Lost Time (Time Out) Page 10
“Many thanks,” the man smiled
I frowned in confusion. What was he thanking me for? He’s the one who had helped me up. I glanced down and realized that I stood in a puddle, remnants of the water from the Red Sea that had hurled me through the portal.
“We have been traveling for several weeks since we left Gilead, and we feared we were near death. We ran out of food days ago and we have almost run out of water as well. Fortunately for us, you fell out of the sky, along with water for all of us. You are certainly a gift from God! I insist that you come with us to Cairo.”
Wait! Wasn’t this salt water? Wouldn’t this water make the men and their animals sick? I began to protest, just as the man squatted down and scooped up a handful of water, slurping noisily. He sighed, then scooped up another handful, laughing as he stood and gestured for his companions to gather around the water hole. “That’s the best, purest water I have ever tasted,” he said, nodding.
I glanced down at the water again. Had God just worked another miracle, and here I was, standing in the middle of it? Before my eyes, the water began to slowly seep deeper into the sand, and I watched the men in front of me hurry to detach gourds from their leather thongs wrapped around their waistbands.
I was stuck in the middle of the desert; I decided to go along with these guys until I figured out where I was. “Sure," I said. "I’d be happy to go with you to Cairo.”
Along with my ‘new friend’, a few more men continued to gather the wet sand inside cloths. After doing that, they twisted and squeezed the cloths into gourds and leather water bags, hoping to remove whatever water they could. A few minutes later, they had gathered every last drop of moisture possible from the sand pool and resumed their posts on top of their camels.
Having no possessions of my own to carry, I hitched a ride behind the man who had helped me. I had never ridden on a camel before, and had a little trouble mounting, but with a hand and a heave, I soon settled onto the back of the man’s saddle. At first, I was enthralled to be up so high, and the gentle motion of the camel rocked me slightly from side to side, lulling me into a restful state. I passed most of the remaining day mesmerized by the movement, closing my eyes and relaxing for the first time since my adventure had begun.
The journey across the desert turned out to last longer than I had expected. At dusk that first night, I literally slid off the back of the camel and collapsed into a heap, my legs and buttocks strangely sore and stiff after sitting on the camel so long. I simply rearranged myself, content to watch as the group dismounted, cared for their camels, and made preparations to light a fire and prepare a meal. One of the group produced a bag of dates, while another produced some grainy-looking meal and yet another produced several thin, dry loaves of bread.
We ate simply, and though I was famished, I was careful only to take the same portion as the others. Then, tired and more than ready for some sleep, I bedded down a short distance away from the fire on a blanket one of the travelers had given me, and listened to their quiet voices among themselves before I drifted off to sleep.
We traveled for what seemed like weeks, but were in reality only a few days. Needless to say, I never wanted to see, or ride, another camel as long as I lived. At the end of the second day, I could hardly walk a step without grimacing, much to the amusement of the men that made up the caravan. I still didn’t know who they were, their names, where they came from, or where they were bound after Cairo. They were not the most talkative of hosts, I supposed, but I was grateful to them nevertheless, for they could have easily left me in the middle of the desert to die of hunger or thirst.
Other than the occasional shrub, the scenery changed little until we grew closer to the end of the journey. When we finally neared a settlement, which I understood to be Cairo, I began to see clusters of houses and tents. Cairo was a busy trading community, and travelers from hundreds, if not thousands, of miles came to trade, sell and buy goods, supplies and seeds for planting. While the clusters of nomadic tents were few and far between at first, I saw the quantity of them growing denser as I looked off in the direction of Cairo.
It wasn’t long after the houses and tents started showing up, however, that we were met by a group of eleven men. Fearing they were bandits, I slid off the back of my camel and hid behind a nearby palm tree as they approached. The men in the caravan remained, sitting atop their camels as they waited for the newcomers to approach.
The leader of our convoy took the initiative and lifted his hand in greeting as the other group rode closer. The leader of the group who had just approached also raised his hand and spoke.
“Greetings! We have a business proposition for you. Our family has owned this slave since he was born,” he said, gesturing to a youth in their group. I looked at the boy, who appeared to be around my own age. He sat calmly on his camel behind two others. To my surprise, I realized that his hands were bound in front of him.
“We no longer require his service,” the caravan leader continued. “We were wondering if perhaps you’d like to purchase him from us. He is a boy of only nineteen years, so you’ll have his service for many years to come. Would you like to buy him?”
From my vantage point behind the palm tree, I noticed the expression of utter betrayal flash across the poor boy’s face. He slowly shook his head, eyeing each of the men in his caravan with disdain. At the same time, I noticed the striking resemblance between him and the other men of his group. He looked extremely scrawny, like he had not been fed in a few days.
After considering it for a few minutes, the leader of our group, and with a slight tone of annoyance in his voice, spoke. “Very well, I will buy your slave, but I’ll only pay twenty pieces of gold, and not a single piece more. Is it a deal?”
“It’s a deal,” the other caravan leader replied. They shook hands to seal their deal.
Without delay, one of the men in our group grabbed the halter of the camel the boy rode and pulled the animal closer to him. He gestured with his chin and the boy dismounted, and despite his bindings, slid down the side of the camel and landed on his feet with skill and grace. I was impressed.
“One more thing,” the leader of our convoy said. He had just taken control of the youth, gesturing for him to mount on a camel behind one of his own riders. “What is your name? I’d like to know in case I ever want to do business in this area sometime in the future.”
“My name is Judah,” he said. He swept his hand behind him. “These are my brothers Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Issachar, Zebulon, Benjamin, Dan, Naphtali, Gad, and Asher.”
Upon hearing the names of these men, the truth hit me like a ton of bricks. I was witnessing none other than the sale of Joseph into slavery!
Not wanting to miss the opportunity to follow Joseph, I hopped onto the back of my camel as the caravan prepared to resume their travel. I looked over at Joseph’s brothers counting their money, and was appalled by the fact they were willing to sell their brother into slavery for a few measly coins. Once everyone had secured their belongings, the leader of our caravan waved us forward, and our journey continued.
A couple of hours passed before we finally passed within the city limits of dusty Cairo. As we traveled through the city gates, I saw two Egyptian charioteers standing guard at the gate; they looked as if they wished someone would start some trouble to liven up their otherwise dull day. We hadn’t even ventured far beyond the gate before we heard the sound of another chariot approaching. I turned around just in time to see the cloud of dust as one of those charioteers hurried past the slow moving caravan as it ventured down Cairo’s main street. The chariot passed the lead camel of our caravan and promptly stopped, pulling up across the path, blocking our way. I had the odd thought that policemen in their cars performed the same tactic today, and wondered if they’d learned police tactics from the ancient Egyptians. Seeing that we had nowhere to go, the other charioteer pulled his chariot behind the rear camel while the first charioteer took his time dismounting before walking over to us.
“You men don’t look to be from around here,” the Egyptian spoke to the caravan leader “Where are you from and why are you here?”
“We are just looking to sell or trade our goods here in your great city,” the caravan leader replied. “We came here after a brief stop in Dothan, which is where we bought this slave,” he said, gesturing to Joseph. “Perhaps you would like to buy him from us?”
“Indeed I would,” The Egyptian charioteer replied with a tone of voice that implied they should’ve already known he wanted their slave. “Due to the fact that I’m one of Pharaoh’s top officials, I have little time to manage my belongings. I have been searching for many weeks for someone to run my household. Perhaps, if this boy prospers at the work I will give him, then maybe I will put him in charge of my possessions.”
As I watched, the charioteer handed the convoy leader a pouch of gold coins. “You may be on your way,” the charioteer said. “When you reach the heart of the city, find a guard and tell him to deliver the slave to Potiphar’s house.”
“So that’s Potiphar,” I thought, eyeing him. He definitely lived up to what I thought a member of the Egyptian elite should look like. He had to be at least seven feet tall, with muscles as thick as tree trunks and shoulders just as broad. He was not a pleasant-looking man, with a downturned mouth, heavy eyebrows, which at the moment were lowered as he watched Joseph. To be honest, the man scared me on a very deep level, but Joseph stared back at him calmly, obviously not impressed.
The Egyptian spoke, his voice threatening. “If you do not deliver the slave as promised, have no doubt that I will find you,” he warned.
The caravan leader stared at Potiphar for a moment, and then nodded. “I will deliver him as promised.”
Having no more business to conduct at the city gates, the convoy leader signaled the rest of the caravan to start moving. Without stopping, they headed straight for the center of the city in the hopes of selling or trading the goods piled on the backs of the riderless camels.
After a little searching, we found a guard. The leader dismounted, and upon telling him Joseph was a slave newly acquired by Potiphar, the guard promptly took possession of the youth and led him away.
Not wanting to lose sight of Joseph, I quickly slid off my camel and melted into the throngs of people peddling their foods and wares in the crowded square. I followed Joseph and his guard through meandering streets lined with private homes and shops, past numerous booths and hawkers selling their bounty in the hope of acquiring something better.
After about twenty minutes of walking, I followed the guard and Joseph to a building constructed of blocks of marble on the outskirts of the city. This was no ordinary building - it glistened as if God himself had created the sun for the singular purpose of shining on it alone.
“Get inside!” the guard barked at Joseph. “Go into the main room and wait there until Potiphar gets off duty. He should be home in about one hour… so no funny business!”
As I watched the guard walk away, I recalled the story of Joseph that I had come to know in my childhood. "Wait," I thought. "He was here a long time if my memory serves me correctly. I’m definitely not hanging around here for another twenty-something years!”
I quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then I pulled the T.O.M. device out of my pocket. Several areas of its surface were scratched, and it was starting to show signs of wear and tear. I hoped the professor wouldn’t mind – too much. After another quick glance around, I pointed the device at the side of Potiphar’s house and pressed the "fast-forward" button. Once again, the portal appeared before me and I stepped through.
When I emerged from the other side, it was dusk, and darkness quickly settled on Cairo. I crept closer to the marble structure and was about to peek inside an open window of Potiphar’s house when I heard two men yelling. The sound of their voices echoed from a short distance down the street. Alarmed, I quietly ran down the street and peeked around the corner, where I saw two figures, the faces of two guards illuminated by the torches they held. No sooner had I peeked around the corner than a charioteer drove up to the two guards embroiled in an intense argument.
“Hurry up!” the charioteer said, gesturing. “Pharaoh has a big announcement to make. He has commanded me to round up all the guards and assemble them within the hour outside of his palace.”
It sounded to me like the guard said this with a hint of skepticism, as if he thought it foolish for the Pharaoh to make what he thought to be an extremely bold decision. After all, to have all the palace guards located in one spot was not the best of strategies, nor did it offer protection against attack.
Having nowhere else to go, I quietly followed the guards as they made their way back into the city’s center. I kept to the shadows just in case they turned around and saw me following them. If it hadn’t been for the faint light emanating from their torches, I doubt I ever would have been able to keep track of them as they wove their way through the now dark streets of Cairo on their way to Pharaoh’s palace.
The second I laid my eyes upon Pharaoh’s palace, I couldn’t believe what I saw. The structure had to be the most ornate and expensive-looking building I had ever seen, ancient or modern, from history book pictures to what I had seen first-hand during my journeys through time.
Constructed of stone, the palace shimmered brightly in the glow of dozens of torches burning at ground level as well as the rooftop of the structure. I shaded my eyes with my arm as my gaze swept over the expanse. I started to wonder what type of stone it was, but I soon forgot about that amongst the many other things racing through my mind at that moment.
In the center of the palace rose a platform overlooking the entire courtyard. No sooner had I nudged my way to that part of the courtyard and hid myself amongst the crowd with the best view of the platform than a hush fell over everyone. I looked up at the platform and saw a man so richly dressed that he could only be the Pharaoh. His robe appeared to be made of deep purple-colored velvet, his headdress a wide band of pounded and etched gold. His beard, though long and full, was neatly trimmed, and his feet were swathed in the finest of leathers. Beside him stood a man dressed in expensive-looking cream-colored linen with a wide, purple embroidered sash. He wore a gold chain around his neck. Remembering that Joseph had become second in command of Egypt later in life, I thought that this man standing before me might be Joseph. If I had any doubt about this man’s identity, that doubt disappeared the second the Pharaoh started speaking.
“Joseph,” the Pharaoh said, yelling loud enough for everyone to hear him. “I hereby put you in charge of the entire land of Egypt. You shall be in charge of my palace, and all my people are to submit to your orders. Only with respect to the throne will I be greater than you. I am Pharaoh, but without your word, no one will lift hand or foot in all Egypt.” Pharaoh then briefly paused and took Joseph’s right hand, placing his signet ring on one of his fingers.
Upon hearing this announcement, a cheer erupted from the crowd. I started hearing shouts around me like,
“He will save us from the famine to come!” and “Ra has certainly bestowed his blessing on us today!”
Joseph recognized the praise, and then hurried down the stairs of the platform and climbed into his chariot. With a loud shout, he shook the reins, his horses reared and his chariot bolted forward. The crowd parted as he rode off into the desert.
I remember from my Old Testament survey class back at school that a time of abundance had lasted seven years before a famine arrived in Egypt. Nonchalantly, but quickly, I made my way through the throng of still cheering people and huddled against the side of a nearby building, swathed in darkness and out of the reach of torchlight. Pulling the T.O.M. device from my pocket, I input "7 years" and pressed "Activate". As soon as the portal appeared, I stepped through the portal, mentally preparing myself for the famine I knew I would soon encounter.
I stepped through the portal and stood for several moments as I got my bearings.
The building I had taken shelter against stood in disrepair, pieces of it crumbled at the ground around my feet. Though still night, the air was heavy and thick with heat, with no wind or even a hint of moisture in the air. I cast my gaze about. It looked like a war zone. The earth below my feet was cracked and dry, my feet kicking up small puffs of dust as I made my way back into the courtyard. I heard the sounds of people crying, wailing and begging. I saw pitched tents, many of them taking up the space in the courtyard and spilling in every direction around the palace, hungry families waiting with desperation to purchase grain from the granary.
I wove my way through the forest of tents, careful to avoid people lying on the ground, crying out in pain. Subconsciously, I thought they were so hungry that they just might grab my leg and try to eat it. Then, I paused and shook my head as I realized how silly that sounded. I assumed it was the sweltering heat sucking the breath out of me that was talking, not my rational self.
As I neared the steps of the palace, the crowd grew thicker and the noise from the people more demanding. The sound of people crying gradually changed to the sound of people arguing and bartering with each other for some grain. I broke through the barrier of people and there, before me, sitting at a table at the bottom of the steps, was Joseph, measuring and selling grain. He looked pretty much the same, though a bit older. His clothing was still nice, his features still smooth, though his eyes had aged, as if he had endured much stress in the past seven years.
I was just about to walk up and introduce myself, although I doubted that he remembered me from all those years ago when I had joined that caravan as a stranger picked up in the middle of the desert. He had never really met me anyway, and I’m sure now that he certainly had more serious concerns at the time than to wonder about me, the man they had found so long ago.