing Joseph from prison. The weeks had blended into each other like ripples on the sand, so monotonous that I was becoming restless. The waters in our lives must not remain static or else they will clog up with debris. They must be cleaned and cleared, flowing and refreshing us with new water every day.

I rested my chin upon my palm and tried to gaze up into the sun. The piercing light caused me to squint until it slipped behind a cloud. I sighed and placed both palms upon the table this time. I wanted to be grateful for my good fortune. I prayed and counted my blessings every day. But what good is water that just resides in a bucket?

"So this is where you go every week."

I bolted up to see Tiaa standing before me. With a lavender scarf fluttering around her shoulders and the fronds of a tree brushing against her hip, she looked less formal yet just as lovely as ever.

"My lady!" I hastily rosed but she beckoned for me to sit down.

"I see you are taking a meal," she went on.

"Ah, yes! I am." I studied the small remains of my supper and showed her my cup. "I have a little date wine left. Permit me to fetch a servant to bring us another cup and some more—"

"That will not be necessary. My lips won't be tainted by my maidservant's cup," she announced calmly.

Peculiar as the circumstances where, I found myself emptying out the rest of the wine and offering the cup to Tiaa. She took three dainty sips before placing the cup back on the table.

"I had been wondering where you go after I dismiss you. To sit in solitude with your thoughts, no doubt. And who among the gods hears the prayers of your heart?" she asked me.

I twisted the brim of the cup while fumbling for an answer. "My prayers may go to the wind, for all I know. Try as I may to serve you best, there are many forces in the world that are beyond my comprehension…"

"You mean Elohim," she interrupted me coolly.

I felt my heart bang twice loudly in my chest. My eyes must have betrayed me because Tiaa nodded in affirmation. "I see by your expression that you know of Him," she added.

She had struck the first chord; I had to follow carefully. Tiaa would not be disuaded by deceipt.

"I have," I admitted at last.

Tiaa leaned over the table. "And what does He tell you?" she inquired pointedly.

I was taken aback by her question. She seemed sincerely interested in my answer, not at all alarmed or angry to know of my internal values.

"If He speaks to me, I cannot hear His voice," I admitted to my queen.

"Yet you serve Him patiently and prudently," Tiaa pressed on. "I am curious to know what Elohim has done for you to deserve such loyalty".

"I was spared the affliction of the plague, my queen. The journey from On to Thebes was long, but I was accepted into your household with grace and compassion. Now looking back, I believe His hand guided me to you."

"I see." Tiaa leaned back in her chair and calmly smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress, appearing as nonchalant as though we were discussing one of her gardens.

My lips were trembling as I managed to whisper, "My lady, forgive my impertinence but may I ask you a question?"

"You may."

"How is that that Pharoah's wife knows of…Him?"

Her wise and mysterious brown eyes starred into mine for a moment. Then Tiaa rose from her seat and extended her arm to me.

"Walk with me, Asenath," she commanded. I rose from the table and found myself alongside my queen and listening to her words as they unfolded a new story before my feet.

A-A-A

"The father of Amenhotep's grandfather was the very first Thutmosis, king of Egypt nearly a hundred years ago. The Nile still flooded every year but the land was still young and green, the kingdom new and tender. There were many who would have swallowed Egypt alive if not for the intervention of fate—or the gods.

"Rather than wage war on his enemies, Thutmosis the One sent spies to the neighboring tribes who reported to him of barren plains in the wilderness. Tutmosis was shrewd and knew his surrounding neighbors would not risk battle when they had no wheat. He had the granaries stuffed and the sentries doubled. Whenever impoverished people came to Egypt, they had to swear their allegiance first before they were given grain.

"All was well for a time, as Egypt did take in more outsiders but also collected their treasures and wealth that they had to offer. And so Thutmosis became a wealthy king while keeping the peace. While foreign goods and gifts poured into the land, Thutmosis worked on preserving his future legacy by taking several wives. He had hopes at least one would provide him with a strong capable son to lead Egypt.

"Among the strangers who entered Egypt was a dusty traveler from Or Kasdim, who had also been unfortunate to pass through lands with nothing but dried-up wells. He insisted that he came in peace and only wanted to buy a little grain for his family. His entourage was searched by the soldiers to ensure that he was not bringing weapons into the country.

"None were found upon the traveler or his nephew, but the soldiers were puzzled by the large casket among the baggage. The man was forced to open it up and the soldiers were astonished to find a woman inside. The traveler explained he was instinctively protective of his sister. He asked the soldiers to let him and his family travel in peace. The soldiers did as requested but one of them raced to the palace and had the word whispered into Pharoah's ear that a woman of superb beauty had slipped into the land. It was said her eyes were greener than the Nile in the summer heat and her lashes full and black as night itself. Her raven hair flowed like an endless spring and her limbs were smooth as ivory and soft as the caress of a dove.

"Pharoah Thutmosis was glad to hear the news and commanded four of his guards to track the inn where the traveler and his sister were dwelling. Both of them were rushed to the palace where Thutmosis lifted the veil from her face. As soon as he set his eyes upon her loveliness, he declared this woman would become his new wife.

"The traveler fell on his face before Thutmosis and begged his lordship not to take his only sister. Pharoah assured the man she would be provided for and he himself would be handsomely rewarded for enriching the royal family. The man wept bitterly and begged Thutmosis to reconsider, even warning him that danger would fall upon the royal household. Thutmosis laughed and ordered his men to take the traveler away. The unfortunate man was still weeping even as he was escorted out of the palace with a dozen cattle, two dozen donkeys, thirty servants, and twenty camels.

"The woman no doubt wept herself, for she too kept calling out the name of Elohim even as she was dragged into Thutmosis's harem. She nearly broke her neck trying to scale the palace walls. Three servants had to pull her down and force poppy juice into her throat to sedate her. With her senses dulled, the woman was hardly aware of her limbs being bathed in fragrant water and her body clad in elegant clothes. Fine jewels were added around her neck and arms before she was brought into Pharoah's chambers that same night.

"Thutmosis had just emerged from his temple to thank Hathor for presenting him with a new bride. But no sooner did he mount the couch and stretch out his arms to embrace her then Thutmosis began to rave and roar. The slaves burst into the room to see Pharoah's new bride slowly coming out of her drugged stupor while the man himself was waving his arms madly in the air, crying out for Amun-Ra to lift the flaked white curse that had burst out upon his skin.

"Everyone was mortified when the leprosy curse touched four other men that night. But the woman's head had cleared long enough to glance at Pharoah and tell him the truth: she was not the traveler's sister, but his wife. Pharoah had him brought to the palace as fast as possible. 'What have you done to me?' he cried out bitterly. 'Why did you not tell me this woman was your wife?'

"The man explained that on his travels, he had heard from a passersby that Egyptians loved beauty and grace above all else. So strong was this love that if a fair woman was found, her husband would instantly be killed to make her available to other men. Not wanting to turn his own wife into a widow, the man asked her to pose as his sister.

"Thutmosis was distraught. 'Here is your wife! See I have not lain with her. Now take her and go!' he commanded. As soon as husband and wife left the palace threshold, Thutmosis' skin instantly cleared up, as did that of his subjects. Nevertheless, he was concerned that some other vendetta may be hanging over his head. He had a chest of gold and a chest of silver sent after the traveler as a gesture of goodwill. It must have worked because the leprosy never came back, nor did the traveler or his wife ever appear in Egypt again.

"Thutmosis made his son swear, and his son after that, never to speak of that God who has no face or form yet can strike like a spear in the dark. That is why the High Priest avoids you and why Amenhotep does not take another wife from another land.

Tiaa sealed her lips and gazed at me. My own face was glowing with wonder at her tale.

"Then Pharoah Amenhotep also knows this story?" I inquired. Tiaa nodded in affirmation.

"It is not one to be written down by scribes or carved into walls by stone masons. But I was told this tale during my second year as queen to commit to memory. We may burn our bulls to Amun-Ra and slaughter oxen to Horus, but we do not know what this Elohim, this God of unseen justice, wants from us. At the very least, Amenhotep has informed me we are not to speak of Him lest we incite His wrath.

She glanced aside at me. "Urat's health still declines. Yet the gates of Egypt remain strong, and Amenhotep is still Pharoah. I will not tell anyone of this meeting if you swear to me that you will never speak of it either—and keep your prayers to yourself."

"I will," I promised her. We seemed to have made a silent pact; she would respect my privacy if I could have her and Pharoah in mind in thoughts. I could not let her down.

We continued walking for several paces while two bees droned pleasantly behind us.

"Queen Tiaa?"

"Yes, Asenath?"

"Do you recall the name of the traveler from Or Kasdim?"

"It was obliterated from all tongues. But his wife was known as Sarai."

A-A-A

A lesson must be learned over and over again until it is made right. Life was my own mentor and a harsh one at that. But sometimes even these stringent morals are smoothed into refined wisdom just as the healing waters of life gradually wash over sharp stones.

I was winding some wool for Tiaa when a servant approached me and informed me that someone was waiting for me at the southern gate. This was odd, as I was not due to meet Beka for two days. But I followed the servant to the gate where a passerby delivered a scroll to me. All he said is that it was from Denderah and addressed to Asenath, maidservant of Queen Tiaa. He could give me no further explanations as he had other errands to attend to, so I had to thank him and then go find a scribe to read it for me.

I found one in the inner chamber where he was counting pebbles and scratching away at a sheet.

"I don't have time to read silly love letters by one of the queen's women," he protested.

"This is no love letter. It comes from an estate in service to Pharoah."

He remained unmoved until I pressed him, explaining that I hadn't read anything this lengthy in years.

"Fine, fine. Just let me be once it is read." But no sooner did I extend the scroll to him then Pharoah strode in, accompanied by five other men.

"Depart, maidservant of Queen Tiaa," he ordered me. "This is not the time or place for you."

I couldn't even explain the scroll, as Pharoah had that glint in his eye that warned me he was not in the mood for patience. I walked backwards to the awning of the door and stood behind a pillar, hoping to recover the scroll when Pharoah was done with his affairs.

To my alarm, he waved a hand at the scribe sitting at the table. "Go on. Read me today's accounts."

"My lord, this is—"

"Read!" snapped Pharoah.

I watched with horror as the young man was forced to unroll the paper and read aloud in a shaky voice.

"I, Nubar, son of Takum, am blessed with six strong sons and have labored these many months to improve the estate that once belonged to Potiphar, former chief steward of the Pharoah," he announced.

Pharoah motioned for him to continue.

"The payment in the amount of six oxen will be delivered to Pharoah Amenhotep, blessed be the strong bull, by the end of the harvest season. The barley has come in well this year and we expect further blessings from Renenuet, goddess of bountifulness.

"My sons are reaping the blessings of their labors, as is my wife. Inform Asenath that we have reinstated Manu's role as overseer and he does adequately, as long as my wife's excellent cooking keeps him away from strong drink. He seldom appears intoxicated but once he does, he howls like a jackal and breaks wind like a storm. My sons find it amusing but my wife does not—"

The other men broke into unexepcted roars of laughter. Only Pharoah and the scribe did not look amused. The former's eyes glittered with fury and the latter looked ready to be swallowed up into the earth.

I should have retreated further back and fled the room. But I had not compromised my principals thus far. Should I begin now by allowing a helpless humble scribe be punished for my own error?

"Your attempt to humor me has failed," Pharoah finally said. His subjects quickly ceased their laughed. "This ridiculous spectacle has sentenced you to ten lashes," he added to the scribe. The poor man flattened himself to the floor and whimpered.

The brittle sound of Pharoah's anger stung in my ears. But then I recalled Joseph had been flogged for a crime he did not commit. He would not want this helpless man punished the same way.

My feet swiftly carried me back into the room and I dropped to one knee. "Great Pharoah, the fault is mine. I beg you to show mercy on this dutiful scribe who only read aloud what I gave him."

"And why did you not read it yourself?" he asked me. "Were you not instructed in this skill?"

"Yes, but that was a long time ago. I have not had—"

"Follow me!" he shouted. He trailed down the corridor, the long red cape he wore trailing after him as Hathor's red waters flowed into her thirsty mouth. Pharoah entered Tiaa's chambers, where the other maidservants were sitting around her chair and joining her in the blissful music of four harpists.

"My lord?" She rose to greet him. The harpists ceased playing and left the room.

Pharoah whirled on me and pointed his staff at my chest. "It seems your maidservant has gotten her feet tangled up in chaos again. I am weary of having to sort her out."

"Of course. Come here, Asenath." I winced as I took a step closer to her side.

"No, not yet my queen. I have a test for her," Pharoah said. He snapped his fingers. "Bring fresh ink and paper."

Both were summoned and placed on a low table. Pharoah pointed to the chair beside it.

"If you can read, surely you can write. Sit down and write this for me: 'Ten cows sit by the Nile River and drink of its glory blessed by Pharoah Amenhotep, the Warrior Bull of Thebes'."

I reluctantly followed his instructions and struggled when pen touched the paper. Joseph and Setep had done all of the reading and writing to get me where I was, and my own skills were rusty from years of disuse. Nevertheless, I did the best I could and placed the reed pen down when I was done.

Pharoah snatched it away and glanced over it. "Atrocious," he declared. "Disgraceful. If my scribes wrote as poorly as you do, the kingdom would fall into chaos overnight."

My eyes watered painfully as I struggled to keep my head up. Ahti's expression was emotionless except for the twisting in the corners of her mouth, no doubt gloating over my humiliation.

Instead of berating me, the queen stepped forward and looked over my failed exam. "I agree, great Pharoah. It is not adequate writing. No doubt Asenath suffers from a lack of experience."

"Or lack of occupation," grunted Pharoah. He turned around to face his wife and squared his shoulders back. "Would the queen not benefit from a maidservant who can read and write properly?

"I would indeed, my lord."

"Very well." He swung an arm out and a crimson wave of fabric fluttered in the air.

"Asenath, you will study with a tutor every day for forty days," he commanded aloud. "When that time is complete, you will learn to adequately write the phase Ten cows sit by the Nile River and drink of its glory blessed by Pharoah Amenhotep. If you fail, you will be dismissed from service".

I was forced to accept the challenge thrust upon me and stand burning in my shame until Pharoah left the room. Tiaa ordered me to sit at her feet among the maidservants while the musicians were brought back in. My fingers clenched tightly into my palms as I forced myself not to shed a tear, to show any sign of weakness before my queen.

I would rather have gotten ten lashes.

A-A-A

I was grateful to find Beka standing punctually at the gate. As soon as we were alone, I burst into a sobbing fit.

"I have never felt so humiliated in my life!" I cried bitterly, overlooking my childhood shame at Zulekia's hands. Every time I wiped my hands across my face, two or three hot tears sprang out of my eyes.

"Why so aggravated?" he inquired frankly. "You are not being dismissed from the queens' service. And you reassured me the scribe won't be flogged either."

"Oh Beka, you weren't there in the room," I went on. "You don't know what shame I suffered to hear Pharoah rebuke me in front of the queen. I am permanently disgraced in her eyes."

"Permanently? I think temporarily," he said. "You make too much of this, Asenath. When a solider is ordered to climb a sand dune, it is pointless to see it as a mountain."

"I cannot bear another one of your military metaphors," I groaned.

Beka heaved out a sigh. "Your young ears are stuffed up with agitation." He slid down the wall until he was seated upon the ground. "Have your full cry, Asenath. When the tears have dried, then you will be able to see and hear more clearly."

I too sat on the ground beside him and had a good long cry for several moments until I was all worn out.

"Better?" he said at last.

"I am," I agreed. He offered me a drinking gourd full of weak beer and I accepted gratefully. A few mouthfuls restored my energy and soothed my agitated stomach.

"Let us reexamine the situation," Beka began. "Pharoah has commanded you to learn the basics of reading and writing for a month and ten days. Why would he do this in front of the queen and her subjects?"

"To teach me not to deal with a silly scroll that I should never have put into a scribe's hands," I answered.

"Hmm, maybe." Beka scratched his ear. "But if you hadn't done that, you would still be another one of the queen's servants. From your experience in the court, does Pharoah waste effort on matters of little importance?"

I breathed in and out slowly, taking in Beka's words. "No," I agreed as wisdom slowly dawned upon me.

"No," Beka echoed. "Pharoah's days are full of petitions and demands. He must prioritize his duties and select those who serve him best. He would not bother making you do this assignment unless he—and the queen—though you were capable of it."

"Do you mean," I began slowly. "That Pharoah suspected I would fail the test, but used it as an excuse to have me tutored?"

"Recall how Pharoah Amenhotep carried out several military campaigns in his youth," Beka reminded me. "Every decision he makes is a strategy that benefits him—and the kingdom."

Beka slowly helped me to my feet. "I have full confidence in Pharaoh's decision to have you tutored."

He leaned closer and added, "And I have full confidence in your abilities."

I smiled at him through my tender eyes.

A-A-A

It was not easy to sit indoors on a stool and stare at figures while the other maidservants ran off to splash in the pool or frolic in the gardens. But Pharoah had set me up to a task and I must complete it adequately, if not superbly. For his sake, the queen's sake, for Joseph and myself.

A young accountant of about nineteen years old was my tutor. He was a cheeky fellow with the long thin neck of a crane and large ears he wiggled to make me laugh. From the first day he shared with me all the lessons drilled into him at the age of five.

"I was taught by the sourest of all tutors who would crack us over the knuckles for every error we made," the youth told me. "But he was shrewd as a fox and knew all the tricks and gifts of writing. See this eagle on the page? This will make the sound 'ah' as though you are calling out to the bird. And here is an extended arm, that is more of 'ah-eh', so imagine a lord pronouncing himself to the world.

"The fourth symbol here is a full word and the circle with a dot in the center represents the sun. Next to it is 'Nefer', which is beauty. See how it repeat three times?

"I do," said I. "So it reads 'beauty, beauty, beauty is the sun'?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, banging his fist onto the table. "You are making progress!"

I still struggled through the first ten days to make sense of the little birds, feet, sun, and rivers on the pages. But then something began to settle in my mind as bricks are fused together in a wall. These markings were foundation stones paving the way into full sentences, little scribbles stringing into a necklace of words and messages.

It was magic. Not the incantations that required staffs or amulets but only a reed pen, a bit of ink, and an open mind.

After I comprehended the basics, we moved onto counting. The boy showed me how wonderful it was to learn to count to five and ten, because then you could easily jump to ten and twenty, from forty to eighty. And now I was able to understand more about seeing the world through Joseph's eyes and why it was so crucial for Egypt to know how many granite obelisks there were and horses in Pharoah's stables. Numbers were the truth. They showed us what we had, what we did not have, and what must be acquired.

But I had to go slowly to make certain I did not count in error. When standing in Pharoah's court, I easily counted the pillars holding up the room. The next challenge was examining the beads in Tiaa's wig and counted those or the number of people filling up the room. When sitting in the garden, I made a few lines of red and blue flowers on the tiles and imagined every red flower representing two or three blue ones. Tiaa commented on my pretty pattern while I smiled and said nothing.

Forty days were counted up and each day I rose to ask God to assist me in finding favor in Pharoah's eyes. At last came the final day when Pharoah appeared and instructed me to write down the same mantra I had done before. I did so and was able to add at the bottom of the page, 'Blessed is Amenhotep, the eye of Horus and son of Osiris'.

Pharoah did not lavish praise upon me but declared it satisfactory. Tiaa was equally composed in her approval of me, but that was more than enough to give me joy. She insisted I continue my lessons and I did so eagerly, interested in this new world of messages and codes that I was beginning to understand. It was a blessing to fill up the time between court sessions and kitchen visits.

The young accountant was in good standing with Pharoah, so there was no limit to papyrus paper for either of us. When I was not learning with him, I could take a pen in hand and compos my thoughts down. The waters of life were flowing through me and into the ink on the paper; it gladdened my heart to have occupation and expression again. Pharoah, Tiaa, and Joseph had all entrusted me with secrets and I could keep them safe while channeling my own thoughts into tangible words.

I had been spending an enjoyable afternoon writing besides the youth when his instructor approached us. I recognized him as a gray-haired master scribe who had been summoned into the court room numerous times for dictation or recitation.

"What are you writing now?" the scribe asked, bending over my shoulder.

"Just some thoughts in my head," I said.

"May I?" he inquired. I slid the paper over to him for a better look.

"Hmm, interesting," he murmured. He pointed to the parchment. "You wrote on this line how 'my spirit is empty as a bowl' but that's not accurate. A bowl can be full or empty. Don't you mean to say 'my spirit is an empty bowl"?"

"Yes, that does make more sense. Thank you for pointing it out." I bent over and carefully corrected amended the word.

"What about this part? 'Yet my hope flies upon the wings of fate, the circle of time turns for all'. That is a good continuation."

"Let me see! Let me see!" exclaimed the boy. His master stepped aside and together they skimmed the page.

I felt a little embarrassed. "They are only ramblings," I pointed out.

"No need to be ashamed, my dear," the scribe assured me kindly. "Everyone starts somewhere. You have written twenty lines here and from those, I gather about six or seven are adequate."

"Adequate for what?"

"A tale," he declared, putting down the paper and looking me in the face. "Tell me, o maidservant of Queen Tiaa. Have you ever composed poetry?"

I told him that I had not. To my surprise, he stood up and rubbed his hands together with delight. "Fascinating! New talent intrigues me."

He whirled on his apprentice. "How would you describe a grieving heart, boy? Is it the ache of a sharp knife driven into the chest or the dull burn of water gradually filling up the body?"

"The former," the youth answered promptly. "I was rebuffed two years ago. I never had a knife driven into my chest but I would have preferred that to her scornful words."

I starred dumbfounded at them. The youth and the scribe looked at each other and laughed aloud. "Poor girl. She must think we are mad," said the scribe. "I assure you we are not."

"We are talent-gleaners," he explained. "Authors. Artists. Others serve Pharoah by making his swords and stables, but we pay homage with the beauty of words. If I not mistaken, you have some of those seeds within you. But just as wheat must be strained to create fine flour, you require cultivation to bring out your abilities."

My fingers touched my chest. "Do you really think I have such an ability within me?" I asked curiously.

"We see you have the passion. You require practice." He waved a hand excitedly towards me. "Would you please stand up and walk up and down the room for us?"

I did as he requested and slowly walked to and from him. He asked me to turn around in a circle twice and I did that as well. The scribe seemed to be containing himself with delight, as did his large-eared student.

"Marvelous. Did you notice the graceful way the hem of her dress sways around her ankles? And that lovely tilt of the head when she spiraled in place?"

"I did, I did," agreed the youth. "It is the graceful step of a gazelle approaching a glittering brook. Have you ever noticed it, Asenath?"

I colored from his compliment. "Pharoah did say I have a light step," I admitted.

"Praise from Pharoah himself! Proof that you posses a poet's soul!" beamed the scribe. "Pray sit down, Asenath of the queen's ladies! We still have some time until the queen's servants fetch you back. If you will but put your trust into us, we will assist you in crafting the finest words heard throughout the kingdom. Will you consent?"

I gazed from the young eager face to the animated elderly one. Their cheeriness must have been contagious because my face ached from smiling so much.

"I consent, master scribe. Teach me as you will."

A-A-A

Urat did not fully recover from his ailments.

His eyes had grown shrunken in their sockets and his skin was thin and wrinkled as aged parchment. Whenever he was not coughing, an unpleasant wheeze escaped his throat. For every day he appeared in the throne room, four days were spent in his bedchamber. Everyone from the High Priest down to the kitchen staff agreed that his spirit was gradually trickling out of his body like water from a leaking urn. His days were numbered.

Pharoah had declared a grand feast to commemorate Urat's retirement. To his credit, I heard Urat protest in that he would serve Pharoah to his last breath. But his voice was weak, no doubt eclipsed by the shadows in his lungs. Pharoah benevolently responded that he would not have his viceroy worked to death.

"Let the remainder of your days be ones of peace and rest, most faithful servant," Pharoah told him.

In the following days, I was privy to whispers exchanged while servants prepared the festive meal.

"Behesu is no longer a suitable replacement," Menes murmured to me. "His arm was found bobbing in the reeds outside of Luxor with the royal bangle still attached to it".

My brow puckered in disgust to hear it. "How did this come about?"

"One cannot say. His barge could have easily been overturned by a hippo before a crocodile feasted upon his flesh. We will never know if it was an accident or his jealous cousin Nane caused his downfall. What do you think, Asenath?"

I could not answer as a manservant approached the door and told me I was to report back to Pharoah.

I found him in the courtyard rubbing his hands over his favorite horse. "Have you written a list of all the dishes to be served?" he asked me. I confirmed and procured it for Pharoah.

"Adequate," he stated. "And what of rumors in the palace? Anything to report?"

"I have been informed that Behesu no longer breathes," was all I said.

"As have I."

"And there was reason to believe he wished to be viceroy himself," I added carefully.

"No doubt," responded Pharoah. "But his wishes have been claimed by the Nile. It was never his destiny to be viceroy".

A-A-A

A balmy evening greeted the queen and her maidservants were brought into the great gardens of the retirement party. The half-moon hung low in the sky with only a gossamer-thin trail of cloud here and there. But there was sufficient light to burn in the numerous torches placed about the garden and I could see the members of the court mulling around the tables.

The garden was set in a large square shape, inlaid with white and gray tiles that glimmered under our feet. In each corner was a large palm tree that murmured and rustled every time the wind brushed against it. Each of the four palm trees was surrounded by a perfect square of low gray shrubs, no doubt a result of perfect breeding and pruning from the gardener's laborers.

In the center of this garden was a circle of yellow roses encompassed a pool brimming with white lotus flowers. I informed the queen how it reminded me of the sun and she agreed that the architect bore the same thought in mind when he designed it for Pharoah.

She took her seat beside Pharoah at the head of the table and smiled graciously to all who approached them. Pharoah inclined his head and rubbed his jawline from time to time. When the torch lights flickered over his face, I noticed the skin between his eyebrows and over his forehead was pinched up. And any moment he was not drinking from his cup or eating some delicacy the queen had offered him, his teeth were snapping together restlessly.

I was enjoying a concoction of date honey and almonds when a servant offered me a small cone from the tray in his palm. I saw other people were placing the tiny cones upon their heads and wax was slowly dripping into their wigs.

"It will release a most pleasant perfume to soothe the senses," he told me. Indeed, I could already smell a delicious fragrance as two people glided past me.

I reached out to take one, but the master scribe appeared and waved the servant away. "I do not intend to deny you such a fine token, but you will need to keep your head clear and free of heady scents tonight," he murmured into my ear. Then he glided away, melting into the shadows and leaving me perplexed at his mysterious orders.

Everyone was enjoying themselves and making pleasant conversation until we saw Urat struggle to his feet. All fell silent and drew closer, straining to hear his voice over the wind.

"Lords and ladies, subjects of great Pharoah Amenhotep, I am honored by your presence," he began.

Urat paused to take another breath. "As you know, I have served in the court of the Pharaoh since the royal crown was placed upon his head at the age of twenty-one. Throughout the years I have served my lord and given council on matters great and small, near and far."

He slowed down to take in two more breathes before continuing his speech.

"But my time draws close and soon I will be laid to rest with my ancestors. I thank my lord and master for his numerous acts of kindness to me and pray that his radiance will illuminate the kingdom for centuries. Let Amun-Ra pass his wise hand over our lord so that one more worthy than myself will take his place."

This speech was all but too much for him and he collapsed in his chair. All clapped politely for him until Pharoah rose in his chair, and then we all respectfully bowed our heads.

"None have been so devout as you have been, old friend," he began. "I relieve you of your duties. May your final days be spent in harmony."

Pharoah reached forward and lifted the golden chain from around Urat's neck. It clattered noisily where Pharoah had placed it on the table.

Urat seemed neither relieved nor saddened, only resigned to his fate.

"Lord Katom will take on the responsibilities that formerly belonged to Urat," Pharoah said in a somewhat flat voice. Then he added with more firmness, "For now".

There was further applause, but I wondered on the resolution at the end of his sentence. Pharoah did not extend the chain to Lord Katom but extended Urat's staff to him instead. If Lord Katom seemed disappointed, he concealed it well and dropped to his knees before Pharoah.

"May my body be ever strong in your service, Pharoah Amenhotep," he declared as the staff was placed into his open palms.

"Even if he slits Urat's throat tonight, Lord Katom still won't get to be viceroy," someone murmured to a friend. "You can see it in his eyes. He craves honor. Pharoah does well not to satiate his desires."

Cool night air swept over my arms and sent a shiver up my shoulders.

"Do let us have some music," Queen Tiaa suggested. She snapped her fingers and several harpists and a drummer swept before the pool. They adjusted their instruments as Tiaa added, "My maidservant Ahti has a superb voice. If it pleases Pharoah, let her soothing melodies please all who are present".

"Let it be done," Pharoah consented.

He adjusted himself in his chair beside the queen as Ahti glided forward before his table. She had placed a tiny stool on the ground and stepped upon it, all the better for everyone to see her face. The lustrous blue on her eyes glittered in the firelight whenever she cast her eyes downwards and her bosom rose and fell with attentive desire as she drew breath in and out. Ahti opened her mouth and a note flew out of her lips.

I closed my eyes and suddenly imagined myself as a child again, racing up and down the river on the day of the Opet Festival. I remember the crackling sound of dried twigs brushing over my feet and Ahti's voice ringing high above the cries of joy. Her voice was just as sweet as honey, as clear as fresh water running from a brook. It soared like a bird, lifting my spirts up into the clouds. It flowed and murmured alongside the delicate strings of the harp and the deep thrumming of the drums. I swayed to and fro, allowing the voice to carry itself along and leave behind its agitated owner, only to let its beauty be cherished in this moment.

At last her throat closed off and her lips sealed. All standing there raised their palms and yelled, "Huraah! Hurrah! Blessed is Ahti, blessed is her patron Hathor!"

She stepped off the stool, chin tilted proudly upwards even as she prostrated herself to Pharoah and Tiaa. Her chin was still upwards even as she backed away and allowed herself to be surrounded by admirers.

"Pharoah is pleased thus far?" someone spoke up. The master scribe had reappeared with a scroll in his hand.

"I am pleased," Pharoah answered curtly.

"I am glad to hear it. The evening's activities continue with another gift from Tiaa's devoted maidservants". He turned to me and extended a hand; it was an arrow pointed at my heart.

"Asenath has labored many days to compose an original sonnet for the honor of Urat and the glory of Pharoah", he proclaimed. "She will recite her verses now".

A swell of murmurs and words rose around me as terror seized my thoughts. My fingertips has become cold and stiff. I was not prepared for this! If only Beka was present to put some courage into me!

But I was no longer a child. I could not pick up my skirts and run away. I would have to face my fears head on as Beka had advised. Timidly, I took one tiny step forward. Then another. And another until I was standing in the space that Ahti once occupied.

The master scribe whisked the stool away. "You won't need anything else to stand tall tonight," he whispered to me. Then he placed the scroll in my hands and motioned to one harpist.

I stood paralyzed in place, seeing no one else except for Pharoah. He was languishing in his chair with one arm draped over that of the queen. The fingers of his other hand were tracing his lips. His head was tilted slightly downwards, allowing me to see the irritated glitter in his eyes. They commanded me, "Do not waste my time".

A string plucked; a single note flared into the silence like an ember in the dark.

I took a single breath in and out as I slowly unfurled the scroll. There was more than enough light to read the words on the page. I recognized the words I had composed but not the writing itself. The master scribe had kindly copied them into larger letters so that it was easier to see and marked the lines where I should pause. I had no further excuses to give.

My voice cracked on the first word, stepped on the second, and walked on the third.

"O my wise one..." I began.

From time to time a harp played a note or two to escort the poem, but otherwise the garden was quiet. I read each line with my heart in my throat, with full attention and direction to every thought that had inspired the words. The further I read, the strong my voice became.

The stronger my voice grew, the more I envisioned Joseph was sitting among the guests. His benevolent eyes were shining with admiration at my accomplishments—or rather, what God have given me the talent to accomplish. For though this was a night to honor Urat, another man had inspired my words to take flight:

"O my wise one

I wish to be part of your affairs, forever your student

With your mind and mine, we stand as one

Warm in the sun of the day, cool in the moon at night

Refreshed when the Nile waters flow at our feet

Blessed when the Nile lands spring forth bounty

Are you not my friend and teacher, my companion and life?

How joyful is your counsel!

Sweeter than honey, richer than wine

More lustrous than silver are your words

More soothing than fine oil is your wisdom

More sacred is your rebuke than the flattery of others

Look what fate has sent us apart

Yet I am just like you

Master and servant, student and scholar

I am destined to learn from you

Let the sun fall and the moon fade away

Yet let every father and mother rejoice

Call out all people in one place for peace

For the sun shall rise again and the moon grow full

The empty cup shall be filled once again

Parted today, rejoined tomorrow

Forever remember, o my wise one

I thank thee forever, today, hereafter

The ever-seeing eye watches all."

I sealed my lips, drew the scroll to my stomach, and lowered my eyes to the tiles following each other in perfect patterns at my feet. A pleasant sound swirled around me; voices of approval and gladness.

"Praise Asenath, blessed daughter of Neith! Sweet are her words!" people called out. "Praise to Asenath!"

Pharoah commanded silence and all went still. "Give me that scroll," he uttered. A slave took it from my hands and presented it to him. He unfurled it and examined the lines, then handed it to the queen.

"An unusual piece," he told me. "Where did you receive inspiration?"

"From my heart, great Pharoah," I answered honestly.

"The very heart that is currently beating inside of your chest?"

"Yes."

"Harrumph." He murmured something to the queen, and it gave me joy to see a smile form upon her lips. But Pharoah did not share in her approval. My courage wavered again until he spoke.

"I am a king of armies and temples; a servant of the gods. My way is that of the sword and shield. Music and poetry do not satiate me as meat and wine do," said Pharoah. "But your words have soothed my spirit and that is good enough".

"It is a fine piece, Asenath," said the queen. "I am pleased to see you have put your time to good use."

I dipped my head down, flushed with her compliment. "There is no greater honor than to please Pharoah and the queen," said I with all sincerity. "Let all my achievements be for your sake".

The scroll was passed to Urat next, and his eyes watered as he scanned the page.

"I would like a copy of this placed into my tomb," he informed me. "These words will console me on the journey to the afterlife".

I murmured that his request would be granted, albeit with the bittersweet sensation that Urat was preparing for his end. But I reminded myself however begrudgingly he let me into the palace, Urat did let me pass the threshold and I owed him a debt of gratitude. The least I could do was assure him that his request would be fulfilled.

"You shall continue your tutelage under our master scribe," the queen told me. "And when you have composed further poems of this caliber, I will hear them aloud for my maidservants and I".

"My lady speaks well," intervened the master scribe. "If it pleases the queen, let Asenath compose a song that Ahti may sing at our next celebration".

"If it pleases the queen, it will be done," Pharoah responded for her.

The scribe drew me back into a circle of people who clapped hands and flattered me with petal-soft words. I did my best not to seem too proud or too humble by thanking them for the compliments and vowing to keep up my skills.

When I lifted my eyes up, I noticed Ahti standing under a tree at the edge of the garden. Her head was fixed on the contents of her wine cup which she sipped without giving me a second glance. But I knew that if her cup could become a spear, she would have pierced me to the tree.