D ocile and patient, the litter-bearers waited under a blistering sun. Asenath paused on the marble steps of her father’s villa, then reached out to embrace him one final time. “I shall miss you, Father.” She placed her cheek next to his. “But please, continue to offer sacrifices and prayers to Khnum for me. I cannot tell you how earnestly I desire another son.”
“Daughter.” Potiphera pulled her from his embrace and held her at arm’s length. “Do you love your husband?”
“Love him?” Asenath laughed, amazed that her father would question her devotion to Zaphenath-paneah, the flower of all Egypt. “How could I not love him? He is truly the wisest man in the land, except for you, of course, and Pharaoh could do nothing without my husband’s guidance. He is kind, and gentle, and would do almost anything to please me.”
“If you love him, Asenath, you should want to obey him. If he does not want another child, you are foolish to think you can make him happy this way.”
“But he does not know what he wants! Father, he loves Efrayim and Menashe so much, I know he would adore another son—even a daughter! And so, no matter how much he protests on my account, I will pursue this.” She lowered her voice, aware that Mandisa, who waited in the litter, did not completely approve of her plan. “And since my husband’s god has not been strong enough to prevail in this, I beg you to seek help for me from Khnum.”
“But the vizier’s god is strong. His hand alone has preserved Egypt since Hapi’s waters have failed to flood the land.”
Fighting hard against tears of frustration she refused to let fall, she gave him a blazing smile. “Trust me, Father, I will win this time. My husband will come to me, the seed will be planted and bear fruit and I shall be delivered of another son, perhaps even two. And when the famine is done, as my love says it will be, your grandsons shall grow strong and capable in Pharaoh’s house.”
Her subtle appeal to her father’s ambition seemed to allay his fears, for he nodded and released his grip on her arms. “Be careful, daughter,” he said, his eyes drinking her up as if he might never see her again. “Do not trifle with divinity, for a sleeping god may wake and take offense at your games. He may draw you out to a place where you can never return.”
“Do not worry, Father. I have you to protect me.” She gave him another quick kiss on the cheek, then turned and skipped down the steps to her litter. Mandisa pulled the sheer curtain aside, and Asenath sat and pulled her legs out of the swirling dust.
Her father had not moved, but lingered with a worried expression on his face. Foolish man, he was always worrying about something. Giving him a final wave, Asenath let the curtain fall and settled back among the pillows in the conveyance. “Tell the litter-bears to proceed,” she said, giving Mandisa a weary smile. “Tell them to run. I would like to be home as soon as possible.”