Till Shiloh Comes (21 page)

It's just that you're a man and you want her. After all, you've never had a woman.

It's nothing of the sort. It's a thing of the spirit.

Of the spirit! She's done nothing but insult you since you first saw her.

That doesn't matter.

You don't remember when you were whipped and she insisted on staying and watching it? Weren't you humiliated?

I'd forgotten that.

You liar.

Well, at least I put it away from me. She was very young then. What did she know?

She knew enough to be cruel.

She's changed.

Oh, you saw kindness in her then when she met you with her father? She spoke gently?

I don't want to talk about it.

And when you saw her pass by in her chair—she waved at you and told you how handsome you were?

She couldn't do that. It would be wrong.

I give up on you! You're impossible!

Conversations like this went on in Joseph's mind constantly, and he found it impossible to put the woman out of his mind.

He was thinking of Asenath late one evening when Rashidi sent for him. He went at once to the governor's quarters, and Rashidi said, “Well, I've got a job that you should relish.”

“And what is that, sir?”

“They called you ‘the dreamer' back when you were a boy—your brothers, I mean?”

“Yes, they did.”

“And you even told me once that you interpreted dreams at times.”

Joseph stared at Rashidi suspiciously. “What is all this about?”

“Our two star boarders, the butler and the baker—they've had dreams, and they are giving their keepers a hard time. They're not eating right. We want to keep them healthy so that if Pharaoh ever recalls them he can't blame us for their condition.”

“What am I supposed to do about that?”

“You're supposed to go by and interpret their stupid dreams.”

“I'm not an interpreter.”

“Well, you are now. It's one of your duties. Just make up something.”

“What did they dream about?”

Rashidi stared at him with astonishment. “You think I would leave my work to listen to foolish dreams of prisoners? Now, get out of here and settle the matter!” He waved his hand in the air with a final gesture. “I want to hear no more about it.”

Joseph went immediately to the quarters where Belsunu and Kamose were kept. As soon as he entered, he saw that they were both in poor condition. Neither of them had shaved for days, and the food that had been brought for their supper lay untouched on the rough table. “What's wrong with you two?” he demanded.

“Joseph, I'm so glad you've come!” Belsunu cried. “I've had a dream and it troubles me greatly.”

“You shouldn't let dreams trouble you. They usually mean nothing.”

“I'm sure this one does,” Belsunu insisted. His fat face was covered with perspiration, and he passed his hands in front of his eyes. “It was the most vivid thing in my life,” he wailed. “It was as if I were seeing a painting by a great artist.”

“The same thing happened to me,” Kamose said gloomily. “I'm afraid of it.”

Joseph tried to comfort them as best he could. “Dreams usually don't mean anything. You know that yourselves.”

“I think it means something when both of us dream on the same night. There's a message from the gods in this,” Kamose persisted.

“Will you listen to my dream and tell me what you think it means, Joseph?” Belsunu pleaded. He came over and tugged at Joseph's arm. “Please, sit down and at least listen.”

Joseph shrugged and sat down on one of the chairs. “I'm no interpreter, but sometimes the meaning of dreams is obvious.”

“Well,
my
dream's meaning isn't obvious,” Belsunu said.

“Tell me about it, then, but I warn you—interpretations belong only to God.”

Belsunu seemed relieved that Joseph had agreed to listen, and he began to speak rapidly. “It was a very short dream but so vivid! I dreamed that there was a vine in front of me, a very fruitful vine with three branches. The branches grew and blossomed before my eyes until the whole vine was covered with plump, ripe grapes. And then,” he added breathlessly, “Pharaoh's cup was in my hand, the one he always drinks from. I took the grapes and pressed them into Pharaoh's cup, then put the cup into Pharaoh's hand.”

“Is that all?” Joseph said, lifting his eyebrows.

“Yes. What does it mean?”

Joseph was surprised and delighted that the interpretation came to him at once. He smiled broadly and said, “Be comforted, my friend. God has given me the interpretation of your dream.”

“What is it? Tell me!”

“Here's the meaning: The three branches are three days. Within three days Pharaoh will take you out of this prison and will put you back in your place, and you will fill Pharaoh's cup as you did before you came here.”

Belsunu leaped up and began pacing around the cell. He lifted his hands, and his fat flesh shook as he cried out for joy. “Oh, thanks be unto the gods! Thanks be unto the gods!”

“I am happy for you, Belsunu,” Joseph said. He then turned to Kamose, whose eyes were fixed on the butler. “And what was your dream, Kamose?”

“May my dream be as good as that of Belsunu,” he said. He shook his shoulders in a strange gesture and said, “I dreamed that I had three white baskets on my head, and in the top basket were good foods for Pharaoh to eat. But the birds came and ate the foods out of the top basket. It was so real,” he said. “What does it mean, Joseph?”

Joseph dropped his head, not wanting to face Kamose. As with Belsunu's dream, he was certain of the interpretation, but he dreaded to say it.

“What is it? Is it bad?” Kamose cried out.

Joseph lifted his head, and sorrow marked his features. “I am sorry to tell you this, but it is not a good dream.”

“I knew it … oh, I knew it!” Kamose moaned. He put his face in his hands. “Tell me. Do not spare me.”

“I wish I could give you better news, but again the three baskets are three days. Within three days Pharaoh will have you executed and will hang your body on a wall, and the birds will eat the flesh of it.”

Kamose gave a loud, hopeless cry and fell to the floor.

Joseph knelt down beside the weeping man and said, “Truly, I am sorry.”

Belsunu came over and stood beside Joseph. He could not speak. His own good news had buoyed him up, but now the sight of the weeping man sobered him. “Is there no hope, Joseph?”

“The dreams are from God, and it will be as I have said.”

****

Joseph shared the story with the governor, who was astonished.

“You actually told them those things were going to happen?” Rashidi said.

“Yes, I did.”

“But if they don't, you'll look like a fool!”

“They will happen,” Joseph said calmly.

Rashidi said nothing—only shook his head. But the next day he came rushing to Joseph, his face pale. “Word has come from the pharaoh.”

“What word?”

“About the prisoners, and it was as you said, Joseph. Belsunu is to be returned to his position as butler.”

“And Kamose?”

“He is to be executed. We are to carry it out here at the prison.”

Joseph's eyes met Rashidi's. “That is sad indeed.”

“How did you know? How did you know this?” Rashidi cried.

“God gave me the interpretation,” Joseph said, putting his hand on the governor's shoulder. “You are wrong about God, Rashidi. There is a God in heaven, and I pray that one day you will find him.”

****

The execution was performed on that same day. Joseph had stayed with Kamose and tried to comfort him, but there was little comfort to give to a man under sentence of death.

Afterward he went to stand beside Belsunu, who was sobered by the death of the baker but exuberant over his own good fortune as he stood waiting to get onto the boat that would return him to the palace.

“I am happy for you, Belsunu,” Joseph said.

“Oh, I am grieved over my friend, but I am so happy that it was as you said for me.”

Joseph put his hand on the shoulder of the smaller man. “Hear me, my friend. I rejoice that I could give you a good meaning to your dream, and I pray that you will do me a kind service in return.”

“Anything! Anything you say, Joseph!”

“You know my history—that I have committed no crime for which I should be here. I know you have been too full of your own misfortune to think of me, but I pray that when you go back into Pharaoh's service, you will not forget me, nor my kindness to you.”

“Forget? I could never forget you, Joseph!” Belsunu cried out. He grabbed Joseph's hand and kissed it, his eyes aglow. “I promise I will not ever forget you.”

“I will take you at your word, Belsunu. Please speak to the pharaoh on my behalf—how I was sold into slavery and how I was innocent of any crime in the house of Potiphar. Will you do this for me, my friend?”

“Do it? Of course I will do it!” Belsunu said, embracing Joseph. “You may depend on it.”

Joseph smiled. “I do depend on you, but I tell you this. You mean well now, my friend, but you will forget me when you get back in Pharaoh's court.”

“Never! I will never forget you!”

The man continued his promises as he got onto the boat. When it moved into the middle of the river, he cried again, “I will never forget you! You will see, my friend!”

Joseph watched the boat disappear downriver, and then he turned away. He was happy for the man's release, but somehow he knew Belsunu would soon forget.

For many weeks, and then months afterward, Joseph waited for something to come of Belsunu's promises, but nothing did. Joseph filed them away as he had filed other memories and went about his work.

The boat that fairly flew upriver manned by five oarsmen was a beautiful piece of work. It had a curving prow, a billowing purple sail, and bore the royal emblem. The prison guard stared at it in wonder, for rarely did royalty land at the prison. They watched as it came sailing neatly in, and a man leaped up onto the wharf, not even waiting until the craft was tied up, shouting, “Take me to the governor!”

Yafeu was standing to one side and nodded. “I'll do it, sir.” He turned at once and led the visitor through the prison yard to the tower and into the governor's quarters. He knocked for admission, and when he heard Rashidi's voice, he entered and said, “A visitor from the court, sir.”

Rashidi looked up from his desk, where he had been busily scribbling on his poem. “What is it?” he said, not even getting to his feet.

“I come from the court of the god,” the visitor said. “My name is Menho. I have an urgent summons for one of your prisoners.”

Rashidi sat up straighter. “One of the prisoners? Which one?”

“The prisoner named Joseph.”

“What does the pharaoh want with Joseph, Menho?” Rashidi said, slowly rising to his feet.

“The pharaoh does not explain himself to mere mortals. Here is an order for you to release the prisoner into my hand at once.”

Rashidi took the parchment and read it, then said to Yafeu, “Bring Joseph in.”

“Yes, sir.”

While Yafeu was off on his mission, Rashidi did his best to worm out of Menho the reason for Joseph's summons. Menho either did not know or refused to tell.

Joseph came in quickly. He had been outside working in the garden, cultivating his flowers, and was a rather muddy sight.

“Is this the man?” Menho asked.

“Yes, this is the prisoner named Joseph,” Rashidi said.

“I can't take him like that. Have him cleaned up.”

“Cleaned up for what?” Joseph asked, startled.

“The pharaoh demands your presence,” Menho said. “Oh, never mind the cleaning up. We'll clean him up when we get into the palace. Come. We must go at once. The pharaoh demands speed.”

“When will you have him back, Menho?” Rashidi asked hurriedly as the messenger almost ran out of the room.

“That is for the pharaoh to say.”

Joseph had time only to call back, “We will meet again soon, I think, Rashidi.”

Rashidi followed them out and watched as Joseph was shuffled into the boat.

Menho shouted his orders. “Quickly, back to the palace!”

The oarsmen plied their oars furiously, and Rashidi stood on the wharf, staring in astonishment. When the boat had disappeared from view, he turned to Yafeu, who was standing by his side. “What am I to make of that?”

Yafeu grinned and pulled on his one ear, having lost the other in a battle years ago. “I always said Joseph was a strange fellow. Now we shall see how strange he is.”

****

Pharaoh did not look a great deal like a god as he paced back and forth in the throne room. He was small with spindly legs and a potbelly, and his face was wizened almost like a monkey's. He had been an unattractive child, and as he grew older, he grew more and more homely. Not even the expensive clothing or ministrations of those who applied his makeup and fixed his hair could do much about that.

His wife, on the other hand, was attractive beyond description. She was, in fact, as beautiful as her husband was homely. She was a clever woman, a little cruel at times, but she was always very careful when she dealt with her husband. He was insignificant in appearance, but there was a stubborn streak in him that she could not control. Once he set his mind on something, there was no changing it.

“My husband,” she said gently, “do not disturb yourself. After all, it was only a dream.”

“No, it was
two
dreams!” Pharaoh insisted. He shook his head and continued to pace. “I have not been unable to sleep since they came.”