The walk to the man’s house gave them a closer view of Egyptian power and wealth. But when they were led to the king’s palace, to a section of the great complex apparently where this man lived, Judah felt his strength fail and a lump fill his throat.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump, but when he turned, it was only Reuben. He leaned close to Judah’s ear. “We were brought here because of the silver that was put back into our sacks the first time. He wants to attack us and overpower us and seize us as slaves and take our donkeys.”
Judah stared at his older brother, thinking he had surely lost his mind, but one glance at the others told him they were all thinking the same thing. Were they right?
They came to a stop at intricately carved double doors, and the steward opened them and invited the men in.
Judah did not move. He swallowed hard. “We beg your pardon, our lord. We came down here the first time to buy food. But after we left, we opened our sacks and each of us found his silver—the exact weight—in the mouth of his sack. So we have brought it back with us. We have also brought additional silver with us to buy food. We don’t know who put our silver in our sacks.”
“It’s all right,” the steward said. “Don’t be afraid. Your God, the God of your father, has given you treasure in your sacks. I received your silver. Come.” He led them into the house and had them sit on benches near the door, then disappeared through another door.
Moments later that seemed like forever, he returned with Simeon. Judah’s heart beat faster. Simeon lived! And by the look of him, he was in good health. Relief nearly stole Judah’s breath.
“Here is water,” the steward said as servants carried jars and basins and towels for each man. “Wash your feet while I have my servants feed your donkeys.”
“If we may, my lord,” Judah said before the man could leave, “we have gifts we wish to retrieve from our donkeys’ saddlebags.”
The steward nodded. “Of course.”
Judah stood, and six of his brothers hurried with him to gather the gifts to present to the governor when he arrived. They were to eat with him at noon? The steward’s announcement to them before they had begun their trek through Egypt’s streets still astounded him. Why would they first be accused of being spies and now be invited to dine with one of the most powerful men on earth? It made no sense.
He had little time to ponder the reasons when guards flanked the very man whose home they now occupied. The man walked into the room and greeted them through the steward’s interpretation.
“We have brought you gifts from Hebron, from our father, my lord,” Judah said, placing the items at the man’s feet. He bowed low, his face to the cool tiles, as did all of his brothers.
The man cleared his throat and bid them rise. “How is your aged father you told me about? Is he still living?” he asked, his voice kind.
“Your servant our father is still alive and well,” Judah said for them all. He bowed again, as did his brothers, prostrate before this confusing and intimidating man.
“Is this your youngest brother, the one you told me about?” the man asked, causing Judah to lift his head. The man was looking at Benjamin. “God be gracious to you, my son.” And as quickly as he had arrived, he rushed from the room, leaving them alone.
“Where did he go?” Benjamin whispered to Judah.
“I have no idea.” Judah touched Benjamin’s shoulder. Why had the man left like that? Had they said something to offend him? Would they be in worse trouble than they had been on their first visit?
Before he could think to ask the steward, the steward called them to follow him again. He led them to a banquet hall and sat them in the order of their ages. But the governor did not return, leaving them to wonder how the steward knew their ages and why the governor had acted so strangely.
Joseph nearly ran through the palace halls, searching for a place to weep, but found nowhere adequately private until he reached his own rooms. Tears came in rivulets down his cheeks, and his heart pounded. Benjamin! They had actually brought him with them, and his father still lived. Amazement, grief, joy, and dismay over the years he had lost all crashed in on him at once, until he could not hold back the bitter sobs. All of these years he had held them in check, but now . . . now he did not know if he could stop and collect himself enough to eat in their presence.
Great, hiccupping sobs wracked his whole body, and he fought to take a deep breath. Oh, Adonai, help me! He could not do this. After all his planning for and imagining of this possible day, he was not sure he could go through with it. But as surely as the tears began, they ended, and he finally calmed. He examined himself in the silver mirror and washed his face. A servant came at his bidding and reapplied the kohl to his eyes.
Smoothing his robe and drawing in a deep breath, he at last walked the halls to the banquet room and sat at a table some distance from his brothers. To eat with them would confuse everyone under his roof, for Hebrews were detestable to Egyptians.
“Serve the food,” he said to the servants.
He sent food from his table to his brothers, commanding that Benjamin receive five times as much as any of the others. Joseph sensed that at last his brothers had relaxed, and though he was not yet at ease with them, he felt a sense of gladness that they could feast and drink freely with him. Perhaps one day they could truly enjoy each other’s company as they never had before.
When the meal ended, Joseph bid the men to find rest in the guest quarters in his house, telling them they could leave in the morning. He accepted the gifts they had given and told them to thank their father for him when they left the next day.
“Did you find the meal satisfactory, my lord?” Hamid asked once the last man had left the room.
Joseph nodded. “Yes. But now I want you to fill the men’s sacks with as much food as they can carry and put each man’s silver in the mouth of his sack. Then put my cup, the silver one Pharaoh gave to me, in the mouth of the youngest one’s sack, along with the silver for his grain.”
“Yes, my lord,” Hamid said, his look telling Joseph he now suspected more than he would say.
Joseph longed to confide in his friend, but he could not bring himself to reveal anything until he was sure he could first tell his brothers the truth. And despite bringing Benjamin as he had commanded, they still had to prove themselves to him.
44
Joseph woke with the dawn and immediately called his manservant to dress him. Heart beating too fast, he battled the intense desire to watch his brothers leave mingled with anxiety from a night of fitful sleep. His eyes still felt the sting of too many tears shed in private, and he berated himself for avoiding Asenath and his sons when they could have been a pleasing distraction.
He shoved the thoughts aside and walked the long halls to the balcony, where Hamid met him. “Are they gone?” Joseph asked, keeping his back to Hamid and watching the road they would take. “I had thought to see them off. From here,” he added, lest Hamid grow more suspicious than he already was.
“I am told they left before sunup. I should have come to tell you. Forgive me, my lord.”
Joseph chafed at Hamid’s apology, feeling guilty for causing his friend to think he had offended him. “There was no need. I suspected they might want to be far from Egypt as soon as they could be.” He stepped closer to the railing and strained to see, but there was no sign of them. “Go after them at once,” he said without turning to look at Hamid, “and when you catch up with them, ask why they’ve repaid good with evil by taking my cup.” Joseph waited to hear Hamid’s footsteps, but the man did not move. “Are you waiting for a reason to obey me?”