Till Shiloh Comes by Gilbert Morris Page B

better than Master Potiphar. Come along, now.”
    The caravan had been left behind at the entrance to the city, and Ahmed led Joseph up to the gated entrance of the house. They were met by an extremely fat man with eyes that almost disappeared into the folds of his face. His mouth was enormous and had a fishlike appearance. He was a pasty color but wore an expensive garment and gold rings in his ears.
    â€œIt’s you, Ahmed. What have you got for us this time?”
    â€œThe bargain of a lifetime, Ufa.”
    â€œThey always are. We don’t need any more slaves.”
    Ahmed grinned wickedly, his twisted face looking even more sinister. “Oh, I didn’t know you had taken over Potiphar’s business dealings. I assume you make all the decisions now?”
    Ufa cursed and turned away. “I’ll see if he’ll even want to admit you.”
    â€œSurly fellow. Mean-spirited. Mistreats the slaves. Probably will mistreat you, but don’t ever react, Joseph, no matter what they do to you. Don’t ever strike back. Do you understand?”
    â€œYes, sire, I understand.”
    â€œThey’ll whip you if you do, and if that doesn’t do the trick, they’ll throw you to the crocodiles!”
    Joseph patiently listened as Ahmed spoke of Potiphar and his wealth. In ten minutes the fat man came back and said grudgingly, “The master will see you now.”
    â€œWhy, thank you, Ufa. Your manners are exquisite.”
    The two men followed Ufa into the house and into a high-ceilinged room with a sunken marble pool. A man rested in the water who was as large, tall, and fat as his servant Ufa. His head was shaved, and under the rolls of fat on his face, he showed signs of having once been handsome. “What sort of awful merchandise have you brought me this time, Ahmed?”
    â€œOh, sir, you must always have your joke,” Ahmed bantered, but he bowed low and touched Joseph, who knelt at once and touched his forehead to the ground. “I am in somewhat of a hurry, master. Couldn’t we just eliminate all the bargaining? Each of us knows the ways of the other, and your time is so much more valuable than mine.”
    Without even glancing at Joseph, Potiphar studied Ahmed carefully. A black servant girl, dressed only in a tiny bead costume, was fanning him, her large eyes fixed on Joseph.
    â€œThat thing?” Potiphar laughed, and his eyes almost disappeared. “Why would I want a scrawny fledgling like that? He wouldn’t last a week in the fields.”
    â€œYou are exactly right, master. That is why he would not go to the fields.”
    â€œOh? What would he do, then?”
    â€œHe can do your accounts. He can write in four different scripts. He knows languages like no one I’ve ever seen. As far as the ability to figure, you have no one like him. In short, he is the perfect scribe and a fine-looking young slave too, when he gets some meat on his bones.”
    Interest flickered in Potiphar’s eyes, and he said bluntly, “How much?” He listened as Ahmed named a price and shrugged. “You may leave, Ahmed. Obviously you have no intention of selling the slave. No one would pay such a price. I’ll pay half.”
    Joseph remained perfectly still as he watched the two men argue. Eventually Potiphar crawled out of the pool and was toweled down by a male servant, who was fully as tall as Potiphar but thin as a rail. He was also lighter skinned than an Egyptian and had an intelligent face. He wrapped a robe around the master as Potiphar continued to dicker with Ahmed. Finally the servant leaned over and whispered something into his master’s ear. Joseph saw Potiphar look in his direction with greater interest, and Joseph knew that whoever the tall slave was, he had great influence.
    â€œI’m too busy to argue. Shave your price and we’ll agree.”
    â€œYou always win, sire. Very well.” And he named what he insisted