by Angela Hunt
“Thank you, my king.” Yosef lowered himself to his knees. He wasn’t sure what behavior was appropriate, but he took the ring and put it on his own finger while Tuthmosis smiled in approval. “You shall have garments of fine linen,” Pharaoh went on. He clapped, and a group of slaves appeared from a room behind the throne, each carrying a box of garments.
“And then, there is this.” Pharaoh lifted the gold chain from his neck. “My father bestowed the Gold of Praise only twice in his lifetime—once to Potiphar, captain of his guard, and once to Narmer, who has also served me well.”
The courtier standing beside Queen Mutemwiya nodded in acknowledgment of the king’s praise.
“But to you, Paneah, I give the Gold of Praise and every honor I can imagine. On this day you will ride throughout Thebes in the chariot behind me. When my warriors cry, ‘Bow the Knee’ in reference to me, every knee in Egypt shall bow in your honor as well.” Tuthmosis slipped the Gold of Praise about Yosef’s neck, then stepped back. “Though I am Pharaoh,” he called, his voice echoing off the walls, “without your permission no one shall raise his hand or foot in all the land of Egypt.”
No pharaoh had ever granted such authority. Every face in the room bore the stamp of astonishment.
“May Pharaoh live forever,” Yosef replied, lowering his head to the floor. His mind swam with disconcerting thoughts, and he could think of no other reply. In less than a day he had traveled from a prison pit to a throne. How many men had covered so great a distance in so short a time?
“And there is this in conclusion,” Pharaoh said, stepping back to the dais. “You have been called Paneah, ‘he lives,’ and today I decree that you shall henceforth be called Zaphenath-paneah, ‘God speaks, he lives.’ For today I have learned that the unknown god of whom I have heard much, truly lives and speaks through his servants. So that your seed may be forever established on the earth, Zaphenath-paneah, I give you Asenath, daughter of Potiphera, priest of On, to be your wife.”
A murmur of pleased surprise rippled through the crowd, a pair of silver trumpets shrilled, and the double doors opened at the far end of the room. Yosef turned as four priests entered, each carrying a pole to support a wedding canopy. Under the canopy walked a slender maiden in a dark Egyptian wig. For some inexplicable reason, Yosef’s eyes blurred with tears.
Pharaoh had passed a sleepless night in order to honor him. Yosef had not wanted a wife, but he could not insult the royal benevolence by refusing this tribute.
Whispering filled the air as Yosef walked toward his bride. Frankly jealous smiles and nodding faces wrapped around him as he took his place beneath the wedding canopy, as much a prisoner of fortune as Potiphar had been years before.
At the thought of Potiphar, Yosef turned to the girl at his side. He scanned her countenance with cautious appraisal, but on that lovely face he saw youth, freshness and a flicker of anxiety, but not a trace of Sagira’s ambition.
Yosef turned to the priest and accepted the hand of his bride.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The smile on Tuya’s face chilled as Yosef’s new wife nibbled on the traditional crust of bread he offered. Everything had been set in readiness for a wedding—the canopy, the flowers, the incense. Why had she not recognized the signs? She should have known what Tuthmosis would do. She should have prepared herself for this.
Of course Yosef should be married; what man did not want a wife and children? It would be unfair for her to expect Yosef to remain celibate while she enjoyed a husband, and unreasonable to think that Yosef’s god would set him apart from other men. Though Yosef had been able to withstand the temptation Sagira flaunted, Tuya had heard his heart pound and felt the heat in his kiss. More than any other woman, she knew Yosef ought to be married. He had waited for love long enough.
But why couldn’t she be the woman he loved? Why would the Almighty God not work another miracle? He freed Taharka from prison, he kept Yosef safe from Sagira, he lifted Yosef to the position of leadership and authority he deserved. She knew El Shaddai was powerful, she agreed with his purposes, so why couldn’t he bring Yosef into her arms?
Perhaps the Almighty God concerned himself with matters of life and death, but not with matters of the heart. Yet Yosef had told her that his god loved his people with a jealous love. If this god felt human emotion, couldn’t he see that her heart was breaking? If he loved her as he loved Yosef, why didn’t he do something about her pain?
One of the priests lifted the traditional stone jar, another handed Yosef the sword. Yosef swung the blade in a clear arc, destroying the fragile pottery as surely as his marriage had shattered Tuya’s heart.
The crowd roared in approval. Tuthmosis beamed, then stepped from the dais for the ceremonial chariot ride through the streets of Thebes. The crowd swept forward, emptying the great hall in an enthusiastic rush, but Tuya hung back, gripping her son’s hand.
Yosef raised his chubby face to hers. “Mama sad?”
“No, dear, Mama is happy,” she said, smiling through the tears that jeweled her lashes.
Pharaoh ordered his stonemasons to begin building a house for his new vizier, Zaphenath-paneah. From her chamber in the palace Tuya could hear the sounds of chisel and cudgel, ax and saw. The laborers worked from the rising of the sun till the setting of it, and as his house rose from a hilltop near the palace, Zaphenath-paneah conducted his affairs from Pharaoh’s throne room.
Egypt had known viziers before, but never one with this much power. With Pharaoh’s full authority, Zaphenath-paneah divided the kingdom into tracts of land and classified them according to their fertility. He specified three categories: lands that regularly received the Nile’s fertile flood, lands that sometimes flooded, and lands that seldom or never did. For the next seven years, Zaphenath-paneah proclaimed, taxes would be calculated according to the flood state at various locations along the river, beginning at the isle of Elephantine near the first cataract. Based on this measurement, crop quotas would be assigned. Four-fifths of the land’s expected bounty would belong to the people who worked it, but one-fifth would belong to Pharaoh, and must be surrendered for storage in Pharaoh’s granaries.
Tuya wondered how well Asenath had come to know her husband, for almost immediately after his appointment Yosef set off on a tour of Egypt to determine if the present nomarchs would be capable of gathering the harvest from the coming years of plenty. A corps of scribes, accountants and engineers accompanied him on his travels, and Pharaoh received daily reports of his vizier busily collecting records of all the houses and estates in Egypt. While the scribes questioned the nomarchs about their past administration and the collection of taxes, engineers surveyed the land to determine where the huge, cone-shaped granaries should be built. In cities where the vizier found the nomarchs resentful, unscrupulous or inept, new officials were appointed to oversee the gathering of the earth’s bounty.
Tuthmosis had been wise, Tuya realized, to appoint a vizier to handle the complicated details of taxation, for now the young king was free to concentrate on the work he loved. Already he had restored the ancient Sphinx to its former grandeur; now he concentrated on raising the fallen obelisk of Tuthmosis III at Karnak. Many ancient temples and monuments had fallen into disrepair, and Tuthmosis the dreamer was far happier restoring the glory of the past than working out the details of a complicated present.
Not only did Yosef have to contend with the coming famine, but to him also fell the traditional duties of a vizier. The viziers of Egypt’s past had filled at least thirty major functions, including Manager of the King’s Palace, Guardian of the Public Works, General of the King’s Army, Commander of the King’s Peacekeepers, Patron of the Royal Artisans, Dispenser of Justice and Keeper of the Law, Judge over the High Court of the Land, Overseer of the Royal Farms and Granaries, Hand to Distribute Food to Laborers and the King’s Officials, and He Who Gathers in the King’s Taxes.
Perhaps, Tuya thought as she listened to one of the reports Yosef sent to Tuthmosis, the
Almighty God prevented her from marrying Yosef because Egypt’s second in command had no time for a wife. But still her heart leapt with joy when she heard that Zaphenath-paneah had finally returned to Thebes. With difficulty she curbed her eagerness and waited two ten-day weeks before joining the others who assembled each morning at the palace in the hope of gaining an audience with the king’s vizier.
“Dress me carefully,” she told her handmaid, but she dared not speak the reason for her concern: because this morning I have decided to face Yosef.
Knowing Yosef’s preference for simple things, from her wardrobe chest she selected a gown of cream-colored linen and a narrow band of gold for her throat. Modest leather slippers completed her outfit, and in her hand she carried a single lotus blossom, a symbol of their hours together in Potiphar’s garden.
Leaving Yosef in the care of his nurse, Tuya slipped out of her chamber and down to the hall that had been designated as a temporary reception room for the vizier. A throng of dignitaries and nobles waited outside the chamber’s closed doors, yet the crowd parted like the petals of a flower as she approached. No one dared question her presence, for anyone might approach the vizier and offer a word of advice or congratulation, but Tuya spied more than one lifted brow. Intuitively, she knew it would not be wise to speak with Yosef alone. The more witnesses to her audience with him, the safer they both would be.
Every morning the vizier went first to Pharaoh’s chamber for an intimate council, so the esteemed Zaphenath-paneah had not yet arrived to face his visitors. Tuya waited, hoping Yosef would not leave her long with the men who cast furtive glances in her direction, and within a few moments she heard the steady tramping of an approaching entourage. Surrounded by a host of scribes and nobles, Yosef swept past her, but his eye caught hers and his lips mouthed her name: Tuya! She caught a glimpse of fondness in his gaze as his guards pulled him away, and her heart fluttered at the knowledge that he remembered.
For an hour, she waited. Those who had previous appointments came and went, then finally a servant dipped his knee before her. “Queen Tuya, the vizier bids me call for you,” he said, motioning toward the reception chamber. Tuya rose and followed the servant.
Yosef sat on a gilded chair not unlike Pharaoh’s throne. A thick carpet lay under his feet, the baton of state across his hands. The books of Egypt’s laws, forty-two volumes containing all the wisdom of the world, stood open on stands behind his chair. An assortment of Pharaoh’s officials and ministers clustered around the vizier, expressions of curiosity on their faces as Tuya approached.
She smiled at her husband’s ministers, then turned to Yosef. On the night of his release from prison he had appeared as wild as an unbroken horse. Today he seemed no less powerful, but Zaphenath-paneah looked as Egyptian as any man born along the Nile. He wore a fine pleated kilt and a mantle of leopard skin, the traditional garb of a prince. A handsome wig covered his head, and his paint-lengthened eyes crinkled at the sight of her. “I am honored, Queen Tuya,” he said, his voice reaching her as if from worlds away.
If not for the memories that came crowding back at the sound of his voice, she would have thought Yosef the Hebrew a figment of her imagination. She could see little of him in the king’s vizier. Gone was the thick, unruly hair, the faltering accent, the boyish laugh. This stranger was an exquisite man, but he was not the youth she had known and loved.
He gave her a careful smile. “To what do I owe the honor of visiting with Pharaoh’s wife?”
“One of Pharaoh’s many wives,” she said, searching for the meaning behind his greeting. Had he chosen those words as casually as his tone implied? Or was he trying to gently remind her that they were not the people they once had been?
“I come, my lord vizier, to welcome you to the palace.” She bowed her head in a gesture of respect, grateful for the opportunity to lower her eyes as she forced out her next words: “And to congratulate you on your marriage.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated. “I hoped we would have a chance to speak, gracious lady.”
“Truly?” She lifted her head. His eyes snapped with some urgent message he could not speak before the ministers who listened to every word. She tightened her hand around the flower she carried. Yosef wanted to speak freely—what would he say?
With a graceful economy of movement he stood and clapped his hands. “Clear the room of all who await business with the vizier,” he ordered. “Queen Tuya should not have to speak before the common crowd.”
“Let your servants remain, my lord,” she whispered, catching his eye. Rash actions would arouse suspicion, and as much as Tuya wanted to speak with him alone, she knew she did not dare. Pharaoh’s court was quicksand; she had seen how petty jealousies and ambitions could flare to injure the innocent. Amenhotep’s court had been rife with strife, and Tuthmosis was young enough to be easily misled.
“Of course. My servants shall remain, but my scribes—” Yosef gave the three men who sat at his right hand a determined smile “—will wait in the anteroom. The words of Pharaoh’s wife do not need to be recorded.”
The grumbling men gathered their pens, parchments and books and left the room, casting curious glances over their shoulders as they exited. When everyone had gone but the two servants who lingered at the door, Yosef stepped from the dais. The stiff guise of the Egyptian vizier fell away, and the expression in his eyes brought heat to Tuya’s cheeks. For a dizzying moment the room whirled around her.
“Steady,” Yosef murmured in a low voice. “You must remember where you are.”
“I’m all right.” She pressed her hand to her throat and breathed deeply, aware that servants watched from the far side of the room. No doubt other faces were pressed to the narrow opening between the doors.
“I have wanted to thank you, Zaphenath-paneah.” She strengthened her voice so the eavesdroppers could hear. “You have done my husband and the kingdom a great service.”
“God has brought us to this place,” Yosef answered. “But I am enjoying the work.”
She turned her back to the spies at the door. “I have prayed to your god,” she confessed in a whisper. “I prayed for Taharka’s release. When I saw that your god could deliver him, I prayed for you, too.”
Yosef laughed. “And I thought my prayers did all the work.” He thrust his hands behind his back and regarded her with what looked like honest affection. “It is comforting to know I was in your thoughts.”
A feeling of glorious happiness warmed her heart. “I nearly gave up. But when I heard Potiphar had spared your life, I knew your god would preserve you. Even though I thought you guilty at first—”
“Speak no more of the past.” Yosef lowered his voice. “I have prayed for you these many years, and I have begged God for an opportunity to speak to you.”
His words stole her breath. Was he about to confess he still loved her? Would he suggest a rendezvous? For what purpose? If they were to meet, even as friends, questions would be asked. She stared at him, her mouth agape.
“I have dreamed again.” His eyes darted toward the doors at the rear of the room; his voice became a thin whisper in the space between them. “The vision was another warning from God, Tuya. You and your son are in danger.”
“Yosef?” she cried, momentarily forgetting everything else.
A corner of the vizier’s mouth curled in a half smile. “Your son is called Yosef?”
“It is his baby name,” she answered, feeling heat rise in her face. “Pharaoh does not know what it means. I thought that since I couldn’t have you, at least I could love my Yosef—”
“You must take care, Tuya,” he whispered, his voice dark with warning. “I don’t know where the danger lies, but this evil would not hesitate to destroy Pharaoh as well.”
Tuya gave him a rueful smile. “Like Tuthmosis, you are always dreaming. Is there danger in the court? Certainly, for even the suggestion of impropriety could spell exile for me and my son. But I am no threat to anyone. I hold no ambitions, I do not
take much of Pharaoh’s time. And Tuthmosis is a good king. He wants to do right and he has surrounded himself with wise counselors.” She lifted a brow. “As you should know.”
Yosef ignored the compliment. “Even so, you must be careful. When I first had the dream, prison walls hindered me from warning you. And now—” he grasped his hands “—I am hindered in other ways.”
“I know,” she cut him off. Again the conversation threatened to pick up the strings of time, and emotion choked off the words she wanted to say. She took a step toward him, hoping he could read her heart, but he lifted his hands in warning.
Tears stung her eyes. “Yosef—” she stared at the floor as she strained to push her embarrassment aside “—you need not fear me. I will not bait you as Sagira did. I will not touch you, I will not linger in the hall for a glimpse of you. I will not give anyone cause to say I am unfaithful to my husband.”
She paused, struggling to gain control over her unsteady voice. Outside the room she could hear the murmur of voices, sudden laughter and shushing sounds as the waiting nobles remembered that a queen and the vizier held a conference nearby.
After a long moment, she met his eyes. “Perhaps the danger you dreamt of lies in Zaphenath-paneah. I am safe as long as I guard my heart…from you.”
“And they say I am the one who is wise,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with a shadow of the love she remembered.
Tuya felt her heart turn over the way it always had when he looked at her like that, and the memory made her smile. “Your god has surprised me yet again. I cannot fight against the Almighty.”
“My god—” Yosef gave her a quick smile “—has our good in mind. We must trust him.”