Judah’s mind whirled. He had never seen a man attacked by a lion or bear, though he had killed a few of those animals from a distance with his sling, as had his brothers. Like Judah’s own father, Shua should have left the care of the animals to his sons and sons-in-law.
Farida began to weep again, and her daughters-in-law surrounded her and drew her away to a private bedchamber. Majid walked back to the crowd and sent them away.
Judah slipped outside with Hirah following. “What will you do?” Hirah asked.
“I’m going home to tell Kaella.” He did not look forward to breaking such news to her.
Hirah nodded. “I will go home then and have my wife prepare food for Shua’s family. She will insist, and you know how impossible it is to keep a woman from doing what she wants to do.”
Judah’s laugh held no mirth. “I do indeed.”
They parted ways as they reached the bend in the road, and Judah again climbed the hill to his tents. His gut churned as he considered the best way to tell Kaella about her father. She was Shua’s youngest daughter, and the two were close. He clenched his staff until his knuckles whitened, wishing this day were any other.
“Judah!” Kaella said, surprise in her voice. “You are not supposed to enter my tent for many days yet.” She studied his face, concern etched across her brow.
“I had to come.” He stayed in the doorway, longing to approach her and hold her in his arms, yet uncertain what to do in such a situation. When his mother birthed children, his father stayed away from her tent for at least a month, and Dinah’s birth kept him away two months. Judah didn’t understand why his father thought this important, but like the covenant of circumcision, he tried to keep the traditions he knew.
“What’s happened?” Kaella’s voice drew him out of his musings.
He took one step closer and held out his hands to her. “I have news. It is not good.”
Her face paled. “Tell me.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat, still unable to process what had happened. “Your father . . . he was with the sheep and tried to retrieve a lamb from the mouth of a lion. The lion tore his shoulder. He lost much blood.”
Silence fell between them as she stared at him as if unable to accept his words. “Yet he lives?”
Judah nodded. “A physician attended him and he sleeps, but there is little hope he will recover.”
Shock seemed to paralyze her for a moment, then she leaned against her cushions and closed her eyes. Onan nursed at her breast, and she leaned close and kissed his forehead. She looked up and met Judah’s gaze. “I must go to him.”
“You just gave birth. You should not go out yet.” Judah crossed his arms and gave her a concerned look, but her eyes suddenly sparked anger.
She sat up. “If my father is dying, right or wrong, I am going to see him before it is too late.”
Onan pulled away and began to cry at their raised voices. Kaella stood and walked with him, patting his back. Judah took a step closer to the door. He looked on helplessly as the baby’s cry grew louder. He left the tent, uncertain what to do. Did he have a right to keep her from leaving her tent when her need to do so was so great? How would he keep her home when he took the sheep to the fields?
He walked with weighted steps to his tent, letting the flap close behind him. He should light a lamp, but he had no desire for light. His world had just shifted, and he wasn’t sure how to go on. Shua was more than his father-in-law. He was a business partner and friend. His loss would mean Judah would be forced to work with his brothers-in-law along with Hirah. He had no choice but to do so until he had earned enough profit to have a flock that was his alone.
He sank onto the cushions and thought of many different ways they could divide the responsibilities. He must make sure his brothers-in-law did not try to cut him out of the profits he had worked so hard to earn, much like his grandfather Laban had cheated his father out of his earnings year after year. Judah would not let that happen to him.
EGYPT
Joseph stood at the head of the first wheat field and watched as the servants began harvesting the crop. This time there were no tares in the crop. Potiphar’s investigation into the matter had found the servant who had betrayed him, and the man had been swiftly executed. Memories of that ordeal during his first year in Egypt still caused a hint of fear to rise in Joseph whenever he was forced to bring bad news to Potiphar. Thankfully, bad news was a rare occurrence since God had begun to bless the work of his hands.
A threshing floor stood on a rise to the west of the fields, and once the men had finished the harvest and threshed the grain, Joseph expected a great yield. Potiphar would be pleased.
Satisfied that the work was well in hand, Joseph turned and walked back to the house. Potiphar met him at the top of the stairs.
“My lord,” Joseph said, bowing low. He rose and faced his master as Potiphar took a moment to look over his fields.
“All goes well?” Potiphar rarely asked such questions, but this time concern etched his brow.
“Yes, my lord. I will keep watch on their progress, but for now all is well.” Joseph briefly placed a hand over his heart.
“Good.” Potiphar’s gaze shifted to Joseph. “I’m going north with my men to settle an uprising. I am leaving you in charge of everything, as always. This time you will also check on the prison. Make sure the chief jailer, Joba, has everything he needs. The servants who don’t obey you, take to the prison until I can return and assess the situation.” He paused a moment and glanced behind Joseph. When he seemed satisfied that no one was about, he leaned closer. “Ignore my wife, should you come into contact with her. Ignore anything she does or anyone she invites to visit. If you see her doing anything she shouldn’t, you can give me a full report when I return.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw.
Joseph nodded, surprised at this personal request. Aneksi, Potiphar’s wife, was not someone Joseph often saw. Other servants had gone to her rooms, but she rarely left the suite of rooms Potiphar had built for her. Why would Potiphar suddenly take an interest in what his wife might do or whom she might entertain?
“Of course, my lord,” Joseph said. “I will do everything you have said.”
Potiphar did not smile, as smiling was not in his character, but his lips twitched as though he wanted to. “I knew I could count on you. Don’t make me regret my decision to do so.”
“I won’t.” Joseph watched the man turn on his heel and walk away. He was used to being in charge of the household, but these added duties made him the most powerful man in Potiphar’s house. Was this part of the fulfillment of his dreams? Had God put him here to have Potiphar’s servants and not his brothers bow to him?
He shook his head as he moved to his table of accounts, certain he was mistaken. The dreams were simply the working of an overanxious mind—one that wanted connection to his brothers. And maybe he had also wanted to hold something over them because of the way they had always treated him. The dreams were just selfish longings of a foolish young man’s heart. His life here was not the life of a ruler. He was still a slave, high-standing or not. He would do well to remember that fact.
18
1833 BC