Asenath (25 page)

Joseph nuzzled me. "You may remember that I told you I was considering visiting Heliopolis after Lord Potiphar released me."

"Yes." My voice grew choked.

"I was hoping to come visit you. I knew it would be a bit, ah, awkward, seeing how you come from a prominent family while I had nothing to my name. However, I just really wanted to see you. But as you know, I was thrown into prison. I was certain I was doomed this time. I had lost everything—my home, my family and now you, my beloved. But the day you came to the prison, I knew all was not lost. That something was still bound to happen to me. To
us
."

A few tears trickled out of my eyes. Joseph gently brushed them away.

"Joseph," I said. "You saved me. You really did. It was so difficult being apart from you. At times, I grew despondent. But something would happen that would renew my strength. First, there was the incident of the cupbearer and baker. And Lord Potiphar always sent me news."

I sucked in my breath as more tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Ah yes," Joseph said. "We owe much to Lord Potiphar. I actually asked him about you, and he told me everything. He even told me about the time he first saw you as a little girl in the temple at Heliopolis."

I shuddered, not because I was frightened, but because my feelings had reached their zenith.

Joseph led me to a couch. He sat me down beside him. We held each other, basking in loving silence for a moment.

"Soon, my love," he said, "we will have Pharaoh to thank as well."

"Pharaoh? What does Pharaoh have to do with any of this?"

"The day after my appointment, Pharaoh told me he was going to give me a wife. I panicked, for I feared I would be forced into something, well,

against my wishes. He told me I could have my pick from among the noble ladies of the kingdom. He recited a list of names to me. I was very disappointed when he reached the end of the list and one name had not been mentioned. I wondered if I could negotiate with him. Then he said, 'There are a few more I forgot to mention.' The very last name was Lady Asenath, daughter of Pentephres, the high priest of Heliopolis. 'That's her, Majesty,' I said. 'Lady Asenath is the one I want to marry.' The only one, in fact."

I have always been a passionate woman and have always had a lot of love to give. However, I sealed this love in a safe place in the depths of my heart, where I would keep it until the one who I would spend the rest of my life with came along.

Now I removed the lock. The love burst forth and flowed freely.

"Joseph."

He touched my cheek. "Pharaoh told me he would discuss this with you and your parents. I asked if
I
could be the one to talk about it with you while he could talk with your parents. Not only did he agree to it, he even orchestrated for us to meet. The luncheon and the feast."

My shoulders sagged. Joseph took my hands in his.

"There are no coincidences, my darling," he said. "I know you have been through a lot as well. But God had a plan for us. He overthrew obstacles, broke down walls, built bridges, changed people's minds and reshaped roads so that you and I would be led back to each other."

All of a sudden, Joseph pulled me very close. Before I could say anything, before I could even think, he leaned forward and kissed me.

As strange as this may sound, at twenty-three years of age, this was my very first kiss. Khasekh had once tried to kiss me, but I pulled away before it could rightly be called a kiss. With Joseph though, I certainly had no desire to withdraw. There seemed to be a taste to it, like a lovely fruit whose sweet juices trickled down my chin.

When we pulled away, the tears flowed freely down my cheeks. I slumped against him, feeling our hearts beat together as one.

This was a time and a moment and a world that belonged to only two people. Him and me. Our souls joined hands and soared to the heavens to be blessed by God on high.

When I was a child in the fishing village, my friends and I were one day treading atop a slippery pile of rocks. One of the older children instigated a contest. Excited, we raced forward.

All of a sudden, a little girl named Miwsher slipped and hit her head. We stared in helpless horror as a huge bleeding gash opened up in her forehead.

She burst into cries. All the adults rushed toward us. Miwsher's mother flew over to her daughter, swept her up in her arms and held her close. The little girl was still bleeding badly, but her cries died down at her mother's comforting touch.

Now, I know how Miwsher must have felt. I had fallen, hurt myself, even thought I was going to die, when Joseph came and swept me up in his arms.

But something stabbed at me, a cruel reminder that I had been fated to lose everything I loved. I crumpled into a heap.

"Please don't take this away from me," I sobbed. "Please don't wake me up from this dream. I want to live in it, now and forever. Please."

Joseph took me into his arms once more. "It is not a dream, Asenath. It should not be a dream. If it were, how could things come to pass? How could we be married?"

"I know not." I placed my hands to his beautiful face. "But whether this is a dream or reality, know that I have no dearer wish than to be with you always."

"Then I will prove to you it is real, my Asenath...my Kiya," Joseph said, his eyes filling with tears.

He drew me close once more. He kissed my eyes, my forehead and my cheeks. My arms reached around his neck. He pressed his lips to mine. I returned his kiss, feeling his warmth nestling against me.

Afterward, we clung to each other, my face buried in his shoulder.

He gently pulled back, and with a face full of tears and joy, he said, "Come, my love. Let us go tell our loved ones of this joyous news."

CHAPTER TWENTY

That day, I wore a white sheath dress along with a flowing gossamer cloak that cascaded to the ground in soft folds. My veil hung from a band around my wig and fell behind me like a misty waterfall. Turquoise and lapis lazuli jewellery graced my neck and arms. My skin glittered with the special perfume of stars.

A veiled litter carried me from my parents' house to the palace. I could not see outside, but I knew I was surrounded by an elaborate entourage—priests and priestesses from the Karnak and Heliopolitan temples, children tossing petals and servants bearing gold and precious stones―my bridal dowry. My parents rode at the head of the procession.

I sat in silence, the train of my wedding dress a sparkling white puddle around my feet. All around me, the world celebrated. I heard the singing of the priestesses, the rattling of sistrums, the cheers of the crowds.

Yet I heeded none of these, for my thoughts swirled around only one person.

As we entered the throne hall, a solemn but beautiful melody played on flutes. My litter was lowered and
he
drew back the curtains and helped me to the ground.

My beloved husband-to-be was radiant in his formal vizier's robe and cape, which looked like specks of sunlight woven together. His striped
nemes
of olive and silver brought out the greens of his eyes. His face beamed with his timeless, beauteous smile.

As Pharaoh commenced the ceremony with a matrimonial speech from the Wisdom Texts, I glanced around at our family and friends. A warm nostalgia came over me as I realised just how far all of us had come. I had gone on a tumultuous but exciting journey with these people I loved, and we had survived it together.

Lord Potiphar, though pale and thin, was smiling brightly. Our eyes met and he inclined his head in a gesture of affection.

Princess Hatshepsut stood with her parents. When Joseph and I returned the drawing to her, she had said it was ours to keep. We still have it. It is now yellowed with age.

My parents stood behind Pharaoh. Mother was dabbing her eyes. Father was the same as he had been when he heard about the upcoming wedding—quiet and expressionless, much to my surprise. He had made no objections, no scathing remarks, nothing. He had not even protested about the Heliopolitan priests taking part in the ceremony.

He never apologised for betraying me to Khasekh, but that did not matter. Not anymore. For if this had not happened, things would not have unfolded so beautifully the way they did.

Some people who I had not seen in a long time were there as well. Irikara, the kindly lady from the Temple of Atum-Re, had even come over to our house earlier to help me dress. Ubastet and Baktre, the sweet servant girls from Lord Potiphar's house, were present too.

Then my eyes returned to my beloved. We were both so lost in each other, I do not think either of us really noticed what was happening. It was strange, considering how long we had been waiting for this day.

After Pharaoh delivered his speech, a choir of lector priests chanted hymns. An
uab
priest handed my groom and I the branch of a date palm, the tree sacred to the sun-god. We knelt before Pharaoh and laid the branch at his feet.

He waved it over us, then bade us rise. Another
uab
priest handed Joseph a clay goblet of sparkling red wine. My beautiful husband-to-be sipped from the goblet and handed it to me.

For some reason as I lifted the goblet to my lips my grip loosened. A few crimson drops spilled onto the hem of my dress.

Immediately, the priests made the sign against Seth, chanting threats toward any dark spirit that would destroy the marriage. But to me, those droplets were anything but an omen. They looked like tears that told the story of Joseph and I—how we had suffered before we were led back to each other.

After I sipped from the goblet, I placed it upon an altar. Joseph was given a sword. With one powerful movement, he swung at the goblet. It fell with a crash that echoed throughout the throne hall.

My parents came forward. Father sprinkled us with water from the Temple of Atum-Re's sacred lake to purify us. Mother tossed wheat grains to ensure fertility.

Finally, Pharaoh raised his crook and flail. "I, Pharaoh Aakheperkare Tuthmosis, Living Horus and Son of Re, declare you, Lord Zaphenath-Paneah and Lady Asenath, husband and wife."

And with that, we were married.

We were presented before all of Egypt on the royal balcony, just like in Joseph's inauguration. Together with the Pharaohnic couple and my parents, we waved to the jubilant crowd below.

It happened so fast. I nearly slipped into a fog. As we headed to the Palace garden for our wedding feast, I was still lost in my thoughts when Joseph took my face into his hands.

"Are you all right, my dearest?" he asked.

"Of course. I just cannot believe this is happening."

He gave me a quick kiss. "I know exactly what you mean."

We stepped outside to a clear blue sky, a cheering wedding party and a colourful shower of petals. Later as we dined beneath an arch of white lotus blossoms Joseph leaned toward me. "I love you, Asenath," he whispered.

I took his hands into mine. "I love you too, Joseph."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The seven years of plenty passed by peacefully, blissfully, beautifully. Though Joseph was often very busy, he still managed to set aside time for us. These lovely moments, I truly cherished. We indulged in all sorts of simple pleasures—having long and insightful conversations, spending time with my pets―now
our
pets, driving by the wheat fields, swimming in the pool, taking evening walks.

On days when we were fortunate enough, we escaped together to the countryside. We took no servants with us, instructed our household to put up a front and slipped away under the guise of common folk.

We travelled to many beautiful places that looked to be untouched by man—hills, valleys and plains. Once, Joseph procured a little boat with a cosy cabin and we sailed somewhere past the first cataract of the Nile.

It had been a long journey, but was more than worth it. We ended up in a vast river shoreline that looked so much like my childhood home. However there was no village, town or even a single human being in sight. Only the sweeping beauty of the riverside—tall palm trees rustling in the breeze, immense throngs of bulrushes lining the water's edge, flocks of colourful birds darting across the sky, shining fish gliding in the clear shallows and the great
Hep-ur
which flowed as far as the eye could see.

In the afternoon when the sun was no longer fierce, Joseph and I frolicked about in the cool green waters, playfully splashing at each other. At night, we lay beneath the stars. Joseph pointed out a shooting star, which left trails of shimmering dust across the sky.

He enfolded me in his arms. We held each other and loved each other as the silky night embraced us tenderly.

On the eighth year of our marriage, just as my husband had foretold, a dire famine struck the land. We were sheltered in our palace. But I heard that much of the world had been ravaged. Crops were destroyed, livestock had perished and the Nile was nearly dried up.

But because of Joseph's careful planning, Egypt was saved. In fact, we had more than enough food to spare. As a result, my husband extended help to other nations.

Soon my dear one grew so stressed, he could barely breathe. I tried giving him an herbal concoction to calm his nerves, but it did not seem to work.

Then one day, he disappeared. Rather, it seemed as if there was a stranger in our house who looked like Joseph, but was not him.

I came across him wandering around like a lonely ghost. I approached him. "Joseph?"

He turned his head in my direction. But his eyes were distant, his expression blank.

"Joseph? Are you all right?" I wondered if he even heard me.

I touched his arm. He jolted.

"Ah yes, sorry," he mumbled.

I frowned concernedly. "What's wrong, husband?"

"Nothing. It's just, ah, work. I have to lie down."

He went over to the couch and reclined. His face was pinched, as if he was enduring great pain.

He also skipped meals a lot, leaving me and our two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim, to dine alone.