Dreamers by Angela Hunt

Author:Angela Hunt [Hunt, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Religious, General
ISBN: 9781426825880
Google: hQk23IpTrb4C
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2008-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

spoil it. He has heard rumors of a conspiracy to take his life,

and his paranoia has reached the point of foolishness.”

“A wedding?” Sagira murmured, making notes about the

marble flooring to be installed in her bedchamber. “Did the

king take another wife?”

“Not the king. Pharaoh’s son married Tuya today.”

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Dreamers

A sudden shock rippled through her system. “Our Tuya

married the crown prince?”

Potiphar sank into a chair. “Not the heir—the king’s sec-

ond son asked for her. And when a slave is beautiful and

the queen is jealous, a young prince may command even

his father.”

Sagira turned to gauge Paneah’s reaction to the news. He

did not lift his gaze from the scroll, but his face had paled

beneath its tan. His eyes, which had blazed with interest as

he told her of his plans for the villa, had filled with the

dullness of despair.

She looked away, torn by conflicting emotions. Yosef still

fancied himself in love with Tuya, but he would never have

her now. And while Tuya may have married into the royal

family, she would be nothing but a nursemaid to her husband

for years to come.

She forced a smile. “Our Tuya has married a baby.”

“Don’t be concerned,” Potiphar said, resting his head on

his hand. “Boys grow into men.”

The days without Tuya melted into weeks, the weeks into

months, the months into seasons. Two full years passed in

Potiphar’s house, and the estate that had been one of the most

prosperous in Thebes now eclipsed all but the king’s.

Potiphar’s nearest neighbors, afraid of appearing shabby next

to his affluence, sold their lands to Paneah at bargain prices

and moved away from the burgeoning estate. Potiphar’s cattle

outgrew the stockyard until Paneah built new pens; Potiphar’s

fields outproduced others’ three- and four-fold.

Potiphar was not shy about sharing the secret of his suc-

cess. “I leave everything to Paneah,” he often boasted. “I take

care of Pharaoh, and Paneah takes care of me.”

Extravagant offers poured in from every quarter of Egypt,

Angela Hunt

201

but Potiphar refused to sell his slave. When it became clear

that no amount of silver or gold could wrest Paneah from

Potiphar’s house, stewards from other noble estates came to

consult with him, usually bearing gifts of silver, linen or ex-

pensive oils and perfumes. They came expecting miracles;

they left with practical advice that did increase the produc-

tivity of their homes and fields. But no estate came close to

matching the success and bounty of Potiphar’s enterprises.

Sagira watched in silent approval as the praise of nobles

and stewards buoyed Paneah’s pride. Like soothing oil on his

wounded heart, their flattering words restored the sureness to

his step, the confidence to his eyes. He commanded the other

slaves with authority, treated visiting nobles with a dignified

deference and communicated more in a cocky tilt of his brow

than Potiphar did in a hundred gruff words.

At twenty-four, Yosef had become tall, lean and muscular

from his labors. Though Sagira felt herself largely responsible

for his success, she stood a little in awe of the man he had

become. Though she still planned to use him to father her son,

now and then she wondered if he was using her. Like everyone

else, she had fallen under his charming spell. In

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