Blood Covenant Origins

by C. A. Gray

  She crossed the room to me, and before I knew what was happening, she was beside me, stroking my forearm with her trailing fingers. I was suddenly very aware that we were alone—I had no idea where the nearest servants were. Potiphar was away on Pharaoh’s business.

  “Joseph,” she murmured, as if savoring my name, tracing my bicep with her fingers. “You are… so very handsome.”

  My heart hammered in my chest, though with fear or with arousal, or a strange combination of both, I could not tell. My throat felt too thick to reply. I just froze.

  Edrice gave a soft laugh. “I’m making you blush! Oh, I just love virgins…” Her hand trailed from my arm down my torso. I grabbed her wrist before it could descend any further, and found my tongue.

  “Look, my master doesn’t give a second thought to anything that goes on here—he’s put me in charge of everything he owns. He treats me as an equal. The only thing he hasn’t turned over to me is you. You’re his wife! ”

  She puffed out her lower lip. “I know you find me attractive.”

  This was dangerous territory. There was no safe answer to that question. “That has nothing to do with it,” I insisted. “How could I violate his trust and sin against God?”

  “God?” she scoffed. “Your God allowed you to be sold as a slave. You owe Him nothing. And Potiphar has never paid you a day’s wages in the almost ten years you’ve been with us. Don’t you think it’s time you got a little… reward?” The hand I had not seized by the wrist also went exploring before I took hold of it too.

  “I cannot do this! It is wrong !” I hissed. I let go of both of her wrists at once, and fled the room.

  Either fortunately or unfortunately, I could not tell which, Edrice did not take this as rejection, but as enticement. I could tell by her increasing brazenness that she thought I burned for her and could barely restrain myself. At times, I wondered if this was actually true—after all, I could not stop thinking about her, even though thinking of her was a kind of torture. I successfully avoided being alone with her for the next week or so, but I knew I could not do so forever.

  At last, one day after Potiphar again went away on Pharaoh’s business, I was inside managing the orders for the kitchen after the morning meal. I stopped what I was doing, and frowned when I realized that the whole house was eerily silent—more so than I had ever heard before. Usually there were some servants chattering or clanging about at least in the distance. It was as if all of them had suddenly gone on holiday.

  A wave of foreboding passed over me, and then I sensed that I was not alone. I turned around and saw Edrice standing there in the most provocative gown I had ever seen. She rested one arm on the doorframe to give me the best possible view, her gaze inviting me to come and take her.

  “You know you want to,” she purred. “I promise I won't resist.”

  “Edrice—” my voice came out hoarse, and I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from her nearly exposed bosom, no matter how hard I tried.

  She grinned and sauntered forward, swinging her hips. I could not move. The next thing I knew, she stood before me, tugged on the cord of my tunic, and began undressing me.

  “Sleep with me, Joseph,” she whispered.

  I had one choice in that moment: stay and obey her, or run.

  So I ran. She had a firm grip by then on my tunic, and I nearly tripped and fell on my face, as it was half off already. Instead I wrestled myself free of it, leaving my tunic in her grip, and alas—fled naked.

  Some of the other servants who were outside at the time saw me. I saw the fleeting looks of confusion and shock. Then Edrice began to scream.

  There was a commotion after that. Several of the men went running into the house, and those near enough to me cast glances of alarm in my direction. I hid myself among the shrubbery, not sure what else to do, feeling like I might throw up. I didn’t know exactly what Edrice was playing at, but I could suspect.

  A few minutes passed. Babu found me and handed me one of his own tunics without a word. I saw the look in his eyes, of mingled worry and sympathy, and it alarmed me.

  “You should have just done as she wanted,” he murmured under his breath.

  “How could I do such a thing against Potiphar, and against the Lord?” I protested as I put on the tunic.

  Babu sighed, and shook his head. It was a long moment before he answered. “Joseph.” The way he said my name, with such regret, made my heart sink into my stomach. He bit his lip and then said, his voice barely above a whisper, “You spurned her. It’s exactly what I told you never to do. All the servants know who and what she is, and I daresay Potiphar does too, but I don’t think it will matter. She is accusing you of attempted rape.”

  Waves of horror washed over me. That was even worse than a consensual affair. How was it that by doing the right thing, I’d managed to make my situation even worse?

  “But… if everyone knows her ways…” I began weakly.

  Babu shook his head. “She is the lady of the house,” he murmured. “Any servant who dares to contradict her story will be subject to her wrath himself. The only one who might be able to challenge her is Potiphar, and while I suspect he knows, if he admits that she is guilty in this, it makes him a cuckold—not just this once, but the many times he has turned a blind eye in the past as well.”

  My breath came in short, ragged gasps. “What do I do?”

  Babu ran a hand through his graying hair. “I will… try… to convince Potiphar to merely sell you, rather than punish you.”

  I sank to my knees. Babu stood watching me. At last I murmured, “Shall I be killed?”

  “I do not think so,” Babu said with surprising conviction. “You would be if Potiphar believed her story, but he is not an evil man. He will want you out of his sight and out of his household, but he knows you are not capable of such a thing, even if he does not admit it to himself.” He patted my shoulder. “Stay in my chambers and do not show your face until Potiphar returns. I will attend to your needs myself, and discuss how we might best plead your case to him when he does.”

  The rest of that day was one of the longest of my life, with the possible exception of those first several weeks’ ride to Egypt. Fortunately I did not have to wait longer, as Potiphar arrived back home unexpectedly that evening. I heard him in the vestibule, and I heard Edrice’s renewed histrionic wails. I cowered in Babu’s small chambers, catching words here and there—mostly my name in Edrice’s high-pitched shriek, and Potiphar’s angry growls. I closed my eyes, and tried to steel myself for what came next. Heavy footsteps pounded down the hall toward me, and the door flew open. I opened my eyes and beheld Potiphar’s face. It was nearly purple with rage. He held my tunic in his hand like it was evidence against me.

  “What,” he seethed, “is the meaning of this?”

  In a split second, even though I knew it would likely make my own situation worse, I decided to try the truth. If I were married to an unfaithful woman, I would want to know. I stood up straight and said, “Your wife has been attempting to seduce me for years, Master, and earnestly for the last several months. You know this to be true. She has invented her current story because I spurned her and fled, and she kept hold of my tunic as I did so. I could not sin against the Lord and against you.”

  If possible, Potiphar’s color turned an even deeper shade of purple. “How— dare you!” He threw my tunic down and took two steps toward me, hands balled into fists. I clasped my own hands behind my back as hard as I could, determined not to protect myself, should he strike a blow. But I looked him directly in the eye, knowing that doing so would communicate my truthfulness better than anything else I could do.

  It worked, at least on some level. Potiphar nearly snorted, he breathed so heavily, his face etched in a snarl. But he did not strike me. Behind him, three of the male servants who had grown quite fond of me in the last few years, and I of them, appeared in the hallway.

 
“Throw him in prison,” Potiphar pronounced my sentence, and turned to stalk out. “I want him out of here tonight .”

  The three servants shuffled awkwardly, before moving forward to fulfill Potiphar’s orders. One apologized as he began to bind my wrists. I shook my head.

  “That is not necessary,” I told him, and forced a smile. “You know I will not resist you.”

  The young man gave me a tiny nod, and the four of us marched out of the room with one abreast, two at my sides. I tried not to look around at the great manor I was leaving forever. This was the second time my home had been ripped from me; I did not think I could bear it if I looked and considered this.

  Edrice appeared at the entrance to the estate with one arm positioned brazenly on a marble pillar, a vicious half smile on her full red lips. She still wore the scandalous gown, which surprised me at first—wasn’t that gown evidence of my version of the story? But then I realized, it doesn’t matter. She knows Potiphar will refuse to believe her unfaithful, regardless of the evidence . She still wore the gown on purpose. It was evidence of her power over me.

  “Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she taunted in a low trill as I passed by her.

  “Oh, how quickly your lust turns to hatred,” I returned, looking her straight in the eye. “The Lord sees what you have done, and will repay you for it.”

  My words hit the mark. Her gloating smile vanished, and she began to shriek after me, “How dare you, you filthy Hebrew slave! You should be hung on the gallows! I will see to it that you’re hung on the gallows—!”

  The door closed behind us, cutting off her threats. I took a deep breath of the night air, and one of the other servants murmured, “Empty threats. She’s already exerted the extent of her power against you.”

  Another agreed, his voice still low, “We’ve seen her watching you for months, and watched you avoid her, too. We know you’re not guilty. So does Potiphar, even if he won’t admit it.”

  Tears pricked my eyes at this, and a lump rose in my throat. “Thank you.”

  We walked in silence the rest of the way. When we arrived at the prison and the other servants identified me as the prisoner to the keeper, he glanced at my unbound hands in surprise.

  “And… he comes willingly?”

  “I would not struggle against my brothers,” I said. “They are merely following orders. Besides, where could I go?”

  The keeper of the prison looked even more surprised at this, and looked to them for an explanation. They told my story for me, and I bowed my head.

  “You will never find a more capable worker or better manager, sir,” one of the servants finished, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Judge for yourself, but we are all very sorry to lose him.”

  The keeper of the prison let out a breath through pursed lips. At last he pronounced, “Well, this is certainly the strangest way I’ve ever been introduced to a new prisoner.” He took me by the arm and began to lead me inside, but the servants stopped him to hug me goodbye with some tears before they went their way. The keeper shook his head.

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” he murmured as he watched our farewell. Then he said, “Well, normally I’d take you to a barred cell, but with three witnesses such as those in your favor… you might just be a gift from the gods. I tell you, I’ve been quite overwhelmed lately with the number of prisoners, particularly managing resources from Pharaoh and directing labor. I could use the help of a skilled household manager.”

  I inclined my head. “Happy to be of service in any way I can.”

  “Splendid!” The keeper, who introduced himself as Shakir, took me to a small room with a cot and a desk near the cells where the prisoners were kept. It did have a small window though. “This will be your room, then. I’m sure it isn’t much compared to your chambers in Potiphar’s house, but at least it is neither a cell, nor the gallows, eh?”

  I managed a smile. “I am very grateful for your kindness. I will work hard for you and will not take it for granted.”

  Shakir blinked at me again and shook his head. “Poor kid,” he murmured at last, more to himself than to me. “Those good looks of yours are a curse.” With that, he left me alone and closed the door behind me.

  In the silence that followed, I approached the window, leaning on the sill and looking up to the stars. I reminded myself how many years my ancestor Abraham had believed the Lord would give him a son, looking at those very same stars. His descendants were not yet so numerous, but certainly my father had been multiplied many times over. My chest ached as I thought of my brothers, particularly of my little brother Benjamin. He had been nine when my half-brothers had sold me into slavery. He would be nineteen now. I wondered what he looked like. I wondered if he remembered me. I wondered if—

  No , I stopped myself. I had been about to wonder if my dreams would ever come to pass. They certainly looked impossible, as I went from my father’s favorite son, to slave, and now to prisoner. But the Lord had given me two dreams for a reason: that told me that the future it foretold was not conditional. It would happen. It was not up to me to determine how, or when. I must continue to cling to that; I must continue to believe that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, or my heart would faint. Especially tonight, of all nights.

  Many years ago, I’d had to release my anger and bitterness toward my half brothers, or it would already have eaten me alive. Tonight, the image of Edrice’s scandalous dress and haughty smirk floated back to me, and I gnashed my teeth. She belonged here, not me… but I knew the memory came because the Lord wanted me to trust Him in this matter too. He was a God of justice—I knew this, despite how things looked, because of the covenant He had made with my father Abraham. He’d said to him, “Your descendants shall possess the gate of their enemies.” The gate was the place of power and influence, was it not?

  I had had power and influence over Potiphar’s house, relatively speaking. I now already seemed to have the favor of the keeper of the prison. Was that all God’s promise had meant for me? Was this the extent of the blessing I could expect upon my life?

  No, I told myself emphatically, closing my eyes and deliberately conjuring again the memories of the dreams, now rather faded and possibly distorted with time. I saw again my brothers’ sheaves of wheat bowing down to mine, and then the sun, moon and stars bowing to me. The Lord gave me those dreams in advance because He knew I would need them, in addition to what I knew of the covenant to His people in general, to sustain me through this dark period of my life. It would not last forever. It must not. Somehow, somehow—I would be reunited with my brothers and my family again. The Lord would place me in a position of power and influence. How prison was a stepping stone to anything, I certainly did not know. But He was God, and I was not.

  “I trust You,” I murmured aloud to the Lord. “I forgive my brothers, I forgive Edrice, and I leave their punishment to You. I trust You to bring Your word to pass in my life. Somehow.”

  I heard nothing back. I wished God would speak to me, the way He had to some of my ancestors, and even to my father Jacob. But I felt the comfort of those stars winking down at me from above, and I knew He saw me and He cared. I was not forgotten.

  Over the next days and weeks, I got to know the prisoners as well as Shakir, and learned the business of prison—for business it was. We had finances and shipments from Pharaoh for the upkeep of both prison and prisoners, schedules to manage and enforce, and some of the prisoners also engaged in labor as part of their service. I could see why Shakir had been overwhelmed before. But I applied the management skills I had gained in Potiphar’s household to management of the prison, and within the first month, I gained not only Shakir’s trust but his admiration and gratitude as well. He often referred to me as a “gift from the gods,” though he’d always look a bit abashed after he said it, conscious that he was profiting from my misfortune. When he apologized for the third time after a declaration like this,
I finally smiled at him and said, “It is all right. The Lord is with me, and He will repay me for what was stolen.”

  Shakir blinked, and seemed to want to say something. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. He walked away with a puzzled look on his face.

  In time, the prisoners and Shakir came to be a sort of makeshift family to me, just as Babu and the other servants had been. I was surprised to wake up one day and realize that I was happy again. Despite all, I found great satisfaction in doing my work well, and in the relationships I had formed with those around me. I genuinely cared about my fellow prisoners. I came to know their stories, and wept for those whose stories were even more tragic than mine. Of course there were a few actual criminals among them, but in short order I won over even them. I rejoiced with those whose sentences were completed or commuted when they returned to freedom, even though I was still imprisoned indefinitely, with no apparent hope of escape. They were perplexed how I could maintain such hope in such a place—so I taught them about the Lord, about the covenant He had made with my fathers.

  “That’s all very well for you,” one of them grumbled at first, “but your god has never spoken to me or my fathers. What hope do I have?”

  “It’s not about what He’s said or hasn't said,” I insisted. “Yes, He made a covenant with my fathers to prosper and bless them, but how could I be assured that that blessing would extend to every one of their descendants, including me? Yes, I had two dreams that suggested I would be blessed”—I had told the prisoners the secret of my dreams, in due time—“but those were very obscure, after all. If I wished to doubt their meaning, particularly after all that has happened to me, I certainly could. What assures me is the character of Him who made those promises to my father Abraham. It isn’t about what He has done, but about who He is . He told Abraham that through him, every nation of the world would be blessed, not just Abraham’s direct descendants. That includes you, too! He is both good and mighty, as well as trustworthy. So yes, I have hope, and always shall have. You can have that same hope, if you want it.”