​Joseph Part 5 – Events Come to Fruition
Principal CharactersHannu (Han-new’) – overseer of farm laborers in the Fayum
Imi (em’-ee) – wife of Irsu, mother of Kheti
Intef (in’-tef) - Chief Scribe of the Fayum Sepat
Kheti (ke-tee’) – son of Irsu, Treasurer, and Imi
Menna (men-nah’) – governor (nomarch) of the sepat (nome or district) including Memphis 
Merkha (mer-kha’) – governor of eighth sepat centered in Abdju
Setka (set-ka’) – young officer stationed in Memphis
Shery (she-ree’) – young scribe accused of fraud
Zaphnath-Paaneah (sof-nath'-pah-nay'-ah) - Egyptian name given to Joseph by King Senusret II; meaning “the Revealer of Hidden Things”
Notes and Genealogy of Jacob from Genesis at the end
 
Years of Plenty, Years of Loss
Numbers 
   Following the first year’s harvest, the king’s council met to assess the collection of one-fifth of the harvest.
   King Senusret II presided and opened with a question.
   “We are here to determine whether we will be prepared for the years of famine when that time comes. Will we be prepared?”
   Joseph responded with a presentation of the current status. In summary, events were on track with systems working efficiently. Minor glitches had been corrected.
   “To answer your question, we must first be sure how we define success as to our preparedness. May we talk a bit about what success will look like?”
   Senusret gave a wave of his hand and a nod to indicate Joseph could proceed.
   “Our challenge is understanding the numbers and then seeing beyond them. There is a tendency for the numbers to appear as realities. Thus, they overshadow the fact that they are but abstract representations, not actualities, and we impose our own assumptions and conclusions.
   “Madness is to see only reality, our limited vision of what is real. Sanity is to see reality and to include the vision of possibility. The God who granted the vision of the future through dreams is expanding the range of possibilities.
   “The additional grain from the east has kept prices in the medium range, in spite of the removal of so much wheat into storage for the years of famine. The tax that has removed so much wheat from the market and put it in storage for the future has placed no hardship on the Egyptian people.
   “Although a number of the landowners have begun their own preparation for the years of famine, others do not appear to be saving as much produce as necessary. Even allowing for removing the king’s one-fifth tax, there has been grain beyond the amount required for immediate consumption. The grain could be sold at a decent price in the present, or could be stored for the predicted famine.
   “Immediate gain is very tempting, and many landowners have succumbed to that temptation. The captain and I, with the support of the king’s encouragement to the nobles, continue to seek their cooperation in this effort. They must see that this is for their own benefit.”
   Senusret asked, “Numbers are helpful, Joseph. By seeing how much is stored we can gauge how prepared we are for the famine. How else will we gauge our readiness if not by the numbers?”
   “Sir, you are correct, and I do not mean to rid ourselves of this valuable information, only that we use it in the context of the larger picture.
   “Let me give you an idea, a picture that you can imagine in your mind, of what sufficient grain storage might look like:
   “I spent some time with Irsu early in the planning stage to understand the challenge of storing sufficient grain for the people of Egypt. This is what looking only at numbers shows us.
   “Theoretically, several cubic feet (perhaps 12-15 cubic feet for a low calorie wheat only diet) of wheat per person per year totals quite a bit of storage space when multiplied by the population and then multiplied by seven years!
   “The numbers were mind numbing. Sufficient grain for one person for 7 years requires roughly 100 cubic feet. Picture a 5 ft. x 5 ft. x 4 ft. high cube for one person, or a 10x10x10 cube (1000 cubic feet) for 10 people. Estimating Egypt’s population at 2 million means 200 million cubic feet of storage! That is about 1.33 miles square and 4 feet high with grain.
   “That would mean one million of the beehive shaped granaries. The large dispensaries we have designated for the larger cities will cut down this number significantly. The other type of construction for mid-sized population centers – long buildings like a half cylinder with slightly higher sides – would also reduce the number of beehive granaries. But the equivalent of a million beehives puts the task in perspective.”
   He paused to let the numbers have their effect, and also to provide a break in his condensed presentation. He then asked, “Must we build the equivalent of one million beehive granaries to be prepared for the famine?”
   Senusret took advantage of the break and remarked, “You are stating enormous numbers, Joseph.” Looking at Irsu, he asked, “Are these figures accurate?”
   Irsu nodded. “Yes, as Joseph said, we worked on this some time ago. The numbers have not changed, and numbers do not lie.”
   Joseph responded, “Irsu is correct that numbers do not lie but, as he and I have discussed often, behind the numbers there are assumptions.
   “For example, the diet will not be grain only, especially in the earlier years when there are still animal stocks. And some amount of harvest will be available from areas close enough to the Nile and Lake Fayum to allow some crop production even in the years of famine.
   “And the nobles, the wealthy landowners with their own slaves or freemen who rent land, are storing an unknown but significant amount of grain.
   “We all take seriously the tasks still before us, and seek the possibilities that will make these tasks more productive and less costly.
   “Measuring does not create success or failure. Measuring is a means of demonstrating the fairness and justice of the king as he leads his people through good years and bad. The possibilities for success or failure lie not in the numbers, but in the manner in which we meet the needs of those most dependent upon us.”
   Senusret looked at Irsu who said, “All I can say is that Joseph bases his arguments on assumptions, also, that the landowners’ reserves will be significantly large and there will be some unknown amount of other food.”
   The king stated flatly a well-known fact and summarized with a question. “Every action is based on assumptions, from the causes of the action to the reactions that result. We are reduced to examining our assumptions then?”
   Joseph spoke before Irsu could answer.
   “Storing our own grain now and buying the cheap surplus grain from the east gives us a hedge against the future while keeping the price of grain affordable for the people now. Any excess in the time of famine will find money from those who can afford it to repay our expenses while we are still able to give grain to those most in need.”
   Irsu could contain himself no longer. “Joseph interpreted your dreams, king, and he spoke of reserving one-fifth for the famine. Nothing was said about buying from the east, or about adding expense to the royal treasury by giving grain at no cost to who knows how many people without limits.
   “While the treasury has not been drained, we are taxing the landowners heavily with the one-fifth tax on the harvests, and then lowering the cost of grain to the cities by buying foreign grain. Are we in the business of transferring wealth from the landowners to the cities? That is exactly what we are doing!”
   “You speak like a landowner,” said King Senusret. “Are they made poor by the tax, or is it that they simply desire even greater wealth?”
   All eyes were on Irsu.
   “The treasury has not been hurt in this first year. We have missed an opportunity by not selling cheap grain from the east at a higher price than we have chosen. The market set a higher price than we charged, and we lost a great income.
   “We continue to have large outlays for construction and will have increasingly large costs for transportation and protection of the stored grain. When the famine comes, based on what we are doing now, I fear that the price set will be too low to cover the high costs.”
   “If I may respond, king?”
   Senusret nodded for Joseph to proceed.
   “The predictions for losses for the first year have not come to pass. We are not to operate in the spirit of fear, but in confidence that what the king desires to accomplish, the establishment of ma’at throughout his reign, will come to pass in the future as it has in the first year. We have the resources to maintain at least a minimal existence for all, and we have not denied the quality of life for those with their own resources.”
   “Irsu, what say you?”
   Irsu knew that Joseph’s argument had won the day. “I have presented my argument, as Joseph has presented his. I yield to the king’s decision on how we will proceed, whether toward a secure economy or a bankrupt treasury.”
   Senusret asked a few pointed questions of each of the others present concerning their areas of responsibility before making a pronouncement.
   “Joseph’s God also appears to want ma’at. The predictions and the responses of each of you lead us in that direction. We will move in confidence – but not arrogance – toward the end that we have envisioned: people who do not suffer hunger in the famine.
   “We will continue to encourage landowners to reserve grain for the future, warning they will have to pay dearly for grain in a famine if they neglect their own resources.
   “And we will be the source of food as a last resort to those who have not the ability to store food against the coming famine.”
Senusret excused himself, leaving the others to pursue the required immediate tasks of their positions.  
   As the king left and before discussions resumed, Joseph came to where Irsu had resumed his seat and sat beside him.
   “What is your greatest concern, Irsu? You sound as though depletion of the treasury is inevitable. What am I overlooking?”
   “Am I responsible for my well-being, or is the king responsible for my well-being? If he is responsible, then I will go to my house, drink some wine, play games with my children, and enjoy the day. But if I am responsible, I will do my job and earn my wage.
   “Are we going to create a nation of people who wait for the king to feed them? My concern is that we are doing for people what they should be doing for themselves.”
   Joseph watched Irsu as he spoke. Something had set the scribe’s mind in this direction, and his belief in his viewpoint was very strong.
   As a nomad, Joseph had been raised with a similar point of view. The nomad depended very little on people beyond those who travelled with him, and rarely was an outsider responsible for providing anything that the nomad must have to survive.
   Irsu had a position of great responsibility, and he was compensated for his work. But he interpreted his mission as to maximize the treasury. Other responsibilities of the king appeared irrelevant in his calculations.
   When Joseph did not immediately respond as Irsu paused to draw a breath, the treasurer continued.
   “We are creating people dependent on the state, at great cost to both the landowners who are taxed and to the king who must bear the cost of providing for them. Sure, there are some who need assistance and deserve help, but we are encouraging people to sit back and ask for food rather than work to produce food.
   “When we establish the king as the source of food for all, we destroy the economy of the country at the same time.”
   As he listened, Joseph could sympathize with Irsu’s position to some degree. His nomadic heritage had predisposed him against not only urban life, but also against the political control that inevitably rose in parallel with increased concentration of population. He found his thoughts had shifted somewhat, perhaps toward a neutral level.
   He had seen the king’s irrigation projects benefitting all classes of farmers, and now he had the example of the storage of grain for the future consumption of all people during the years of famine. Nomads and those who chose to be self-sufficient did not have these benefits. Such efforts pointed toward the importance of a central government that valued the well-being of the people it served.
   Yes, there was plenty of evidence of the excess and inefficiencies of consolidated power, as well, so Joseph remained wary of anything suggesting the unnecessary extension of power. The Egyptians believed that the goddess Ma’at – like the God of heaven – required justice and mercy, equality and balance. An excess in any area tended to create deficiencies in another, destroying the overall balance designed from Creation.
   “As does the God of my people, the Egyptian goddess Ma’at demands balance in life, which includes not only truth, but justice and equity.
   “I have worked in the fields and seen those who work from sunrise to sunset but barely have enough to eat and little or no possessions. Does not this justice and equity require those who have much to care for those who have little?”
   Irsu gave a negative shake of his head. “No, this is not what is meant by ma’at. Balance does include justice and order and truth, this is true. But where is the justice when there is a small crop, and those who worked a little or who did not work at all receive the same amount as those who did work? Justice does not take from the hand that has and gives to the hand that that was idle. Justice requires each to assure his own future by the work of his hands.”
   “And what of the time of famine, Irsu, when there is no work because there is no water or because the locusts have devoured everything?”
   “We must each plan for or own future, Joseph. There is only so much food available, and it should be distributed according to work, not need, to those who worked, not those who merely want.”
   “Irsu, my own opinion was once very like yours.” He smiled. “You sound like you would do well among the nomads! But my thinking has changed.”
   Joseph proceeded to outline the advantages to the king’s expenditures for the people, including the canals and management of the flood waters.
   Joseph summarized his thoughts. “First, you see how there is more food because of all the work done in irrigation and handling the flood waters. Not everyone participated, but all have benefitted. There is more food, a larger loaf, if you will, that provides for more people. Let us work to make a larger loaf for more people rather than divide a smaller loaf among fewer people.
   “And second, there always will be those in need. If you broke your leg, should you starve because you cannot work? It is our privilege to help those in need, for one day, it may be yourself that requires this compassion.
   “Finally, I fear for those who are like my nomadic family in Canaan. How should they prepare for a seven year famine? How could they plan for their flocks even with awareness of the coming famine? I think many people are in a similar position.”
   He concluded, “Mercy is required for ma’at to exist.”
   “I understand your point of view, Joseph, but your position enables people to fall into dependency on the generosity of the king, a generosity with very real limits. All he has to give is based on all he is able to receive. When we show people they will eat whether they work or not, we destroy individual economies, and by doing so, we destroy the country’s economy.”
   Joseph stood. He knew that the thought processes of a lifetime would not be easily overcome.
   “We both take orders from the king. As long as we each follow his commands, we will not be in disagreement.”
   Irsu remained seated. Folding his arms, he grudgingly said, “We will both be obedient.”
   Joseph returned to his seat as the others came back into the room. The council began to deal with open issues.
 
Return Visits 
   The season of planting was about to begin. The floods of the second and third years had been good, as had been the fourth year’s flood. Optimism for a fourth good harvest was high.
   Joseph and Potiphar planned to duplicate their tour through Egypt of the previous year. The establishment of a tradition, an expected round of visits, appeared good for a variety of reasons.
   The goal was to encourage the landowners to hold back a portion of their own grain for the predicted years of famine, as well as to see how much reserve had actually been built. Virtually all farmers with the means to do so already held back a moderate buffer of grain, enough only for a partial year of low yields. This was not nearly sufficient for the anticipated term of seven years of poor harvests.
   Potiphar and Joseph set out in their chariots for Memphis. They headed for the old part of the city and the aged palace that now was the abode of Menna.
   Two days earlier, Joseph had sent word by messenger that they would arrive early in the afternoon of the second day. Menna had responded with an invitation to have a midday meal with him, and they planned accordingly.
   Joseph was somewhat surprised at the warmer reception from Menna on this visit. Perhaps Menna had accepted the additional tax as a small price to pay, particularly because the bountiful harvests of the last two years had more than compensated for the loss in taxes.    Joseph did not give the change in attitude more thought.
   The meal was not extravagant, but more than the minimal offering for such a visit. Menna dominated the conversation from the beginning. He began with comments on the previous harvests and then proceeded to tell stories of past floods – a crocodile at the front door one year, a boat marooned on his back patio during another excess flood, and other such stories.
   Joseph finally had an opportunity to ask Menna how much storage of grain had occurred in preparation for the future famine.
   ‘Well, I always keep something close to a year’s supply on hand…well, half a year at least. I have built some additional granaries and will be filling those.”
   He looked directly at Joseph as he added, “With whatever I can spare after the king’s exorbitant tax, that is.”
   Joseph gave a bit of a smile, accepting the inevitable barb that he was sure would come on each visit when he asked the landowner about his own preparation for the famine.
   Since Menna liked to speak of his own accomplishments, as most men do, Joseph thought he would give the man an opportunity to show off his own storage facilities.
   “After years of building ditches and gates and such for managing the flow of water, I have found myself having to learn a lot about building granaries. May I see what you are doing in this area to further my education?”
   Menna seemed to be caught off guard. “Well, they are very ordinary. If you have seen one granary, you’ve pretty much seen all there is to see!”
   Surprised that Menna backed off from this opportunity – indeed, he seemed to have backed more deeply into his chair, as if distancing himself from Joseph – pressing him to see the granaries must be the right course. Joseph did not know why, but the man’s reluctance rang an alarm bell in the back of his mind.
   Potiphar must have sensed something, also. “Ah, come on, Menna! Show us your granaries.”
   Menna had recovered his composure by this time. “I cannot imagine why you would want to see them. It is not as though they are anything special. You can look anywhere in Egypt,” he said, waving his arm in a semi-circle before him, “and see the same thing.”
   Potiphar pressed. “Menna, you are too modest. You are the best representative of the landowner class that I know. Joseph has seen the granaries built by the king. Let Joseph see how preparations are made by the landowners, the wealthy, of whom you are such a good example.”
   Potiphar was leaning on his elbows toward Menna, a big smile on his face. It was clear that Menna knew he was trapped.
   Menna held up his hands as if surrendering and, shaking his head, said, “If you have nothing better to do with your time, we can go see them. As for me, I’d much rather be out hunting or in the cool of the shade. Such an expedition earns me nothing.”
   “Of course it does, Menna,” said Potiphar. “You will have the pleasure of entertaining your friends, and our sincere gratitude.”
   Resigned to the task, Menna called for a servant. He told the man to get a bag of water and to accompany them on their walk to the granaries, emphasizing what a hot afternoon it would be for them all.
   Potiphar and Joseph ignored his ruse to dissuade them from the trip, and so they soon set off toward Menna’s storage facilities.

   The walk was not much more than thirty minutes or so south, a course parallel to the Nile, and past the buildings and residences built along the south end of the city. They soon reached the edge of Menna’s grain fields.
   The caretaker of his fields lived in a modest home near the granaries. Having the granaries close was good for both accessibility and security.
   There were several of the units clustered at the edge of a field beneath some palm trees. They did look very much like the standard construction with which Joseph had become very familiar – long narrow mudbrick sides with a half circle roof. Joseph tried to think of what had made Menna so hesitant.
   “You have some new construction, I see,” said Joseph, pointing at the obviously newer units. He walked over closer to them.
   “Yes. You warned us to be prepared, so I had some units built in preparation for what is to come.”
   Having been around such units often, Joseph did a quick estimation of how much grain could be stored. Counting the mud bricks – they were standard size – gave an accurate dimension to the length.
   “Have you put much in them yet?”
   “Not really, just part of the three harvests. There may be as much here as I paid in taxes, perhaps a little less.”
   “And that is just in the new units, correct? Your old units hold the normal carryover from one year to the next in case of a bad harvest, right?”
   “Yes,” said Menna flatly, again lacking his normal brash confidence.
   Joseph had walked down the length of the outside unit and begun to cross in front of the openings at the other end. This was the end into which grain was taken while the other end would be the end from which it was removed. He saw that each unit was full.
   The units had been constructed as needed, so whether the unit was from the first, second, or third year could be gauged by the effect of the sun. The difference in shade of light brown was very small, but Joseph had watched the effects of weathering upon mudbrick construction over the years and he could easily discern the newest from the oldest. There were half again as many units from the most recent year as from each of the previous seasons.
   In an effort to be reassuring, he called out, “These look like very good units, as good as I have seen built for the king. You probably have another one closer to your home, or maybe it is just a beehive unit?”
   Joseph turned around and walked back toward Menna and Potiphar.
   When Joseph arrived back where he was waiting with Potiphar, Menna said, “The only other storage is just a small room out back near the kitchen. It’s not very large.”
   Joseph nodded in acknowledgment. “I congratulate you on your preparation for the famine. Your efforts reflect well on you, and they will benefit both you and your people.”
   Turning to Potiphar, Joseph said, “Shall we go? We have taken enough of this man’s time.”
   Menna was only too happy to return to his home. Taking each one by the arm, he walked them back in the general direction they had come. He talked a lot but said little.
   The return walk seemed accomplished more quickly. Potiphar and Joseph thanked Menna for his hospitality and took their leave.
   When they were a distance from Menna’s residence, Potiphar asked, “Did you discover something in seeing Menna’s granaries?”
   “I do not know for sure. Perhaps a look at the scribe’s estimate at the time of planting and the actual harvest would be helpful. And I’ll look at the tax records. All should be there at The Residence.”
   “Would not the scribe have a record here in Memphis?”
   “Yes, but I do not want to cause alarm by asking questions here.”
   Potiphar nodded. “Of course. That is wise.”

   They proceeded to the Temple of Ptah. Neferti had died two months previously. The king had appointed Neferti’s son, Hakore-ankh, as expected.
   The visit went well. There was no reason for it to go otherwise. The temple stored grain as a buffer as a matter of course. Seven good years just meant more could be stored.
   Again, Joseph asked to see the temple’s granaries, for his own education since the government had no claim to crops from the temple’s lands.
   Hakore-ankh was hesitant, but saw no harm. He led them on a tour himself, showing the granaries they had used for years. Beside them were a few new granaries in preparation for the famine. They had taken Joseph at his word and would build more with each good harvest.
   Joseph again estimated the size of the granaries. He had no records to compare, so he asked how much land was necessary to bring such a good inventory of grain. Again, the priest was a little hesitant but saw no harm in divulging the information.
   The granaries were of equal size for each of the three harvests, and the numbers from the priest seemed to match. Of course, there was no reason for him to withhold or to give inaccurate information. The king did not lay claim to anything the temple possessed.
   Joseph and Potiphar stayed at the king’s Memphis palace. The next morning, they parted: Potiphar to the north and Joseph to the south. Potiphar said he would see Joseph at The Residence within two months as he started off in his chariot. Joseph waved as an acknowledgment.
 
Loss in a Year of Plenty 
   Joseph was nine days into his travels south and it was late in the evening. In the morning he would visit the governor of the eighth sepat in the capital city of Abdju. This was an area that had been among the most resistant to the one-fifth tax, a sepat whose governor, Merkha, sought to take control of his own future.
   Indeed, as one of the oldest cities of Egypt - the tombs of kings from the first dynasty were here – the district’s capital city had once been the center of power. But time had given precedence to Memphis, then Thebes, and now Itj-tawy, home of The Residence, an area sometimes called Lisht.
   He was thinking of the visit when he fell asleep, a deep sleep although one that turned out not to be restful.
   In the early morning hours he woke with a start. The dream had been very clear and it painted a foreboding picture.
   The king was sitting on his throne. He wore the double crown, the inner white crown of Upper Egypt nestled within the conical white crown of Lower Egypt.
   An ornate winged scarab was prominent on the front of the crown, but suddenly the scarab flew away. Joseph had seen the winged scarab on the heart of a mummy and was told it would fly away with the heart. The death of one close to the king was imminent.
   Two crows had been sitting on the edges of the conical white crown, feasting on jewels that decorated the headpiece. They enjoyed themselves for some time before one flew off and the other followed. His only thought was that there were two men who were stealing from the king.
   Who was to die? There was only one possibility, only one man so close and valuable to the king. Joseph refused to think the answer that was implied. He tried to shut it from his mind, but when the thought returned, he vainly sought another interpretation.
   And who were the crows? Were they Menna and Merkha? They were important men in Egypt, but Joseph took the dream to mean two who were closer to the king.
   Thoughts of the dream’s meaning flitted through his mind until the morning light began to show on the horizon. Joseph prayed as the morning sun rose and light filled the day.
   He arose and began his journey to the governor’s residence.

   Along the way, monuments to the past were constant reminders of Abdju’s glory days. Tombs of the kings of the first and second dynasties of Egypt (Senusret II was a member of the twelfth dynasty) marked Egypt’s earliest years. There were tombs predating even these earliest monarchs in the recorded history.
   The union of Upper and Lower Egypt had been accomplished as much by force as by willingness, with some areas deeply resistant.    The symbolism of the king’s dual crown, literally a combination of the crowns worn by the king of Upper Egypt and the king of Lower Egypt in early times, came to mind.
   This area was not resistant to the union as much as to the power of the combined halves of Egypt lying elsewhere. The threatened resistance to the tax for the coming famine was symptomatic of the leaders of the region.
   General Djar had stationed a small garrison nearby whose primary order was simply to make its presence known. Perhaps actual violence could be avoided with a show of force. Whether this was helpful never would be known, but the absence of violence was sufficient.
   Joseph’s visit with Merkha had gone much as expected, formal conversations revealing little new. But when the governor bragged of his own preparations for the famine, Joseph scoffed at the man’s boasts, openly doubting the man would have held back a large amount of grain.
   Joseph goaded the man, forcing him to become insistent on his truthfulness. The governor no doubt regretted his boast when Joseph insisted that the governor give Joseph a tour of the granaries to prove his words.
   As with each landowner, Joseph had mentally estimated the amount of grain stored based on the size and number of the granaries.    This was the second landowner giving Joseph the feeling that something was not right.
   Uncertain that it was true, but just to provoke some conversation that might be revealing, Joseph commented on the granaries before him. These were rectangular units about 15 feet wide, walls that were 8 feet tall, with a curved roof. He estimated the length of each unit at 20 feet or so.
   The governor was less forthcoming now, his words more guarded. He implied that the amounts put into storage from each year had been equal, more or less, but had no figures to offer Joseph.
   The man’s claim of approximately equal reserves from each year did not appear to be true from what Joseph saw. The newest units definitely outnumbered the units of the previous two years.
   Mentally calculating the storage of each year, Joseph later would add these figures to a parchment tallying the grain stored by the wealthiest landowners. He could then compare these figures with the scribes’ recordings of the amounts collected as one-fifth of the total harvest for each landowner.
   Irsu, like all scribes, was very good at storing information so that it could easily be retrieved. As treasurer for the kingdom, Irsu actually had a crew whose only responsibility was storing records and retrieving them when needed.
   When Joseph and the governor returned to the governor’s office, a message addressed to Joseph arrived.
   The message was brief and to the point: “Captain Potiphar became ill. He returned as far as Memphis where he died.”
   Joseph shared the communication with Merkha.
   “With great reluctance but a sense of urgency concerning the death of my friend and the effects upon his family and his work, I will take my leave, governor.”
   “That is understandable. I am sure that the king will miss the captain. He served the king well.”
   In line with the exchanges of the entire visit, the governor’s words were chosen appropriately but revealed nothing. Indeed, now that Joseph was leaving, the man seemed relaxed for the first time.
   “Yes, he served the king well, as he served all the people of Egypt well.” Joseph gave emphasis to Potiphar’s larger service, including the governor and the people of his district.
   Joseph informed his companions of the message and they returned to the king’s barge for the trip back to Memphis and The Residence.
   The dream had given him little warning. The important issue at the moment was ensuring that there was no perceived loss of the royal power.

   Upon arriving at Memphis, Joseph learned that Potiphar’s body was being prepared for burial. The process required a total of seventy days, seven of Egypt’s ten day weeks. The funeral would follow. In the meantime, there were the captain’s responsibilities to be allocated to others.
   Joseph knew that Zelicha would be devastated. He saw no way to be of assistance to her. The other ladies of The Residence who had become close to her in recent years would care for her.
   King Senusret II was having a pyramid built for his own remains not far from Memphis, just off the well-traveled route between Memphis and the palace. A smaller structure already had been created for Captain Potiphar, and this would be his final resting place.
Joseph mounted his chariot and headed for home.

   Arriving at The Residence, Joseph found the period of mourning well under way.
   Seeking the king, Joseph found an audience with him immediately.
   Joseph saw the effect of the captain’s death on the king. As a rule, Senusret did not display emotion except for effect, as with a controlled anger in meetings to dramatize his position. But this emotion was genuine, a heartfelt sadness due to an irreplaceable loss.    Even a week after the news had reached him, the king was still very much affected by Potiphar’s death.
   They spoke only a few words during the first several minutes. With a sigh of resignation, Senusret shook off his personal feelings and resumed his role as king rather than friend.
   “The captain was irreplaceable to me in many ways, Joseph, and I know that is true for you, as well. Let us at least proceed with filling some of the gaps left by his absence.
   “As you know, Potiphar’s responsibilities once encompassed all that both he and you have done these past four years. His responsibilities during this recent time were in foreign affairs, particularly trade; in relations with the governors of the districts; and in the day to day responsibilities of the government. The latter were all delegated and rarely did issues arise requiring Potiphar’s direct involvement.
   “Considering the manner in which preparations are being made for the famine, these areas of foreign relations and relations with our own governors are extremely important. I must add the bulk of these responsibilities upon you.
   “With certain governors, I may be of assistance in the relationship. I will become involved where you see a pressing need.
   “I will handle relationships with certain nations requiring continued military vigilance, particularly Kush. But trade and immigration I leave to you since you and the captain worked closely on those issues.
   “You will, in fact, become vizier, the position Potiphar once held alone. Are you prepared for the additional responsibilities?”
   Joseph had found himself intimately involved in each of these areas as he and the captain had prepared for the famine.
   Although showing his age, Farid still performed well in managing royal household matters. One of the more capable scribes had been recruited to oversee day to day functions while Irsu remained in charge of all scribes, including this man. These areas did not require intervention.
   The other two areas were not really new responsibilities, but now they were his alone. Potiphar had taught him the mechanics of making foreign purchases and sales, and Teyma had given instruction on the arts of trading and building relationships. God had prepared him for a time such as this.
   “I am prepared for these responsibilities and accept them.”
   The tone at the end of this acceptance indicated that he had more to say. He decided there was nothing to do but to be open and honest in spite of what thoughts his words might inspire in the king’s mind.
   “There is one issue that I want to investigate further. This will require some resources, including my time, but I think you will agree the situation requires attention. I would have coordinated with the captain, but with him gone, you should be aware.
   “I suspect there are at least two governors withholding from the one-fifth tax on grain due to the government. The recent additions to their own granaries are surprisingly large compared to their tax payments in the first years.
   “Menna in the first sepat of the north has more new granaries than I would have expected. He was clearly ill at ease when I asked to see his reserves.
   “Merkha of the eighth sepat of the south appears to be doing the same thing.
   “I suspect that Menna is just an opportunist wanting more wealth, and we both know Merkha is simply hostile to any initiative from Itj-tawy.
   “Both of these men are among the fiercest opponents to the tax and I want to check Irsu’s records and compare the tax receipts with what I have seen of their personal stores of grain.”
   Senusret showed his concern as Joseph revealed this information. If these governors, landowners of great wealth, were cheating the tax system, that was an issue bad in itself. But for such a crime to occur, there must be gross malfeasance or corruption in the scribal system.
   “What is your evidence?”
   “I have only half of the information I need – the amount of grain each has stored in these last three years and that the third year is much larger than each of the first two. None of the other private reserves show any noticeable difference among the three years. Let me see if the tax payments for these two men look in accordance with their reserves.”
   “Irsu is at The Residence now. I saw him yesterday. Let me summon him and we will get to the bottom of this immediately.”
   Senusret did not wait for Joseph’s response but summoned an aide and instructed him to bring Irsu. There was no sense in prolonging the investigation.
   “You are probably hungry and thirsty from your journey. Being late afternoon, Senusret requested fruit and water be brought while they waited. Joseph gave the king more details of his journey while they waited for Irsu.

   Irsu greeted the king and Joseph appropriately upon his arrival, additionally expressing his condolences to Joseph for the loss of a close friend.
   As soon as pleasantries had been exchanged, Joseph forged ahead.
   “As you know, Irsu, the captain and I had just begun our annual visit to each of the governors. Since the governor is usually the largest landowner, or at least one of the largest in their sepat, their reserves for the famine are an important indicator of our readiness for when the bad years come.
   “I want to see how their payment of the one-fifth tax on grain compares with their own reserves for each year.”
Irsu looked at the king and quickly determined that the king was aware of what Joseph was trying to accomplish.
   “And as you know, Joseph, my scribes do not keep records of what each landowner uses, or sells, or holds in storage.” Irsu gave a shrug. “I cannot provide the information that you need.”
   “The only information that I need, Irsu, is what the landowners have given to the king each year as his tax.”
   If Irsu was surprised or uncomfortable with this request, he did not show it.
   “That information is readily available. I will go and get the information if you will tell me which landowners are of interest to you.”
   “If you do not mind, I would prefer to come with you.”
   Turning to the king, Joseph asked, “Would you like to come, also?”
   Senusret considered, then shook his head. “No, but let me know what you find of interest, of course.”
   Joseph gave a nod of acknowledgment, “Certainly.”
   And to Irsu, “Shall we go?”
   “Now? It is rather late in the day. We could go in the morning and have better light for a longer time. And the building where the files are stored will be much more comfortable.”
   “There are only four files that I need to see. We should be able to handle that in a relatively short time, shouldn’t we?”
   Again Irsu shrugged. “Yes.”
   And to the king, Irsu gave a short bow, “Your majesty,” and turned to leave.
   Joseph gave a slight smile and bow to the king and turned to follow Irsu.

   The two men walked to a building only a hundred yards or so from the main building. The structure was one story with offices in the front and the rear more like a warehouse with extensive shelving. These were the archives of the scribes, the accounting records accumulated during the reign of King Senusret II. Records from earlier times had been removed to long term storage to provide room for current information.
   The front offices were large with the standard ventilation allowing the cooling north wind to enter and carry out the warmer inner air on the other side. The storage area did not allow such free flowing of the breeze and was noticeably warm and musty.
   “What files do you want, Joseph?” asked Irsu as one of the scribes in training approached.
Joseph gave the names of Menna and Merkha. He added two other names, men whose personal reserves had looked consistent for the three years for comparison.
   “We should look at the tax collections for all four from the last three years.”
Irsu nodded to the young man who had been listening. “Get some others and divide the task among you so it won’t take all that is left of the day.”
   The young man nodded and trotted off to where his fellows were bent over tables making entries. Three of them then headed for the storage area.
   Irsu suggested they have some water and sit in the shaded area of the north side while they waited. The sun was not far above the horizon, and there was an area of shade stretching several feet from the building.
   “What has aroused your curiosity, Joseph?”
   Joseph did not see any reason to give enough information to appear as if he was making an accusation. If the records gave indications of a discrepancy, then he would be prepared with concrete evidence.
   “Just a feeling that Potiphar and I shared when we visited Menna. He has always been a bit uneasy with us anyway.
   “Then I had the same feeling with Merkha, who perhaps is even less a friend to the king than Menna.
   “We can just see if their tax receipts look appropriate for all three of the good harvests that we have had.”
   “Oh, I see,” Irsu acknowledged, nodding.
   There was an awkward silence, perhaps more so for Irsu, who after a few moments said, “I am sure the records will reassure you.”
   Joseph replied after a few seconds, “I hope that they will,” but his voice held little conviction.

   The first clerk returned after less than half an hour with four files from the third year.
Joseph and Irsu moved back into the office area so that Joseph could lay the papyri on a table.
   The clerks with the first and second year returned together after another fifteen minutes or so. By that time, Joseph understood how to read the recorded information.
   Joseph had first learned the art of writing with help from Irsu, although it had been informal teaching and intermittent as Joseph first worked on irrigation projects. Joseph’s education had been more as part of his work following this introduction, and he had seen the writing of quite a few scribes.
   Examining the accounts for the four men over the first three years of good harvests revealed little. The two landowners whose records Joseph used for comparison showed very slightly higher tax payments in the third year than in either of the first two.
   The tax payments for Menna and Merkha both showed larger tax payments in the third year than in the first two years, also, but their increases were larger than the increases shown for the other two landowners.
   Joseph was almost disappointed. Even though the lack of evidence of a crime was good news, something rang hollow. He looked back over the four summary papyri for the third year, and nothing in the totals seemed noticeably unexpected. The amounts withheld for their own use by Menna and Merkha might be a little high compared with what they paid as a one-fifth tax, but in a good year, more would be available for storage for the future.
   He was about to return the files to Irsu when he realized what was wrong: while the numbers and the information appeared correct, the same scribe wrote the files for Menna and Merkha while two other scribes wrote the files for the other two men.
   Indeed, the exactitude of the writing and the shape of the hieratic script (hieroglyphics were used almost exclusively in religious writings, but hieratic script was used for governmental records) reminded him of Irsu’s style of writing. He examined this only long enough to be assured that there still remained a mystery to be solved.
   “You are right, Irsu. The numbers do affirm that both Menna and Merkha have acted in good faith.”
   A bit more relaxed, Irsu smiled. “The numbers tell us what we need to know.”
   Irsu instructed the clerks to return the files to their proper places.
   “Hold on a minute. Let me make a few notes.” Joseph took his papers to a vacant table, picking up a discarded piece of papyrus on the way. With the ink sitting on the table, he scribbled a few notes. He then handed these papyri to the appropriate clerk.
   Irsu was obviously curious during this process, looking over Joseph’s shoulder to see what was written, but he made no comment.
   When the clerks had left, Joseph destroyed whatever may have been left of Irsu’s feeling of having escaped discovery of the discrepancy.
   “Let’s go back inside and discuss how I can confirm that they did indeed give to the king the amounts recorded in the third year.”
   Irsu stopped walking. “What do you mean? You saw the amounts recorded. The numbers on these records tell us all we need to know. We cannot go to the granaries and sort out which grain came from which landowner at this point!”
   “Of course, you are right,” said Joseph, nodding his head. “But I will go to Memphis anyway. Just a quick look at the storage units and checking with the head scribe in that office would not hurt anything.”
   “You must be joking, or are you looking for an excuse to go to Memphis? What could you possibly find there at this point?”
   “Just peace of mind, Irsu, just peace of mind. Would you care to come?”
   “When are you leaving?”
   “Since it is the end of the day, first thing in the morning.”
   He waited for Irsu to decide whether he would join Joseph.
   Irsu hesitated, then said, “I have not seen Dedi in a while. I will join you.”
   Joseph smiled. “Good! I’ll see you at sunrise and we can be ahead of the heat of the day.”
   Irsu nodded. “Shall I meet you where you mount your chariot?”
   “Yes. Since it will just be the two of us, you can ride with me. It will be a little crowded, but we’ll be there in no time.”
   “Good,” said Irsu, although his tone and body language conveyed something else. “I’ll see you at sunrise.”
   Joseph watched Irsu as he walked back into the office area, and then Joseph headed for his apartment. He had not yet seen Asenath since his return, and he would be as happy to see Manasseh as the little boy would be to see him.
 
Unnatural Losses 
   Irsu was waiting when Joseph emerged from his lodging within The Residence. The chariot had been prepared and the two horses stood in their harnesses, shifting their feet restlessly.
   Irsu and Joseph greeted one another, and Joseph gave Irsu a hand up to join him in the car, a simple platform with waist high sides and front piece.
   The chariot ride was rough due to the uneven roads and the lack of any mechanism for absorbing the bouncing motion. Of more concern was the possibility of a breakdown as the road shocks and weight of the passengers combined caused cracks and breaks in the wood. More than once Joseph had been waylaid as he struggled to replace a broken part in a land where the necessary wood was not always readily available.
   But the speed compared to travel on foot made the ride well worth the negatives of this latest innovation in transportation. They rode in relative silence, the noise of the road sufficient to discourage idle conversation.
   Joseph’s thoughts flitted about, but always returned to the task at hand, the investigation. This was hardly a glamorous or exciting undertaking, but oversight came with the territory of his position.
   They refreshed the horses at the well midway and arrived at the offices of the scribes just after mid-morning.
   Their visit unannounced, Irsu went inside to alert Dedi and the other personnel while Joseph had the horses led to shade and water.
   When Joseph entered. Dedi had already dispatched one of his crew to pull Menna’s paperwork for the current and previous two years. Irsu had gone with a jug of water to sit in the shade outside while they waited, and Joseph joined him and shared a drink.
   The two men talked mostly of Potiphar, both his history and the changes his death would bring. Their wait was brief, the number of records being so much fewer and access to them easier.
   They all went back inside. Joseph spread the documents before him. He quickly saw that the numbers were the same here as on Irsu’s record at The Residence.
   “Do you have the summary sheets for this district handy?” Joseph referred to the record of the individual landowners’ tax payments and the total. This total should represent the total grain stored for the entire district, one-fifth of the total harvest.
   Dedi quickly retrieved the document, actually several sheets of papyrus with a total at the end. The amount of tax collected from Menna was consistent with the figures from the other two documents.
   Joseph was puzzled. Although no incorrect payments of taxes was good, the matter was not settled in his mind.
   Irsu was correct. There was no way to determine how much of the grain in storage came from Menna. A visit to the huge granary here in Memphis would be futile, for what evidence could there be?
   Joseph looked at the summary sheets again. The last sheet with the grand total appeared to be written in a different hand from the others. The thought occurred to him that the total should be checked.
   “Dedi, I see you have a new scribe here. Did I not recently see that man at Zoan and the granaries there?”
   “Yes, he arrived last month. Their work had slowed and we could use the extra help. He moved here to help us. His name is Ankhkhaf.”
   “Would you please call him over here?”
   “Yes, sir.” Dedi called out and the man came running.
   Dedi introduced him to Joseph and the man smiled, “Yes, I remember seeing you at Zoan.”
   “Yes, I remember you, also,” smiled Joseph. “How are you at adding numbers?”
   “Very good, sir. That is why I became a scribe working for the king instead of a scribe in the temples. I prefer script and numbers to the hieroglyphics. If I wanted to draw, I would draw. Script and numbers are more my style,” he beamed.
   “Good! Please total these pages for me. Why don’t you make a subtotal for each sheet and then a grand total?”
   “There is a total already,” he said, a statement implying the question of why he should do the work again.
   “I see the number,” said Joseph. “Please either confirm it or give me the actual total. Seeing the totals for each page will help.”
   Dedi appeared curious, but said nothing. Irsu stood expressionless during the brief conversation, his arms folded on his chest.
   Ankhkhaf took the pages to a nearby table and sat down. He took a clean sheet of papyrus for recording the numbers and began his work.
   To avoid the awkwardness of the moment – after all, Joseph had just stated that he did not trust one of the most important pieces of information coming from this work center – Joseph asked Dedi to give him a tour and introduce the other workers.
   Dedi commenced to lead Joseph away from where Ankhkhaf worked. Irsu remained where he stood.
   “Irsu, please join us,” called Joseph. With obvious reluctance, Irsu followed along.
   They were nearing completion of the tour. Joseph had met all of the other workers and seen where everything was kept. He was not sure what else he could do to stall for time. Fortunately, Ankhkhaf joined them as they were on their way back to the starting point.
   “Have you got some totals for us, Ankhkhaf?” asked Joseph.
   “Yes, sir. Forgive me for taking so long, but I did the work twice to be sure.”
   He handed his one page summary to Joseph, along with the sheets he had been given.
   Joseph saw the total for each sheet of the file and the grand total. This grand total was larger than the grand total on the sheets the scribe had summarized. Adding the taxes paid by each landowner yielded a larger number than the total actually written on the sheet.
   Joseph studied this for a moment. The grand total was the important number at this point. It could be checked quite easily by taking a physical inventory.
   What had been gained by having the larger figure originally?
   Yes, it became clear. Menna’s number on the sheet (and possibly others’ numbers) was larger than the amount of grain that had been collected.
   Anyone looking at the numbers for the individual landowners would see reasonable numbers. And the grand total would match the actual total of the granaries. Who would bother to check the sum of the individual numbers and see that they did not add correctly?
   Joseph handed the summary sheet to Irsu.
   “Explain why the total Ankhkhaf just calculated does not match the total on the filed copy.” He handed him the file that had been pulled.
   Irsu appeared angry. “There has been a mistake!” He examined Ankhkhaf’s sheet after comparing the non-matching totals. After a few moments of studying the pages, Irsu said, “Look at the difference between the two numbers. And then note there is no record of the transfer to Zoan for the grain to be sold to the Asiatics. I believe that amount will equal the missing amount.”
   Joseph accepted back the records without looking at them. “And what will you and I find when we travel to Zoan tomorrow and examine their paperwork? Will numbers be missing there, also?”
   “Why are you so positive that there is grain missing, Joseph? As the ‘revealer of hidden things,’ the simple error on this paperwork should be clear to you of all people!”
   Standing squarely in front of Joseph now, Irsu continued, “Why don’t you just make your charge against me instead of making insinuations against me in front of my people?”
   “You are quite right. Let’s you and I continue this discussion in private,” Joseph stated in a calm voice to help deescalate the issue.
   Joseph had just seen an uncluttered desk in a deserted office area during the tour. He said, “Over there,” and steered Irsu in that direction.

   Neither spoke during the brief walk. The distance from the others was sufficient although they were still in the same large room. Light came through an open window above them.
   “You are correct that I should have made my charge when I first suspected there was a discrepancy in the numbers. So let me ask you plainly – the records for Menna and Merkha were written by the same hand in a style that closely resembles yours. Why would the same scribe have written the records of landowners in two different sepats?
   “Or should I just ask, why would you rewrite their files?”
   The men had been standing face to face, but now Irsu turned away, pacing as he spoke. “Why would I have written their files? That is done by the scribes in each sepat.”
   Reducing the anger in his voice, he added, “Of course, if the work we receive is sloppy or the papyrus damaged or of poor quality, scribes in Itj-tawy are instructed to make better records that are easily read and will endure a long period of storage.”
   Joseph waited for a better answer. Irsu finally turned and looked directly at Joseph. He pleaded, “Why didn’t you just ask me about this instead of questioning me in front of the scribes?”
   “Because of what I have seen and heard in my visits to the landowners, particularly these two. Would you have admitted to this subterfuge if I did not have the evidence?”
   Joseph turned partially away from Irsu and gestured with his hand for Irsu to precede him back toward Dedi. He said, “We will set out for Zoan tomorrow morning. We will see there if a record of a transfer in this amount exists. I will return this paperwork to Dedi after I make some notes. We will leave for the palace here in Memphis and remain there until morning. You will not need to spend more time here, and there will be no message dispatched to Zoan ahead of our arrival.”
   Irsu remained motionless. No doubt his mind was racing, looking for some escape route from the walls closing about him. He took a deep breath, exhaling in a long sigh.
   “What will happen to my family?”
   Joseph was surprised to hear the implied admission of guilt.
   “Why did you do it, Irsu?”
   “I told you before all of this began, when we discussed the years of plenty and years of famine almost four years ago. There are better ways to accomplish security for the future than what we are doing.
   “Your policy is creating a class of people dependent upon the king, knowing they will receive food even without work.
   “You are transferring the wealth of the landowner to the cities, as well as from the rich to the poor.
   “All of this disrupts ma’at, the balance that has been and will be. As a scribe, I belong to Thoth. He was born as the son of order and chaos, reconciling the two, and his wife is Ma’at. I wanted us to return to that balance that should always exist.”
   Irsu was making charges against Joseph, as well as the king and the rest of the council, and there was conviction in his voice but no longer any fire. His words were simply the flat statements of one who has given up.
   Joseph did not speak but let Irsu say his full piece, let him get it all out into the open, an unforced confession.
Irsu was quiet for a moment, then continued in a voice of hope trailing off into the tone of despair and utter hopelessness.
   “I wanted a better Egypt, one that is self-sufficient and strong, an Egypt without Asiatics and Nubians, an Egypt for Egyptians. But here we are taking food from Egyptians to feed other nations, and we are making people dependent upon the king. There is only so much food, and we are unjust in how we handle it. None of this is right.”
   Joseph was saddened to hear Irsu’s rationale.
   “I am sorry that you could see only limitations and not possibilities, Irsu.”
   He had to dig deeper. “What do you get out of all this, Irsu? Don’t tell me that you did this out of the goodness of your heart to preserve your idea of ma’at.”
   Irsu came back face to face with Joseph, some of the old Irsu revived as he glared at Joseph through angry eyes.
   “Actually, that would have been enough for me. Restoration of order would have been more than enough! But Merkha had received an estate when the owner died without family or anyone to claim the inheritance. He offered this to me so that I would have a place away from the work I have done for a lifetime. The other landowners will recompense Merkha for their share of this gift.”
   Irsu looked Joseph directly in the eye and added, “And do not call it a bribe. I would have done it for nothing.”
   He turned away and began pacing again. When he stopped in front of Joseph, his voice was firm.
   “But this would have been for my sons. The estate he gave to me was not really for me. It was for them, to get them out of Itj-tawy and back onto the land where we all belong.”
   Irsu stepped back and averted his gaze from Joseph. He stared into the distance, to something that did not exist within the confines of the building.  
   Joseph had been overwhelmed with the emotion shown by this otherwise stoic man, conflicting emotions battling as Irsu’s confession and defense unfolded. Now he was left feeling pity for the disillusioned man more than anything else.
   Irsu had been blessed with a high position, sufficient wealth of his own, and a family. What more could he have desired than this that he would risk it all?
   And Irsu understood. There was no way to avoid telling the king of what had happened. The issue was not just Irsu’s deception, but the conspiracy of the landowners against the king. This set a dangerous precedent and the confederacy must be destroyed before escalating to violence and insurrection.
   Having expended all his energy, Irsu ended the silence. “What will happen to me?” His tone indicated surrender. All defiance was gone. His voice was almost a whisper, the last breath of a dying man.
   Joseph looked at the condemned man, a man whom he had considered to be a friend.
   “My choice would be to banish you to a piece of land beyond Thebes near the disputed area with Kush and let you and your family farm the land. And I would have you watched like a hawk watches over his prey.
   “I would go to the landowners and confront them with their deceit. They would have thirty days to deliver the missing grain plus a penalty.
   “But then in the first few years of the famine, the landowners would rise up against what they perceived as weakness. Inaction on my part, and therefore on the king’s part, would embolden them and invite rebellion.”
   “What will happen to my sons?”
   “What has been their role in this?”
   “They know nothing. We had talked of someday having land, but I had never talked with them about specifics.”
   Joseph theorized, “Perhaps they could be given that land that I mentioned if they would like to leave Itj-tawy.”
   “Yes. That would be good. Thank you.”
   Irsu now assumed the stance so characteristic of him. He straightened his back and held his head high. He spoke again, but now with conviction.
   “I see the world as it is, Joseph, and it is not the way I want it to be. Reality is hard. It seems unchangeable, and I now prefer not to face it.”
   With the smoothness of an act well-rehearsed and now deftly executed, Irsu pulled a dagger from his waist and slit his own throat.
   Joseph stood frozen in shock as Irsu’s body wavered and then fell limply to the floor. The first impulse when he could move was to help the man, but the massive flow of blood from the side of the neck where the cut began indicated the futility of any such effort.
   Joseph turned away, but too late. The intense emotion preceding the witness of this violent act created such inner turmoil that he doubled over and vomited, undoubtedly a subconscious attempt to purge all that he had been forced to absorb in this quick and turbulent exchange.
   His thoughts, when he could think beyond the horror, were of how he might have handled this differently, of how this violent end might have been avoided. But what was done was done. These thoughts must be purged, also.   

   Undoubtedly, many of the others in the building had seen what was happening from a distance, but sound did not carry well in the room crowded with racks and files, so they had heard nothing. When the end came, they knew only that something had gone terribly wrong as they saw Irsu’s body sink to the floor.
   Half a dozen men arrived while Joseph was trying to recover. Irsu’s body in a pool of blood, the knife held limply in an open hand, spoke of what had happened. The horror of the sight haunted each of them forever, as did the question of why.
   Recovering, Joseph had the presence of mind to make a clarifying statement that revealed little but seemed sufficient to those witnessing the gruesome aftermath.
   “Irsu has been under great stress. I am sure that you can all relate to that. But an error in the records pushed him beyond reason. Let us honor him for what he accomplished in life and not allow this final act to tarnish his name.”
   Dedi stepped up to the challenge and took charge of his people. He called two by name to help him, and ordered the others to take an early break away from the offices. He would call them back to work when the time was appropriate.
   After the others had left, the four men who remained stood over Irsu’s body. Joseph asked for a large cloth to be brought and a more fitting place for Irsu to lay.
   Dedi instructed his worker where to find a sheet. He suggested they take Irsu’s body into a receiving area near the widest entrance into the building. They placed the lifeless body on a table hastily cleared for the purpose.
   Joseph went to where there was a large barrel of water. He took a ladle full and rinsed His mouth, then walked outside and spit it beyond the border of the compound. He wished he could so easily remove the images in his mind. Standing in the sun, he wished again, that the intense rays could burn the pictures from his memory. But he knew there was no erasing the past. He would not pray to forget, but that the intensity might diminish over time.
   He walked back to Dedi as one of the helpers returned with a large sheet.
   There was so much to be done, but the first thing must be done first.
   Joseph instructed the scribes to wrap Irsu’s body tightly as he lay stretched out on the floor. He wanted the body straight when rigor mortis began. This would make the mummification process easier.
   Dedi attempted to discover more of what had happened, but Joseph said little more than his brief initial statement. The goal now was to get the body to the Temple of Ptah for them to begin the mummification process.
   The men carried Irsu to Joseph’s chariot and tied the shrouded body in an upright position. Joseph mounted and stood beside the man who had ridden into the compound with him earlier that morning. Oh, the difference a few hours could make!
   Joseph urged his horses forward and began a mental checklist of what must now be done.
   Informing Irsu’s family should be first on the list, but Joseph moved this to second place. He must talk with the king and prepare the public story. The truth was much too harsh. A fiction - a lie, in actuality – would serve Irsu, his family, and his country better. But this required the king’s consent because of the political implications concerning the landowners.
   And this was the third concern, how to correct the tax evasion of the landowners so that tensions were eased rather than inflamed.
   And then there was the dream. There had been two crows stealing from the king. Apparently, Menna and Merkha were not the two represented in the dream. The crows were higher up, members of the king’s own staff. Irsu had been one. Who was the other?
   The ride to the temple was not long enough, but Joseph knew that even the longer ride back to The Residence would end too quickly.
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