Chapter 26

Genesis 43:24–25

Walking along the dusty road, heading safely away from the official state buildings and the prison, Judah was the first of the brothers to catch sight of the breathtaking villa that sat beside the banks of the peacefully meandering River. The house and grounds of the estate were surrounded by a wall that was as cleanly whitewashed as the villa itself, and Judah could see palm trees dancing up over the artificial horizon of the wall, tossing gently against the bright blue sky. The sunlight felt warm across the back of his neck, and the reeds and grasses crowding along the riverbank swayed placidly. The overall effect was almost enough to soothe Judah’s mind into thinking that perhaps, at last, all was actually going to be well.

He glanced back yet again at the guards accompanying them; the men seemed fairly relaxed and unbothered by their errand, and Judah hoped their attitude indicated that whatever awaited the brothers was not unpleasant.

“Have you ever seen anything so grand?” he heard Levi murmur, with rippling comments of assent from several of the others.

Judah glanced at Benjamin, who walked close beside him, eyes likewise raised to take in the view. Benjamin gave a low whistle. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“With any luck,” Judah told him, “you never will again.”

A guard standing at the gate waved them by, allowing the foreigners entrance onto the property. The villa itself was situated at the end of a tree-lined path, leading the eye directly to the house. Palm trees shadowed the walls, and fig trees surrounded a pool filled with floating lotus flowers. The guards seemed content to let the desert barbarians take in the wealth and luxury of the estate, but two or three servants on the grounds paused in their work, staring at a sight none of them had ever before seen—a whole tribe of Asiatics, in full desert dress and appearance, standing in the middle of their master’s property. Even the presence of the armed guards did not appear to set them entirely at ease with regard to the visitors, and they whispered to each other, pointing.

As the brothers stood on the path, gazing around at this unexpected oasis, Judah turned toward the villa and saw a familiar figure emerge from behind an imposing, red-painted wooden door guarding the entrance to the home. It was none other than the young man who had met them at the prison, still arrayed in his handsome linens but no longer projecting so severe and formal a presence. Instead, he practically strolled toward them, as if enjoying the sun on his skin and the beauty of the day. Drawing close enough to speak, he raised a hand and called out in the unfamiliar language of Kemet, to which the guards responded in kind. The brothers glanced at one another, and the man came to a stop a few paces in front of them and smiled.

“I am Amon,” he announced, as the guard who had translated stepped quickly forward. “You are at the home of Zaphenath-Paaneah, vizier of all Kemet.” Glances rippled once more through the gathering of the brothers. “You are welcome guests at his home today. Follow me, please.” Amon gestured with one hand, and murmuring to one another, the brothers hesitantly but obediently followed. They walked past the reflecting pool beneath the shade of the trees, following the linen-clad steward while the guards followed along behind, all heading toward a small, squat structure situated toward the outer walls of the compound. Judah could see three women, attired in the usual linen dresses with thin straps, standing outside this smaller brick building, smiling at their approach.

“This is where you will bathe,” Amon announced, stopping in front of what Judah realized must be some kind of bathhouse. “You must clean and dress again before entering the home of Zaphenath-Paaneah.”

Amon clapped his hands, and one of the women stepped forward, holding out a bundle of linens. Amon took the bundle and unfolded it, revealing a fine-spun linen robe meant to cover the chest and shoulders and a linen kilt to be worn underneath.

“This will be more comfortable for you in the heat,” he said. “There is one for each of you—a gift of the fine clothing of Kemet.”

Stepping back, Amon held out a hand, inviting the foreigners to enter the bathhouse, while the smiling women stepped aside. “These servants will assist you,” Amon told them as they began shuffling forward, “and show you how to dress after you wash.”

Benjamin glanced quickly at Judah. “Assist us?” he hissed.

Judah gave a helpless shrug.

“Well,” Asenath smiled, “you two look very handsome.” She crouched carefully in front of her sons, trying not to wrinkle her own dress while straightening the linen kilt she had managed to wrestle Ephraim into for the occasion. Manasseh stood beside his brother, decked out in a golden armband and a child-sized beaded collar that spread from his neck out toward his shoulders and swooped across his chest. The boys had both been bathed, and Asenath had carefully lined their eyes with dark kohl and rewoven the single slim braids lying flat against their otherwise bare heads. She turned to Manasseh. “You will make your father very proud.”

“Who are the people coming?” Manasseh asked again.

Asenath, her own eyes also carefully lined, looked up at her oldest son as she knelt in front of Ephraim, giving his kilt another twist. “They’re very special visitors,” she said, jangling the golden bracelets on her arms as she brushed at Ephraim’s braid. “You’ve probably never seen anyone like them before.”

“Are they Nubians?” Manasseh asked.

“Not Nubians,” Asenath said. “And not from the lands near Kemet. She rose to her feet, smoothing her dress. “These men are Asiatics. They come from a place called Canaan.”

“Canaan?” Manasseh repeated, wrinkling his nose, while Ephraim, his own armbands glistening on his tiny biceps, began chewing pensively on his finger. “Where is that?”

“The Red Land,” Asenath said. “Now”—she set her hands on her hips, and Manasseh straightened his shoulders—“it is very important to your father that we be good hosts to these men. You know how to do that, don’t you?” Manasseh nodded dutifully, while Ephraim just looked up at her with his wide dark eyes, still chewing on his finger. Asenath smiled. “Good. And part of being a good host means we aren’t going to stare at them or say anything rude. They are not from Kemet, so they will look very different.”

“Are they civilized?” Manasseh asked.

“In their own way,” Asenath said with another smile, “I’m sure they are.” She bent down again in front of her boys. “Your father will be very proud to introduce you.” And she gave each of them a kiss on the cheek.

Judah raised his arms awkwardly while a serving woman tied a sash around his waist, and he glanced over at Benjamin, who stood straightening his own linen kilt. The other brothers were also nearly all dressed, washed and scrubbed clean from the dirt of the road, and the fresh linen felt soft and light against skin that was accustomed to the rough rub of spun wool. As the woman moved away, Judah looked down at what he was wearing—a linen robe that felt almost like an overcoat, covering his shoulders and neck and tied in around his waist—and experienced the same sense of unease that had followed him since their first journey into the Divided Land.

Benjamin wouldn’t realize it—he wouldn’t remember the garment his father had given to his chosen heir, before Jacob’s other sons destroyed it—so Judah glanced toward where Reuben was standing. He met his brother’s eye and pulled at one side of the linen tunic. Reuben glanced down at his own outfit, running his hand over the cream-colored folds, and looked back at Judah.

“It’s his robe,” Judah said, and Reuben looked back down at the linen with its fine weaving and delicate creasing.

“What’s that?” Benjamin asked.

Judah turned back to him. “How do you like linen? I think it suits you.”

Benjamin smiled a little nervously. “Why is he being so generous with us?”

“We’re not sure he’s being generous, yet,” Judah said.

Amon appeared again in the open doorway, hands clasped behind his back, and looked over the brothers, who had nearly filled the bathhouse with their broad bodies all crammed in together.

“Very good,” he said, nodding approvingly, and the brothers glanced around at the freshly washed, linen-clad versions of each other. “Now,” he beckoned with one hand, “come with me.”

 

 

 

Thou breathest henceforth for time and eternity . . .

Amon comes to thee bearing the breath of life, he causes thee to breathe and come upon the earth . . . The Book of Breathings . . . is as thy protection; thou breathest by it every day . . . Horus protects [embraces] thy body and deifies thy spirit in the manner of the gods.

The soul of Ra is giving life to thy soul . . . thy soul breathes . . .

—The Book of Breathings, lines 25, 39–42, 45–46