He shook himself, took the steps two at a time, and headed for the enclosures where the cattle were kept. A field bordered the pens, a place for the cattle to graze. The animals were a good distance from the wheat fields that were visible from the house. Potiphar did not want the stench of his animals anywhere near his grand estate. Joseph sent a silent prayer of gratitude that God had allowed him a place in the house instead of the fields. Perhaps he was becoming far too used to the Egyptian way of life.
He reached the pens just as the servants were leading the cattle to the fields. Several men were spread out to watch that none of the cattle ran off or were frightened by wild beasts.
Joseph stopped at the small hut where one servant kept watch each night and met Hamid there.
“Greetings, my lord,” Hamid said as all of the servants bowed to him.
“Greetings,” Joseph said as each man straightened and awaited his instructions. “You may go about your work. I simply came to inspect the cattle. Hamid tells me you have a female that is sick?”
“Yes, my lord,” Hamid’s servant Lateef said. “If you will follow me.” The man turned and led Joseph to the far corner of the pen, where a cow walked about as though she were drunk. “Her name is Masika, and as you can see, she cannot walk properly, has lost all ability to give milk, and has little appetite.”
“Do any of the others show the same symptoms?” Joseph asked as he felt the cow’s shoulder. “She is cold.” He had seen this in his father’s cattle, but normally it affected more of the herd.
“Yes, my lord. We are beginning to see others stumbling as they are led out to pasture.”
Joseph patted the cow in a comforting gesture, then walked to the field to observe. Nearly half of the animals walked on unsteady feet as though they were drunk or weak.
He walked back to the pen where Lateef and Hamid waited. “Move the animals to a different pasture. This field is making them sick.”
“But they always graze in this field. It is the one Potiphar allotted to his herd,” Hamid said.
Joseph looked from the men to the animals, remembering this same weakness. Moving his father’s herds had been the cure. “This tends to happen when the fields are greenest. I’ve seen it before. Potiphar will be happy to find healthy animals no matter where they graze.” He walked away with one glance over his shoulder. “Give me a report by day’s end and again at the end of the week. If there is no improvement, we will reexamine them then.”
He headed toward the house, memories again surfacing of the training he’d received from his father’s steward in all of the household care, including that of the cattle and grain fields. Without that knowledge, would he be as aware of what to do here?
He lifted his gaze heavenward. Had God allowed him to be taught in his youth so that he could survive a future he could never have foreseen? He paused near the wheat fields and gazed at the house. He had accounts to manage and reports to fill out for Potiphar tonight. But as he stood on the outskirts of one of Egypt’s finest homes, his heart’s burning questions rose within him as he studied the puffy clouds.
Why, Adonai? Why am I here, and what are You trying to teach me? Will I ever see my home again, my father or grandfather or Benjamin or Dinah?
But the sky was as silent as always beneath the Egyptian sun. He lowered his gaze to the earth and his surroundings and headed to do his work. At least he had work to help him forget. Though forgetting was something he could probably never do.
17
CANAAN, 1839 BC
Judah walked from the sheep pens, staff in hand, feeling a sense of elation he hadn’t felt in all his life. Kaella had given birth to a second son earlier that week, both boys barely a year apart. Er, his firstborn, bore the name he had chosen, but Kaella had given their second son the name of Onan.
It was a good name, he supposed, though he liked his choice better. But then the firstborn carried a special place in his heart, the first sign of his manhood. You are beginning to sound like your father. The thought did not sit well with him. He must not allow himself to show favoritism to Er as his father had done with Joseph. Not even Reuben had enjoyed the favor of the firstborn as Joseph had. Judah would not make the same mistakes as his father.
He shook his head to clear it and headed toward his tent. He couldn’t visit his wife during this period of uncleanness, but he would visit his sons once they were in the care of the nursemaid. He must circumcise Onan as he had Er in a few days, though Kaella did not understand or agree with his insistence on keeping the covenant of his fathers. Just because he wanted nothing to do with his family did not mean he wanted to be cut off from the promises given to Abraham. Not circumcising Onan would be a foolish decision.
He was using his staff to help him climb the steep incline to his tents when a voice called to him. He turned. “Hirah. I thought you had gone home.”
“You must come,” Hirah said, his breathing labored. “Something has happened to Shua.”
Judah hurried down the slope, and the two half walked, half ran toward the house of his father-in-law. “What happened?” Judah asked.
“He was wounded when he attempted to free a lamb from the mouth of a lion.” Hirah glanced Judah’s way. “They don’t have much hope for him.”
A lion? Shua was no longer a young man. “Did he not use a sling to attack the animal from a distance?”
Hirah shook his head. “I do not know. Shua is a proud man, and he thinks himself still young enough to do what we can do.”
The house, where a crowd of relatives had already gathered, came into view. Judah slowed his pace to match Hirah’s. They drew closer and approached his brother-in-law Majid.
“How is he?” Judah asked, his heart beating too fast. He would have to tell Kaella, who would want to come at once. But should she leave her tent so soon after childbirth?
“He is not well,” Majid said. “He tried to pry a lamb from the mouth of a lion, and the lion got hold of him. He wasn’t quick enough to scare it off with his staff, and he couldn’t grab his knife to kill it. The animal pinned him to the ground and bit his shoulder before running off with the lamb.”
“Is the bite deep?” Hirah’s face had paled, and a lump formed in the pit of Judah’s gut.
“The cat did much damage. If he lives, Shua will not have use of his arm again.” Majid walked into the house when someone called for him.
“You should go with him,” Hirah said, touching Judah’s arm. “Kaella will want to know everything, and you can’t tell her what you do not see.”
Judah nodded, though he moved slowly toward the house, then shouldered his way past Shua’s relatives. The house began to grow darker as the sun set in a blaze of color. He looked about for a servant he could instruct to light some lamps but found himself pushed along to the door of Shua’s bedchamber instead.
Soft weeping came from Shua’s wife, Farida, and his sons who lived on his property, now gathered about his bed. A local physician bent over Shua, applying a poultice, and when he lifted his head, his expression was grim.
He motioned everyone out of the room and to another part of the house where the crowd was thin. “He will need these poultices applied three times a day. I gave him something to help him sleep. But I must tell you that I do not hold out much hope that he will recover. It may be that the gods will show him kindness and allow him to live. But the wounds cut deep and some of the flesh is gone. If he recovers, he will not be the same.”