Journey (Legacies of the Ancient River) by Angela Hunt

Author:Angela Hunt [Hunt, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2009-03-30T16:00:00+00:00

Tura lay a full day’s river journey north of Thebes, but was only an hour’s camel ride from the Hebrew camp at Goshen. After depositing their supplies in the deserted house, Menashe and Jokim bid Tarik farewell, then walked to the quarry to bargain with the overseer. The old man in charge of the stonecutters fell to his knees as soon as he recognized Menashe, and Menashe felt his face color as the man groveled in the dust. Though he was accustomed to displays of respect from common folk, in Jokim’s presence the man’s obsequiousness embarrassed him.

“Rise, friend.” Menashe extended a hand. “You should bow to the vizier, but I am only his son. If you are willing to be of service, however, my kinsman and I are in need of a camel—two, if you can spare them.”

“For you, son of Zaphenath-paneah, we can spare anything,” the man said, his grin toothless and stained in the midst of a ruddy face. He rose and squinted at Jokim, then his head bobbed like a cork on the Nile. “Two camels, yes, you may take my own. They should serve you quite well.”

“We’ll only need them a day or two.” Menashe rested his hands on his hips. “I do not want to inconvenience you.”

“Two days, two weeks, it is all the same to me.” The old man bobbed again. “Where am I going? Nowhere. Take them, with any of my slaves you might require. I have a daughter, too, if you’re interested—”

“No, thank you,” Menashe interrupted. “We need the camels only.”

Later, perched atop a gurgling, growling beast that moved with long strides across the silent sands, Menashe dropped the reins on his thoughts and let them wander freely. Solitude was a rare commodity in crowded Thebes, and especially precious to one who had come from the bustling vizier’s household. Here in the wilderness he found it almost possible to forget who and what he was. In Egypt men bowed and scraped before him because they knew him to be the vizier’s elder son. What a joke! Yisrael, the one whose opinion mattered most, had seen Menashe as inferior. And Yosef, who could have rebuilt the foundation of Menashe’s self-confidence with a blessing of his own, seemed content to continue about Pharaoh’s business. He spent the bulk of his time and energy on Amenhotep, apparently satisfied to ignore his sons and allow his brothers to remain in a land to which they could never belong.

A fierce, steady wind shrilled southward, blowing up clouds of sand that scraped Menashe’s arms and legs. He lowered his head, delighted to let his cousin lead the way back to Goshen. Jokim, like the other Hebrews, was accustomed to the desert. Menashe knew he had much to learn, including how to dress. Like most other Egyptian nobles, he wore only a kilt, a cloak and a wide collar, and he found himself wishing he had donned a long tunic and head covering like the one Jokim wore. The

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