The blazing red sun burned through the window right on Asenath’s face. The heat called her to wake up. To wake up to another day closer to death.
She slowly sat up on her pallet. The same picture greeted her that had greeted her for the past year. A simple mud hut. Two pallets. A dirt floor. A stone for grinding wheat. A small mirror and a table with the bare grooming necessities. And Oni making wheat cakes over a small fire.
Yes, things had changed for Asenath. Now, she lived on the back corner of her father’s property. A wall surrounded the hut, its meager garden, and a tiny pool cutting off Asenath and her one companion, Oni, from the rest of the world. It was quiet, but that was the way Asenath liked it.
“Good morning,” Oni smiled. “Have a wheat cake. I put a bit of honey in it since today is your seventeenth birthday.”
“My birthday or another day, it does not matter to me. Help me get dressed.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Asenath got up and sat before her homely dressing table and mirror. Her surroundings had changed and so had her appearance. She had forsaken the fashionable wig and had let her hair grow out. Its glossy streaks hung about to her shoulders. Her skin had become smooth and golden from hours in the sun, and her eyes were not masked by makeup. She wore only a thin silver chain on her neck and a plain white tunic accented her formed, yet strong features.
Oni looked at her mistress as she combed her hair. In Oni’s opinion, Asenath was lovelier now than she had ever been. . If only she would smile.
The way Asenath looked now even appealed to herself. Looking at myself looks less like a lie now.
Inside Asenath, there was a pain too deep to describe. Oni could sense it. It was as if Asenath lived inside herself. Or inside her paintings.
That was the only thing that Asenath seemed to enjoy doing. After breakfast, she always went out to the wall and painted. The scenes Asenath painted had a sense of a melancholy beauty about them. Looking at them made Oni want to cry and laugh all at once.
Today was no different. Asenath went to paint while Oni began to spin linen.
The thoughts that ran through Asenath as she painted seemed to replay her life over and over. But she thought mostly of the gods.
How she had grown up serving Ra.
How the fear of the gods had first forced her to strive to marry the Pharaoh.
How hundreds of Africans sacrificed their childrenfor a god.
How Ra had taken Amnon.
Anger filled her. Anger not at herself, her parents, or the Pharaoh, but at the gods.
Curse the gods. Let them strike me dead. The gods may exist, they may not, I don’t care! I will not bow to their statues. I spit in the face of the gods until they prove until that they are real. So come Ra! Send fire from the sky. Smite me with a plague. I will wait. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. There. The challenge is set. Asenath smiled inwardly. Now we prove who is the real captain of destiny.
Days past, then months. Asenath waited for the gods to prove their reality. But nothing significant happened. She saw no one or nothing for six months. Yet, one day something unexpected happened.
Asenath was out painting again, but, today, she felt exposed. The thick wooden gate of their compound had fallen down in the last sandstorm, leaving a gaping hole.
Of course, no one will come by here. It is too far out of the way.
She continued painting and totally forgot about the missing door. That was, until she heard the galloping of a horse. It was a sound that she had not heard in years, and it triggered excitement and dismay.
Who could it possibly be?
She turned, dreading to see who it was. To her surprise, it was an Egyptian man that she had never seen before.
He rode astride an Arabian horse; he wore a cloth around his waist in the Egyptian fashion with a red mantle and a gold clasp. His muscular chest was bare. Though he was not richly clad, he was handsome.
But one thing caught Asenath’s attention more than his clothes or athletic features. It was his eyes. They were confident, but not proud. She could see that this young man was determined. Somehow, he had a sort of trustworthiness about him. When he looked at her, something inside her tingled.
“Maiden.” His voice was authoritative and warm.
She bowed her head. “Lord.” She felt his look. It was not one of lust, but of pity.
How different from other Egyptian men! But, no! Don’t think of him. Don’t be hurt again.
“Don’t call me lord, maiden, for I am just a slave.
A slave! But he holds himself like a king!
“Please, could you tell me where the house of Potipherah is? I’m afraid that I have lost my way,” he asked.
“Indeed, you have. You are far out of the way! But if you follow this road to that grove,” Asenath pointed to a cluster of trees. “Then, turn left and ride that road. You will find the house of the priest.”
“Thank you. I must be on my way.” With a nod, he rode away. But as he galloped away, he turned and called back, “May you learn to smile again!”
Asenath blushed.
Oni, who had seen the whole thing, grinned.
How could he have known? What was his name? And why did he seem so... diferent? Forget about him. He is a slave. You won’t ever see him again.
But try as she might, Asenath could not push him out of her mind. Nor could she forget him over many years.
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