M andisa had just finished thinning Lady Asenath’s brows with a new pair of bronze tweezers when the master entered the lady’s chamber. She paused, ready to bow or receive his instructions, but he moved impatiently through the room, his hands locked behind his back, his mind miles away. After waiting a moment, Asenath signaled Mandisa to continue her work.
As the tiny bronze hands of the tweezers moved deftly over the line of the lady’s brow, the women continued their small talk and waited for the master. Occasionally Asenath asked Zaphenath-paneah about Pharaoh’s wife or the upcoming party in honor of the queen’s birthday, but the master answered in incomplete, short sentences, clearly occupied with other thoughts.
Mandisa lowered the tweezers to the table and handed her mistress a looking brass. Why didn’t her master speak? Did he no longer trust Asenath with the secrets of his heart? Or was he as sorrowful as Mandisa to see his brothers depart?
Asenath must have been thinking similar thoughts, for Mandisa could see tears rising in her eyes, like some slow fountain coming up.
She gave her mistress a smile. “Be at peace, my lady,” she murmured, reaching for Asenath’s favorite jeweled collar. “The master’s mind is burdened with many thoughts.”
She had just finished fastening the collar when the vizier halted his pacing and cocked his ear toward the window. Mandisa paused, straining to hear whatever had alerted him, and felt a shiver pass down her spine when she recognized the sound of hoofbeats.
Zaphenath-paneah’s brows drew together. “Quickly, Mandisa, go to the window,” he said, his voice edged with iron. “And tell me what you see there.”
Was his expression of anxious hope mirrored in her own face? Not daring to question him, she grabbed a chair and dragged it to the high clerestory window. After hopping up onto the seat, she peered out. “I see riders, my lord,” she called over her shoulder, barely able to keep the excitement from her voice.
“Tarik and his charioteers?”
“Yes.” She exhaled a sigh of contentment. “And donkeys.”
“How many men on donkeys? One—or eleven?”
A thoughtful smile curved her mouth as she turned. “There are eleven, my lord. All of your brothers have returned.”
The arrested expression on his face broke into a look of pure relief and pleasure. He dropped his gaze as if to whisper a prayer of thanks to his God, then lifted bright eyes to Asenath.
“They came back together!” he said, the sound of tears in his voice. Eagerly he approached his wife, then bent and fingered a loose tendril of hair on her forehead. “Rejoice with me, beloved,” he said, pressing a finger to her trembling lips, “for my brothers’ hearts are changing.”
He shifted his gaze to Mandisa. “If Tarik finds you, have him meet me in the central hall at once.” He bent to place a quick kiss on his wife’s forehead, then hurried from the room. In her excitement Mandisa nearly followed before she remembered that her duty lay in serving the wigless woman who still waited in her chair.
“I’m sorry, my lady.” Mandisa moved toward Asenath’s dressing table. “I’m sure you’ll want to join them as soon as possible.”
“Take your time,” Asenath answered, her voice as flat as her eyes. “There is no hurry. He wants me to rejoice with him, but I cannot.”
Mandisa had been about to lift the heavy wig from its stand, but she paused, surprised by her mistress’s words. “He has found his long-lost brothers,” Mandisa answered, speaking in as reasonable a voice as she could manage. “And since he is your husband, they are your brothers, too. Surely you can be happy for him.”
“I can’t understand why anyone would be happy to find relatives in Canaan,” Asenath grumbled, picking at her gown. “The captive we kept in the house caused altogether too much commotion. And herders stink. They smell like sheep when they fill a room. And yet my lord and husband wants me to rejoice with him, he wants me to welcome the same brothers who once wanted him dead. Well, I cannot see them with his eyes. I do not love them, and I don’t think I can.”
Mandisa took a quick breath of utter astonishment as hot, bitter tears slipped down her mistress’s cheeks. Asenath had not given any sign that she would not accept the master’s brothers. Mandisa had assumed she would be thrilled and delighted for her husband’s sake.
“You are a loving woman.” Mandisa left the wig on its stand and sank to her mistress’s feet. “You charm all who meet you, my lady, and you are dear to my master’s heart. But you have been ill, you are not yourself.”
“You are right, I am not myself,” Asenath repeated, closing her eyes. “And I have done something terrible.” She took a breath as if she would speak again, then apparently thought better of it. “My wig, please.”
Mandisa stood and lifted the wig, fluffed it and fitted it onto her lady’s head. Asenath’s countenance remained immobile, but the atmosphere of the chamber cooled as dramatically as if a rainy wind had blown through the house.
Mandisa pressed her hands to her knees and bowed. “If that is all, my lady, I will see if the master needs me.”
“Wait.” When Mandisa looked up, Asenath’s bright eyes had clouded with hazy sadness. “Have you noticed, Mandisa, that the master is not…happy about the coming child?”
Torn by conflicting emotions, Mandisa hesitated. Did Lady Asenath really believe she could deceive those who knew her best? Against all human convention and reason, her husband had continued to support her. Was his love not enough? Did Asenath expect him to exult in the result of her infidelity?
But it was not a servant’s place to rip away the veil. “The master adores you, my lady,” she answered, taking her mistress’s hand. “Because he loves you, he will love any child that comes from your womb. But I am certain he fears for your health.”
Asenath managed a weak laugh of relief. “I have made arrangements for continual offerings to be made to Taweret, the goddess of prospective mothers. I know both the baby and I will be safe.”
“I pray you are right, my lady.” Mandisa bowed again, masking her inner turmoil. Asenath needed a comforting counselor, someone who would speak plainly, but Mandisa did not think that her mistress would listen to a handmaid.
And Shim’on and his brothers were waiting. Mandisa backed out of the room and left her mistress alone in her chamber.