Dreamers (40 page)

my husband.”

She paused, struggling to gain control over her unsteady

voice. Outside the room she could hear the murmur of

voices, sudden laughter and shushing sounds as the waiting

nobles remembered that a queen and the vizier held a con-

ference nearby.

After a long moment, she met his eyes. “Perhaps the danger

you dreamt of lies in Zaphenath-paneah. I am safe as long as

I guard my heart…from you.”

“And they say I am the one who is wise,” he murmured,

his eyes darkening with a shadow of the love she remembered.

Tuya felt her heart turn over the way it always had when

he looked at her like that, and the memory made her smile.

“Your god has surprised me yet again. I cannot fight against

the Almighty.”

“My god—” Yosef gave her a quick smile “—has our good

in mind. We must trust him.”

“Trust?” She could not keep a shade of bitterness from her

laugh. “I don’t know how. I know your god is powerful. I’ve

seen him preserve life.” She wanted to add,
but since he has

kept us apart, my heart wonders if he is truly good!
She bit

back those words and finished in a level voice: “You can trust

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in this, my Yosef—I have never loved another man the way I

loved you.”

Like the ripple of an underground spring, compassion

stirred in his eyes. “Do not be sad, Tuya. God will not leave

you alone. You must trust him to provide for your needs—”

“You keep using that word!” she hissed. “I want to trust,

Yosef, throughout my entire life I’ve searched for one person

who would remain with me no matter what. But there is no

constancy in this world! I thought I could rely on you, but you

wouldn’t believe my warning about Sagira! And now, through

a miracle, we face each other once again and my head tells

me one thing while my heart screams something else. I know

we cannot be together, but what am I to do with the unspent

love in my heart?”

He locked his hands behind his back as his dark eyes

moved away from hers. “Faith is the heart of the mind,” he

answered. “Despite the feelings of your heart and the reflec-

tions of your mind, trust God to work for your good.”

“I see. I should trust El Shaddai to take care of me, so you

will no longer be bothered by dreams.” She jerked her chin

upward. “So be it. Fret not for me or my son, Zaphenath-

paneah. I will not be unfaithful to Pharaoh in thought or deed.

I will not ask for the loyalty you wish to give your wife.”

She nodded and pivoted on the ball of her foot, then

stopped as a sudden thought whipped into her mind. “Priests

for the ancient gods offer spells to destroy our enemies. Has

the Almighty God a ritual to destroy this enemy love? Perhaps

he will have mercy on me and rid my heart of this trouble-

some feeling.”

“The Lord God does not engage in magic. But he often

works in ways we cannot understand. My father, for instance,

used to tell the story of my great-grandfather Avraham and his

much-beloved son, Yitzhak.” He spoke slowly, as if he dic-

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tated to scribes who were recording every word. “Yitzhak was

the son of Avraham’s old age, but El Shaddai commanded

Avraham to offer the boy as a sacrifice.”

Despite her own turmoil, Tuya felt a whisper of sympathy

run through her. “Your god would command such a thing?”

“You asked if he would destroy love,” Yosef said, sinking

into his chair. He looked at her with a level gaze. “Judge for

yourself. Avraham obeyed, placing his total trust in God. He

risked everything he held dear, certain that God would not kill

the one he loved. He was convinced God would raise the boy

from the dead if necessary.”

“Did the child die?”

Yosef tented his fingers. “Avraham climbed to the chosen

mountain, gathered stones for an altar and embraced his son

before binding the boy’s hands and feet. He placed Yitzhak

on the wood for a burnt offering and lifted his dagger to

strike his son.”

His voice softened as he gazed into private space. “But

the angel of the Lord stopped Avraham’s hand. A ram,

caught in the thicket, was offered as the sacrifice instead

of the boy.”

Tuya frowned, unable to understand the point of the story.

“If your god is all-mighty and all-knowing, why did he test

this Avraham?”

“Avraham was not put to the test.” Yosef looked up at her

with an invitation in the depths of his eyes. “God was. Avraham

tested the strength and goodness of El Shaddai. He learned

that no one can live in doubt when he has prayed in faith.”

Tuya considered the story. If any god asked her to sacri-

fice her son, she’d retreat, refuse, run away. Yosef was the only

person in the world who belonged to her. She wouldn’t sur-

render him even to the Almighty One.

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As anxious as a child who has stumbled on something she

doesn’t understand, Tuya bid Yosef a hasty farewell and swept

from the reception hall.

Two nights later, Pharaoh came to Tuya’s chambers. He

played for a few moments with Yosef, then motioned for the

child’s nurse to take the boy away. When they had gone, he

sank onto the couch in the front room of Tuya’s quarters and

patted the empty space next to him. “So, my wife,” he said,

waiting for her to sit, “we have not spent much time together

in the last few months. And it occurs to me that lately I have

not told you how beautiful you are.”

“Dear Pharaoh,” she murmured, ducking his embrace as

she bent to pick up one of Yosef’s paddle dolls. “There has

been no time. You spend more time with your new vizier than

with me or your son—”

“He is a marvel, isn’t he?”

“Our son? I have always thought so.”

“I meant the vizier. He is so wise! For months the priests

of Ptah in Memphis have badgered me about a territorial

conflict, but Zaphenath-paneah heard their complaint and

settled their dispute in an hour. The plan for storing the harvest

is well-begun, and the Nile-readers from Elephantine have

predicted the flood will be high this year. The land will be

green this spring, and the abundance will be great—”

“Hush.” Tuya sat, tucking one leg under her body, and

leaned toward her husband, playfully pressing her finger

over his lips. “I have already heard about the bountiful crop

we will have. The entire palace is buzzing with talk of

Zaphenath-paneah.”

“He is a wonder.”

“Would you choose anyone less than wonderful for your

vizier? Now, let’s talk about your temple or the work at

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Karnak, anything but Zaphenath-paneah.” She dropped her

hands and folded them in her lap, aware that Tuthmosis’s

eyes had narrowed. “Is something wrong, my husband?”

He squinted at her as color flooded his face. “Did you

know him when you lived in Potiphar’s house?”

Fear spurred her heart to beat unevenly. He had merely

asked a question, this was not an interrogation, and yet she

felt her face stiffen. What had he heard? Someone must have

told him of her visit to the vizier, of the whispered conver-

sation, of the dismay on her face when she fled Yosef’s pres-

ence. She must sort out her thoughts and impose order before

she could answer, but she had no time for anything but

simple honesty.

“Yes.” She met his direct gaze. “I knew him.”

“Did you love him?”

By all the gods, who had he talked to? Tuya closed her

eyes, searching for a way to tell the truth without wounding

the young man who was as vulnerable as he was powerful.

He had been a child during the time she loved Yosef, and even

though she carried the memory of that love in her heart, her

passion did not burn with the intensity it once had…

She turned to lace her arms about Tuthmosis’s neck. “Do

you love me, husband?”

He drew back as if the question offended him. “You know I

do.”

“Do you love Queen Mutemwiya?”

He gave her an impenitent grin. “You shouldn’t ask such

things.”

“I have known you forever, I can ask anything. So…do you

love Queen Mut?”

His mouth tipped in a grudging smile. “A little.”

Tuya traced his brow with her finger. “And the girls from

the harem, do you love them?”

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“Tuya, that is not a fair question. A king should not show

partiality.”

“Then I have my answer. You love all of us, my husband,

but in different ways.”

The king’s smile flattened. “What has this to do with my

vizier?”

She feathered her hands over his chest. “Yes, my husband,

I knew Zaphenath-paneah when he served in Potiphar’s house.

I loved him. And then I entered the palace and married you.

I love you in a different way, for you are my king, my hus-

band, and the father of my son, who is dearer than life to me.

And so, though I once loved Zaphenath-paneah, my love for

you gives breath and purpose to my life.”

She pressed her cheek to the flesh over his heart, hoping

her words would assuage his doubts. He remained silent for

a long moment, then she felt his lips brush her hair.

He rose from her bed early the next morning. “As soon as

Zaphenath-paneah’s trial is settled, we shall go down to

Memphis and visit the temples,” he said, stretching in the dim

light of the room. “Would you like to come?”

“A trial?” Tuya echoed, trying to throw off lingering wisps

of sleep. “What trial?”

Tuthmosis adjusted the striped linen headpiece he wore

while within the palace. “The high priest has suggested that

my vizier might be more respected if his name were cleared.

Today we shall summon those who had him imprisoned. I

shall render my judgment and the gods shall acquit the inno-

cent and condemn the guilty.”

“Those who had—” Tuya sat up, wide awake. “You will

call Sagira and Potiphar as witnesses?”

“I will call Potiphar as the judge, and his wife as the

accuser. Since the captain of my guard must report to my

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vizier, I am certain Potiphar will be relieved when Zaphenath-

paneah is acquitted.” He released a sympathetic chuckle.

“Surely the captain feels awkward accepting orders from a

man he sentenced to prison.”

Tuthmosis strolled out of the room as if this day were like

any other, but Tuya sprang out of bed and slipped into a

morning dress, then clapped to summon her maids. High

drama would visit Pharaoh’s court today, and Tuya wanted to

look her best. Like wasps shaken from their winter sleep,

every noble in Thebes would swarm around the royal court.

The summons came before the Boat-of-Millions-of-Years

had reached its zenith in the sky. Potiphar read the message

with a quick glance, then let the scroll fall onto the dusty floor

of his once-elegant villa.

So it had come to this. For two months he had dismissed

the knowledge that his men snickered behind his back, but

now the rumors would be publicly confirmed. Pharaoh’s

gallant Potiphar, who wore the Gold of Praise and com-

manded Tens of Thousands, had been duped by his wife.

His temper had condemned an innocent man to a lifetime

of imprisonment. Worst of all, since Pharaoh had declared

that a divine spirit rested in the vizier, Potiphar had impri-

soned a god.

“How was I to know?” Potiphar mumbled, looking around

at the hall that had once been one of the loveliest rooms in

Thebes. The furniture lay broken and soiled, the gardens and

fields outside were withered and scorched. Few servants

tended to the villa, for most had been sold to satisfy Sagira’s

gambling debts. The breath of blessing that arrived with

Paneah departed with him, too.

At first Potiphar blamed his troubles on Sagira’s drinking

and the excesses of her lovers, but soon the truth would be

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whispered in every Theban home. “My neglect drove my wife

to attempt the seduction of a god,” he whispered, gripping the

hilt of his sword until his knuckles whitened. “And now,

Sagira, we will both pay for our crimes.”

The message had summoned him to stand before Tuthmosis

IV as he had stood before Amenhotep and Tuthmosis III. But

instead of praise and honor, today he would hear condemna-

tion from his king: “You, captain of the guard, Appointed One

of Pharaoh, have grievously erred. You have stolen six years

of an innocent man’s life…”

The young king would not consider the injustice done to

Sagira. Whatever her faults, she had married Pharaoh’s

choice, expecting a full measure of a husband’s love and at-

tention. She hadn’t even received the full measure of a man.

Horses’ hooves drummed against the dry earth of the court-

yard and voices called him to the king’s court. Potiphar