Young Writers Society

Part 2 or 3 (if it’s part 3 then I’ll have to figure out where to put part 2)

XXVI

Asenath pulled the scarf over her nose. The dust flew about stinging his eyes.

The slave driving the chariot yelled through the wind, “A nasty dust storm is coming, my lady. Sit down to avoid the worst. We should make it back in time.”

Asenath pressed against the strong wood of the chariot. Through the thick cloth, she could see the streets of Egypt. The whole land was covered in a thick layer of dust. All the trees were bent, twisted, and dying with lack of moisture. Even the sky was a hazy brown. The sun beat down, sizzling the ground. Not even one cloud obstructed the heat. The was not even a relief. It only brought more sand.

Who knew a year of no rain could do so much damage? Of course, there were also the locusts. And the flood before that. And the wildfire last month. The famine came right on schedule.

Behind, she saw the dust storm coming as fast as ever. Then, she heard it. Not the dust storm, but the screams of woman and children. “Get inside! It’s another one!”

She tugged on the slave’s tunic. “Will we make it,” she screamed over the noise.

He gripped the reins tighter. “The horse won’t go any faster. Either we make it at this speed or we won’t. “

She pulled the scarf over her eyes and tried to be calm.

We’ll make it. We have to. I have a four and six year old boys at home.

With her eyes covered, her sense of hearing heightened. The wheels clattering over the stone path, the horse breathing deeply, the occasional crack of the slave’s whip, gates creaking open then closed.

Asenath only dared to peek.

Her brown gardens flew past. It was all the gardener could do to just keep enough grass growing for the horses. The precious water went to the Pharaoh’s vegetable gardens and vineyard. Everyone else had to depend on the grain Joseph had stored up the last seven years of great plenty.

The slave dropped off Asenath at the front door of the house and rode to the stable just in time. The minute the doors shut behind Asenath, the dust and wind struck the house.

That was too close.

She unwound the scarf from around her head, took a deep breath, and coughed. Even the house was filled with dust. It came in like a plague.

Oni strode towards the kitchen, a crimson scarf draped over her wig.

“Oni!” Asenath called.

Oni turned abruptly. “Asenath! You are back.” A gale shook the house. “And good thing too.”

Asenath willed her heart to beat normally. “Yes, Elohim protected me. Where are the children?”

“Your mother is telling them a story in her room. She sent me to fetch her a jug of water.”

“Go ahead then. I will help Mother with the children.”

Asenath walked through the winding halls to her mother’s room, running her hand over the smooth scenes of daily life and flowers on the walls.

She heard the children before she saw them. They were all “shh”ing one another, trying to hear the story.

Quibilah’s cracked voice rose above them. “Do you want to know what happens next?”

Asenath turned the corner into the room.

Quibilah sat cross-legged on a woven mat. Her eyes twinkled, accentuating her many laugh lines. Seven children sat around her.

Zuberi, the oldest at nine, leaned up against a chest, trying to look to old for stories. His long nose was turned upward, but his round eyes betrayed interest.

Little Asenath, with her thick hair tied back into a tight bun at her neck, seemed like a small mother at only seven. She held three year old Khu, Oni’s youngest, in her lap. He played with his long ponytail of dark hair on the side of his head, twisting it around his thin fingers.

Sekani and Manasseh, both at six, sat in Quibilah’s lap. Manasseh’s curly hair stuck to his face, but Sekani had been shaved in the traditional manner. Both had all the Egyptians characteristics; some mistook them as twins.

However Ephraim and Nena, Oni’s fourth child, though close in age (Ephraim-four, Nena-five) could not look any more different. Nena had bright, almond-shaped eyes like her father Msrah. The sun reflected off the glass beads strung in her braided hair.

But Ephraim seemed a bit out of place. He had all the Hebrew qualities. His skin tone was lighter, and his overall appearance was more muscular. But, he had his mother’s milky brown eyes.

All the children turned their heads when Asenath entered. Manasseh jumped up and gave her a big hug. “Momma!”

She reached down and rustled his hair.

Nena frowned. “Does this mean the story is done?”

Asenath laughed. “No, don’t mind me. Let Grandmother finish.”

“And the alligator ran and ran and ran until he ran all the way to the river. He jumped in and has never been seen again.”

Zuberi scoffed. “I would have just shot him with a bow and arrow, not scared him away.” He pulled back his imaginary bow to hit an unseen enemy.

Asenath, Jr., rolled her eyes. “You can’t hit a lightning fast crocodile with a bow and arrow. He would just dodge it.”

Asenath quieted them down. “You can finish this discussion in the main hall while we eat the afternoon meal. Go help the servants set the table.”

Reluctantly, the children went off.

Quibilah chuckled as Khu toddled behind his older siblings. “All seven feel like my very own grandchildren. When I moved in with you, I gained another daughter. Oni is a gem. Is she really a slave?”

Asenath hooked her arm into her mother’s. “No. Joseph and I freed them, but they wanted to stay.”

“I remember that now. Where were you, darling?”

“I went to see Khenemetneferhedjet.”

Quibilah nodded. “Since the death of her husband, the great Senusret II, you have become good friends.”

“We have a lot in common.”

“And her son Senusret III treats Joseph like he is his very own father.”

Asenath contemplated the wasteland outside. “Even in this famine, we have been blessed.”

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

Joseph examined the scale. “Two deben for gold for your grain,” he announced to the shifty-eyed nomad.

“Two deben!” the nomad exclaimed. “That is outrageous!”

Joseph rose to his full height. The glaring sun reflected off his shimmering headpiece, gold armbands, and jeweled belt that held his long loin tunic in place. His bare ab muscles rippled as he stroked his straight black goatee. “Two deben seems fair to me, considering supply and demand. Leaders, such as yourself, are flocking from the north and south of Egypt begging for grain. Though the famine is widespread, I have to feed my own people first.”

The trader cowered under Joseph’s penetrating gaze. “Yes, Zaphenath-paneah, vizier, my lord. That is fair.”

“Good. You may settle up here with my assistant Tehuti.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting two Nubian slaves fan him.

Asenath watched the scene unfold from behind the red and white curtains of her litter. She grabbed a fan as well and sat back against the linen cushions. Though she was at the northern trading post and grain storage area at the very border of Egypt, she was not afraid. Four guards that had carried her litter as well as two female attendants lounged outside the litter under a scraggly persea tree. She liked to watch Joseph’s political dealings even if she had to travel a bit. Of course, she never overstepped her bounds, but it was a good way to break up the day.

Thank goodness that goatee is just for ceremonial show. Facial hair does not look good on him.

She brushed back part of her wig and took a sip from a jug of water. The cool liquid only moistened her dry throat.

Only drink a little water. It’s precious.

Despite her carefulness, some water drizzled onto her chin.

I wish I could just dump the whole thing on my head.

Even from inside the litter, the heat was suffocating.

“Next!” Tehuti called.

Asenath peeked out to watch the next exchange.

Tehuti dropped the gold from the last trader into a jar, guarded by a huge man from Punt. He stood still, his dark hand on a knife lodged in a rope belt.

Some thought that all the people in Punt were giants. Asenath didn’t know if she believed that and she really didn’t care.

Just as long as the money is safe.

Ten men threw themselves to the ground in front of Joseph. Their beards and hair were disheveled and matted with dust and mud. They wore coarse, colorful robes over brown tunics. Asenath stared at their clothes in awe. No one like these men had come to Egypt for grain yet. They reminded her of shepherds, the disgusting outcasts, but only slightly. Also, they had slaves and donkeys laden with the makings of expensive tents.

Joseph first addressed Tehuti. “Do you speak Hebrew?”

“Yes, well enough to have a brief conversation.”

“Good. You will have to interpret for me.”

But Joseph speaks Hebrew fluently!

Tehuti spoke to the men, and they silently stood.

Asenath gasped. Their faces, though much older, had an uncanny resemblance to Joseph’s! She drew back the curtains for a moment.

Who are these men? If they are Hebrew, Joseph must know them! But he will not acknowledge them.

From her litter she could only see his back. But how she wished to see his face, to try to read his expressions!

Joseph stood and crossed his arms. “Where do you rabble come from?” he grunted.

One man with raven black hair and eyes dark enough to be almost black stepped forward. He spoke deeply in Hebrew while Asenath listened through the interpreter. “From Canaan, my lord. We have come to buy grain for our starving families.”

Canaan! Joseph’s homeland. They have to be his relatives!

Instead of embracing him, Joseph scoffed. “I know why you are here. You are spies from a foreign king! You have come to see how weak we are so you can attack!”

The eyes of all the men widened. They shook their heads and fell on their faces again. “No, no!”

The black-haired leader spoke again. “My lord! Your servants have just come to buy food. We are brothers and honest men, not spies. Never have we, I mean, your servants have never been spies!”

Joseph yelled. “Why are you lying?! I know that you want to see the weakness of the land!”

Another man stepped forward from the group. His reddish-brown beard was graying at the roots, and his body sagged as if bearing the weight of guilt. He spoke mildly. “Your servants are twelve brothers from Canaan, the sons of one man there.”

“Now I know that you are lying to me. I can count. There are only ten men here, not twelve!”

Twelve brother? How many brothers did Joseph have?

The leader scowled at the brother who had just spoken. “The youngest is with our father, and the other….” He glanced at the ground. “…is no more.”

One is no more! Eleven brothers! These are Joseph’s brothers! What is he thinking? Does he even know?

Joseph dismissed them with his hand. “It’s just like I said-spies.”

Asenath caught the hint of deception in his voice.

He knows! Of course he knows. They’re his brothers. What is he doing?

The brothers turned away, heads dropped in dismay.

“Wait,” Joseph called them back.

Ah. He will tell them now.

“I will give you a test to see that you are not spies. By the life of Pharaoh, you will not leave until this younger brother comes. I will send one of you to fetch him. The rest will stay in custody. We will see if there if there is truth in you, or, by the life of Pharaoh, you are spies.”

By the life of Pharaoh? He never says that?

The men lighted up. A chance to prove themselves!

“Guards!” Joseph snapped.

Six guards carrying wooden spears answered the call.

“Take these men to the cell under my house.”

The brothers gasped in fright. One called out, “We just want grain! Not trouble!”

Joseph stood firm, unmoved by their entreaties.

Asenath closed the curtains as the guards rounded the men up.

It’s revenge. Well they do deserve it. But Joseph told me he forgave them. I guess when push comes to shove…

She stole a peak at him. He continued business like nothing had happened.

Answers. I need answers.