Young Writers Society

XXI

When they arrived at Potipherah’s manor, it was still the dead of night. The gardens and house brought memories of Asenath’s childhood flooding back. All of them threatened to drown her.

“Elohim, help me.”

As the chariot entered the courtyard, she heard wails seeping from the walls. A shiver, not from the cold, shook her body.

I’m afraid.

Joseph slowed the horse in front of the door. Leaning down, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her from the chariot. “Be strong. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“I’m so tired.”

“It was a difficult journey. Let me hold Manasseh.”

He is getting bigger.

Her arms were weak. “Here.”

Joseph took the baby. It felt as if she had just handed over a block of lead.

“Do have to see him now? I’m sure he will last through the night,” she pouted.

Joseph bit his lip. “Maybe he will, maybe he won’t.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when she noticed the dark bags under his eyes.

I’m being ridiculous. He has gone through Just as much as me tonight. He has to be exhausted. But he still wants to sit up through the night to fix my relationship with my parents who hate him?

She sighed. “You are right. There’s no time to waste.”

They entered Asenath’s old home with Joseph leading and Asenath a couple steps behind him, as was proper.

Much had changed. The house was empty of all people except the faint sounds of wails.

“Where is everyone?” Joseph asked.

“In the hall of the dying. Turn left here, then right.”

Once they took the turns, Joseph saw what Asenath meant. The hall was lined with slaves covered with ash. It rocked wails and screams.

If all of these believe in an afterlife, why is there so much fear?

“Where is his room?”

“At the end of the hall.”

Joseph wavered in his resolve. “Maybe…no, it has to be now.”

With that, Joseph strode confidently into the hall, still cradling Manasseh.

The noise was deafening. Manasseh’s little ears couldn’t handle it for long. He screamed in protest. It only added to the terrible medley of fear.

Periodically, one of the mourners would stop to stare at the new arrivals. The wailings died down and was replaced by whispers.

“It’s Asenath.”

“The vizier.”

“Zaphenath-paneah.”

“He disowned them.”

She heard faint fragments of their confused whispers.

What will they think? I guess that doesn’t matter. Elohim and Joseph both love me. That’s all I need to know.

She repeated in her mind the things she should think. But did she believe it?

When they reached the door, Manasseh was still crying despite Joseph’s best efforts. A skinny slave guarded the door. Actually, he slumped in front of it. Joseph lowered his head before the man. “My liege.”

The Pharaoh?

The man looked up. Yes, it was the Pharaoh, but so different. He only wore a plain loincloth, dark sandals, and a thick gold band around his neck. He was bald, and wrinkles of worry surrounded his eyes. In this place of death, he did not look like the godlike Pharaoh of Egypt. Here he was a man, filled with the pain of mankind with no one to share it with.

He could never have taught me how to love. He doesn’t know love himself.

“Zaphenath-paneah, where is your ward?”

“He will hopefully come tomorrow.”

“Then he will have to pray that Potipherah does not pass before he arrives. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Manasseh screamed louder.

Senusret turned to Asenath. “You cannot bring that child into the room. Give him to a slave.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Who will take him? He is supposed to be cursed.

Taking him from Joseph, she studied the eyes of the slaves. Looks of fear met her eyes. She didn’t remember most of them. But, she did recognize a familiar face of an older woman that was not crying.

My nurse! She loved me dearly.

“Reziya!”

The woman was startled to be called out of so many. When she saw the source of the voice, she gasped. “Asenath.” Her voice cracked with age. “You shouldn’t be here; he won’t accept you.”

“I will see him. Will you care for my son?”

“I…well…” Her eyes darted to the other slaves. “They think that he will bring a curse on us all.”

“Reziya, he’s a baby! What can he do to you? Here.” With that, she sat the screaming child into the faithful slave’s arms. Almost immediately, he stopped crying. “See, he likes you. Take care of him for me. I’ll be back.” Asenath knew by the look in her eyes that she liked him too.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Joseph and Senusret had already began talking in hushed tones when she returned. “They tell me he has been getting easily tired recently. Then, a couple of days ago, he came down with a fever. The doctors tried everything, but nothing has worked. He will pass soon.”

Joseph nodded gravely.

“Where is Quibilah, my mother?”

“She has been by his side for days. I finally sent her to bed,” Senusret said.

“May we see him?” Asenath asked anxiously.

“That is why I brought you here. And he needs to get his affairs in order. I don’t trust any of his other relations. His children are power-hungry hypocrites.” Senusret remembered Asenath’s presence. “Oh, not you, of course.”

Asenath restrained herself from rolling her eyes. “Let’s not waste anymore time.”

“Very well. The door is before you. May your God go with you. I am going to get a hot drink.”

Joseph placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Elohim, help me.

“Yes.”

Joseph pushed one of the doors open.

The sight made Asenath want to run. The room was dark and smoky. The thick, nauseating smells of dozens of incenses filled the room. It was the smell of death.

In spite of her fears, she strode in. Shrines to every Egyptian god imaginable lined the walls. A bed with cheap white sheets sat in the middle of the room.

This is how life ends. He won’t take any of his stuff with him.

Joseph had taught her that Jehovah’s people would go to a spiritual home after death. No material things would go with them. Because this idea was so opposite to Egyptian culture, Asenath still struggled with it.

When she approached the bed, she saw a figure she did not recognize.

He always reminded me of a fish, but now…

His bones were like sticks under the sheets. Any hair that he had before was gone. Though he was asleep, every few moments he would wriggle like a worm. His whole face seemed to be made of sunken wrinkles.

How can I ever love this man?

Without warning, the dying man opened his eyes.

Were his eyes ever so gray?

“Hello, father.”

“Asenath,” he whispered.

“And Zaphenath-paneah, father.”

“Zaphenath…who?”

“Zaphenath-paneah, your son-in-law.”

“My son…you! And you!” He gave Asenath a menacing glare. “I…” He went into a coughing fit.

“Father!” Asenath grabbed his hand.

“No! You…you are not… my daughter. You…forsook Ra.” He had to breathe deeply to speak at all.

Joseph opened his mouth to speak. “It is…”

“I don’t want…want to even hear you!”

“Then hear me, father. You are nearing death. All these gods,” she motioned to the shrines, “couldn’t save you. Please listen. Elohim…”

“You will not speak that name in my house.”

“Let me finish. When you put a curse on Manasseh, he lived because Elohim is stronger than those gods. Please, forgive me for my disrespect over the years. Don’t let it end like this.”

“My wife speaks the truth,” Joseph agreed.

Potipherah was conflicted. “I’m too weak. Put more…incense on Ra’s fire…for me.”

“Father! Ra won’t help you!”

“Then…you are my…enemies.” He pushed off her hand.

“Please listen!”

“NO!” He coughed violently. “I will no longer listen…to your heresy! I have served Ra all my life. And…I…won’t stop at my death!”

“This is not the time to be stubborn.”

“Ra…” he coughed.

“Calm down father,” Asenath pleaded. “You are hurting yourself.”

“No! Ra…” His body spasmed as he coughed again. “…is…” His next cough buckled him over and sent thick, warm liquid over his sheets.

“Joseph! He’s coughing blood! Stop! Shhh, father.” She took his hand and stroked it.

Elohim! Please!

He squeezed her hand like it was his lifeline. He heaved one last breath. “…god.”

Asenath felt his grip loosen, and his coughing stopped.

Joseph put his ear to the man’s chest. “He’s gone.”

Gone?

Stunned, she pried the dead man’s fingers off her hand. When she stood, Joseph pulled the sheet over his head. The white sheet was stained red with splatters of blood.

Asenath turned, eyes wide. “We…we killed him.”

“Killed?”

She pointed at the covered body. “Yes, killed. He was alive when we got here, but now he’s dead!”

“It was only a matter of time.”

“My own father hated me even in his death!”

“My love.” Joseph went to embrace her.

She was stiff in his arms. “What about forgiveness? If not for that, why did I even come?” she whispered more to herself than her husband.

“I don’t know. All I know is that Elohim’s plan is good. He is Jehovah-Jireh. He will provide a way to use this pain.”

She knew what he said was true. But when pain comes, the truth doesn’t often make sense.

“I thought that I hated him. But now my heart is breaking. What’s the matter with me?”

“Elohim has taught you a bitter sweet lesson. How to love those that don’t love in return.”

Love? Did I actually love him?

She broke down into sobs once more.

Yes.