Asenath

ASENATH

Anna Patricio

ASENATH

Copyright © 2011 by Anna Patricio. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the authors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. And any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead (or in any other form), business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

http://www.annapatricio.blogspot.com

FIRST EDITION ebook

Imajin Books -
http://www.imajinbooks.com

August 2011

ISBN: 978-1-926997-24-7

Cover Art: Danielle Robicheaux

Cover designed by Sapphire Designs -

http://www.designs.sapphiredreams.org

Praise for ASENATH

"ASENATH is an intriguing look at an almost-forgotten woman of the Bible. Thanks for letting me read the novel!" ―India Edghill, author of QUEENMAKER

"The author has written an absorbing and well researched portrayal of Asenath, the wife of Joseph. The descriptions throughout the book were beautiful. All in all in was a good read." ―Diana Wallis Taylor, author of JOURNEY TO THE WELL

"An irresistibly readable novel! Asenath is an endearing heroine from the Book of Genesis and her tale is one of high adventure and passionate love amid the turbulent world of Ancient Egypt." ―Mirella Patzer, author of THE BLIGHTED TROTH

"Patricio braids her knowledge of Egyptology and Hebrew scripture together to spin a captivating love story. This huggable village girl growing up on the edge of two cultures will win your heart." ―Lee Harmon, author of REVELATION: THE WAY IT HAPPENED.

"Anna Patricio brings the Egyptians to life. You'll be transported to 1554 B.C. ASENATH is a true clash of cultures and religion with love as the bridge to happiness for the heroine." ―Haley Elizabeth Garwood, author of THE WARRIOR QUEEN series

"Ms. Patrico has crafted an innovative, satisfying tale of the wife of the Biblical character, Joseph. Rich in imagery and description, ASENATH transports you to an ancient land of mystery and breathes vibrant life into a little-known figure from a well known story. Painstakingly researched, ASENATH preserves the Scriptural-historical account of a great man―but more so, lauds the great lady on whom he relied so much." ―Bruce Judisch, author of A PROPHET'S TALE

"The lush descriptions of ancient Egypt intertwined with a biblical narrative made ASENATH a compelling read. Kudos to Anna Patricio for bringing this little-known biblical woman to life!" ―Deborah Galiley, author of POLISHED ARROWS

"ASENATH is a fascinating, action-packed story that reminds me of Wilbur Smith. Patricio has brought a Biblical tale vividly to life. She made me care about Joseph and Asenath so deeply that I found myself talking aloud to them! The narrative flows seamlessly and the author makes every word count. ASENATH is a beautiful, tightly woven story of many colors, both epic and intimate in scope."—Susan J. McLeod, author of SOUL AND SHADOW

To my parents,

For giving me my Middle Eastern adventure, taking me out to dinner and lunch, praying for me and always believing that I was a writer, even in my greatest moments of doubt.

Acknowledgements

A huge thank you…

To my family, for always being there for me.

To my friend and mentor Alfred D. Byrd, who read
three
drafts of
Asenath
, devoted time to giving a detailed critique on it, shared historical insights, made me laugh when I was sad and encouraged me to continue seeking publication even when things looked bleak. Your help was priceless and the amount of knowledge you possess never ceases to amaze me.

To Cheryl Tardif and the team at Imajin Books for letting me revise and resubmit, securing the beautiful graphic for my book cover, working with me to improve the story, and making my publishing dreams a reality.

To Biblical fiction author Diana Wallis Taylor, who was kind enough to not only read the manuscript but take time out to give me suggestions for improvement.

And for the emotional support: Min Choi, John and Maria Abram, Pamela Whiley, Anne Steele, Judy Clendinning, Auntie Alice Chai, Auntie Hayley Ching, Auntie Linda Bubod, and my fellow "templings" (thanks to Alethea Lebedevas for coming up with that term) and non-templings too, especially Jason Bolster (who addressed me as "Asenath"—highest compliment in the world), John Mahoney, Stephen Cowell, Connie Tzouvelekas, Kevin Vun, Prue Traill (who gave me the nickname "Anna Banana"), Jordan Petit for making that surprise announcement about my writing and to the rest of you for the flowers and card and food on my last day at work.

Thank you all so very much.

Pharaoh...gave him Asenath daughter of

Potiphera, priest of On, to be his wife...

Before the years of famine came, two sons

were born to Joseph by Asenath

daughter of Potiphera, priest of On.

Genesis 41:45-50 (NIV)

CHAPTER ONE

Egypt, 1554 B.C.

The Nile had just flooded, leaving the ground moist, rich and black. The children of our riverside village, I among them, frolicked about in the cool, gooey earth. In the distance, the ancient river circled the land, glittering with a thousand tiny dancing lights from the sun-god's Boat of a Million Years. A breeze blew, rustling the branches of the palm trees that surrounded our home.

"Kiya!"

No sooner had I looked than a mud ball pelted me hard across the stomach.

"I'll get you for that, Menah." I bent down to gather mud in my hands when another ball landed on my back. He was a quick one, my best friend.

I had just formed a mud ball and was about to raise my arm when Menah suddenly charged forward and pounced on me.

"Now you'll get the tickle torture," he said in a mock evil voice.

"No, Menah. Please, no." But I was overcome by uncontrollable laughter.

"Menah! Kiya!" voices called out, interrupting our playful wrestling.

Our mothers approached.

"Come out now," my mother called. "It is time to prepare for the Feast of Hapi."

Covered in mud from head to toe, Menah and I scrambled toward them.

Mama shook her head, smiling. "You're such a mess."

She led me back to our hut.

"What is going to happen tonight, Mama?" I asked. "I mean, after we pray to Hapi? Will there be games?"

Mama's blue eyes twinkled against her brown skin. "I see no reason why there shouldn't be."

"And lots of food?"

"All the food you could ever want."

"May I wear my lotus necklace today?"

Years ago, when I was very young, Mama had given me a beautiful carved lapis lazuli lotus pendant strung on a simple piece of coarse rope. She told me it had been in her family for many generations and that her grandmother had received it from Hapi himself.

She ruffled my hair. "Of course. Today is, after all, a special day."

As we entered our mud hut, which had been my home since birth, I saw my father mending one of his fisherman's nets. When he saw me, he pretended to cower in fear.

"A mud monster has entered our house."

I laughed. "It's just me, Papa."

He leaned forward and squinted, as if trying to get a good look, though the gesture was comically exaggerated. "Is it? Let me see. Ah yes, it's my little Kiya."

He leapt to his feet, picked me up and swung me around, ignoring the mud that soiled his hands. I squealed with delight.

"Nakhti," Mama said. "I have to get her ready."

"Yes." Papa set me down. He gave me a gentle slap across the back, motioning for me to return to Mama.

"I get to wear the lotus today, Papa."

He smiled. "I am sure you will look very pretty."

Later that afternoon, four priests from a nearby town passed by our village. They shouldered on poles our patron god's idol, which nestled upon a bed of water lilies. A ray of sunlight bounced off the golden image and it flashed with brilliance. Behind the god was a small train of dancing priestesses. They rattled sistrums and twirled around, their white dresses billowing out like clouds.

My fellow villagers and I were assembled outside our village, awaiting the god's arrival. When he appeared, we fell to our knees and touched our foreheads to the sandy ground.

"Glorious Hapi," my father intoned. "We thank you for once again allowing your water to flow and give life. We thank you for nourishing our land and our people. We pray your sacred pitchers never cease to flow. We thank you, great god of the Nile."

My heart swelled with pride. Papa was the most renowned fisherman in our village. Though he was quite an old man―many years older than my mother―he possessed skills and strength that surpassed even those of the younger generations. Everyone thus hailed him as the favoured of the river god.

"Praise be to you, Hapi," I echoed along with the rest of my fellow villagers.

As the idol trailed away, we rose to our feet and gathered up the amulets and flowers, which we would be tossing into the Nile as offerings. It was sunset now and sheer red-orange skies cast a fiery glow upon the river's rippling surface. From a distance, we heard the warbling of river fowl and the screeching of monkeys.

We approached the riverbank. It was still soft and muddy from the inundation. We tossed our offerings in. All the while, Papa chanted hymns of praise. Afterward, we returned to the village for what we children had been anticipating the most―the games.

A kind, respectable widow named Mekten, whom everyone called
"Village Mother"
, held a game called the "statue dance." She played a reed flute while we danced and would stop at random moments without warning. We had to freeze as soon as the music stopped. Those who were still dancing were out of the game.

My friends and I loved it so much that Mekten held several rounds of it. Unfortunately, I always lost, as I always got so caught up in the liveliness of the game. However, she awarded me a small spinning top as a prize for being the best dancer.

I danced so much that I could barely keep my eyes open as we later sat down to the feast. Papa picked me up and carried me back to our hut. I was too tired to protest. As soon as he lay me down, I fell into a deep sleep.

That night, I dreamt I was on a great winged barque sailing along the Nile. It was a bright day, with the white-golden Egyptian sun shining gloriously and flocks of ibises and herons gleaming against the clear blue sky. A group of friendly monkeys, like those who usually wandered near my family's hut, kept me company on the deck, entertaining me with their hilarious antics.

Suddenly, the skies darkened and the water began to thrash against the barque. The monkeys leapt up and down, screeching frantically. I grabbed onto the rail.

Thunder rumbled. Fierce white waves threatened to haul us overboard. The barque tipped to a dangerous level and I began to scream.

Waking, I placed my hand over my heart, which was pounding fiercely. I was about to heave a sigh of relief when I heard the rumbling from my dream. I sat up, my chest constricting in fear once more. The noise sounded like it was coming from outside our hut.

The rumbling stopped.

I heard a strange voice shouting in a language I could not understand.