Joseph and His Brothers, page 98
went in and out of Mut-em-enet's chamber as a friend and pious confidant.
Beknechons
Joseph had long since come to recognize this austere man on sight; he had seen him on his frequent visits to the estate and its house of women and had been as annoyed as if sharing Pharaoh's soul at the pomp and splendor with which he arrived: the god's militia with spears and clubs ran before his floating sedan chair, its long poles borne on the shoulders of four times four shiny-headed temple attendants. With a second troop following after and bearers of ostrich feathers moving alongside, it was like the barque of Amun himself in festive procession; and in front of the first unit were rod bearers who filled the courtyard with their pretentious, excited cries calling people to assemble and for him who was set over the house, if not Pe-tepre himself, to receive the great guest at its threshold. It was Potiphar's custom not to be at home on such occasions, but Mont-kaw was on hand without fail, and Joseph had also stood behind him several times, carefully fixing his eye on this very great man, in whom he saw the highest and most distant embodiment of that hostile doctrine of the sun of which Dudu was the nearest and smallest representative.
Beknechons was a tall, lanky man and of very proud bearing besides—ribcage thrust upward, shoulders thrown back, chin raised. His egg-shaped head with its smooth-shaven skull was always uncovered and always imposing, and its expression, defined entirely by a deep, permanent crease between the eyes, was never less than stern, even when the man managed a smile—which came in any case as a condescending reward for special obsequiousness. The high priest's face, every bristle of beard carefully removed, was chiseled, regular, and impassive. With high cheekbones and furrows at nostrils and mouth as deep as the one between his eyes, he had a way of looking on past other people and things that was more than haughty and more like a rejection of the current state of the world, a negation and condemnation of the entire direction life had taken for the past few centuries or, for that matter, millennia, just as his attire was very costly and fine, but also old-fashioned, a sacerdotal abstention from
the entire present epoch. Clearly visible under his outer robe, which fell from armpits to feet, was a loincloth in the simple, narrow, and short style of the first dynasties of the Old Kingdom; and the priestly leopard hide flung around his shoulders likewise referred to more distant and surely more pious ages—the great cat's head and front paws hanging at his back and its rear paws crossed at his chest, which bore other tokens of high rank: a blue ribbon and an intricate golden brooch of rams' heads.
By the clear light of day, this leopard hide was a presumption, since it was part of the vestments of the First Prophet of Atum-Re in On and thus unbecoming for servants of Amun. Beknechons, however, was very much a man to decide for whom it was appropriate, and no one, including Joseph, could fail to see why he wore man's primal garb, the pelt of a sacred animal: He wished to proclaim by it that Atum-Re had been merged into Amun and was a mere manifestation of the great god of Thebes, subject to him to some extent, indeed more than to some extent. For Amun—which is to say, Beknechons—had managed to force Re's high prophet in On to accept the honorary office of assistant priest of Amun in Thebes, so that the high priest's preeminence over him and his right to wear his insignia were on display here; but also at the seat of Re, in On itself, this same superiority prevailed. For Beknechons not only called himself Chief Priest of the Priests of All the Gods of Thebes, but had also taken on the title of Chief Priest of the Priests of All the Gods of Upper and Lower Egypt and thus was also the head and first priest of the house of Atum-Re—why, then, should he not have been allowed to wear the leopard skin? Observing the man in the awareness of all that he represented, one could not help feeling fear; and Joseph was by now enough a part of the life and workings of Egypt that his heart pounded with misgiving at the thought of how Pharaoh was still making this powerful man ever fatter and prouder with endless gifts of goods and treasures, out of the tender notion that it was his own father, Amun, for whom he did these good things, and thus for himself. Joseph, for whom Amun-Re was merely an idol like any other, though he did not let on that he thought so—half a ram in his chamber, half a doll-like image in his temple shrine, to be taken out on his barque for a sail on the Yeor, because people did not know any better—^Joseph, however, discriminated more finely and freely
The Man of Blessing jS^
than Pharaoh; he did not think it good or wise to fatten up this putative father all the more. And so it was with a higher concern that he watched the great priest of Amun vanish into the house of women, a concern that for reasons of statecraft transcended his own well-being, though he was aware that this latter was the subject of dubious discussions within its walls.
He knew from favored Bes, his earliest benefactor in Potiphar's house, that Dudu had complained to Mut, their mistress, about him several times already—the little fellow had listened in on their discussions from the most unbelievable hiding places and whispered his report of it all in such exact detail that Joseph could see the warden of the wardrobe standing there in his starched apron before his mistress, thrusting the dignified roof of his upper lip out over the lower, flailing stubby arms in outrage, and speaking up at her in his deepest possible voice about this offense and nuisance. The slave Osarsiph, as he obscurely and presumably arbitrarily called himself, this Habiru dandy, this puppy of the wretched desert—his rise here in the house was a scandal, Dudu had said, the favor shown him a dangerous cancer, regarded, no doubt, with animosity by the Hidden One. Against his, Dudu's, sterling advice, he had been bought far too dearly, for one hundred sixty debens, from lowly wandering peddlers of the desert, who had stolen him from a well, from a pit of punishment, and had been put to work in Petepre's house at the urging of that hollow nut, that unmarried buffoon, Shepses-Bes. But instead of sending this foreign lout to drudge in the fields, as respectable people had advised the steward, Mont-kaw had let him loiter about the courtyard, and then permitted him to speak before Petepre in the date garden, an occasion that the gallows bird had used to his benefit in ways for which "shameless" was not a harsh, but all too mild a word. For he had dinned the master's ears with wily quibbles that defamed Amun and blasphemed against the highest powers of the sun; but these words had dazed the holy master's senses and so culpably bewitched him that he had raised him to be his personal attendant and reader, while Mont-kaw treated him like a son, or better like a son of the house itself, who was now learning its business as if he were its heir, with all the pretenses of a vice-overseer—a mangy Asiatic in an Egyptian house! He, Dudu, took the humblest liberty of informing his mistress of this abomination.
which could easily rouse the wrath of the Hidden One, calling down his revenge on those who tolerated and committed such corrupted freethinking.
"What did the mistress reply?" Joseph asked upon hearing this account. "Tell me exactly, Neteruhotpe, and as best you can, repeat her own words for me."
"Her words," the dwarf responded, "were as follows: *As you were speaking, overseer of the jewelry chests,' she said, *I was thinking about whom you might actually mean and what sort of foreign slave you might possibly have in mind in lodging your complaint, for I could not recall the slave in question and searched my memory in vain. You cannot expect me to keep the entire staff of menials in my head and to know whom you mean merely from a reference to one or another of them. But now that you have allowed me time to think, the surmise has grown within me that you mean a servant, still quite young in years, who for some while now has filled the goblet of Petepre, my consort. If I force my mind, I can vaguely recall that particular silver apron.'"
"Vaguely?" Joseph responded, not without some disappointment. "How can I be so vague in our mistress's memory when I am so close to her and the master at their meal each day and the grace that I have found before him and Mont-kaw cannot have escaped her entirely? I am truly amazed that she had to search so long and hard in her memory before surmising whom the malicious Dudu meant. What else did she say?"
"She said," the dwarf replied, continuing his report, "she said: 'Why do you bother me with this and tell me about it, keeper of the wardrobe? Indeed, you call up Amun's anger over me as well. For you yourself said that his wrath will come down upon those who tolerate this offense. If I know nothing, I tolerate nothing, and you should have let it stay at that and spared me, instead of making me aware of it and putting me in danger.'"
Joseph laughed on hearing these words and gave them high praise. "What a splendid retort and what a clever rebuke! Tell me more about our mistress, little Bes. Repeat everything for me precisely, for you were paying attention, I hope."
"It was malicious Dudu," Neteruhotpe replied, "who had more to add. For he justified himself, saying, 'I have announced this abomination to my mistress not so that she may tolerate it, but put
an end to it, and out of love I have given her an opportunity to be of service to Amun by speaking to the master, so that this unclean servant may be removed from the house and, seeing as he has been bought, be transferred to toil in the fields, as is only proper, instead of making himself the master here and setting himself impudently over the children of the land.'"
"Very vicious," Joseph said. "Spiteful, nasty words. But the mistress, how did she answer them?"
"She replied," favored Bes reported: "'Ah, my solemn dwarf, only very rarely is the mistress permitted to speak intimately with the master—you need but recall the formality of this house, and do not think our comings and goings with one another are like those between you and her whose arm embraces you, your wife Zeset, with whom you are intimate. She comes to you, I presume, with easy courage and speaks to you, her husband, about whatever concerns her and you, and may well persuade you of this or that. For she is a mother and has borne you two comely children, Esesi and Ebebi, so that you are tied by gratitude to this woman and have every cause to lend an ear to her whose fertility has won her merit and to pay attention to her wishes and admonitions. But what am I to the master, and what reason has he to listen to me? His stubbornness, as you know, is great, his moods are proud and deaf, so that I and my reminders are powerless before him.'"
Joseph said nothing and, lost in thought, gazed on past his little friend, who now propped his worried, wrinkled face on one hand.
"Well, and the wardrobe warden's reply?" Jacob's son probed after a while. "Did he answer her by further sermonizing on the subject?"
But his small friend said that was not the case. In response, Dudu had lapsed into dignified silence; the mistress had, however, added that she would speak with the Father High Priest about the matter as soon as possible. For since Petepre had raised up this foreign slave after he had spoken to him about issues of the sun, it was apparent that religious and political affairs were at stake here, and that was of interest to Beknechons, the great priest of Amun, her friend and confessor—he ought to know of it, and much to her relief, she would pour out into his fatherly heart what Dudu had told her about this offense.
These, then, were the midget's tidings. But Joseph would later
JJX JOSEPH IN EGYPT
recall how Bes-em-heb had sat a while longer with him that day— dressed as always in his comical garb, the little cone for ointment atop his wig—chin propped in one hand and eyes scowling gloomily.
"What are you frowning about, Beloved of the House of Amun," he had asked, "and why are you still brooding over these things?"
In his little cricket voice Bes had replied, "Ah, Osarsiph, this dwarf is thinking how it is not good for that vicious gossip to speak about you with Mut, our mistress—not good in any way."
"Of course not," Joseph had responded. "Why bother to tell me that? I know all on my own that it is not good, and may even be dangerous. But look, I accept it serenely, for I trust in God. Did not the mistress herself admit she does not have that much power over Pe-tepre? You may set your mind at ease, for one word or signal from her will not suffice to send me to drudge in the fields."
"How can I be at ease," Bes had whispered, "when the danger is just the opposite and comes from another direction—for that gossip has admonished the mistress and put vagueness into sharp focus where you are concerned."
"Let him who can understand that, do so," Joseph had cried in response, "for I do not, and only your drivel seems vague to me. The opposite danger and from another direction? What dark and vague words are you whispering?"
"I am whispering, whispering my fear and foreboding," he heard Neteruhotpe resume, "and murmur the wisdom of dwarfish care, which cannot yet reach up to an overstretched lad like you. For Dudu, that gossip, desires to be vicious, but it may well be that he does good despite himself, does so much good that it turns to evil, evil far greater than he intended."
"Well, my little man, do not hold it against me, but no man can make sense of what makes no sense. Evil, good, so much good and far greater evil? That is dwarfish fiddle-faddle and midget gibberish—I can make nothing of it try as I may."
"Then why is your countenance flushed and murky, Osarsiph, and why are you as peevish as you were when I told you the mistress recalled you only vaguely? Dwarfish wisdom would wish that you remain vague to her forever, for it is dangerous, doubly dangerous, more dangerous than danger itself, if in his evil intent that cursed
gossip has opened her eyes. Ah," the Httle fellow had said, cowering in the clasp of his own tiny arms, "this dwarf is very much afraid and alarmed by the enemy, by the bull whose fiery breath lays waste to the fields."
"But what fields do you mean?" Joseph asked with insistent incomprehension. "And what sort of fiery bull? You're a bit touched in the head today, so there is no way I can touch your fears. Have Firebelly fix you a soothing extract of roots to cool your brain. I am off to work. Can I alter the fact that Dudu complains of me to our mistress, dangerous as that may be? You, however, can see my trust in God and need not carry on like this. Just go on paying close heed and if possible do not let a single word escape you of what Dudu says before our mistress—nor especially of what she replies to him—so that you may report it to me in detail. For it is important that I know what's what."
That was the course of their conversation that day, and Joseph later recalled both it and how Neteruhotpe had been so strangely fearful. But was it truly trust in God and nothing more that allowed Joseph to accept with such relative serenity the news of the steps Dudu had taken against him?
Up to this point, Joseph had been for his mistress if not exactly air, then a tenuous figure, an object in the room, like the mute servant he had been for Huya and Tuya. In his intent to do evil, Dudu had at least brought about a change in this regard. If at meals her gaze happened to fall on Joseph while he handed the master his food or filled his goblet, it now did so not purely by chance or the way eyes register an object, but rather she watched him with personal interest, as if taking in a phenomenon with its own history and associations that—whether out of cordiality or annoyance—give one pause for thought. In a word, this great lady of Egypt, his mistress, had recently begun to pay him attention. She did so, needless to say, in a very languid and cursory way; it would be too much to say that her eyes rested on him. But for that short duration we might call the flash of an eye, they found their way to him now and again—probably with the thought of reminding herself that she intended to speak to Beknechons about him; and from beneath lowered eyelashes Joseph took note of these flashes, never missed one of them, despite all the attention he had to focus on serving Petepre, even if it was only once or twice that he allowed the flash to become mutual, so
that the flashing eyes of mistress and servant met more or less openly^hers languid, proud, and with ongoing austerity, his respectfully startled and melting into humility as he hastily lowered his eyelashes.
