Repairing the Damage
Creating a Narrative
Having left Irsu’s body at the temple for the embalming process to begin, Joseph arrived at The Residence very late in the afternoon.
Upon inquiry, he learned that the king had had a full day of audiences with those seeking his judgment or assistance. Two days in ten were set aside for these interviews, and the king always was wearied with this task that his position required. The king was with his last appointment at this time.
Joseph had not long to wait. He had a plan, but the king must concur or offer a better one.
Joseph was called into the chamber where Senusret still sat on his throne, a position of power, but one that often seemed under siege by those who wanted a piece of that power.
“What news, Joseph? Please tell me that your concerns were unfounded and the situation resolved.”
Joseph saw the weariness in the king’s face. He made his bow and said, “You have had a long day and are weary. My desire is to be obedient to your request, but truth does not allow me that luxury.”
Senusret’s gaze on Joseph remained fixed during a moment of silence. Then the king rose and advanced toward his vizier, stopping in front of him.
“I have sat in that chair most of the day. I need to exercise another part of my body.” The attempt at humor softened the moment although both smiles were forced. “Walk with me.”
Joseph walked beside the king through the corridors on a course that eventually led into the gardens. The day was still hot, but the shade felt good and there was the hint of the evening’s coolness riding upon the gentle breeze.
No one was anyone near when the king stopped. “If there is bad news, we should at least discuss it in a pleasant setting.”
“Agreed, my king. I will be brief, then you can get into whatever level of detail that you desire.
“Irsu and I went to the scribal office in Memphis, and there was evidence of error or fraud. When I confronted Irsu, he eventually confessed to changing the amounts on some landowners’ tax payments. His motive was to redress what he called the undermining of the people’s work ethic, and the transfer of wealth from the landowners to the cities. He had mentioned these issues before as you recall.
“He assured me that his motive was the restoration of ma’at, and he would have done it without the gift of an estate from Merkha. He sought a return to the land for his sons.
“The fraud revealed, he asked what would happen to his family since they had no knowledge of his plans. I said that perhaps we could find them a farm where they could be close to the land as he desired.
“Irsu thanked me, and then…” Joseph paused, the emotion and the horror of the moment returning in his mind’s eye. He cleared his throat and began again, “And he took his knife and slit his throat, dying immediately as he fell to the floor in front of me. Others rushed forward, and I attributed the suicide to the severe stress upon Irsu in his job and the appearance of an error in the accounts. This was accepted.
“I then took the body to the Temple of Ptah for burial preparations, and immediately returned here.”
The king’s reaction to Irsu’s actions changed from anger to shock. He took a moment to order his thoughts, walking deeper into the garden and returning a few moments later.
“Yes, I am interested in the details, but that will come later. You undoubtedly have a plan for our response.”
“My plan is an outline, and it requires your approval and support. Undoubtedly, you will have additions that will make it run more smoothly, or perhaps a totally different approach.”
Senusret simply nodded an acknowledgment. So Joseph proceeded.
“Making public the fraud will immediately and publicly pit us against the landowners involved, only two of whom we know – Menna and Merkha. We will be expected to take immediate and strong punitive action. And Irsu will be exposed as having been corrupt and his family will suffer greatly.
“Irsu’s crime was not greed, but strong attachment to ideas that your administration does not embrace: fear of foreigners instead of seeing the benefits of trade; a focus on the limitations of Egypt’s productivity rather than its possibilities; and finally, a preference for distributed power rather than a strong central power.
“We can debate the issues endlessly, but most of us will readily agree that Irsu’s thoughts were on the extreme end in one direction. Rather than place the emphasis on his misguided intention, let us place the blame on an error in records.”
Senusret interrupted, “But the landowners who participated will know of the truth, that we are covering their crime.”
“Yes,” agreed Joseph, “and that is my point. We – I or you or both – will confront each of them privately and advise that we know of their act of fraud in their tax payment. We then give them the choice of aggressive punitive action, or they can pay the amount due to the Treasury.”
The king nodded. “I would prefer that this not escalate. In addition to the coming famine, an internal war may result in the self-destruction of Egypt.”
During the silence, Joseph gave encouragement for the king to continue. “You are correct, sir.”
The king remained silent, his mind undoubtedly turbulent.
Joseph prodded. “All of this happened today, so we have a few hours to frame the message for the general public.
“In the meantime, I feel a responsibility to Irsu’s wife and children to reveal what has happened to their husband and father. That story must be consistent with the larger story, and I believe that it must be early tonight. By tomorrow morning, messengers will have distributed the story of Irsu’s death farther than just here to The Residence.”
The king nodded. “Give me an hour to consider this news and an appropriate response. I am sure that you need a break, also. Return to the informal meeting room. You and I will talk, and then I will have the other members of the council summoned while you speak to Irsu’s family.
“Yes, sir.” Joseph took his leave.
Surprisingly, sharing the events of the day with the king had eased the burden weighing upon Joseph. Undoubtedly, the king would be formulating a plan, and the two of them, perhaps even what remained of the council, would determine the next steps.
Meanwhile, Joseph would return to his apartment. He could use some food. Some time with Asenath and Manasseh would have a soothing effect, also.
Is a Lie Only a Lie?
Asenath had heard that Joseph had returned and she was in their apartment. Manasseh was finishing a late afternoon nap.
“Did you visit with Senusret?” she asked as he entered their living space. More often than not, Joseph visited the king before returning to her, so there was no accusation in her question. As a matter of fact, their time together was better for Joseph attending to such matters first and then being able to relax, to be at home both in mind and body.
She was seated in her usual place, everything neatly in its place. The late afternoon sun was muted by the high windows, so the light was sufficient but soft. She and her surroundings both conveyed a sense of harmony extending outward into the universe.
Undoubtedly she could see that something was amiss. She rose to greet him. “You had not been sure if you would return today. I am glad to see you,” she said as she gave a light kiss on the cheek.
“The events of the day definitely were not on anyone’s schedule.” He took her arm and gently guided her back to her seat and sat in his own usual spot.
“We have had a great loss. Irsu took his own life this morning.”
Shocked, she raised her hands to her cheeks, “What happened? Does Imi know yet?”
“The story is long and has not been made public yet. I have not been to Imi. The full story of what happened places Irsu in a bad light. Naturally, like you, I would prefer that did not happen, but the king has to know all of what happened. He asked me to return in an hour to discuss matters. Then I will go to Irsu’s wife.”
“Would you like for me to go with you when you visit Imi?”
The question did not require any thought. “Yes, that would be good. But what about Manasseh?”
“I will take him to Tem. I saw her this morning, and she reminded me that she is always available if I need assistance, at least until her own child is born in a few months.”
“That will be good. Is he sleeping?”
“Yes, but I should wake him so that he will sleep tonight.” Asenath rose and went into their bedroom, returning in a few minutes with the toddler, clearly still in the transition from sleeping to waking. Joseph reached out to him and the little boy ran to his father.
Joseph was glad for the distraction, forgetting even that he was hungry. The time passed quickly, but the fading light reminded him of the time to return to the king.
He suggested that Asenath and the boy go ahead to Tem’s. He would meet them there soon.
Joseph went into the meeting room where the council generally met. As expected, Senusret was there waiting. He may even have been there the whole time, considering what response these events required.
Senusret motioned for Joseph to sit across from him. Joseph did so, remaining silent.
“ Irsu had strong feelings about the issues he mentioned four years ago and repeated to you. I cannot say that I was ignorant of them. I should have made sure that he was committed to our course, but I assumed he would fall into line. That was a costly mistake that I will not make again.
“Your suggestion of an error discovered is better than the revelation of a betrayal discovered. In reality, Irsu accepted responsibility for the theft he conspired to hide. It is fitting that he accept the responsibility for the error on his watch, and that he felt sufficient remorse to end his own life.
“I will send an official report by messengers so that everyone is informed accurately before rumors get started.
“Convey to Irsu’s wife that we will do as you suggested to Irsu before he died, if that is her desire. His boy is almost grown, isn’t he? Can he handle the situation?”
Senusret continued before Joseph could respond, “Well, let them do what they think best. Imi can advise me when she is ready to make a decision.
“And you must go to Menna, sooner rather than later, and discover the others in this plot. We must break their confederacy before it fully materializes. You’ll have a much better chance to get Menna to talk. Merkha has been waiting for such an opportunity and he must be made aware that there will be no hesitation on my part if he wants to escalate matters.”
The king had leaned forward to impress Joseph with his resolve on this issue. Joseph was glad to see that the king fully comprehended the dangers of Irsu’s actions. Irsu probably had not realized the instability that he had created.
“I understand. I will go to Imi now. And we will meet again at sunset with the others?”
“Yes, Khusebek is missing. Yes, Khusebek, and Potiphar, and Irsu….” The king’s voice trailed off with a sigh at the end of his statement.
Joseph took his leave and proceeded to Tem’s dwelling. She and her husband, the head gardener for the outside of The Residence, coincidentally were in the space originally occupied by Irsu when Joseph arrived over ten years ago.
Asenath was waiting outside, and she saw Joseph emerge from The Residence. She came toward him and they went back inside The Residence and headed toward the apartment of Irsu, Imi, their two sons and daughter.
Irsu’s apartment was the same size as that of Joseph, so three children plus the adults gave the space a feeling of fullness almost to overflowing. Imi kept it tidy, but multiple children ensured that perfectly neat never occurred.
She was surprised to see Joseph and Asenath. Just Joseph, and she would know he was looking for Irsu. Arriving with Asenath gave the impression of a social visit.
After a brief greeting, Joseph asked if they could speak with her. She invited them inside, adding that the children were outside with the others enjoying the fresh evening air.
Joseph thought that was just as well.
“Imi, it is about Irsu,” Joseph began.
Fear immediately grabbed Imi. “What has happened?” Her gaze darted back and forth between Joseph for information and Asenath for support.
As Asenath grasped Imi’s hands, Joseph said, “Irsu died this morning in Memphis.”
Incredulity was written on her face as she cried, “No! How can it be?” Her eyes were moist as she kept her focus on Joseph, searching vainly for some sign of misunderstanding.
Imi accepted Asenath’s arms around her but did not respond as she struggled to comprehend. As the silence allowed the message to sink in, Imi began sobbing and put her arms around Asenath’s neck.
“We are so sorry for your loss, Imi.” Asenath spoke softly, almost a whisper into Imi’s ear.
Imi’s sobs lessened as she struggled to speak. Finally, she was able to ask in a breaking voice, “What happened?”
Joseph had dreaded the question. There was no way to prepare for it, but neither was there any way to avoid it.
“There was a large error in the granary accounts. Irsu could not bear that this had happened under his supervision. He reacted hastily and without thought.”
Joseph paused, and Imi stopped sobbing, holding her breath for the next words.
“He did not want any of what happened to reflect on anyone else. He took responsibility and asked that you and the children be cared for. Before I knew what he planned, he took out a knife.…”
Disbelief and incomprehension again manifest on Imi’s face.
“But why?” she sobbed before again breaking down, bent almost to the ground and crying as Asenath tried to hold her.
Asenath repeated, “His last thoughts were for your well-being, Imi, you and the children.”
“But why? What could have been so bad that he had no hope? A stupid error in the accounts? No, I don’t believe it! Tell me the truth! What happened?”
Joseph hurt for the woman, wounded deeply by this lie but surely to suffer worse if the truth were told. The truth was the same, but included her husband’s guilt and the disgrace that she and her children would suffer, a fate far worse than this awful tragedy laid before her would bring.
“Irsu was my friend, but I know that I cannot begin to understand your loss, Imi. He was a perfectionist, a man who wanted the world to be just so, and for his actions to be in accordance with the principles of ma’at….”
Asenath interrupted, pulling the desolate wife around to face her, but still holding the sobbing woman against her body.
“We cannot understand, Imi. Let us not try right now. Let us just cry for the husband, the father, and the friend that we have lost.”
As she turned slightly toward Joseph and looked into his eyes, Asenath gave a slight negative shake of her head.
Joseph was grateful. To answer one question of “why?” would lead only to another “why?” He had been present and he still had questions. If Irsu was brought from the grave, even he could not answer every question to the satisfaction of one who suddenly felt deserted and alone.
Imi continued to sob, her body wracked violently as she struggled for breath against the rip tides of her emotions.
After a few moments, the sobs began to subside until she finally stood straight, pushing herself away from Asenath.
“Where is he?” she asked with only a slight catch in her voice as she took a handful of her robe and brought it up to dry the tears.
“He is at the Temple of Ptah in Memphis.” Joseph said no more. Asenath was right. Words could not help at this point unless in direct response to a request, or to express the shared deep feeling of loss that soon would spread through The Residence and the many huts and houses surrounding it.
Eventually, she did ask the question for which Joseph had prepared. “What will happen to me and the children? We cannot stay here in The Residence.”
“You can stay as long as you need, Imi. The king has appreciated Irsu’s long service, and he feels a responsibility to you and your children.
“Stay in this place and do not give a thought to the future until you are prepared to see your options. Irsu had mentioned a desire to live closer to the land, and if you and your children prefer to do so, the king will arrange it.
“You have a son who is on the brink of manhood. Let him help guide you into the future.”
Imi nodded. “Thank you for coming and being with me. I will prepare myself for when the children return from being with their friends. This will be hard, but we must go through it together.”
She looked up for the first time, gazing toward the high windows, and saw the shadows the deep blue/black of the evening sky just past sunset.
“They will be home any moment. Go now. I would prefer to tell them myself.”
She had somewhat recovered, preparing to put on a show of strength for her children. She put a hand behind Asenath and Joseph as she gently guided them to the door.
“Would you please return in the morning? Or may I come to you?”
“Whichever works best for you, Imi,” said Asenath. “If I have not seen you by mid-morning, I will come to you.”
As they began to walk away, Asenath turned and added, “If you need help with the children in any way….”
Imi nodded, “Thank you,” and went back inside.
Joseph parted with Asenath, she to their home and he to the meeting with the king and the council.
Senusret already had informed the others of Irsu’s death when Joseph arrived. He said that he had given them the details as seen by Joseph, and also the version of the story that was ready now to go by messenger to all parts of Egypt. All that was needed was the council’s unanimous approval.
Several attempts were made to gain more details. At the king’s urging to give the briefest responses, Joseph answered to the best of his ability. The depth of the conspiracy would have to come from Menna, and he would travel there tomorrow. No other question was both urgent and necessary.
And so it was that Joseph left The Residence early the following morning so that he might press Menna for more information. Menna would hear the news before Joseph’s arrival, but the news that would circulate would have no reference to Menna or to the conspiracy. Joseph needed to surprise the landowner with this fact, and then convince him of how much the king knew, and how hard Senusret would come down upon any landowner who did not cooperate.
Racing his chariot toward Memphis, Joseph thought about the lie he had helped to create and now promoted.
He recalled his lie to Potiphar concerning Zelicha, a lie committed through his silence. That lie had cost him three years in prison, but it had saved a marriage and a friendship. That lie had also led him, eventually, to his current position, a place where he hoped to have a larger positive impact as implied in his early dreams from God.
“Oh, God, that this lie would have no worse result, and that I might rely only upon truth in the future!” Joseph actually spoke these words aloud.
Bargaining for Peace
It was not even mid-morning when Joseph arrived at the splendid old palace that Menna called home, an hour too early for calling upon men such as Menna. And this was part of Joseph’s strategy, to catch the man off-guard and then let him feel a net enclosing about him.
The servant showed Joseph into the familiar room in which Menna held meetings, pictures of gods amid Egypt’s history painted directly on the walls. Joseph surveyed these while he waited, searching for one he recalled that seemed relevant to current events.
Menna eventually arrived, properly attired and groomed. He seemed only a little put off by Joseph’s early arrival.
“I heard the news about Irsu. What a loss for King Senusret! And I am sure that you feel his loss as a friend and colleague. My sympathy to you all.”
“Yes, indeed, Irsu was a friend. He was a good man who always sought to do the right thing, to maintain ma’at in life that he might also share ma’at after death.”
Joseph forged ahead. “And what of you, Menna? Did you have any dealings with Irsu?”
“Me? Oh, I met the man and talked some with him. But generally it has been whatever scribe was in charge of this particular sepat with whom I dealt.”
“Interesting,” said Joseph. He rose and walked toward one of the murals. “I thought that you and he had come to an agreement recently regarding the one-fifth tax that you paid this past year.”
Joseph continued looking at the murals, as if admiring the art.
Menna responded calmly, “Other than transferring the required amount of grain to your granary here in Memphis, there was no ‘agreement.’ I simply did what was required.”
“Did you really, Menna?” Joseph turned from below a mural of Anubis leading a recently deceased man before the tribunal of gods to determine the dead man’s fate in the afterlife.
“Would you care to amend that statement, or will such a lie be added to the other crimes that you will not be able to deny in the judgment.” Joseph’s arm waved toward Osiris and the tribunal judging the dead man.
“How will your heart weigh against the feather of truth?” The feather lay on one arm of the balance scale in the mural, the other arm of the scale empty, waiting for the man’s heart to be set upon it. A heart heavy with guilt would outweigh the feather, a visual condemnation of the man’s life and his violation of ma’at.
“Will you be able to conceal such guilt before the tribunal, or will your heart confess and weigh heavily upon the scale, condemning you to be devoured by the ferocious goddess Ammut?”
Menna hesitated, clearly uncertain as to what Joseph knew. If Irsu was dead, there was no witness against him, unless the scribe had confessed, of course.
Joseph plunged ahead. “We know about Irsu’s fictitious numbers in the accounts, Menna. We know how much he wrote down that you sent to the granary, but we also know how much less actually was received.”
Joseph had begun walking back toward Menna. The man indeed had been caught off guard. He tried to get the conversation on another track, tried to see how much Joseph knew without revealing anything.
“The word has gone out that there were errors in the accounts, that Irsu felt responsible and took his own life. What has that to do with me?” He had gained courage and sounded like an innocent bystander at the scene, astounded that Joseph would think he bore any blame.
“Come, now, Menna! Irsu confessed before he died. The story has been laid bare. Do not add to your crime with a lie. If you do, the king will have no choice but to take drastic measures.”
Joseph moved back toward the mural. “Since learning of the Egyptian religion, I have marveled that the rich seek to buy a spell that would compel the heart not to betray its secrets. The rich always think their money can rescue them from the future, from the judgment that is inevitable. How could heaven tolerate a deceptive soul, and how could the soul that is bent on evil enjoy this place of peace without destroying it?”
Pointing to the panel of judges, 42 gods and goddesses, he said, “Of course, your gods are merely mortals who do not die. They have some super powers, but no more morals than the men who created them.”
Joseph had turned to face Menna and now walked a few steps toward him.
“What of the God in heaven, Menna, the one who created all that is. Is He not more than these depictions upon your wall? Is he not wiser and able to see and to know all things? Do you think He does not know or that the truth be hidden from Him?”
Menna stated firmly, “If you had proof of any misdeeds, you would bring a charge rather than come and talk me to death!”
“Oh, there is proof, Menna. Beyond Irsu’s dying declaration there are the numbers in the accounts. And your own reserves show the great increase in your holdings from the past year, far more than you could withhold beyond your one-fifth tax. Did you think I could not see what was old and what was new?
“I came here to show the justification for what will occur. General Djar has troops stationed in Memphis as guards to the growing grain reserve here. His poor men are bored to distraction since there have been no wars under Senusret II’s wise reign. He is waiting for me to give the order for his men to seize your entire reserve as compensation for your conspiracy to pervert justice, your willingness to take from the mouths of the widow and the fatherless the bread for their survival.”
Menna scoffed. “The people will see the king is unjust in such an extreme action, and the landowners will rally against him!”
“Which landowners, Menna? The ones in your conspiracy, perhaps. But not those who have performed their duty. And our next visit will be with Merkha, before he has word of what is happening here. Irsu named him, as well, but only the two of you. We can at least neutralize your actions. The names of Menna and Merkha will stand in infamy, and you will carry this deed to your grave and to your judgment.”
Joseph looked around the large room and spread his arms, indicating the entire former palace. “And you will lose all this when the famine comes, so this life will no longer be the comfort and ease you have enjoyed.”
Menna’s confidence had been shaken. He had not expected discovery of his treachery, and certainly had not expected the overwhelming power of troops emptying his granaries.
“Let us be reasonable, Joseph. Your proof is weak. Have I underpaid your exorbitant tax somewhat? I will check the records and submit the amount I owe.”
“What? Caught in your crime you will simply pay what should have been given to the king originally. You and the others are guilty of treason! And what of Irsu’s death? You are as guilty as if you held the dagger. What do you have to offer to atone for these evil deeds?”
Menna felt that he had been stripped almost defenseless. He had only one bargaining chip left.
“There has been no act of treason, no attempt to overthrow the king. And I have true regret for what has happened to Irsu, but that was his action, not mine. Let me prove my loyalty to the king, but in return, I ask for a less onerous fine. You will destroy me if you pursue this course.”
“And what can you offer as proof of your loyalty?” Knowing the answer, Joseph allowed Menna to suggest the offer.
“You do not know the names of the others who benefitted from this scheme. If I give you their names and you collect from them, you will fill your granaries to the levels expected and will not require such a stiff penalty from me.”
Joseph did not respond immediately, as if considering the offer. Menna indeed seemed most anxious. They should bargain a little, and this would allow Menna to save face to some degree.
“I agree. Tell me the names of the others, and we will take what is owed plus 50% of the 20% you should have paid.”
“Ah, 50% is too heavy a burden! Listen…I will complete the payment of 20%, and add 20% of the payment to show my contrition for what has occurred.”
“This is your offer to prove loyalty to the king?”
“It is. I swear my loyalty to the king if he accepts this offering.”
“The deal is done, Menna. I will let the general know that his only duty here is to monitor the transfer of the grain.
“Where is papyrus and pen that you can write down the list?”
“I will return momentarily.” Menna hastily exited through one of the several doors and returned to a nearby table. He sat down and began writing.
When Menna had ceased, Joseph said, “And write the number that is the amount of grain that you owe.”
Menna wrote a number. Joseph observed from across the table. “Be sure it includes the one-fifth penalty.”
Unsure of whether Joseph knew the exact amount, Menna decided to play it safe. He marked through the number and wrote a larger number.
Joseph accepted the sheet. “Thank you, Menna. You have made right the wrongs that you are able to correct. The king is assured of your loyalty, and you are to feel his love for you equally.
“I am sure that you have no desire for these men to escape paying what they owe, also. Allow me to address them without forewarning.”
“You are correct, Joseph, I have no desire to save them from what they owe. And I have no interest in them knowing the source of this list. We can agree to hold all of this between ourselves.”
“Wise counsel, Menna. So it will be done. I will take my leave. General Djar will visit with you shortly and you can begin the transfer.”
Joseph went out into the fresh air where he could breathe freely again. General Djar had agreed to the next step when the council had met on the previous evening, so Joseph headed his chariot toward the general and his men at the king’s granary near Memphis.
The general carried out his part of the plan devised the night before.
Joseph went to the Memphis docks where the king’s largest ship and its contingent of rowers had been standing by awaiting his arrival. The ship sped up river to Merkha in Abdju as quickly as was possible, using both sail and rowers.
General Djar had dispatched the young commander at the Memphis granary to the larger garrison stationed at Abdju, and the man traveled with Joseph. The general had told the officer to do whatever Joseph asked and advised that there might be a need for armed force against Merkha.
Immediately upon arrival at Abdju, Joseph proceeded to Merkha’s estate and the officer went to the garrison to prepare for action, if necessary. Beating the news of Joseph’s visit to Meena was paramount, and surprising the governor before he heard of Joseph’s arrival would be a bonus.
Joseph was admitted into Merkha’s office. Here he held a conversation with Merkha similar to the one with Menna (although without the benefit of the mural). This governor was far more resistant than Menna, and both sides had less bargaining room than had existed between Menna and Joseph.
At the appropriate moment when negotiations had stalled, Joseph considered using the threat of force, a last resort.
Joseph searched for a final way he might negotiate an agreeable settlement. The unclaimed estate that had been promised to Irsu came to mind.
“And another issue is the estate that you promised to Irsu in exchange for your crime.”
Merkha showed surprise for the first time. The subject had not come up and he thought it might be unknown to Joseph.
“You know that such land does not belong to the governor. Intestate land goes to the relatives and, if none exist, reverts to the king. All land flows from the king and all land returns to the king in the absence of a will and appropriate disposition. That land I claim as forfeit to the king.”
In the strong voice of authority that he had used throughout the negotiations, Merkha asserted, “The king has no right to land that has belonged to the people of Abdju since before time began.”
Joseph interrupted, “What? Has the king’s power been diminished by some higher authority, or do you choose rules only for their convenience to you. You know that Egyptian law has no place for your argument. The estate is his. It is not up for debate here.”
“Wait! That land belongs to the sepat first and to Egypt second. You cannot take land from one place and put it into another.”
“You have a very weak argument, Merkha. Egypt is the king’s, and the land of Egypt is the king’s. The land you own is by right of your purchase. You have no right to this other estate.”
Joseph had thrown Merkha bait on a hook, and the landowner took it.
Merkha accepted the legal basis for Joseph’s argument without comment, and quickly moved to negotiation. Joseph ended up trading the estate to Merkha on the same terms as he had traded with Menna in exchange for the conspirator list – payment of the amount due plus 20%.
The agreement was a victory for each side. Merkha gained an estate to which his legal right was tenuous, and the king received his payment plus a fine that was an admission of wrong doing. Their losses were things they had never really had – the grain due to the king from Merkha and the estate that had never belonged to the king.
This was what Teyma would have called a win-win. This was not a compromise, which Teyma said was a lose-lose proposition. When both sides agreed to give up something, the focus was on the wrong side of the equation.
Each side could slice this story as it saw fit and see a victory against a formidable opponent. The slices if put back together again, would create a loaf larger than the original - a true miracle!
On that day, Merkha developed a deep respect for Joseph, and Merkha and Joseph (and the king, by proxy) became friends.
Joseph began the river trip back to Memphis with the officer who had accompanied him. They got to know a bit about each other.
The officer, Setka, was the youngest son of a merchant in Thebes. He would not inherit his father’s business, and had no interest in the priesthood or scribal work. The growing stature of the king’s army and its reputation from battles under the previous king provided a good alternative.
The man had received good military training and could speak of how to fight a battle or to motivate the men under his command, but Joseph heard theory rather than practice.
As Joseph explained to Setka how violence had been avoided with Merkha, he could sense the disappointment in the young officer. Joseph went on to explain how conflict would have led to destruction – loss of lives, reduced agricultural production, and a loss of trust that would have damaged relationships for years. The negotiation had avoided this and actually had increased good will.
Setka asked a number of questions, gradually gaining a new perspective on the role of the military as a last resort rather than the initial tool of diplomacy. He actually was able to state that he was glad that action had been unnecessary by the end of the discussion.
Coming to an understanding of Joseph’s role in maintaining peace made him want to know more. He pressed to hear more from Joseph’s past, asking questions and inserting his own observations. Even the time in the Fayum as a farm laborer, an occupation very foreign to the young man, encouraged questions and discussion.
Setka seemed a bright young man, limited only by youth and lack of experience. Joseph thought of himself searching for his brothers on his last day of freedom. The young officer was not that different from the young shepherd in his coat of many colors – full of himself and oblivious to all that he did not know, but open to change as he saw a vision of the larger world.
When Joseph and Setka parted ways at the boat dock in Memphis, Setka asked that Joseph remember him, a phrase Joseph had not mentioned to Setka in his stories but one that resonated deeply with Joseph. Perhaps somewhere along life’s journey Joseph would be able to help Setka to mature, to grow beyond what his limited imagination now envisioned.
Joseph proceeded to The Residence at Itj-tawy. The king already would have handled Menna’s list of conspirators through his messenger system and local officials. They would be reluctant to escalate matters and would call upon General Djar’s men only if absolutely necessary. Fortunately, none of the others on the list had the power and stature of Menna and Merkha.
The journey northward on the king’s ship had required slightly less time than the trip south, but it had still been a few days of sailing.
Less than two weeks had passed since the death of Potiphar, and now the death of Irsu had created a second empty seat in the king’s council. The exposure of the conspiracy to defraud the king had added greatly to the loss of two old friends.
Indeed, his circle of “old friends” had diminished significantly over the years: Senen’s death, Ruia gone to another region, Meri gone to another position, and now Potiphar and Irsu lost to death. The enforced inaction of travel upon a ship was a welcome constraint for Joseph, a time to mourn, and the interaction with Setka provided the balance of helping him to look forward to the future.
Seeking Balance
As he had so often before, Joseph found himself facing the road from Memphis to Itj-tawy. For this brief journey, he requested no escort, preferring to make the brief trip alone.
But as was most often the case, there were others preparing for the same journey: almost always there would be a messenger or several; perhaps some supplicants for favors from the ruler of all Egypt or his officials; or the many men and women who provided goods and services required at Itj-tawy from the larger city. Joseph wondered that they all these travelers had not worn the road into a deep path like the channel of a river.
Once recognized, not difficult as he arrived from the Memphis palace on his chariot, individuals in the crowd began to address him, looking for favors or dream interpretations or news from the king’s vizier. He was encircled and extricated himself, urging the horses to make haste toward The Residence. He resolved not to slow them until the well at the halfway point.
But slow them he did when he was out of sight of the organizing caravan. The wind held no pleasure, the speed no thrill. What was his rush? Indeed, where was he headed? What was his direction beyond preparation for the famine?
The incipient confederacy was unraveling before any purpose beyond reduced taxes had been envisioned, so the king’s power had not been directly challenged. The embers of revolution against the king always lay beneath a cool white ash, ready to be rekindled by the winds of change fanning the subtle coals of discontent. Any shift in policy, such as the one-fifth tax in preparation for the famine, provided the spark that could lead to a revitalized fire. This particular spark had been snuffed.
But stability of the king’s reign was not the primary issue. He went back in his mind to his youth.
The politics of Canaan had been less formal with its small towns scattered amidst extended families running farms or herds across a wide landscape. Informal borders generally served well enough to keep them separate, but a growing number of people eventually would cause these imaginary borders to become areas of contention. Walls, figurative as well as literal, would be built, and freedoms necessarily would be hedged as a result.
Then would come the need for the larger governing powers of kings. There would be increasing limitations on freedom in exchange for security of one’s possessions and way of life.
When he had first arrived in Egypt, the marvels that he had seen and the additional benefits from this advanced civilization had appeared as both wondrous and desirable.
The civilization of Egypt had much to offer. An urban life supported by farms and livestock provided the opportunity for products unlikely to come from small towns and clans – metals formed into tools, housewares, and ornaments; markets providing a full diversity of needs for living; and an organized response to threats from an enemy, whether human or environmental, like the coming famine.
Having lived amidst this progressive civilization for well over a decade, he could not say that he would prefer the life of a shepherd, but he could see the cost of progress, the negative aspects of this move toward more civilization.
He had come to know of the working poor in this more advanced economy, and he could see the greater accumulation of wealth was balanced by an increased number living in poverty. The palaces of the king had no equivalent in Canaan, but the huts called home by the working poor seemed far more numerous and less desirable than their equivalents back home.
“Home”- where exactly was that place now?
God had provided him, Joseph, son of Israel, “little dreamer,” and Zaphnath-Paaneah, with a purpose: to save people from hunger in the coming famine. As Joseph considered this, he wondered if this limited outcome was indeed the ultimate goal, God’s primary purpose.
To save the poor of Egypt from famine would prolong lives that he and his family in Canaan would consider unbearable. To extend difficult lives without improving those lives appeared as a very minimal kindness. While it was true that no Egyptian rushed to death, the great majority welcomed the hope of a better life in the next world. Surely prolonging their wearisome earthly lives was not a goal worthy of God’s purpose.
Irsu’s charge that the king’s policy transferred wealth to the cities had some truth, but ultimately the king was the greatest beneficiary. Surely neither of these had not been God’s purpose, either.
Irsu’s charge that foreigners would benefit from Egypt’s foresight also had some truth, but Egyptians would benefit, as well. There was a larger purpose, a benefit to more than a single nation. But famines would occur again. They are part of time and chance that happen to us all. Was this even enough to be God’s purpose?
By now, Joseph had arrived at the well. He watered and rested the horses, taking water for himself with them into the shade of the palms. A few other people milled around, taking their break from the journey and the heat. He felt eyes watching and could almost hear the talk of Zaphnath-Paaneah, the man in the king’s chariot. He closed his eyes and within a few moments all disappeared for a while.
The thought came to him, or perhaps a dream, that he had not had any concept of his mission when he arrived in Egypt with Teyma.
He saw a lost boy who now had been given a guide.
He saw the boy in the fields of The Fayum, and the man who enlarged the irrigation projects.
Then he saw a full grown man whose future was three years in a prison. Any purpose beyond those three years seemed thwarted by this imprisonment.
Always he had done the work at hand.
He opened his eyes to blue sky above. Joseph smiled.
He was looking for one big event to change all of the future of mankind. His eyes now were wide open, and such a thought was a dream. He would focus on the work at hand: preparation for this famine. This task was more than enough.
And a greater blessing on a personal level was another focus, one he could not neglect: he had been given a wife and sons that made an apartment a home. Yes! This was home, as unlikely as it may have once appeared.
Joseph arose refreshed, greeting people when they walked by as he hitched his horses back to the chariot. Within moments, he was on his way home.
Continue reading
Creating a Narrative
Having left Irsu’s body at the temple for the embalming process to begin, Joseph arrived at The Residence very late in the afternoon.
Upon inquiry, he learned that the king had had a full day of audiences with those seeking his judgment or assistance. Two days in ten were set aside for these interviews, and the king always was wearied with this task that his position required. The king was with his last appointment at this time.
Joseph had not long to wait. He had a plan, but the king must concur or offer a better one.
Joseph was called into the chamber where Senusret still sat on his throne, a position of power, but one that often seemed under siege by those who wanted a piece of that power.
“What news, Joseph? Please tell me that your concerns were unfounded and the situation resolved.”
Joseph saw the weariness in the king’s face. He made his bow and said, “You have had a long day and are weary. My desire is to be obedient to your request, but truth does not allow me that luxury.”
Senusret’s gaze on Joseph remained fixed during a moment of silence. Then the king rose and advanced toward his vizier, stopping in front of him.
“I have sat in that chair most of the day. I need to exercise another part of my body.” The attempt at humor softened the moment although both smiles were forced. “Walk with me.”
Joseph walked beside the king through the corridors on a course that eventually led into the gardens. The day was still hot, but the shade felt good and there was the hint of the evening’s coolness riding upon the gentle breeze.
No one was anyone near when the king stopped. “If there is bad news, we should at least discuss it in a pleasant setting.”
“Agreed, my king. I will be brief, then you can get into whatever level of detail that you desire.
“Irsu and I went to the scribal office in Memphis, and there was evidence of error or fraud. When I confronted Irsu, he eventually confessed to changing the amounts on some landowners’ tax payments. His motive was to redress what he called the undermining of the people’s work ethic, and the transfer of wealth from the landowners to the cities. He had mentioned these issues before as you recall.
“He assured me that his motive was the restoration of ma’at, and he would have done it without the gift of an estate from Merkha. He sought a return to the land for his sons.
“The fraud revealed, he asked what would happen to his family since they had no knowledge of his plans. I said that perhaps we could find them a farm where they could be close to the land as he desired.
“Irsu thanked me, and then…” Joseph paused, the emotion and the horror of the moment returning in his mind’s eye. He cleared his throat and began again, “And he took his knife and slit his throat, dying immediately as he fell to the floor in front of me. Others rushed forward, and I attributed the suicide to the severe stress upon Irsu in his job and the appearance of an error in the accounts. This was accepted.
“I then took the body to the Temple of Ptah for burial preparations, and immediately returned here.”
The king’s reaction to Irsu’s actions changed from anger to shock. He took a moment to order his thoughts, walking deeper into the garden and returning a few moments later.
“Yes, I am interested in the details, but that will come later. You undoubtedly have a plan for our response.”
“My plan is an outline, and it requires your approval and support. Undoubtedly, you will have additions that will make it run more smoothly, or perhaps a totally different approach.”
Senusret simply nodded an acknowledgment. So Joseph proceeded.
“Making public the fraud will immediately and publicly pit us against the landowners involved, only two of whom we know – Menna and Merkha. We will be expected to take immediate and strong punitive action. And Irsu will be exposed as having been corrupt and his family will suffer greatly.
“Irsu’s crime was not greed, but strong attachment to ideas that your administration does not embrace: fear of foreigners instead of seeing the benefits of trade; a focus on the limitations of Egypt’s productivity rather than its possibilities; and finally, a preference for distributed power rather than a strong central power.
“We can debate the issues endlessly, but most of us will readily agree that Irsu’s thoughts were on the extreme end in one direction. Rather than place the emphasis on his misguided intention, let us place the blame on an error in records.”
Senusret interrupted, “But the landowners who participated will know of the truth, that we are covering their crime.”
“Yes,” agreed Joseph, “and that is my point. We – I or you or both – will confront each of them privately and advise that we know of their act of fraud in their tax payment. We then give them the choice of aggressive punitive action, or they can pay the amount due to the Treasury.”
The king nodded. “I would prefer that this not escalate. In addition to the coming famine, an internal war may result in the self-destruction of Egypt.”
During the silence, Joseph gave encouragement for the king to continue. “You are correct, sir.”
The king remained silent, his mind undoubtedly turbulent.
Joseph prodded. “All of this happened today, so we have a few hours to frame the message for the general public.
“In the meantime, I feel a responsibility to Irsu’s wife and children to reveal what has happened to their husband and father. That story must be consistent with the larger story, and I believe that it must be early tonight. By tomorrow morning, messengers will have distributed the story of Irsu’s death farther than just here to The Residence.”
The king nodded. “Give me an hour to consider this news and an appropriate response. I am sure that you need a break, also. Return to the informal meeting room. You and I will talk, and then I will have the other members of the council summoned while you speak to Irsu’s family.
“Yes, sir.” Joseph took his leave.
Surprisingly, sharing the events of the day with the king had eased the burden weighing upon Joseph. Undoubtedly, the king would be formulating a plan, and the two of them, perhaps even what remained of the council, would determine the next steps.
Meanwhile, Joseph would return to his apartment. He could use some food. Some time with Asenath and Manasseh would have a soothing effect, also.
Is a Lie Only a Lie?
Asenath had heard that Joseph had returned and she was in their apartment. Manasseh was finishing a late afternoon nap.
“Did you visit with Senusret?” she asked as he entered their living space. More often than not, Joseph visited the king before returning to her, so there was no accusation in her question. As a matter of fact, their time together was better for Joseph attending to such matters first and then being able to relax, to be at home both in mind and body.
She was seated in her usual place, everything neatly in its place. The late afternoon sun was muted by the high windows, so the light was sufficient but soft. She and her surroundings both conveyed a sense of harmony extending outward into the universe.
Undoubtedly she could see that something was amiss. She rose to greet him. “You had not been sure if you would return today. I am glad to see you,” she said as she gave a light kiss on the cheek.
“The events of the day definitely were not on anyone’s schedule.” He took her arm and gently guided her back to her seat and sat in his own usual spot.
“We have had a great loss. Irsu took his own life this morning.”
Shocked, she raised her hands to her cheeks, “What happened? Does Imi know yet?”
“The story is long and has not been made public yet. I have not been to Imi. The full story of what happened places Irsu in a bad light. Naturally, like you, I would prefer that did not happen, but the king has to know all of what happened. He asked me to return in an hour to discuss matters. Then I will go to Irsu’s wife.”
“Would you like for me to go with you when you visit Imi?”
The question did not require any thought. “Yes, that would be good. But what about Manasseh?”
“I will take him to Tem. I saw her this morning, and she reminded me that she is always available if I need assistance, at least until her own child is born in a few months.”
“That will be good. Is he sleeping?”
“Yes, but I should wake him so that he will sleep tonight.” Asenath rose and went into their bedroom, returning in a few minutes with the toddler, clearly still in the transition from sleeping to waking. Joseph reached out to him and the little boy ran to his father.
Joseph was glad for the distraction, forgetting even that he was hungry. The time passed quickly, but the fading light reminded him of the time to return to the king.
He suggested that Asenath and the boy go ahead to Tem’s. He would meet them there soon.
Joseph went into the meeting room where the council generally met. As expected, Senusret was there waiting. He may even have been there the whole time, considering what response these events required.
Senusret motioned for Joseph to sit across from him. Joseph did so, remaining silent.
“ Irsu had strong feelings about the issues he mentioned four years ago and repeated to you. I cannot say that I was ignorant of them. I should have made sure that he was committed to our course, but I assumed he would fall into line. That was a costly mistake that I will not make again.
“Your suggestion of an error discovered is better than the revelation of a betrayal discovered. In reality, Irsu accepted responsibility for the theft he conspired to hide. It is fitting that he accept the responsibility for the error on his watch, and that he felt sufficient remorse to end his own life.
“I will send an official report by messengers so that everyone is informed accurately before rumors get started.
“Convey to Irsu’s wife that we will do as you suggested to Irsu before he died, if that is her desire. His boy is almost grown, isn’t he? Can he handle the situation?”
Senusret continued before Joseph could respond, “Well, let them do what they think best. Imi can advise me when she is ready to make a decision.
“And you must go to Menna, sooner rather than later, and discover the others in this plot. We must break their confederacy before it fully materializes. You’ll have a much better chance to get Menna to talk. Merkha has been waiting for such an opportunity and he must be made aware that there will be no hesitation on my part if he wants to escalate matters.”
The king had leaned forward to impress Joseph with his resolve on this issue. Joseph was glad to see that the king fully comprehended the dangers of Irsu’s actions. Irsu probably had not realized the instability that he had created.
“I understand. I will go to Imi now. And we will meet again at sunset with the others?”
“Yes, Khusebek is missing. Yes, Khusebek, and Potiphar, and Irsu….” The king’s voice trailed off with a sigh at the end of his statement.
Joseph took his leave and proceeded to Tem’s dwelling. She and her husband, the head gardener for the outside of The Residence, coincidentally were in the space originally occupied by Irsu when Joseph arrived over ten years ago.
Asenath was waiting outside, and she saw Joseph emerge from The Residence. She came toward him and they went back inside The Residence and headed toward the apartment of Irsu, Imi, their two sons and daughter.
Irsu’s apartment was the same size as that of Joseph, so three children plus the adults gave the space a feeling of fullness almost to overflowing. Imi kept it tidy, but multiple children ensured that perfectly neat never occurred.
She was surprised to see Joseph and Asenath. Just Joseph, and she would know he was looking for Irsu. Arriving with Asenath gave the impression of a social visit.
After a brief greeting, Joseph asked if they could speak with her. She invited them inside, adding that the children were outside with the others enjoying the fresh evening air.
Joseph thought that was just as well.
“Imi, it is about Irsu,” Joseph began.
Fear immediately grabbed Imi. “What has happened?” Her gaze darted back and forth between Joseph for information and Asenath for support.
As Asenath grasped Imi’s hands, Joseph said, “Irsu died this morning in Memphis.”
Incredulity was written on her face as she cried, “No! How can it be?” Her eyes were moist as she kept her focus on Joseph, searching vainly for some sign of misunderstanding.
Imi accepted Asenath’s arms around her but did not respond as she struggled to comprehend. As the silence allowed the message to sink in, Imi began sobbing and put her arms around Asenath’s neck.
“We are so sorry for your loss, Imi.” Asenath spoke softly, almost a whisper into Imi’s ear.
Imi’s sobs lessened as she struggled to speak. Finally, she was able to ask in a breaking voice, “What happened?”
Joseph had dreaded the question. There was no way to prepare for it, but neither was there any way to avoid it.
“There was a large error in the granary accounts. Irsu could not bear that this had happened under his supervision. He reacted hastily and without thought.”
Joseph paused, and Imi stopped sobbing, holding her breath for the next words.
“He did not want any of what happened to reflect on anyone else. He took responsibility and asked that you and the children be cared for. Before I knew what he planned, he took out a knife.…”
Disbelief and incomprehension again manifest on Imi’s face.
“But why?” she sobbed before again breaking down, bent almost to the ground and crying as Asenath tried to hold her.
Asenath repeated, “His last thoughts were for your well-being, Imi, you and the children.”
“But why? What could have been so bad that he had no hope? A stupid error in the accounts? No, I don’t believe it! Tell me the truth! What happened?”
Joseph hurt for the woman, wounded deeply by this lie but surely to suffer worse if the truth were told. The truth was the same, but included her husband’s guilt and the disgrace that she and her children would suffer, a fate far worse than this awful tragedy laid before her would bring.
“Irsu was my friend, but I know that I cannot begin to understand your loss, Imi. He was a perfectionist, a man who wanted the world to be just so, and for his actions to be in accordance with the principles of ma’at….”
Asenath interrupted, pulling the desolate wife around to face her, but still holding the sobbing woman against her body.
“We cannot understand, Imi. Let us not try right now. Let us just cry for the husband, the father, and the friend that we have lost.”
As she turned slightly toward Joseph and looked into his eyes, Asenath gave a slight negative shake of her head.
Joseph was grateful. To answer one question of “why?” would lead only to another “why?” He had been present and he still had questions. If Irsu was brought from the grave, even he could not answer every question to the satisfaction of one who suddenly felt deserted and alone.
Imi continued to sob, her body wracked violently as she struggled for breath against the rip tides of her emotions.
After a few moments, the sobs began to subside until she finally stood straight, pushing herself away from Asenath.
“Where is he?” she asked with only a slight catch in her voice as she took a handful of her robe and brought it up to dry the tears.
“He is at the Temple of Ptah in Memphis.” Joseph said no more. Asenath was right. Words could not help at this point unless in direct response to a request, or to express the shared deep feeling of loss that soon would spread through The Residence and the many huts and houses surrounding it.
Eventually, she did ask the question for which Joseph had prepared. “What will happen to me and the children? We cannot stay here in The Residence.”
“You can stay as long as you need, Imi. The king has appreciated Irsu’s long service, and he feels a responsibility to you and your children.
“Stay in this place and do not give a thought to the future until you are prepared to see your options. Irsu had mentioned a desire to live closer to the land, and if you and your children prefer to do so, the king will arrange it.
“You have a son who is on the brink of manhood. Let him help guide you into the future.”
Imi nodded. “Thank you for coming and being with me. I will prepare myself for when the children return from being with their friends. This will be hard, but we must go through it together.”
She looked up for the first time, gazing toward the high windows, and saw the shadows the deep blue/black of the evening sky just past sunset.
“They will be home any moment. Go now. I would prefer to tell them myself.”
She had somewhat recovered, preparing to put on a show of strength for her children. She put a hand behind Asenath and Joseph as she gently guided them to the door.
“Would you please return in the morning? Or may I come to you?”
“Whichever works best for you, Imi,” said Asenath. “If I have not seen you by mid-morning, I will come to you.”
As they began to walk away, Asenath turned and added, “If you need help with the children in any way….”
Imi nodded, “Thank you,” and went back inside.
Joseph parted with Asenath, she to their home and he to the meeting with the king and the council.
Senusret already had informed the others of Irsu’s death when Joseph arrived. He said that he had given them the details as seen by Joseph, and also the version of the story that was ready now to go by messenger to all parts of Egypt. All that was needed was the council’s unanimous approval.
Several attempts were made to gain more details. At the king’s urging to give the briefest responses, Joseph answered to the best of his ability. The depth of the conspiracy would have to come from Menna, and he would travel there tomorrow. No other question was both urgent and necessary.
And so it was that Joseph left The Residence early the following morning so that he might press Menna for more information. Menna would hear the news before Joseph’s arrival, but the news that would circulate would have no reference to Menna or to the conspiracy. Joseph needed to surprise the landowner with this fact, and then convince him of how much the king knew, and how hard Senusret would come down upon any landowner who did not cooperate.
Racing his chariot toward Memphis, Joseph thought about the lie he had helped to create and now promoted.
He recalled his lie to Potiphar concerning Zelicha, a lie committed through his silence. That lie had cost him three years in prison, but it had saved a marriage and a friendship. That lie had also led him, eventually, to his current position, a place where he hoped to have a larger positive impact as implied in his early dreams from God.
“Oh, God, that this lie would have no worse result, and that I might rely only upon truth in the future!” Joseph actually spoke these words aloud.
Bargaining for Peace
It was not even mid-morning when Joseph arrived at the splendid old palace that Menna called home, an hour too early for calling upon men such as Menna. And this was part of Joseph’s strategy, to catch the man off-guard and then let him feel a net enclosing about him.
The servant showed Joseph into the familiar room in which Menna held meetings, pictures of gods amid Egypt’s history painted directly on the walls. Joseph surveyed these while he waited, searching for one he recalled that seemed relevant to current events.
Menna eventually arrived, properly attired and groomed. He seemed only a little put off by Joseph’s early arrival.
“I heard the news about Irsu. What a loss for King Senusret! And I am sure that you feel his loss as a friend and colleague. My sympathy to you all.”
“Yes, indeed, Irsu was a friend. He was a good man who always sought to do the right thing, to maintain ma’at in life that he might also share ma’at after death.”
Joseph forged ahead. “And what of you, Menna? Did you have any dealings with Irsu?”
“Me? Oh, I met the man and talked some with him. But generally it has been whatever scribe was in charge of this particular sepat with whom I dealt.”
“Interesting,” said Joseph. He rose and walked toward one of the murals. “I thought that you and he had come to an agreement recently regarding the one-fifth tax that you paid this past year.”
Joseph continued looking at the murals, as if admiring the art.
Menna responded calmly, “Other than transferring the required amount of grain to your granary here in Memphis, there was no ‘agreement.’ I simply did what was required.”
“Did you really, Menna?” Joseph turned from below a mural of Anubis leading a recently deceased man before the tribunal of gods to determine the dead man’s fate in the afterlife.
“Would you care to amend that statement, or will such a lie be added to the other crimes that you will not be able to deny in the judgment.” Joseph’s arm waved toward Osiris and the tribunal judging the dead man.
“How will your heart weigh against the feather of truth?” The feather lay on one arm of the balance scale in the mural, the other arm of the scale empty, waiting for the man’s heart to be set upon it. A heart heavy with guilt would outweigh the feather, a visual condemnation of the man’s life and his violation of ma’at.
“Will you be able to conceal such guilt before the tribunal, or will your heart confess and weigh heavily upon the scale, condemning you to be devoured by the ferocious goddess Ammut?”
Menna hesitated, clearly uncertain as to what Joseph knew. If Irsu was dead, there was no witness against him, unless the scribe had confessed, of course.
Joseph plunged ahead. “We know about Irsu’s fictitious numbers in the accounts, Menna. We know how much he wrote down that you sent to the granary, but we also know how much less actually was received.”
Joseph had begun walking back toward Menna. The man indeed had been caught off guard. He tried to get the conversation on another track, tried to see how much Joseph knew without revealing anything.
“The word has gone out that there were errors in the accounts, that Irsu felt responsible and took his own life. What has that to do with me?” He had gained courage and sounded like an innocent bystander at the scene, astounded that Joseph would think he bore any blame.
“Come, now, Menna! Irsu confessed before he died. The story has been laid bare. Do not add to your crime with a lie. If you do, the king will have no choice but to take drastic measures.”
Joseph moved back toward the mural. “Since learning of the Egyptian religion, I have marveled that the rich seek to buy a spell that would compel the heart not to betray its secrets. The rich always think their money can rescue them from the future, from the judgment that is inevitable. How could heaven tolerate a deceptive soul, and how could the soul that is bent on evil enjoy this place of peace without destroying it?”
Pointing to the panel of judges, 42 gods and goddesses, he said, “Of course, your gods are merely mortals who do not die. They have some super powers, but no more morals than the men who created them.”
Joseph had turned to face Menna and now walked a few steps toward him.
“What of the God in heaven, Menna, the one who created all that is. Is He not more than these depictions upon your wall? Is he not wiser and able to see and to know all things? Do you think He does not know or that the truth be hidden from Him?”
Menna stated firmly, “If you had proof of any misdeeds, you would bring a charge rather than come and talk me to death!”
“Oh, there is proof, Menna. Beyond Irsu’s dying declaration there are the numbers in the accounts. And your own reserves show the great increase in your holdings from the past year, far more than you could withhold beyond your one-fifth tax. Did you think I could not see what was old and what was new?
“I came here to show the justification for what will occur. General Djar has troops stationed in Memphis as guards to the growing grain reserve here. His poor men are bored to distraction since there have been no wars under Senusret II’s wise reign. He is waiting for me to give the order for his men to seize your entire reserve as compensation for your conspiracy to pervert justice, your willingness to take from the mouths of the widow and the fatherless the bread for their survival.”
Menna scoffed. “The people will see the king is unjust in such an extreme action, and the landowners will rally against him!”
“Which landowners, Menna? The ones in your conspiracy, perhaps. But not those who have performed their duty. And our next visit will be with Merkha, before he has word of what is happening here. Irsu named him, as well, but only the two of you. We can at least neutralize your actions. The names of Menna and Merkha will stand in infamy, and you will carry this deed to your grave and to your judgment.”
Joseph looked around the large room and spread his arms, indicating the entire former palace. “And you will lose all this when the famine comes, so this life will no longer be the comfort and ease you have enjoyed.”
Menna’s confidence had been shaken. He had not expected discovery of his treachery, and certainly had not expected the overwhelming power of troops emptying his granaries.
“Let us be reasonable, Joseph. Your proof is weak. Have I underpaid your exorbitant tax somewhat? I will check the records and submit the amount I owe.”
“What? Caught in your crime you will simply pay what should have been given to the king originally. You and the others are guilty of treason! And what of Irsu’s death? You are as guilty as if you held the dagger. What do you have to offer to atone for these evil deeds?”
Menna felt that he had been stripped almost defenseless. He had only one bargaining chip left.
“There has been no act of treason, no attempt to overthrow the king. And I have true regret for what has happened to Irsu, but that was his action, not mine. Let me prove my loyalty to the king, but in return, I ask for a less onerous fine. You will destroy me if you pursue this course.”
“And what can you offer as proof of your loyalty?” Knowing the answer, Joseph allowed Menna to suggest the offer.
“You do not know the names of the others who benefitted from this scheme. If I give you their names and you collect from them, you will fill your granaries to the levels expected and will not require such a stiff penalty from me.”
Joseph did not respond immediately, as if considering the offer. Menna indeed seemed most anxious. They should bargain a little, and this would allow Menna to save face to some degree.
“I agree. Tell me the names of the others, and we will take what is owed plus 50% of the 20% you should have paid.”
“Ah, 50% is too heavy a burden! Listen…I will complete the payment of 20%, and add 20% of the payment to show my contrition for what has occurred.”
“This is your offer to prove loyalty to the king?”
“It is. I swear my loyalty to the king if he accepts this offering.”
“The deal is done, Menna. I will let the general know that his only duty here is to monitor the transfer of the grain.
“Where is papyrus and pen that you can write down the list?”
“I will return momentarily.” Menna hastily exited through one of the several doors and returned to a nearby table. He sat down and began writing.
When Menna had ceased, Joseph said, “And write the number that is the amount of grain that you owe.”
Menna wrote a number. Joseph observed from across the table. “Be sure it includes the one-fifth penalty.”
Unsure of whether Joseph knew the exact amount, Menna decided to play it safe. He marked through the number and wrote a larger number.
Joseph accepted the sheet. “Thank you, Menna. You have made right the wrongs that you are able to correct. The king is assured of your loyalty, and you are to feel his love for you equally.
“I am sure that you have no desire for these men to escape paying what they owe, also. Allow me to address them without forewarning.”
“You are correct, Joseph, I have no desire to save them from what they owe. And I have no interest in them knowing the source of this list. We can agree to hold all of this between ourselves.”
“Wise counsel, Menna. So it will be done. I will take my leave. General Djar will visit with you shortly and you can begin the transfer.”
Joseph went out into the fresh air where he could breathe freely again. General Djar had agreed to the next step when the council had met on the previous evening, so Joseph headed his chariot toward the general and his men at the king’s granary near Memphis.
The general carried out his part of the plan devised the night before.
Joseph went to the Memphis docks where the king’s largest ship and its contingent of rowers had been standing by awaiting his arrival. The ship sped up river to Merkha in Abdju as quickly as was possible, using both sail and rowers.
General Djar had dispatched the young commander at the Memphis granary to the larger garrison stationed at Abdju, and the man traveled with Joseph. The general had told the officer to do whatever Joseph asked and advised that there might be a need for armed force against Merkha.
Immediately upon arrival at Abdju, Joseph proceeded to Merkha’s estate and the officer went to the garrison to prepare for action, if necessary. Beating the news of Joseph’s visit to Meena was paramount, and surprising the governor before he heard of Joseph’s arrival would be a bonus.
Joseph was admitted into Merkha’s office. Here he held a conversation with Merkha similar to the one with Menna (although without the benefit of the mural). This governor was far more resistant than Menna, and both sides had less bargaining room than had existed between Menna and Joseph.
At the appropriate moment when negotiations had stalled, Joseph considered using the threat of force, a last resort.
Joseph searched for a final way he might negotiate an agreeable settlement. The unclaimed estate that had been promised to Irsu came to mind.
“And another issue is the estate that you promised to Irsu in exchange for your crime.”
Merkha showed surprise for the first time. The subject had not come up and he thought it might be unknown to Joseph.
“You know that such land does not belong to the governor. Intestate land goes to the relatives and, if none exist, reverts to the king. All land flows from the king and all land returns to the king in the absence of a will and appropriate disposition. That land I claim as forfeit to the king.”
In the strong voice of authority that he had used throughout the negotiations, Merkha asserted, “The king has no right to land that has belonged to the people of Abdju since before time began.”
Joseph interrupted, “What? Has the king’s power been diminished by some higher authority, or do you choose rules only for their convenience to you. You know that Egyptian law has no place for your argument. The estate is his. It is not up for debate here.”
“Wait! That land belongs to the sepat first and to Egypt second. You cannot take land from one place and put it into another.”
“You have a very weak argument, Merkha. Egypt is the king’s, and the land of Egypt is the king’s. The land you own is by right of your purchase. You have no right to this other estate.”
Joseph had thrown Merkha bait on a hook, and the landowner took it.
Merkha accepted the legal basis for Joseph’s argument without comment, and quickly moved to negotiation. Joseph ended up trading the estate to Merkha on the same terms as he had traded with Menna in exchange for the conspirator list – payment of the amount due plus 20%.
The agreement was a victory for each side. Merkha gained an estate to which his legal right was tenuous, and the king received his payment plus a fine that was an admission of wrong doing. Their losses were things they had never really had – the grain due to the king from Merkha and the estate that had never belonged to the king.
This was what Teyma would have called a win-win. This was not a compromise, which Teyma said was a lose-lose proposition. When both sides agreed to give up something, the focus was on the wrong side of the equation.
Each side could slice this story as it saw fit and see a victory against a formidable opponent. The slices if put back together again, would create a loaf larger than the original - a true miracle!
On that day, Merkha developed a deep respect for Joseph, and Merkha and Joseph (and the king, by proxy) became friends.
Joseph began the river trip back to Memphis with the officer who had accompanied him. They got to know a bit about each other.
The officer, Setka, was the youngest son of a merchant in Thebes. He would not inherit his father’s business, and had no interest in the priesthood or scribal work. The growing stature of the king’s army and its reputation from battles under the previous king provided a good alternative.
The man had received good military training and could speak of how to fight a battle or to motivate the men under his command, but Joseph heard theory rather than practice.
As Joseph explained to Setka how violence had been avoided with Merkha, he could sense the disappointment in the young officer. Joseph went on to explain how conflict would have led to destruction – loss of lives, reduced agricultural production, and a loss of trust that would have damaged relationships for years. The negotiation had avoided this and actually had increased good will.
Setka asked a number of questions, gradually gaining a new perspective on the role of the military as a last resort rather than the initial tool of diplomacy. He actually was able to state that he was glad that action had been unnecessary by the end of the discussion.
Coming to an understanding of Joseph’s role in maintaining peace made him want to know more. He pressed to hear more from Joseph’s past, asking questions and inserting his own observations. Even the time in the Fayum as a farm laborer, an occupation very foreign to the young man, encouraged questions and discussion.
Setka seemed a bright young man, limited only by youth and lack of experience. Joseph thought of himself searching for his brothers on his last day of freedom. The young officer was not that different from the young shepherd in his coat of many colors – full of himself and oblivious to all that he did not know, but open to change as he saw a vision of the larger world.
When Joseph and Setka parted ways at the boat dock in Memphis, Setka asked that Joseph remember him, a phrase Joseph had not mentioned to Setka in his stories but one that resonated deeply with Joseph. Perhaps somewhere along life’s journey Joseph would be able to help Setka to mature, to grow beyond what his limited imagination now envisioned.
Joseph proceeded to The Residence at Itj-tawy. The king already would have handled Menna’s list of conspirators through his messenger system and local officials. They would be reluctant to escalate matters and would call upon General Djar’s men only if absolutely necessary. Fortunately, none of the others on the list had the power and stature of Menna and Merkha.
The journey northward on the king’s ship had required slightly less time than the trip south, but it had still been a few days of sailing.
Less than two weeks had passed since the death of Potiphar, and now the death of Irsu had created a second empty seat in the king’s council. The exposure of the conspiracy to defraud the king had added greatly to the loss of two old friends.
Indeed, his circle of “old friends” had diminished significantly over the years: Senen’s death, Ruia gone to another region, Meri gone to another position, and now Potiphar and Irsu lost to death. The enforced inaction of travel upon a ship was a welcome constraint for Joseph, a time to mourn, and the interaction with Setka provided the balance of helping him to look forward to the future.
Seeking Balance
As he had so often before, Joseph found himself facing the road from Memphis to Itj-tawy. For this brief journey, he requested no escort, preferring to make the brief trip alone.
But as was most often the case, there were others preparing for the same journey: almost always there would be a messenger or several; perhaps some supplicants for favors from the ruler of all Egypt or his officials; or the many men and women who provided goods and services required at Itj-tawy from the larger city. Joseph wondered that they all these travelers had not worn the road into a deep path like the channel of a river.
Once recognized, not difficult as he arrived from the Memphis palace on his chariot, individuals in the crowd began to address him, looking for favors or dream interpretations or news from the king’s vizier. He was encircled and extricated himself, urging the horses to make haste toward The Residence. He resolved not to slow them until the well at the halfway point.
But slow them he did when he was out of sight of the organizing caravan. The wind held no pleasure, the speed no thrill. What was his rush? Indeed, where was he headed? What was his direction beyond preparation for the famine?
The incipient confederacy was unraveling before any purpose beyond reduced taxes had been envisioned, so the king’s power had not been directly challenged. The embers of revolution against the king always lay beneath a cool white ash, ready to be rekindled by the winds of change fanning the subtle coals of discontent. Any shift in policy, such as the one-fifth tax in preparation for the famine, provided the spark that could lead to a revitalized fire. This particular spark had been snuffed.
But stability of the king’s reign was not the primary issue. He went back in his mind to his youth.
The politics of Canaan had been less formal with its small towns scattered amidst extended families running farms or herds across a wide landscape. Informal borders generally served well enough to keep them separate, but a growing number of people eventually would cause these imaginary borders to become areas of contention. Walls, figurative as well as literal, would be built, and freedoms necessarily would be hedged as a result.
Then would come the need for the larger governing powers of kings. There would be increasing limitations on freedom in exchange for security of one’s possessions and way of life.
When he had first arrived in Egypt, the marvels that he had seen and the additional benefits from this advanced civilization had appeared as both wondrous and desirable.
The civilization of Egypt had much to offer. An urban life supported by farms and livestock provided the opportunity for products unlikely to come from small towns and clans – metals formed into tools, housewares, and ornaments; markets providing a full diversity of needs for living; and an organized response to threats from an enemy, whether human or environmental, like the coming famine.
Having lived amidst this progressive civilization for well over a decade, he could not say that he would prefer the life of a shepherd, but he could see the cost of progress, the negative aspects of this move toward more civilization.
He had come to know of the working poor in this more advanced economy, and he could see the greater accumulation of wealth was balanced by an increased number living in poverty. The palaces of the king had no equivalent in Canaan, but the huts called home by the working poor seemed far more numerous and less desirable than their equivalents back home.
“Home”- where exactly was that place now?
God had provided him, Joseph, son of Israel, “little dreamer,” and Zaphnath-Paaneah, with a purpose: to save people from hunger in the coming famine. As Joseph considered this, he wondered if this limited outcome was indeed the ultimate goal, God’s primary purpose.
To save the poor of Egypt from famine would prolong lives that he and his family in Canaan would consider unbearable. To extend difficult lives without improving those lives appeared as a very minimal kindness. While it was true that no Egyptian rushed to death, the great majority welcomed the hope of a better life in the next world. Surely prolonging their wearisome earthly lives was not a goal worthy of God’s purpose.
Irsu’s charge that the king’s policy transferred wealth to the cities had some truth, but ultimately the king was the greatest beneficiary. Surely neither of these had not been God’s purpose, either.
Irsu’s charge that foreigners would benefit from Egypt’s foresight also had some truth, but Egyptians would benefit, as well. There was a larger purpose, a benefit to more than a single nation. But famines would occur again. They are part of time and chance that happen to us all. Was this even enough to be God’s purpose?
By now, Joseph had arrived at the well. He watered and rested the horses, taking water for himself with them into the shade of the palms. A few other people milled around, taking their break from the journey and the heat. He felt eyes watching and could almost hear the talk of Zaphnath-Paaneah, the man in the king’s chariot. He closed his eyes and within a few moments all disappeared for a while.
The thought came to him, or perhaps a dream, that he had not had any concept of his mission when he arrived in Egypt with Teyma.
He saw a lost boy who now had been given a guide.
He saw the boy in the fields of The Fayum, and the man who enlarged the irrigation projects.
Then he saw a full grown man whose future was three years in a prison. Any purpose beyond those three years seemed thwarted by this imprisonment.
Always he had done the work at hand.
He opened his eyes to blue sky above. Joseph smiled.
He was looking for one big event to change all of the future of mankind. His eyes now were wide open, and such a thought was a dream. He would focus on the work at hand: preparation for this famine. This task was more than enough.
And a greater blessing on a personal level was another focus, one he could not neglect: he had been given a wife and sons that made an apartment a home. Yes! This was home, as unlikely as it may have once appeared.
Joseph arose refreshed, greeting people when they walked by as he hitched his horses back to the chariot. Within moments, he was on his way home.
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