Till Shiloh Comes by Gilbert Morris

rough. “Come now. You’re not that badly hurt.”
    Joseph scrambled to his feet and stood there trembling in the fresh morning breeze. His coat of many colors and tunic had been stripped from him, and he wore only a loincloth. He had shivered all through the night, and someone had thrown a thin blanket over him at some point. “Thank you, master,” he said. His tongue was thick, and his lips were dry, for the previous day they had been short of water.
    Ahmed stared at the boy. “You look like a plucked bird,” he said. “How old are you?”
    â€œSeventeen, master.”
    â€œYou don’t look like much now, but I expect if you were cleaned up and didn’t have all those bruises, you’d look like a prince.”
    Joseph swallowed and nodded. “I am a prince, sir, of sorts. My father is chief of a band.”
    â€œOh, well, is that so? And those ruffians I bought you from are desert bandits, I suppose.”
    Joseph swallowed hard and looked down at the ground. His feet were bare and torn by briars. “No, sir,” he mumbled. “They’re my brothers.”
    Ahmed’s one good eye opened wide in surprise. “Well, a fine lot they are! They didn’t tell me that. Why did they sell you?” Ahmed watched the young man but got no answer. He studied Joseph, taking in the fine bridge of his nose, the thin nostrils, the wide center of his mouth, and the smooth skin, where it wasn’t skinned or battered by vicious attacks. He was a man of great discernment where slaves were concerned, and he had driven a hard bargain. “I believe I could have got you for nothing,” Ahmed said. “They were anxious to get rid of you.” He waited for Joseph to speak, but again Joseph remained silent. “Come, boy, talk!”
    â€œThey … don’t care for me.”
    â€œFrom the looks of those bruises I’d agree. The one I talked to, the shifty-looking one … What’s his name—Dan? Yes, that’s it. He said you were a scholar.”
    â€œAmong my own people I passed for one, sire.”
    â€œYou are able to calculate figures?”
    â€œYes, I can do that, sir.”
    â€œYou can measure distances accurately?”
    â€œYes, I can do that too.”
    â€œWhat about languages?”
    â€œI speak some Babylonian and Egyptian.”
    â€œEgyptian! How did you learn that?” Ahmed asked sharply.
    â€œWe found a lost man some years ago who knew the Egyptian language, and we took him in. My father said he was probably a criminal. Perhaps he was, but he was very intelligent.”
    Ahmed suddenly laughed. “Not all criminals are stupid. So you learned the Egyptian tongue from him.”
    â€œYes—and about the stars. He was very learned, it turned out, and he taught me many things. Including how to write by several different methods.”
    Ahmed stroked his beard carefully and studied the boy. “You understand that in my business there’s no room for mercy.”
    Joseph looked up and met the single eye of Ahmed. “I don’t expect any, sir. If I couldn’t get it from my own brothers, why should I expect it from anyone else?”
    Ahmed laughed shortly. “A wise answer. However, your education will not be wasted. I have a potential buyer for you who will treat you well.” He waited for Joseph to ask questions, but when the young man remained silent, he said, “Don’t you care?”
    â€œNo, sire. I don’t care.”
    There was such hopelessness in Joseph’s voice that, despite his business and innate hardness, the slave trader felt a tiny surge of pity. “What’s your name, boy?”
    â€œJoseph.”
    â€œWell, Joseph, we’ll have to dress you out a little better than what you’ve got there, and I have some ointments that may take some of the bruises out. The cuts will take a while to heal. Come along. You are a valuable property.