“What Father asks of us is unconscionable. We are not sons of a second wife, nor are we the youngest sons. We have rights that are greater than Joseph’s.” Simeon’s voice dripped with disdain.
“Just because Rachel bore him shouldn’t mean he usurps our place in Father’s life. It is as though he has no other sons.” Levi’s deep voice carried obvious hurt.
“Father always loved Rachel best. You cannot blame him for favoring her children, especially with her loss,” Reuben said.
“Nevertheless, it is our mother who has suffered because of his favoritism,” Judah said. “Don’t tell me you don’t recall her many tears while Father spent the night in Rachel’s tent.”
His hostility stung, for it carried blame, as if Joseph’s birth was his own fault. Joseph often wondered if Judah wished he had never been born.
“We can’t ignore Father’s wishes though,” Reuben defended, raising his voice above the others.
They were going to disturb Father if they didn’t quiet down, but Joseph did not dare go outside and ask them to keep their voices low. He moved away from the edge of the tent and lay on his mat, hands behind his head. Benjamin slept soundly, as most children did, innocent and unaware of the turmoil in their father’s house.
Joseph wished in that moment that he could trade places with Benjamin—just for a short day—to live one day without strife. But no matter what his father might want, Joseph was not sure their household would ever be capable of such an impossible feat.
4
Joseph strode across the camp to the tent of his father’s overseer. Elkan looked up from bending over a tablet where he appeared to be calculating something. “Joseph. Good. You are here.”
Joseph smiled, relieved once more to be away from the strife of his siblings. “Yes, and ready to learn.”
“Good. Good.” Elkan bobbed his head, his long, graying hair moving over his eyes. He brushed it aside. “I will show you my method of accounting for the wool your father sells and the price we get for each shearing.”
“I am quite ready.” Joseph came closer and followed Elkan to a table where tablets were spread out.
“I keep the tablets in different groups. Here we have a record of the servants—those born into the household and those purchased by your father.” He pointed to a pile near the edge of the table. “This lists the amount of wheat we have on hand from your grandfather’s fields.” He pointed to another tablet. “Here is a stack that lists what the women and servants grow in the gardens. We rarely sell any of that produce.”
Joseph knew all of this, but he simply nodded.
“Once a year, as you know, your father holds a sheepshearing. Because of the number of flocks, it takes days to a week to finish the shearing, and the wool is washed and dried, then tied in bundles for sale.”
“Except for what is kept for the household,” Joseph said, leaning over the tablets. “Do we keep a separate column for those bundles and their weight?”
“Yes, of course,” Elkan said. “See? Here are the columns of the wool that was purchased by the traveling merchants, and this is the column of what was kept last time for the women to use in weaving whatever is needed.”
“What is this for?” Joseph pointed to a separate column that had a simple yod as the heading.
The servant straightened and put his arms behind his back. “I do not know.” He glanced beyond Joseph, his look uncomfortable.
Was Elkan hiding something? “Why not? Don’t you know all that goes on with my father’s household?” Joseph’s curiosity was second to his wondering what this servant might be keeping from his father.
“Your father has set that amount aside for something private. He alone knows the reason. I only know that some of the best wool has been separated for a special use.” Elkan shrugged and then bent over the tablet again. “Here you can see that we sold more wool this last time than we did the year before. The women said they needed less wool for weaving, as they had a surplus from the year before.” He moved to another list. “Here we keep the number of sheep and goats, how many were born, how many miscarried, how many died or were given in sacrifice.”
Joseph took the list and studied it before handing it back to Elkan, and then they moved on to the next set of tablets.
“These show the amount of wine and raisin cakes, and this stack lists the baths of olive oil,” Elkan said. “Over here we have a tally of the measure of balm, honey, gum, aromatic resin, pistachio nuts, and almonds.”
Joseph took the tablets and examined them one at a time. He noted the way the servant had recorded each thing. If he had made these notations, he might have put them in a different order. But he was here to learn. One day, when he took over running the household, he would make this accounting more efficient.
“All looks good. What else do you have to show me?” Joseph smiled at the man and followed him from the open tent area to the pens where they kept the animals.
“We have many servants caring for the donkeys, but your father wanted you to see how we inspect them and where they graze.” The servant gave Joseph an assessing glance. “Come this way.”
Joseph followed the man, making mental notes of the conditions and cleanliness of the pens. As he watched the animals graze, he realized that he needed to learn more about their care. He would quietly tell his father and gain permission to construct better enclosures to keep the animals cleaner and safer at night. And find a servant who could teach him how to keep them healthy.
Joseph scooped Benjamin into his arms and carried him toward the sheep pens, where his brothers had returned and were inspecting the sheep. He hated to admit that he needed Benjamin as a buffer to keep his brothers civil, but he was out of other ideas.
Joseph greeted them with a smile. “Were you successful in finding good pastures today?” He addressed Judah, for he was the one standing nearest the sheep gate.
Judah looked up, surprise in his features, looking between Joseph and Benjamin. “The sheep found good pastures. You can tell Father that all is well.”
Joseph did not miss the undertone of censure in his voice. “I did not come to report to Father. I simply wondered how things fared with all of you today.” He gripped Benjamin a little tighter as the boy tried to wriggle to the ground. The child stilled as if he sensed Joseph’s reluctance to let him go. Did he understand why?
Reuben stepped closer to Joseph and touched Benjamin’s head in an affectionate gesture. “All is well,” he said loud enough for all to hear. “But thank you for your interest.”
Joseph lifted his gaze to Reuben’s in surprise. He nodded, grateful that his oldest brother was making an attempt at respect.
But a moment later, Simeon moved between them. “You need not worry about us,” he said. “We know how to shepherd—have done so longer than you’ve been living.”
It wasn’t the truth, but despite the scowl Reuben directed at Simeon, Joseph clearly heard the dismissal in Simeon’s tone. He lifted Benjamin higher. “Of course you do,” he said. “Thank you for telling me.” He turned and walked away. No matter what he did, he was never going to gain the favor of his brothers.