by Angela Hunt
She closed her eyes, unwilling to bow her head. “I grant Lady Sagira freedom to return to her house,” the vizier said, his voice soft. “Furthermore, I shall appoint a manager to oversee her affairs so Potiphar’s estate may return to its full glory. From my own estate I grant her two handmaids who will care for her health and see that she does not harm herself.”
Sagira stared at the king. Surely her mind had snapped. He had ordered her death, and her brain had mistranslated the sentence. Send her home? What a jest!
Yet Pharaoh seemed as surprised as she. “This is a most unusual judgment, Zaphenath-paneah. Are you certain this is what you wish?”
“For as long as the lady lives, she shall remain under my guardianship,” the vizier answered. “I shall appoint honest and fair men to see that Lady Sagira will not want for anything. I believe she has suffered enough, my king.”
The line of Pharaoh’s mouth curved, then he nodded. “Thus shall it be,” he said, his voice ringing through the judgment hall. “Let it be known throughout the kingdom that Zaphenath-paneah was unjustly accused and imprisoned, and the lady Sagira has this day been found guilty and shown mercy.”
For the first time since hearing his ruling, Sagira looked at Paneah. If he had ordered her thrown to the crocodiles, she would have spat in his face, wrapped the rags of her dignity about her and marched down to the Nile. But how could she cope with kindness?
The double doors of the hall creaked and opened. After bowing to Pharaoh, the vizier turned and left the hall, his business complete. Sagira stared after him, realizing that the assembly waited for her response.
After a long moment, she lifted her chin and stepped toward the doors, walking in the wake of the looks of awe and respect directed at Zaphenath-paneah.
Chapter Thirty
As Yosef predicted, the kingdom prospered during the seven years of plenty. Zaphenath-paneah’s overseers gathered the earth’s bounty until the Egyptians had stored up grain as abundant as the sand of the sea.
Before the first year of famine arrived, two sons were born to Yosef and his wife, Asenath. Yosef named the first-born Manasseh, “making to forget.” “For,” he told his wife, “God has made me forget all my trouble and all my father’s household.” He named the second Ephraim, “fruitfulness,” explaining, “God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction.”
During the years of plenty, Zaphenath-paneah redefined all that a vizier should be. So wide and broad were his duties that in years to come Egypt would find it necessary to have two viziers, one for the northern kingdom and another for the southern.
After taking private council with Pharaoh each morning, the Zaphenath-paneah stepped in full public view and reported to the king’s chief treasurer that all was well within the kingdom. The vizier then unsealed the doors of the royal estate so the day’s business could begin. Every person and item of property entering the palace doors was reported to the vizier, and it was said that Pharaoh could not cough without Zaphenath-paneah knowing about it.
The authorities in charge of each nome reported to the vizier on the first day of each season: inundation, emergence and drought. When the vizier was required to supervise disputes in local governments, he traveled up and down the Nile on Pharaoh’s official barge. He also detailed the king’s bodyguard, as well as the garrison of whatever city Pharaoh happened to visit. Army orders proceeded from the vizier, the forts of the south fell under his control, and the officials of Pharaoh’s navy reported directly to him. Though the vizier was the official minister of war, whenever Pharaoh traveled with the army, Zaphenath-paneah remained at Thebes and conducted the administration of domestic affairs. No tree could be cut without his permission, no building begun without his approval.
Zaphenath-paneah’s watchful eye regulated all things, and under Yosef’s rule God blessed Egypt just as he had blessed Potiphar’s house. In time, the Hebrew who had entered the land as a half-dead slave came to be regarded as the people’s great protector.
When ambitious men sought positions in Zaphenath-paneah’s service, they were carefully screened. After they passed a series of tests, the vizier’s assistants were presented to Pharaoh and charged in a formal ceremony.
Tuya often joined the royal court for these rituals. She thought it important to honor her husband by understanding the affairs of the kingdom, and she yearned for opportunities to watch Yosef from a careful distance.
“Let not your heart be puffed up because of your knowledge,” the vizier’s voice rang out in a commissioning service one afternoon. “Be not confident because you are a learned man. Take counsel with the ignorant as well as with the wise. The full limits of skill cannot be attained, and no skilled man is equipped to his full advantage. Good speech is more hidden than the emerald, but may be found with maidservants at the most humble grindstone.”
Tuya smiled. Only a man who had spent time in slavery could have gleaned that insight. “If you are a leader commanding the affairs of the multitude,” the vizier further encouraged his assistants, “seek for yourself every beneficial deed, until your own affairs are completely without wrong. Justice is great, and its appropriateness is lasting. It has not been disturbed since the time of him who made it, whereas there is punishment for him who passes over its laws. Wrong-doing has never brought its undertaking into port. Fraud may gain riches, but the strength of justice is everlasting.”
Tuya listened to Yosef’s words about justice with a be-mused smile. He had proved to be a firm disciplinarian with those who broke Pharaoh’s laws, so why had he been so merciful to Sagira? That woman’s folly had marred at least three lives, but she now lived in a restored and prosperous villa.
Perhaps Sagira paid for her crime in other ways. Tuya knew that Sagira had no friends among the nobility, for she had been cast from Pharaoh’s favor. Court gossip reported that Potiphar’s wife suffered from a wasting disease that would surely take her life unless the gods proved to be as merciful as Zaphenath-paneah.
A blaze of trumpet fanfare ended the ceremony; the flushed and happy civil servants bowed their knees to the vizier, then prostrated themselves before Pharaoh. Tuya sat silently in the cheering crowd, grateful for the anonymity of the assembly. In a gathering like this she could watch Yosef without worrying that her eyes revealed the love in her heart.
He had been Egypt’s vizier for six years, and since their first interview she had not spoken to him except in the most ceremonial of greetings when they chanced to pass in the palace hallways. With a lovely wife and two fine sons, Yosef had probably forgotten all about her.
But she still dreamed of Potiphar’s garden.
Chapter Thirty-One
Narmer hurried through the halls, slinking through shadows until he reached the private corridor that led to Queen Mutemwiya’s elegant chambers. After ducking through the doorway and the outer room, he insinuated himself between the heavy draperies on the queen’s bed and waited until he heard footsteps approaching. “Thank you, ladies, but I shall not need you tonight,” he heard her call, then Mutemwiya closed the door. “Narmer?”
“Here.” He stepped out of the curtains and pressed his lips together as a sign of pique. “I thought you’d never come.”
“That silly ceremony,” she fussed, slipping the heavy wig from her head. She tossed it onto the floor, then took a seat on her couch, curling her legs beneath her. “Well,” she purred, smiling in her unmirthful way, “come and tell me what you think of our grand vizier’s new men.”
“They are like the old ones,” Narmer grumbled, sinking into the chair opposite her. “The same enthusiasm, the same impartial glances, the same glow of righteousness. What I would give for a single covetous soul!”
“There will be no bribing the vizier’s assistants.” Mutemwiya lifted a manicured finger and stroked her chin. “Do not attempt it, for they will tell Pharaoh what you have done and then where will you be, my ambitious love?”
Narmer grinned, accustomed to her sharp tongue. “In the under
world with you.” He moved next to her, allowing her to drape her arm over his shoulders. “In any case, I will not bribe the vizier’s fools. He has surrounded himself with souls who are faithful and true—even his wife cannot be swayed from his side. Believe me, I have tried to gain the lovely Asenath’s attention—” he smiled at the anger in Mutemwiya’s eyes “—and failed.”
“She would not have an old goat like you,” Mutemwiya snapped. “Why should she? The one they call the Pride of Egypt is hers.”
“And the treasure of the kingdom is his. And Pharaoh, your young fool, is a puppet in the vizier’s hands.”
“As I am a puppet in yours.” Mutemwiya looked up, her fascinating smile crinkling the corners of her eyes, and for a moment Narmer was distracted. Compared to his luxury-loving lioness, Egyptian maidens were hothouse flowers. Mutemwiya had been bred in the wild lands of the north country, and her temperament was as unpredictable as the weather in that changeable land. She moved with animal assurance and spoke with the confidence of a woman who knows the potency of her charm. Narmer had been in awe of her since the day he negotiated Pharaoh’s marriage contract, and she had recognized his political talent, charisma and gift of persuasion. He owed her a great deal, for she had convinced Pharaoh that Narmer would be the natural choice to replace Potiphar as captain of the king’s guard.
The strength of her gaze drew him now. Pleased at her open delight, he forgot what he had meant to say.
“The time is coming, my dear Narmer,” she purred, leaning toward him, “when the people will tire of giving their abundance to Pharaoh. They will groan under the weight of this senseless hoarding.”
“According to Zaphenath-paneah and his Almighty God, the Nile will not flood next year. Famine is coming.”
She pulled away, yawning, and tapped her crimson lips with her hand. “I forgot.”
He slipped from the couch and fell to his knees before her, his hands spanning her waist. “You don’t believe him?”
“No.” She rested her hands on his shoulders. “I have not heard the voice of this god, and neither have any of my priests. Only Zaphenath-paneah hears the unseen deity, and only Zaphenath-paneah profits from Egypt’s abundance.”
Her touch triggered primitive yearnings, but Narmer steeled himself to be patient. “There may be something in what you say,” he said, catching her hand. “If the Nile floods next year, the people may well rise up and rebel against this vizier. But what if famine does come? How can we argue against one who has been proven right?”
“If famine comes—” she leaned closer to him “—your people will resent having to buy what they have put into the granaries. Grain will be precious. A loaf of bread will sell for a bag of silver, and the poor will starve. When they carry complaints instead of offerings to the temples, the priests will demand a sacrifice. The divine king will give his life to feed the earth, and since there is no royal heir, whomever I take as my husband will ascend to the throne.”
“But what of Tuya’s child? A son of Pharaoh lives.”
Mutemwiya sniffed. “Tuya is a lesser wife, a former slave, and the life of her child is nothing. Trust me, Narmer, no one will stand in our way. If the land brings forth her abundance next year, you shall overthrow this vizier.”
“And if famine comes, as the vizier has said it will—”
“Then we will wait until his food supply runs out.” She tucked her hand around his neck with easy familiarity. “Zaphenath-paneah has been busy running the palace and training assistants. Do you truly believe his granaries and storehouses contain enough to feed the entire kingdom of Egypt?”
He ran his hands over her arms. “It would be difficult to lead the people without the priests’ approval.”
“The priests will be eager to lead the people back to the ancient gods,” Mutemwiya answered. “They have grown jealous of the vizier’s Almighty God, for even Pharaoh has grown less fervent in his worship of Horus and Osiris. So we will begin to make generous offerings now, Narmer, and win the loyalty of the priests. If famine comes, in time the people will cry out against the harsh god who would smite the land of Egypt. We shall rise like the phoenix from the ashes of a burnt and starving kingdom.”
Overcome by her clever logic, he pressed his lips to her palm in a fervent rush, and she lowered her forehead to his. “Yes, my Narmer, think of it! You and I as husband and wife, rulers of the Two Kingdoms and beyond. My Mitanni tribe will ally itself with us, and after that we shall rule the world.”
Tuya felt a curious, tingling shock when her servant told her the king’s vizier stood outside her door. “Zaphenath-paneah? The vizier wishes to see me?”
The frightened girl nodded.
“All right, give me a moment. Seat the vizier in the front room.”
The girl padded away and Tuya hurried to her dressing table to check her makeup and wig. This wig was short, well above her shoulders, and fashionable among the ladies of Thebes. She hoped it made her look younger, for she was now thirty-four and the mother of a ten-year-old son. Under her wig, she had already sprouted more than a few gray hairs.
She adjusted her eyeliner and smudged the lines of kohl to disguise the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. After dropping the bronze mirror to her dressing table, she smoothed her dress and took a deep breath. Why should facing Yosef make her feel nervous? He was an old friend.
And he must bring news of some importance, or he would have sent a messenger instead of coming himself.
His back was to her when she entered the room, for he was watching Yosef play the lute. “Excellent, young prince,” she heard him say. “I hope my sons show half as much talent.”
Her son blushed and smiled when he saw her standing in the doorway. “Zaphenath-paneah likes my playing.”
“So do I,” Tuya answered. “Now go and show your nurse how skilled you are.” As Yosef hurried away, Tuya turned to face her guest.
Yosef had aged more than she had. Contentment shone in his eyes, but stress and responsibility had etched lines in the forehead that had been smooth six years before.
“Tuya.” The sound of joy in his voice brought a warm blush to her cheek.
“Zaphenath-paneah.” She gave him a properly formal smile, aware that her servants moved about in the other rooms. “What brings our king’s vizier to me?”
“Must we be so stilted with each other?” He gestured toward a couch. “You’ve never called me anything but Yosef.”
She shrugged, not knowing what else to say. “All right. What brings you to me, Yosef?”
He smiled, and some of the starch went out of her knees. “I have come with something important to discuss, but thought I might at least ask about your health.”
“My health is fine.” Stepping to the couch, she perched on the edge while he sank beside her. She put her hands in her lap. “Why have you come?”
The air of convivial friendliness disappeared when he frowned. “This is not an easy request to make.”
“Speak it.”
He looked away for a moment, then stared at his hands. “Do you remember the story I once told you about Avraham?”
She stared at him. She recalled the story well, for every word he had uttered in her presence was precious. “The man who took his son to the mountain for a sacrifice.”
“And God preserved them both.”
“I remember.”
“Tuya—” he pressed his hands together “—I have dreamed again of you and your son, and the danger is nearer than it was years ago. I believe you can save your son, but there is only one way.”
“Save my son from what?”
“I am not sure.”
“Well, you can’t ask me to do something unless I know why.” She lifted a brow. “And what, exactly, are you asking me to do?”
“Only one thing. Offer your son to Pharaoh, and let him be betrothed to Queen Mutemwiya. It must be done if he is to be declared the royal heir. You must do it now.”
She sputtered in horror. “Yosef is
Pharaoh’s heir. None of the other wives have given birth to a son, so he is the heir, without question—”
“No.” Yosef spoke in the firm voice of Justice and Egyptian Law. “If Pharaoh were to die today, Egypt would have no king until Queen Mutemwiya marries.”
“But Yosef is Pharaoh’s son.”
“Pharaoh intends to declare the boy Crown Prince at some future time, but we dare not wait. Yosef must be named Crown Prince immediately. He must be recognized as the betrothed husband of the heiress. Thus he will be King on Pharaoh’s death.”
“My baby? Married to that queen?”
“Her ceremonial husband.” Yosef closed his eyes as if he could not bear to bring her further pain. “Remember Avraham? He trusted God to spare the life of his child, yet he was willing to surrender that life.”
Tuya stood and backed away. “I can’t give my son to that witch, not now, not ever. Yosef won’t understand. He’ll think I care more for ambition than I do for him. And I don’t care if he’s King, I only want him safe—”
“If you do not do this thing,” Yosef warned, “and Pharaoh dies, the queen who ascends will not allow Tuthmosis’s son to live. He will have an accident, or a mysterious illness.” He leaned forward, his eyes beseeching hers. “I will explain matters to Yosef. He will understand that you do this for his sake.”
Tuya shook her head, unwilling to consider the possibility. Tuthmosis was not about to die! He was twenty-three, young and healthy, strong and sure…
Yosef stood and crossed the room in three long strides, then gripped her arms. She flinched, resenting his familiarity.
“Tuya, you must trust the Almighty. He has warned me and I have warned you. Do not be afraid.”
“I can’t do this,” she cried, her voice breaking.
“You must.”
The sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence. The vizier pulled away and slipped from the chamber as Tuya’s maids entered from another doorway. “Mistress! What’s wrong?”