Joseph and His Brothers, page 171
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look, and Joseph nodded back, raised a hand, and gave Mai the laudatory endorsement of a clap on the shoulder; and in turn his steward, however improperly—though after all Joseph had once drudged for him as a convict in his prison—raised his hand as well to give his master a clap on the shoulder. And so the two stood there nodding at one another and exchanging claps on the shoulder for a good while, in perfect agreement as to how this festive story was to proceed.
The Fragrance of Myrtle; or, The Meal with the Brothers
It did indeed proceed, playing itself out in each of its hours as follows: Jacob's sons arrived in Menfe, the home of Ptah, and put up at the same inn as before, happy to have brought Benjamin here safely, whom they had tended and waited upon and handled like a raw egg for the entire journey of nearly seventeen days—both out of fear for Jacob's feelings and because he was more important than all else, for he was the witness demanded by this ambiguous marketeer and without him they would neither see the man's face nor get Shimeon back. That would have been reason enough to regard their little brother as the apple of their eye, always providing him with the best of everything and protecting him like precious water itself—their primary fear being this man here, but lurking behind it, fear of their father as well. Far in the background stood a third unspoken motive for their carefulness: a wish to atone with Benjamin for their sin against Joseph. For after so long a time, thought of him and of their crime had been reawakened by their first journey down here, with all its attendant circumstances; the thought had risen up out of the rubble of time as if only yesterday they had sold their brother, blotting a name out of Israel. It lay in the air like retribution delayed, felt like a hand trying to drag them to account; and it seemed to them that paying zealous attention to Rachel's other son was the best way to remove that hand and scatter these avenging spirits.
For his presentation to the man who was lord of this land, they clad him in a lovely, gaudy tunic with fringes, tucks, and folds, oiled down his cap of otter fur so that not a hair stuck out, making it truly a shiny helmet, and lengthened his eyes with a pointed brush. But
when they appeared at the Central Office for Permits and DeHveries and were turned away and told to report to the Provider's home, they took fright, for anything unexpected, anything that didn't happen as they had imagined, was frightening to them, seemed to threaten new complications and mysteries. What was this now, and why were they being set apart so particularly that they were to report to his home? Did this portend good or ill? It might have something to do with the money from before and its murky reappearance—and was that murky event now to be used against them, had a snare been laid in their path, were they all to be taken prisoner and sold into slavery for fraudulent payment? They had that murky money with them, as well as new metal for new purchases—but that did little to calm their fears. Instead they were sorely tempted to turn tail and, without ever showing their faces to the man, seek refuge in flight—primarily out of worry over Benjamin, who, however, reassured them and boldly insisted that they lead him to this marketeer, for he had now been anointed and adorned and saw no reason to hide himself from this man. And, he went on, they had no reason either, since that money had turned up again due to some oversight and one ought not to act guilty when one was not.
Guilty, guilty, they said, a person always felt a little guilt just in general, even without any particular cause, which was why one didn't feel all that good even in a situation like this where one was downright innocent. Besides, it was easy for him, their little brother, to talk; he had always been innocent at home and had never been in a situation where he found murky money in his sack, whereas they had constantly been out and about in the world where one couldn't avoid all sorts of guilt.
As for guilt in general, Benoni said, the man would be understanding enough—he was a man of the world after all. And as for the money, everything there was in order, even if murky, and they had come, among other reasons, to return it. Moreover, Shimeon had to be ransomed, they knew that as well as he did, and they also needed new grain. There could be no thought of turning tail and fleeing, for by doing that they would leave behind the belief that they were not just thieves but spies as well—and would be their brother's murderer besides.
They really knew all that as well as he—they definitely had to risk it despite the danger of being enslaved one and all. The fact that they had brought lovely bribes with them—Jacob's presents, samples of the celebrated products of their land—cheered them up a bit, and they now decided that first off they should speak with that stout but unambiguously kindhearted steward if they could find him.
That was easily done. For upon arriving at the villa Pharaoh had graciously provided the marketeer in this elegant neighborhood, they had dismounted from their asses beneath the gate in its wall and were leading their beasts past the reflecting pool and toward the house itself when the man who inspired their trust descended from the terrace to welcome them, praising them for keeping their word, though with some little delay, and at once had them present their youngest brother to him, whom he gazed upon with round eyes, saying, "Fine fellow, fine fellow." He had his people take the animals back around the house to the courtyard, ordered others to carry into the house the packs filled with Canaan's fame, and now led the brothers up the open staircase—and all the while they anxiously bombarded him about the money.
Some had started in about it the moment they saw him, even at a good distance away—they simply couldn't wait.
"Good sir, majordomo," they said, "worthy steward"—it was this way or perhaps that way, totally incomprehensible, but it had happened, and here was double the money, they were honest men. Found, they had found the silver rings they had paid, first one had and then all of them had, in their fodder sacks when they stopped to rest, and that murky discovery had left them oppressed the entire time. But here it was again, in full weight, along with more money for new supplies. Surely his master, Pharaoh's friend, would not blame them for this or, worse, pass sentence against them?
They talked all at once, gesticulating wildly, and in their worry some even tugged at him and swore they would not enter that beautiful door to the house unless he for his part would swear to them that his master had not woven a snare for them out of this earlier vexing episode and would not charge them with it.
He, however, was the soul of calmness, soothing them as he said, "My good men, rest assured and fear not, everything is in order. Or, if a bit out of order, it's just an amiable miracle. We received our
money, that should suffice for us, and there's nothing here for us to weave a snare from. In Ught of what you have told me I can only assume that your God and the God of your fathers has had His little joke and left a treasure in your sacks for you—reason offers me no other explanation. Presumably you are His pious and zealous servants, and for once He wanted to show that He's aware of it—understandable enough on His part. But you seem very agitated to me, which is not good. I shall have footbaths prepared for you, first as a token of hospitality—for you are our guests and shall dine with Pharaoh's friend today at noon—but also because it pulls the blood from the head and calms the mind. But do enter now and, above all, behold who awaits you in the hall."
And there in the hall stood their brother Shimeon, a free man, not in the least hollow-eyed and wasted away, but as rugged and rowdy as ever; for he had had things good, as he happily told those now encircling him, and for a hostage had spent quite tolerable days in a chamber in the Central Office, even if he had not seen the moshel's face again and had worried the whole time whether they would ever return—though always buoyed up by good food and drink. They apologized to Leah's second son for having delayed their return so long—due, as he could well understand, to Jacob's stubbornness; and he understood and was happy to be with them, especially with his brother Levi, for one ruffian had missed the other, and though no hugs and kisses were exchanged, each kept punching the other hard in the shoulder.
And now the brothers sat down together to wash their feet. Then the steward led them into the hall where their meal had been set, resplendent with centerpieces of flowers and fruit and beautiful tableware, and helped them spread out their gifts—the delicacies of honey, fruits, and nuts they had brought—on a long sideboard against one wall, making a pretty display of them to delight the eye of his master. In the midst of this, however, Mai-Sakhme had to hurry off, for people were arriving outside—Joseph was returning home at noon along with the Egyptian gentlemen he had invited to break bread with him today: the prophet of Ptah, the warrior of their sovereign, the head surveyor, and the chief bookkeepers.
Joseph now entered with them, saying, "Greetings, my good men." But they all fell upon their faces as if mown down.
He stood there a while, tracing his brow with his fingertips.
Then he repeated, "Greetings, my friends. But do stand on your feet before me and let me see your faces that I may recognize them. For you recognize me, as I can tell, and you see that I am Egypt's marketeer, who had to treat you roughly for the sake of the opulence of this land. But now you have appeased and reassured me by returning in proper number, so that all the brothers are gathered under one roof and in one chamber. That is indeed lovely. Have you noticed that I am speaking to you in your language? Yes, I can do so now. The last time you were here it struck me that I could understand no Ebrew, and that annoyed me. Which is why I learned it in the meantime. A man such as I learns these things in a wink. But how are you, how are things? And above all: Is your old father of whom you spoke still alive, and is he well?"
"Your servant and our father," they replied, "is quite well and still living in high estate. He would be very touched by your kind inquiry. "
And they fell on their faces yet again, pressing their brows to the floor.
"Enough bending and bowing," he said, "too much in fact! Let me see you. Is that your youngest brother of whom you spoke to me?" he asked in somewhat clumsy Canaanite—for he had indeed forgotten it a bit—and stepped toward Benjamin. The well-dressed husband reverently raised to him gray eyes filled with a gentle and clear sadness.
"God be with you, my son," Joseph said, laying a hand to his shoulder. "Have you always had such kind eyes and such a lovely shiny helmet of hair on your head, even when you were a little man and ran about like a whelp in the world, in the greenwood?" He swallowed hard. "I shall be back in a moment," he said. "I just have to—" And he quickly left the room—for his own chambers presumably, for his bedroom, but soon returned after having washed his eyes.
"I am neglecting all my duties," he said, "and have not even introduced the guests of my house to one another. Gentlemen, these are buyers of grain from Canaan, whose origins are of high estate, all the sons of one important man."
And he recited for the Egyptians the names of Jacob's sons, in precise order by age, so that they flowed like a poem, with a slight hesitation after every third name—and with the omission of his
own, of course, making a brief pause after Zebulun and then ending with, "and Benjamin." They were astonished, however, that he knew their names in order, and looked at one another in bewilderment.
Then he named for them the names of the Egyptian dignitaries, who responded quite stiffly. He smiled at this. "Let the meal be served," he said, rubbing his hands like someone ready to sit down to the table. But his steward pointed to the presents that had been spread out, and he now admired them with heartfelt courtesy.
"From your father, the old man?" he asked. "This is a touching gesture. Would you please offer him my deepest thanks."
It is but a small thing, they declared, from the bounty of their land.
"It is a great deal," he disagreed. "And above all it is very beautiful. I have never seen such fine tragacanth. And such pistachio nuts, with that rich oily fragrance one notices even from a distance—such things are to be had only in your homeland. I can scarcely take my eyes off them. But now the time has come to eat our lunch."
And Mai-Sakhme directed them all to their places, giving the brothers cause for astonishment yet again, for they were seated exactly according to their age, though from the viewpoint of the master of the house in reverse order, so that the youngest sat closest to him, followed by Zebulun, Issakhar, and Asher, on down to big Ruben. Surrounded by the columns of this Egyptian hall were buffets spread with food and arranged in an open triangle, at the tip of which was the table of their host. To his right were tables for the local gentlemen and slanting away to his left were those for the Asiatic strangers, so that he sat at the head of both rows, with the prophet of Ptah to his right and Benjamin on his left. With warm hospitality he reminded them all to set heartily to work and spare neither food nor wine.
This meal is famous for its good cheer, before which the initial stiffness of the Egyptian dignitaries was soon put to rout, for they thawed out and completely forgot that on principle it was an abomination for them to break bread with these Ebrews. Their sovereign's warrior. Colonel Entef-oker, was the first to begin to enjoy himself, the result of a good deal of Syrian wine, and in a booming voice conversed from table to table across the triangular space with outspoken Gad, who of all these denizens of the sand pleased him the best.
It should come as no surprise that tradition makes no mention
here of Joseph's wife, Asenath, the daughter of the priest of the sun, and insists on leaving the impression that this was a banquet for men only, though by Egyptian custom married couples dined together, nor was the woman of the house absent on festive occasions either. But the accuracy of the old version is hereby confirmed—not by the explanation that perhaps the Maiden, in accord with her marital contract, was spending time with her parents (though that might easily have been possible), but rather by reference to Joseph's daily agenda and lifestyle, for his exalted position usually precluded his even seeing his wife and children during the day. This—to be sure very lively—meal with his brothers and local dignitaries was not a formal banquet, but a business luncheon of the sort that Pharaoh's friend had to host almost daily, so that he usually did not dine with his spouse until evening—and then, in the villa's women's wing and only after first having spent some time with Manasseh and Ephraim, his charming half-breed progeny. At noon, however, he broke bread in the company of men, whether it was with the higher and highest officials of the Great House of Provision or with notables of the Two Lands passing through Menfe or with foreign ambassadors and plenipotentiaries; and this was just such a luncheon with the Friend of the God's Harvest—which is to say, on the face of it, since for now at least all the guests taking part were kept in the dark as to just what stirring events were unfolding here within the framework of God's marvelous and festive story or why their exalted host was in such infectious high spirits.
All those taking part? Should that inclusive statement be allowed to stand? Mai-Sakhme, who stood stoutly at the open end of the triangle and with eyebrows raised high and a white baton in hand was directing bearers of wines and meats as they scurried here and there—he would be one exception. He knew what was going on, but he was not actually a guest. Was there among the diners someone for whom this darkness had a kind of dreadful, delicious, uncanny, unadmitted semitransparency? From our tentative question—best left as a question—it is apparent that it is Turturra-Benoni, the youngest of those on the host's left, whom we have in mind. What he was feeling is indescribable. It has never been described, and neither does this narrative presume to put into words what has never been attempted before—to describe, that is, an intuition that, with all its attendant sweetly terrifying emotions, was a long way from even
trusting itself to be an intuition and instead risked no more than registering gentle, dreamlike spasms of memory and strange evocation that made the heart tremble as it discerned certain relationships between two very different and widely separated phenomena, one submerged since the days of childhood and one alive and present. Just imagine what that was like.
They were seated on very comfortable low chairs, a table set at an angle to one side of each and heavily, happily laden with foods both substantial and dainty, a delight to the eye: fruits, vegetables, cakes, pies, cucumbers and squashes, cornucopias filled with flowers and spun sugar; and to the other side stood both a graceful wash-stand, which held a pretty amphora, and a copper basin for the meal's refuse. This was true for each of them. Under the personal direction of the sommelier, aproned servants kept wine cups full; the steward of the sideboard handed others the main dishes—veal, mutton, fish, poultry, game—to be placed before the guests, who, however, given their host's high rank, did not enjoy precedence over him. Instead the Adon was not only served first, but also served the best, and in greater quantity—though, to be sure, only to redistribute it, so that, as it is written, "portions were taken to them from Joseph's table." Which is to say: Along with his warmest greetings he would send—now to one, now to another, here to an Egyptian and there to one of the foreigners—a roast duckling, some quince jelly, or a gilded bone ringed with tasty fritters; but to the youngest of the Asians, that is, to his neighbor on the left, he personally offered items from his own plate, again and again. Such demonstrations of favor implied a great deal and were observed by the Egyptians, who kept close count and compared and discussed their tallies afterward—and that is why we are told that the little Bedouin's portion was in fact five times as much as anyone else received from the master's table.
Benjamin was embarrassed, begged to be spared from all these gifts, and looked about in apology to both the Egyptians and his brothers. He could not possibly have eaten everything he received, even had he been of a mind to eat—but his was a dazed and anxious mind, that sought, found, lost, and suddenly, indisputably found again, setting his heart racing in fierce beats. He gazed at his host's beardless face framed in its hieratic, winged headdress, at the man who had demanded he be a witness, at this great Egyptian, a fairly
