Hamid’s dark brows furrowed, and he frowned, his gaze sorrowful. “If I am allowed, I will put in a good word for you,” he promised.
Joseph nodded, then stepped into the light and motioned for Hamid to lead him. He would not be bound, as he had been that day when his brothers betrayed him. He would go willingly. Though he seriously doubted whether the outcome would be any different.
23
Potiphar arrived home two days later. Joseph heard the commotion through the thin walls of the room where he was being held. This small guardroom was not meant to house a prisoner, so there had been no bed to lie upon. He could not have slept even if he’d tried.
Servants moved quickly through the halls, a horde of rushing feet, until at last he heard Aneksi’s whiny voice nearby. They must be in Potiphar’s audience chamber, where Joseph expected to be called soon.
“What is all of this nonsense I hear from the servants?” Potiphar’s voice boomed, his anger obvious. “Where is Joseph? I don’t believe a word of this!”
Hope rose for a brief moment, until Joseph heard Aneksi’s voice again. “You must believe me, my husband,” she said. “See this cloak? Do you not recognize it? That Hebrew slave you’ve brought into our house tried to come in and sleep with me. But when I screamed, he ran outside, leaving his cloak with me!”
Silence followed her remark, and Joseph’s heart raced with dread.
“Why should I believe you when I know you seduce the servants to your bed whenever I am gone?” His voice sounded as though he was barely containing his fury.
“Have I ever run to you with such a tale? If I have called others to my bed, it is because I wanted someone and you would not have me! But this man, this Hebrew, nearly forced himself on me! Why else would I have his cloak? What I might give freely to some, he would have taken by force. You cannot allow him to live, my husband. He has mocked you by mistreating me. You must do something!”
Potiphar let out a string of curses, then slammed something against the wall. “Bring Joseph to me now!”
“Yes, my lord,” one of the servants said. It was not Hamid’s voice Joseph heard. Was he standing near?
“You will send him to the executioner, won’t you, my husband? My father would not be pleased to hear this tale.” Aneksi’s tone held an almost gleeful menace.
“I will decide what is to be done when I hear what Joseph has to say. Your father does not make my decisions.”
“But—”
“Go! I will deal with Joseph alone.”
The sound of many steps filled Joseph’s ear until they drifted away and he was left with silence. A moment later the door to his inner prison opened to the light spilling from the audience chamber.
“Come,” the guard said, allowing Joseph to precede him.
Joseph walked into the chamber where Potiphar sat on his raised dais. He bowed low as he usually did, waiting for Potiphar’s permission to stand.
“Leave us,” Potiphar shouted to the few guards who remained. “I will call you when we are finished.”
The guards moved to the exits until at last all was silent.
“You may stand, Joseph.” Potiphar’s voice had gentled, surprising Joseph.
He stood, hands clasped in front of him, but he did not cower or lower his gaze.
“These are serious charges my wife brings against you, Joseph. And after you assured me you would never—could never—do such a thing to me. What do you have to say for yourself?” Potiphar searched his gaze.
“Would my lord have me speak truthfully?” Joseph asked, not certain Potiphar wanted to know.
“Have we ever spoken anything but truth to each other? I’ve trusted you with my entire household. And I know my wife. Tell me. Does she speak the truth?” Potiphar rested his arms on the seat, his expression open.
“She does not, my lord. She has come after me many times when you were away. I did not tell you because nothing came of those times. Either I slipped away from her or she turned about and returned to her rooms when I refused her. But she is persistent . . .” He paused, weighing his response.
“Go on.”
Joseph cleared his throat. “It was noon, when I returned to my work to record the day’s yield, that she approached me again. I was alone in the house, and though I stood and moved away from her, keeping the table between us, she came around and grabbed my cloak with both hands. She grew insistent. So much so that I knew only trouble lay ahead. I slipped away, only this time I had no choice but to leave my cloak with her, as I could not have pried her fingers from it. I ran toward the trees, but I was not far from the house when I heard her scream and call all of the male servants to tell them I had tried to force myself on her. She ordered them to find me so she could keep me confined until you returned.”
Potiphar rubbed the back of his neck, looking beyond Joseph as though trying to determine what to do. “Why did you not leave? You could have fled my household and even Egypt, yet you allowed them to find you?” His brow scrunched and his eye twitched.
“Where would I go, my lord? I have no funds to pay for my escape or to return to where I come from. And when you found me, it would surely have been worse than if I stayed.” Joseph forced himself to remain still, watching Potiphar.
“I believe you, Joseph. I know my wife, and I know she is lying to me. But you realize that I cannot allow you to remain in my employ. I cannot do nothing when the entire household is aware of her claims.” Potiphar’s expression held empathy. “But I will not have you executed. You will be confined to the king’s prison on my estate. And may your god have mercy on you and release you one day, but I simply cannot.” Because of Aneksi’s father, no doubt.
“I understand,” Joseph said. “You have a duty to uphold. Thank you for sparing my life.” He bowed low again, touching his forehead to the tiles.
“You are a good man, Joseph. I deeply regret that this has happened to you.”
They exchanged a look that reminded Joseph of the days when he had been in this man’s favor. It was followed quickly by a look of deep sadness from Potiphar, something he rarely showed.
“Stand up,” he ordered, his tone now that of master of the house. “Guards!” he shouted, and his personal guards came running to his side. “Take this man to the king’s prison. Put him under the care of Joba the jailer. And send for Hamid. He will now be my second-in-command.”
Potiphar stood and left the room, while the guards took Joseph’s arms and led him toward the back entrance of the house, down the steps, and across the grounds to the prison.
“We will miss you, Joseph,” one guard said when they were some distance away. “We know you are innocent.”
The others nodded their agreement.
“It is enough to know that you see the truth.” Joseph looked at each one. “I will miss you all.”
Moments later Joba met them and escorted Joseph to a small room, closed the door behind him, and locked it. Joseph’s only light came from the moon shining through a window high in the wall. A window too small for any person to fit through. But at least he could see.
The prison was swept clean, and no mice or other rodents were evident. Suddenly the weight of it all hit Joseph, and he sank onto the thin mat and put his head in his hands. Why, Adonai? What have I done to deserve such treatment? I obeyed Your laws. I served You faithfully. Yet I am here, worse off than I was when I first arrived in Egypt.