Would his brothers feel that intimidation? His impatience grew, though he knew it was a distance from the king’s prison on Potiphar’s estate to this grand palace. Still, he drummed his fingers on the edge of the chair, wishing he had waited for them to come rather than appear anxious to see them.
He stilled, telling his heart to slow as he heard the doors swing open on heavy hinges. Hamid led ten men on the long walk to him. He searched each face as they approached and saw the fear in their eyes. Good. They would be easier to command if they feared him. And he desperately needed them to obey if he were to ever see Benjamin again.
Hamid climbed the steps to his throne and bowed while his brothers knelt with their faces to the stone tiles.
“Did they say anything on the walk here?” Joseph asked.
Hamid shook his head. “They seemed relieved and surprised to be released, but they are fearful of what is to come. What message do you have for them?”
“Tell them, ‘Do this and you will live, for I fear God. If you are honest men, let one of your brothers stay here in prison, while the rest of you go and take grain back for your starving households. But you must bring your youngest brother to me, so that your words may be verified and that you may not die.’” Joseph angled his head toward Hamid, who turned to his brothers and repeated his words.
“Surely we are being punished because of our brother,” Simeon said to the others, wringing his hands.
Judah nodded. “We saw how distressed he was when he pleaded with us for his life, but we would not listen. That’s why this distress has come on us.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to sin against the boy?” Reuben said. “But you wouldn’t listen! Now we must give an accounting for his blood.”
Joseph stood and left the room, overcome with emotion. He walked far enough away from the anteroom that they could not hear the deep weeping he could not keep in check. Oh, Adonai. They have not forgotten me. All of these years later, they still remembered their treachery. But were they truly sorry? They could have searched for him. They could have paid to buy him back . . .
Tears came again, and he quickly shut the door to a small room, where he sank to the floor, his body shaking with uncontrolled sobs. Oh, Adonai. Adonai. What do I do? He had not realized until this moment that he carried so much pain. He’d thought God had made him forget his family, when all along they had always been there in the back of his mind. And his heart.
They would wonder what had happened to him, and he had not even given Hamid instructions to release them. He must return to them, but by now the kohl had surely run down his cheeks. He rose slowly, composed himself as best he could, and called the guard who followed him wherever he went.
“Bring my manservant at once and have him bring the makeup pots,” he said, turning aside to hide his emotion.
“Yes, my lord,” the man said, hurrying to do his bidding. Another guard replaced him until the first guard and his manservant returned.
The manservant looked at Joseph, his eyes wide, but simply went to work with wet linen rags and applied fresh makeup and kohl to his face and eyes.
“Am I presentable?” Joseph asked when the servant leaned back to examine him.
“As good as you were this morning,” he said, putting his brushes and pots back onto his tray.
Joseph looked in the silver mirror to see if he agreed, then left the room and walked back to the audience chamber, two guards following now. He pointed at Simeon and spoke to Hamid.
Hamid called the guards, who took Simeon from his brothers, bound his hands behind his back, and put shackles on his feet. Joseph spoke again to Hamid and made a gesture to show his brothers that Simeon would remain in prison.
The fear he had seen in their gazes upon their arrival in the chamber changed to terror. Through Hamid, he told his brothers to go and collect their sacks of grain. They followed a guard to where Joseph had kept their sacks.
“Put each man’s silver back in their sacks and give them provisions for their journey home,” Joseph said to Hamid. “Take the side entrance to get there ahead of them.”
Hamid gave Joseph a puzzled look but simply said, “Yes, my lord.”
Joseph leaned back in the gilded seat and released a long-held breath. Now he would wait and see whether they would do as he had commanded. And the silver would test them to see if they were still dishonest, betraying men or changed men who could be trusted.
Judah tucked the last of his sacks along his donkey’s side and held the reins, leading his brothers on the path toward Hebron. His mind spun with all that had happened since they set foot in Egypt. Why had the governor of the land been immediately suspicious of them? Certainly they stood out as shepherds and foreigners, but the line of people waiting for food came from various lands. Why choose them to blame to be spies?
Was God punishing them, as his brothers had suspected—as he had suspected—for what they had done to Joseph? He trudged ahead alone, not wanting their company, certain he deserved every bad thing that had happened to him. Hadn’t it been his idea to sell Joseph to those Ishmaelites in the first place?
His heart stirred as he remembered the boy’s cries for help. Had he lost two sons because of his sin? The memories came in waves, and he felt his face heat as the sun rose. Shame filled him, and he mopped his brow with his sleeve and walked faster, anxious to get home to his father and sons.
His brothers walked in silence, the only sounds coming from their footfalls and the donkeys’ hooves. They all seemed to be in the same hurry he was to leave the black land. Judah longed to pray to never see that governor again, but the nagging truth remained that Simeon was his prisoner, and in time the grain they had purchased would need replenishing.
They would meet him again, like it or not.
“This looks like a good place to stop,” Reuben said, coming up behind him. “It’s getting too dark to see, and we will never make it home in one day’s journey.”
Everything in Judah wanted to argue. They could keep going by the light of the moon and make torches so they didn’t stumble. But he also ached to sleep and knew his brothers would feel the same.
He looked at Reuben. “You are right.” He stopped his donkey and faced those coming behind him. “We will make camp here tonight.” It was the right thing to do if they hoped to stay safe from bandits they might find along the way.
They drew their animals to a stop and formed a circle, building a fire in the center. Hunger gnawed at Judah, and he lifted one of the sacks from the side of his animal. He would gather some grain to toast over the fire and give some to feed the donkey.
The sack seemed heavier than it did when he first lifted it to the donkey’s back. He set it on the ground and untied the rope at the neck. The glint of metal caught his eye, and he reached into the mouth of the sack to find his silver—every bit of it that he had used to pay for the grain—sitting atop the grain. His stomach turned over, and fear gripped him at the sight. He looked about him and called out, “My silver has been returned. Here it is in my sack.”
He saw the same fear reflected in his brothers’ faces. They moved slowly, visibly shaken, and sank to the ground.
“What is this that God has done to us?” Judah said.
“It has to be because of what we did to Joseph,” Asher said, drawing a circle in the dirt with his finger. “We never treated him with kindness.”