Joseph and His Brothers, page 84
The overseer looked Joseph over.
"Is it true," he asked with proper gruffness, "that you are eloquent and know to speak in delightful phrases?"
Jacob's son collected all the Egyptian he knew.
"A servant's speech is no speech," he replied, recalling a popular adage. "That the lesser man falls silent when greater men speak stands at the head of every scroll. The name by which I call myself is likewise a name of silence."
"How's that! What is your name?"
Joseph hesitated. Then he raised his eyes. "Osarsiph," he said.
"Osarsiph?" Mont-kaw repeated. "I do not know the name. It is not foreign, and one can understand it, since Abodu's god, the Lord of Eternal Silence, appears within it. And yet it is not common usage, and no one in Egypt bears the name, not now, nor did they bear it under kings of yore. But even if you do have a name of silence, Osarsiph, your master says that you can speak pleasant blessings and know a multitude of ways to say good-night at the end of the day. Well, I shall be going to bed this evening myself and lie curled up on my couch in the special chamber of trust. What do you say to me?"
"A gentle rest," Joseph replied with heartfelt sincerity, "after a day of labor. May the soles of your feet, scorched by the heat of the path, wander in bliss over the mosses of peace and your languishing tongue be refreshed by the murmuring springs of night."
"Well, that is, I admit, very touching," the overseer said, tears welling in his eyes. He nodded to the old man, who nodded back, grinning and rubbing his hands. "For a man as plagued by this world as I, who at times does not feel all that splendid when his kidney troubles him, that is downright touching. In the name of Seth," he said, turning back to his scribes, "can we use a young slave—perhaps to light lamps or sprinkle the floors? What do you say, Kha'ma't?" he asked a tall, stoop-shouldered man with several reeds behind each ear. "Do we need one?"
Wavering between yes and no, his scribes assumed a look of indecision, pursing their lips, tucking their heads between their shoulders, and raising their hands halfway in the air.
"What does need mean?" the one named Kha'ma't responded. "If need means to lack what is indispensable, then no. But one can use even what one can do without. It would depend on the price of what is offered. If this barbarian wishes to sell a scribal slave, then chase him off, for we are scribes enough and do not need another, nor can we use him. But if he is offering a menial slave for the dogs or the bath, then let him state his price."
"So then, old man," the overseer said, "be hasty about it! What do you want for your son of the well?"
"He is yours!" the IshmaeHte replied. "Simply by our having spoken about him and your having asked me for him, he is yours already. Truly, it is not proper for me to determine the value of the gift that you intend, or so it would seem, to present me in recompense. But since you have commanded it—the baboon sits beside the scales. He who violates weights and measures is convicted by the power of the moon. Given his extraordinary qualities, one must set the value of this servant at two hundred debens of copper. The onions, however, and the wine of Khazati I will throw in as a bonus and as the makeweight of our friendship."
That was a steep price, particularly since the old man had quite rightly included those wild-growing shallots and very ordinary wine from Phoenicia free of charge and was basing his entire demand on the young slave Osarsiph—an audacious sum, even granting that of the traveling merchant's seven items, not even excepting his famous myrrh, only this one had been worth transporting to Egypt, yes, even if regarded from the viewpoint that all the Ishmaelite's wares were a bonus and his sole purpose in life was to bring the boy Joseph down into Egypt so that the grand plan might be fulfilled. We do not venture to suggest that so much as a trace of a hint of such a notion touched the soul of the old Min^an. Such an interpretation was likewise worlds away from the overseer Mont-kaw's view of things, and he would have objected to so extravagant a price himself, if Dudu, the dignified dwarf, had not interfered and anticipated his response. From beneath the roof of his upper lip his protest emerged at full strength, while stubby arms and little hands gesticulated at his chest.
"That is absurd," he said, "that is utterly and intolerably absurd, good overseer. Turn your back in anger. How shameless of this old vagabond thief to speak to you of friendship, as if there could be any such between you, a man of Egypt who oversees the estate of a great man, and him, a wild creature of the sands. His commerce, however, is a snare and a trap, for he would take as much as two hundred copper debens from you for this lout here"—and he thrust the palm of his hand up at Joseph, beside whom he had taken his position—"for a snot-nose from the desert and a suspicious bit of rubbish. For this specimen is highly suspicious, and, granted, he babbles sweetly about mosses and murmuring springs, but who knows the truth of
what irredeemable vice led to his acquaintance with that pit, out of which the old scoundrel claims to have pulled him. It is my opinion, however, that you ought not buy this ninny, and my advice is that I counsel against purchasing him for Petepre, for he will not thank you for it."
These, the words of Dudu, guardian of the jewelry chests. But after his voice, another little voice was heard, like a cricket in the grass, the voice of Neteruhotpe in his festive attire, of the "vizier," who was standing on the other side of Joseph—for they had put him between them.
"Buy, Mont-kaw!" he whispered, standing on tiptoe. "Buy the boy of the sands. Of all these seven items buy him alone, for he is the best. Trust your little man, who sees clearly. Good, beautiful, and clever is this Osarsiph. Blessed is he, and he will be a blessing to this house. Heed this fine advice of mine!"
"Accept no inferior advice, but only that of sterling substance!" the other one countered loudly. "How can this dried prune give you advice of substance, when he himself is not to be taken seriously and is as insubstantial and windy as a hollow nut? He has no weight in the world after all and no social status, but floats along Hke a cork, a gamboler and jester—how can he offer sterling advice and judge in matters of the world, its goods, its humans, its human goods?"
"Ah, you pompous, punctilious dolt, you fusspot!" Bes-em-heb shrieked, and his gnomish face crumpled into a thousand wrinkles of rage. "How will you judge and give fine advice in the smallest matter, you turncoat midget? You have betrayed the wisdom of the small by denying your dwarfhood and taking an overstretched woman to wife, by setting children long as flagpoles into the world, named Esesi and Ebebi, and by playing the stuffy prig. You remain a dwarf in size, it's true, and still can't see over a boundary stone. But your stupidity is full-grown and bollixes any judgment of goods or humans or human goods ..."
Embittered by this characterization of his mental capacities, Dudu now flew into an incredible fury at these accusations. His face turned cheesy white, that roof of an upper lip quivered, and he let loose a volley of nasty protest against Neteruhotpe's windiness and insubstantiality, to which the latter was quick to pay him back with more malicious remarks about the surrender of finer intelligence to punctilious pomp; and so, hands on their knees, the two little men
bickered and squabbled as they circled Joseph as if he were an intervening tree that protected them from one another; and all those gathered around—both Ishmaelites and Egyptians, including the overseer—roared with laughter at the bantam warfare below them. When suddenly everything came to a halt.
Potiphar
Out on the street distant sounds began to swell ever louder: clattering hooves, rolling wheels, and the soft drumming of feet amid a chorus of cries for all to take heed. Approaching at great speed, the clamor was now at the gate.
"Now we're in for it," Mont-kaw said. "The master. And the arrangements in the dining chamber? Great Triad of Thebes, I've frittered away the time with farce. Silence, you menials, or there'll be leather. Kha'ma't, finish this business, I must join the master in the house. Buy these wares at a reasonable price. Health to you, old man. And come back to this house again—in five or seven years."
And he turned away in haste. The watchers at the gate on their brick bench shouted ahead into the courtyard. Servants came running from several directions, anxious to throw themselves on their faces and line both sides of their lord's entry. From under the stony gateway came the rattle of a chariot and the tramping of footmen— Petepre drove in, with panting heralds before him and panting fan-bearers beside and behind him. Two glistening, high-spirited bays adorned with beautiful trappings and ostrich plumes pulled the little two-wheeled carriage, an elegant sport vehicle with soft, curving lines and standing room for only two, the master and the driver, who stood idly by, however, his position evidently honorary, for Pharaoh's friend was himself the driver, since from both his bearing and attire it was clear that he was the master, with reins and whip in hand: an exceedingly tall, heavyset man with a small mouth, as Joseph noticed at a glance; but what really caught his attention were the fireworks released by bright gemstones embedded in the spokes of the wheels and spinning in the sunlight, a colorful spectacle of whirling sparks that Joseph would have loved for little Benjamin to see and whose beauty was repeated, though not in a whirl, on Pe-tepre's own person in the form of a collar, a magnificent piece of
craftsmanship consisting of countless enamelwork plates and precious gems of every color, arranged in rows, narrow side to narrow side, a glittering rainbow of flame beneath the strong white light that the god at his zenith hurled down upon Weset and this spot.
The ribcages of the footmen were heaving. The smartly groomed steeds stood stamping, snorting, and rolling their eyes, and a servant who had grabbed the bridle patted their sweating necks and spoke gentle words to them. The chariot halted by the palm trees, directly between the party of merchants and the gate in the wall that surrounded the main house, where Mont-kaw had taken up his position to greet his master and now stepped forward—smiling and bowing, gesturing his delight and even shaking his head in wonder—to lend his master a hand in stepping down. Petepre gave reins and whip to the driver, while retaining in his very small hand a short staff of cane and gilt leather rolled together in a knot at one end, a kind of elegant cudgel. "Wipe them down with wine, cover them well, walk them!" he said in a thin voice, gesturing toward the horses with that elegant vestige of a savage weapon that had now become a mere token of commanding authority, and, although he could have stepped down, he waved aside the hand offered him and jumped from the vehicle, a vigorous, nimble man despite his weight.
Joseph could see and hear him quite well, especially after the chariot was slowly driven off toward the stables, leaving the Ish-maelites with a clear view of both master and steward, who watched as it drove off. The exalted man himself was perhaps forty, or maybe thirty-five years old, and truly tall as a tower—Joseph was reminded of Ruben at the sight of the columnHke legs visible under the royal linen of the almost ankle-length robe, which also revealed the folds and dangling ribbons of the skirt beneath it; but the man's bulk was of a very different sort from that of Joseph's heroic brother, for the entire body was fat, fat all over, but especially around the chest, which rose like two hills beneath the fine batiste of his tunic and had jiggled more than a little when he had taken his unnecessarily enterprising leap from the chariot. His head was very small in relation to his height and girth, but nobly proportioned, with short hair, a short, finely arched nose, a delicate mouth, a pleasantly prominent chin, and long-lashed eyes, whose gaze was veiled and proud.
Standing in the shade of the palm trees with his overseer, he watched with satisfaction as his stallions were led away at a walk.
"They are extremely fiery," he could be heard to remark. "Weser-min even more than Wepwawet. They were unruly, tried to bolt on me. But I kept them well in hand."
"As only you can," Mont-kaw responded. "It is amazing. Your driver Neternakht would not dare take them on. No one in this house would dare it with those wild Syrians. They have fire in their veins, not blood. They aren't horses, they're demons. But you can control them. They feel the hand of the master, and their high spirits yield, and they run under the restraint of harness for you. Even after a victorious struggle with their wildness, you, however, are not weary at all, but leap from your wagon, my lord, like a fearless lad."
Petepre cast him a fleeting smile, tucking the folds at the corners of his small mouth. "It is my intent," he said, "to pay homage to Sebek this afternoon yet and to hunt in the marshes. Make preparations and wake me in time should I fall asleep. There should be throw-sticks in the boat and lances for spearing fish. But see to it that there are harpoons as well, for I have been told that a hippopotamus of great size has strayed into the backwater where I hunt, and that is what interests me above all—I wish to slay it."
"The mistress, Mut-em-enet," the overseer repHed with downcast eyes, "will tremble when she hears of it. At least yield to entreaties not to attack the hippopotamus single-handed, but leave the danger and difficulty to servants instead. The mistress ..."
"There's no pleasure in that for me," Petepre replied. "I shall throw the spear myself."
"But the mistress will tremble."
"Let her tremble! Surely," he said, turning around suddenly to the overseer, "everything is in order with the house, is it not? No accidents or misfortunes? Nothing? What people are these? Traveling merchants—fine. The mistress is of good cheer? My exalted parents on the upper floor are in good health?"
"Both order and health are perfect," Mont-kaw responded. "Late this morning our gracious mistress ordered she be carried to visit Renenutet, the consort of the Chief Steward of Amun's Bulls, to practice singing hymns with her. She has returned and has sent for Tepem'ankh to read fairy tales to her in the house of seclusion, having also expressed a desire to kiss the sweets that your servant ordered be offered to her. As for the most estimable parents on the
upper floor, it pleased them to be ferried across the river to make sacrifices in the Temple of the Dead to Thutmose, father of the god and now reunited with the sun. Having returned from the West, those exalted siblings, Huya and Tuya, have spent the time sitting in the summerhouse by your garden pond, peacefully and piously holding hands and awaiting the hour of your return, when dinner is to be served."
"You may also inform them," the master of the house said, "or have it told them privately in passing that I intend to hunt the hippopotamus yet today. They should know of it."
"Unfortunately," his overseer replied, "that will be a cause of great anxiety to them."
"No matter," Petepre declared. "Life here this morning," he added, "appears to have been spent to everyone's liking, while I had only the annoyance of court and vexation at Merima't Palace."
"You had what?" Mont-kaw asked in dismay. "How is that possible, for the good god is in the palace and ..."
"One is Captain of the Guard," the master was heard to say to himself, turning away and shrugging his massive shoulders, "and Chief High Executioner, or one is not. If, however, one is that. . . and then someone comes along ..." His words faded away. With his steward a few steps behind him—bowing, listening, responding— Petepre passed between servants, who held hands uplifted, and now strode through the gate toward his house. Joseph, however, had seen Potiphar, as it was his custom to pronounce the name—the great man of Egypt to whom he would be sold.
Joseph Is Sold a Second Time and Throws Himself upon His Face
For that is what happened now. In the name of the overseer, Kha'-ma't, the tall scribe, took care of business with the old man while the dwarves looked on. But Joseph paid scant attention to such matters or to what price he brought, so caught up was he in his musings and preoccupation with first impressions of his new owner's character. That glittering collar and other tributes of gold; his overweight, but proud figure; the way he had jumped down from the chariot and the
way Mont-kaw had flattered him, telUng him how strong and brave he was at handhng horses; his intention of taking on the savage hippopotamus single-handed, heedless that it would make Mut-em-enet, his consort, and Huya and Tuya, his parents, tremble—though "heedless" apparently did not even come close to characterizing his mood; and in contrast, his series of quick questions about the unruffled order in the house and the good cheer of its mistress; even those fragmentary hints about vexation suffered at court that had passed his lips as he departed—it all gave Jacob's son some very urgent things to think about, to test and surmise, as he silently endeavored to fathom, interpret, and augment them, like a man trying to make himself as quickly as possible intellectual master of circumstances and realities in which he finds himself placed by chance and with which he must now deal.
Would he—so his thoughts ran—stand someday beside Potiphar in his chariot as his driver? Would he accompany him on a hunting party to the backwater of the Nile? In fact, believe it or not, he was thinking even this early—having just been brought before this house and taken note of its objects and people in an attentive, quick survey—of how sooner or later, indeed as soon as possible, he might be able to take his position at the side of his master, the highest man in this circle, though not the highest in the land of Egypt—from which latter reservation it becomes clear that even unforeseeable difficulties in achieving his first, still far too distant goal did not prevent him from letting his thoughts play with a connection to even more definitive embodiments of what is highest.
