Every Egyptian god had a Temple, and a High Priest of their own. Ptah, lord of Creation, was the favored of Memphis; Egypt’s capital city; and the Temple was his home.
The Palace and the Temple were part of the same complex, built to last eternally. It was a subtle reminder that the Pharaoh’s reign was as certain as the gods. Those that served in either the temple or the palace had to be close at hand, and so the servant’s quarters were in the area. Even so, a summons in the middle of the night demanded swift attendance.
Lapis was the official Scribe. He worked in the Royal Court every time it was convened. Tonight, the Court was not in attendance. There was only Pharaoh, and the High Priest of Ptah. And both of them were glowering with barely restrained rage.
Lapis felt his heart rate spike just being in the room. ‘Power’ was angry. That wasn’t going to end well for anyone.
“Scribe.” Pharaoh barked, barely looking at him. “You made a record of my dealings last week.”
“I did, my lord.” Lapis said promptly, ready to make alterations. Egypt kept record of many things, but it wouldn’t be the first time a scribe would have to revise history somewhat. A Pharaoh wasn’t meant to make mistakes, so the mistakes had to be fixed.
“Please read the order I gave, regarding my personal tribute to the Shrine of The Apis Bull.”
Lapis read the scroll. “The Great Pharaoh has decreed that in the second month of the harvest season, he would offer in tribute to the Great Apis Bull, ten baskets of fine grain; ten bushels of barley, three necklaces of high purity gold, five golden idols in the likeness of the Apis Bull, and-”
“Stop.” Pharaoh snapped, eyes still on the Priest. “Why is it, then, that only two necklaces of gold are to be found among the tribute?”
Lapis felt his heart stop, trying not to watch the High Priest’s reaction. To steal from the gods was blasphemy of the highest order.
“Perhaps your scribe made an incorrect record.” The old man said easily. “I assure you, there would be no other way something could be lost. Not in my temple.” The emphasis on ownership was so slight it couldn’t be considered insubordinate.
“Are you suggesting my Court is lacking in some way?” Pharaoh challenged.
“I am suggesting that in his haste to keep up with the Great Pharaoh’s speed of thought, he may have made a mistake.” The High Priest glared hard at Lapis. “Are you so certain you did not?”
Lapis shrank under the Priest’s glare. Revising history was one thing. It was a simple matter of necessity, to say nothing of self-preservation. Taking sides between the nation’s two most powerful men was something else entirely. “Mighty ones, I fear my memory of a particular moment is vague. There are many such moments where I must keep a record. It’s my purpose before Egypt. The record is made so that our memories need not be flawless. I can say only what has been written.”
“That is, after all, the point of having a record.” Pharaoh growled, still glaring at the priest. “Scribe, you may run away now.”
“Thank you.” Lapis groveled, and fled the room as fast as he could.
~/*\~
Lapis dreamed he was walking the streets of Memphis. He had a vague notion of music, and followed it; seeing a small boy in the distance, expertly playing a haunting tune on a stringed instrument. He followed the boy, who vanished ahead of him quickly. Lapis kept following the music, until he heard another familiar sound. The crack-crack of a whip being used. Suddenly, Lapis was there, watching a prisoner being whipped by a temple guard.
The man was getting whipped harshly. Lapis reached out to the guard, and suddenly things shifted, and Lapis was the one holding the whip. The stringed music played loudly for a moment, and Lapis let the whip drop.
His prisoner turned, grasped the other end of the whip, and used it to pull himself upwards, with Lapis’ help, except the prisoner kept rising, far above Lapis, up into the sky. The whip was suddenly a long piece of fine linen, in resplendent royal purple, stretching from the ascendant prisoner’s hand to Lapis’ own.
Lapis felt his feet leave the ground, and he began rising with the Prisoner, drawn up to the stars-
~/*\~
Lapis woke up sharply.
He rarely remembered his dreams, but this one was burned into his brain completely, as vivid as anything he’d seen in the Royal Court. He could almost hear the music, as clearly as he could hear the hammering on his door.
What? Lapis sat up. The dawn was barely breaking, and someone was hammering on his door, loud enough to-
BANG! The door was smashed off its hinges. The Palace Guard came flooding in. Lapis, who had been making his way to the door, half-asleep, was suddenly wide awake as his face was slammed into the floor. It happened so swiftly, he couldn’t even see who was standing on his neck.
He was so overwhelmed from the sudden brutality that he barely heard the sounds of his home being ransacked, every pot smashed, every weaving torn… They surely weren’t searching for anything, or they’d have destroyed it already.
“Scribe, you are guilty of thievery. Stealing from the High Priest of Ptah is a crime punishable by death.” A voice hissed in his ear.
Lapis felt a sudden spike of fear run through him. “I haven’t…” His protest died on his lips. He knew the facts didn’t matter. He’d been noticed by power, and that never ended well.
~/*\~
They hauled him through the streets, through the corridors, until they reached the Holy Places, where The Priest was waiting.
“The Pharaoh declared there was more to the tribute than thought.” The Priest intoned. “Obviously, I could not say I lost something, so clearly it was stolen. But a necklace would be hard to keep hidden… unless you melted down the gold.”
Lapis translated in his head: He insisted nothing was wrong, and Pharaoh caught him out, so he needs to blame someone expendable.
The guards that escorted him placed a leather bundle before the Priest, and he unwrapped it to show a golden cup. The same sort that the royal court used. Something direct from the Vizier's table.
“My lord, you know that isn’t mine!” Lapis insisted. “I’ve never seen it before.” He gestured at the guard that handed it over. “He was with the chariot when they arrested me. He never even came into my house!”
“Disgraceful.” The Priest declared, ignoring him entirely. “Thieving from the Pharaoh’s own tribute to the Divine-Incarnate? You’ve brought shame to yourself, and your station. Scribe, write this down! Lapis is hereby removed from his post, and cast into prison, until the gods can show him their justice. I should have him executed, but out of a duty to his soul, I have elected to be merciful.”
Lapis craned his neck and saw a stranger at his post, writing the order into the record. That’s the scribe that replaced me, and I hadn’t been arrested yet.
“TAKE HIM AWAY!”
~/*\~
The Palace guards dumped him in the prison, and left him there. Before Lapis could so much as stand, the Prison guards hauled him up and started bolting the chains around his wrists and ankles.
As they cut his clothing away, barking their instructions about his new life, Lapis’ thoughts raced, trying to find a solution. He could appeal to another Priest, perhaps? It was understood that the High Priests were always angling to get more power out of the throne… Pharaoh clearly mistrusted-
No. That was hopeless. The Priesthood was hereditary. Every Temple had its own High Priest, but most of them had familial connections or alliances to each other. Even if the cursed liar could be removed, even executed for his straight up lie, his replacement would be ready to avenge him.
I can’t afford justice. Lapis kept his chin up, though he wanted to scream at the unfairness. It’s a lie. It’s a straight up lie, and nobody cares enough to find out what the truth is.
He pushed it down. The gods would reward honesty. He would suffer this nobly, with dignity; until the truth came out.
~/*\~
Dignity was the first thing to go.
There was a rat. It squeezed its way through a crack in the wall to sniff at the bones and rotten mold that covered the edges of the pit. Lapis was disgusted to see the vermin sniffing around. The rat looked at him, trying to decide if he was a threat or not. Lapis avoided it.
When he’d arrived at the prison, the guards had given him some bruises. Lapis shouted, then begged. The guards were so perfunctory about it. The prisoners barely even looked.
New prisoners were dumped in the pit. It was a hole in the middle of the prison yard. Deep enough that Lapis couldn’t feel the sun until it was directly overhead, baking him painfully; but those moments were few compared to the times he was in deep shadow. Night fell on Lapis before anyone else in Egypt.
Lapis didn’t know how long they were going to leave him there. Every now and then, they would lower down food and water. The food was always on the verge of rot. The prisoners would come over to look down and shout taunts at him.
His first week was in the hole. He used one edge of it as a privy (and clearly wasn’t the first). He tried to sleep at the other side of the hole, and woke to rats sniffing at his hair and feet. By the end of the week, he was almost hungry enough to try and catch one for food.
When they lowered a rope to pull him out, he was almost grateful enough to kiss their sandals. The tepid water they offered was direct from the gods.
After that, it started to get tough.
~/*\~ Ellis ~/*\~
Ellis was at his desk, pushing paper around as usual. A construction company wasn’t famous for its paperwork, but anything that involved site inspections, zoning laws, and plenty of money and sub-contractors needed ironclad paperwork, in triplicate.
Ellis could spend all day at his desk, making sure all the paperwork was done. It wasn’t so interesting, but it paid the bills. His phone buzzed regularly, between various employees double checking things, to his eldest daughter Piper, asking a steady stream of questions about where to find things, or for permission to go out. Every now and then his wife texted as well, to remind him not to let Piper talk him into anything until they had talked first.
Normal life. Ellis thought, yet again.
The majority of work for a construction company was done on-site, so there were only a few people in the office when Del and Darrel came in. The tension level spiked dramatically, just having them both there. Ellis looked at them out of the corner of his eye. Del had been butting heads with the boss more and more often lately.
A year or two before, Del had been on the fast track to become Vice-President at the company, but he and the boss had a major falling out. Nobody would say why, but Ellis knew. Darrel had been ‘massaging’ the figures for years, to keep the company profits up. Nobody was getting hurt, but it was dishonest. Del had gotten religion after the birth of his son, and as a result, no longer wished to participate.
The world was in a bad state, and jobs were hard to come by. Ellis knew that Del would gladly take another job, if he could find one that wasn’t pulling the same hustles, but there was no way to be sure of that until you took the leap. Nobody wanted to roll the dice when they had kids to support.
Thus far, it had been an uneasy stalemate. But from the look on their faces today, Darrel had pushed Del again; and Del had pushed back.
The two of them went into an office to speak privately. Everyone else, Ellis included, traded a look. The show was starting, and not for the first time. Ellis didn’t know Del too well, though they had worked together for a number of years. Ellis had been on plenty of construction sites, and knew that a foreman needed a big hard voice. It was a basic requirement, to handle a dozen blue-collar workers, and to shout instructions over heavy equipment.
But the argument was something else entirely. Nobody could really see the showdown, but they could hear the voices. Del was being tightly civil. Respectful even. Darrel was barking back at him. It was like a fight between a fire versus a brick wall.
It continued for several minutes, before going deathly quiet. Del left Darrel’s office a moment later, heading for his truck. He was going back to work.
~/*\~
Hours passed, and everyone went back to their work. Del had returned to the office, filled out the usual paperwork, and clocked out, without so much as a harsh word to anyone. Darrel in comparison, was prowling around like a wounded tiger. Everyone was avoiding him as best they could.
Ellis’ last duties for the day involved balancing the daily receipts. Every active site had its own invoices, handled by the foremen, and then sent back to the main office for book-keeping.
There was a money order, with a post-it note asking for Ellis to authorize the payment. The order was for a site that Del was foreman of. The authorization should have been his responsibility.
Ellis hesitated, took a deep breath, and went to Darrel’s office. Please be nothing. Please be nothing.
“Come in!” Darrel called.
Ellis did so. “Sir, there was a small matter I wanted to make sure of. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” He held out the form. “There’s a payment going to one of our subbies? It’s Del’s site. Shouldn’t he make out the money order?”
“He should, but he isn’t.” Darrel sighed. “We farmed out some work to one of our regular sub-contractors last week. Our contract with them was supposed to start Monday, but Del has raised an objection for some ridiculous reason. So I’d like you to authorize their payment, and get Del’s site back to work.”
Ellis felt the form grow heavy in his hand. The ongoing showdown between Del and Darrel now included him. “Why me?” He tried to stop his voice from sounding too much like a whine.
“The subbie in question is an electrician. I know I've had you riding a desk for the last few years, but you still have a license, right?”
“Sure, but that’s not needed for-” Ellis swallowed it. “Boss, if Del’s the foreman, it really should be his signature.”
“I know, but it’s my call. I’m Del’s employer, after all. And yours, come to that.” Darrel said sharply. “We get paid by the hour, Ellis. We’re wasting time, and Del’s not helping matters.”
Ellis wanted to ask why, but he didn’t want to know. It was an open secret that Darrel funneled subcontractor jobs to family members. There had been rumors that some jobs had to be re-done, on their client’s dime. It had happened often enough that some of them thought it was even deliberate.
“It’s not just the paperwork.” Darrel said sagely. “Del’s pulling away from us, Ellis. He doesn’t go with the rest of the workers when we’re off for the day. It was his turn for designated driver last week, and he wasn’t there. He hasn’t hung out with his people at the bar even once in over a year. He’s asked to be excluded from contributing to Smitty’s birthday gift; he skipped the company Christmas bash...”
“To be fair, he explained why.”
“A man’s religion is his own business, and if he’s found something that helps him stay positive in the world, then more power to him.” Darrel waved that off. “But he’s making some of the guys feel uncomfortable with his ‘holier than thou’ bit.” He pushed the form closer to Ellis. “He’s not one of us anymore, Ellis. He hasn’t been for a long time. Grieves me to say it. He’s been with us a long time, but we need people who can be counted on when times are tough.”
“As if the times are any other way anymore.” Ellis commented.
Darrel nodded, pleased with that. “We’ve gotta right the ship. It’s not a good thing, but it’s necessary. I need you, Ellis. I need to know I can count on you.”
Ellis looked at the form awkwardly. “I… I gotta be honest boss, I don’t feel comfortable with this.”
“I know. And I wouldn't ask if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure of you, Ellis. You’re a trustworthy man. A man with a future, once Ioan leaves.”
Ellis looked up. “Sorry?”
“You haven’t heard? Ioan is considering early retirement. Ulcers finally getting to him. He needs to leave, so he can get it treated.”
Ellis translated in his head: We need to ease him out before he can charge an operation to the company health plan.
Darrel held out a pen. “Ellis, let me be on your side for a minute; and give you a good swift kick in the pants for your own good.” He said seriously. “You’re a good man, and a good worker. Your flaw isn’t your work, or your attitude. It’s that you won’t take a chance. You’re too timid. Nothing wrong with that. You’re a man with two kids to support and the world is in the toilet. Situation like that, it’s better to keep your head down. But if you want advancement, you have to get noticed. Go ‘above and beyond’ the job description.”
Ellis started to say something to defend himself, but there was nothing. Darrel was the boss, and he hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true.
“The thing about construction? The stuff we do lasts for a generation. We literally create things that people leave for their kids. Long memories, Ellis. Long memories.” Darrel emphasized. “You do this for me, I won’t forget it. I remember the people I can count on. Del knew that. But he doesn’t want to stay here either. There’s no way it ends well. So let’s end it quickly.”
Ellis took the pen, and signed his name.
~/*\~ Lapis ~/*\~
Making bricks was a job for a prisoner. The mud pit was never empty of workers. There were no tools or equipment that mixed straw into mud more efficiently than someone stomping it in.
The Palace Prison wasn’t like others in Egypt. A person could be there for punishment, or just to wait out some time. Quite often, a court official would get angry and send someone to the dungeons… and then cool off and demand their usual servants back as soon as their absence became inconvenient. Some were there for life, others for the length of one temper tantrum.
Lapis wasn’t sure which he was yet, but for now he had to make bricks or face the lash.
(Author’s Note: Joseph was a slave to Potiphar, who was Chief of the Guard for Pharaoh. The other prisoners mentioned in the Bible account of Joseph were put into this same prison, always at the order of Pharaoh himself, or court officials. It stood to reason that this wasn’t a typical prison, and there is very little information about what the Prisoners did with their time.
What is known is that Joseph was in charge of administration of his fellow prisoners, at the order of his warden. This might mean he was in charge of food and exercise, or it might mean the prisoners were given tasks to perform. Prison labor is an old custom, and Egypt did not take Israel into slavery until decades after this, so I chose to make the prisoners into ‘unpaid labor’. This is my own reasoning, as there is little in scripture to say either way.)
The work was agonizing and exhausting. Lapis was up to his thighs in thick, sticky mud. His clothing was thin and ruined, and every time he tried to wipe the sweat from his eyes, more clay was left behind. He was painted in it, the sun beating down enough to cook the clay dry on his skin. His legs were ready to fall off after only a few minutes, but he never stopped. Whenever someone paused too long, the lash was quick to get them moving again.
Lapis prayed to all the gods of Egypt as he looked around at his fellow prisoners. Did you tell the truth to the wrong person too? Are you thieves or murderers? Is telling the truth a crime equal to that of a killer? We’re all here in the same mudpit now...
He kept stomping in the mud until the sun set, and then by torches he hauled the clay bricks that the other workers had made. His legs barely worked, every inch of him burning with exhaustion and pain. The guards tossed him stale bread; and he ate it hungrily, the small loaves vanishing in less time than it took him to chew. He was taken back to the prison, and slept hard.
It felt like a lifetime before, but part of him was hoping to have The Dream again, but it didn’t come. The one he’d had before being locked up was still vivid in his memory.
The bricks had been sun-baked until dry and hard, and Lapis was put with a work party that carried the bricks to local businesses. Each one had made an order.
While making his deliveries, he saw Chisisi.
Few in Egypt were educated in languages and writing. Education was done in the temples. Attended by the social elite, and offspring of clergy, education was tailored to the social status of the students. Occupations like astronomers, doctors, veterinarians, architects, translators, and theologians.
Chisisi had found work with the architects. Those that profited enough to have a large staff, or much interaction with foreign nations, would always be in need of laborers, or at the very least, an order of bricks.
Chisisi barely looked at him, focused instead on tallying the bricks the workers had delivered. The prisoners were all bent, looking down, shamed by their status and exhausted from the labor. Lapis was the only one looking up, meeting a free man’s eyes. Chisisi made eye contact and kept counting without missing a beat, before his eyes widened and he looked back. “Lapis?”
Lapis nodded. “Good to see you again.” He croaked, thirsty. “Can you spare some water?”
Chisisi, in shock at the reunion, rushed to fetch a cup of water. He brought it to Lapis, even as the other workers watched with jealousy at the special treatment he was getting-
With a crack of the whip, Lapis dropped to his knees, the cool, precious water splattering over the dirt road. His guard gave Chisisi a harsh look, and the younger man retreated immediately, returning to his task.
The foreman barely noticed, presenting Chisisi’s employer with the tally of bricks.
Chisisi was still glancing back at Lapis in disbelief. Lapis couldn’t approach him without facing the whip again. But he tried to say it anyway. You could buy me. He mouthed the words to Chisisi. You could ask for a slave who knew how to keep accurate records, and get me out of this.
Chisisi tried to read his words, but retreated before he could say anything about it.
I would beg. Lapis thought. To get out of this, I would beg without pride.
But the deal was done without either man taking the chance, and Lapis was ordered back to the mudpit. More bricks were always needed.
(Author’s Note: Most construction in Ancient Egypt was done with Clay Bricks. Those buildings were torn down for new construction, just like homes and businesses today. Even the Pharaoh's Royal Residences were replaced mud-bricks, and each King could have a dozen such homes during his lifetime. Only the Tombs and the Temples were made of stone; made to last for all eternity. I mention this because the Palace is a frequent setting for events in the books of Genesis and Exodus. But in these books, it’s portraying Pharaoh's Throne Room, not his private residence.)
~/*\~
On the third day, Lapis saw familiar faces, just as a fresh bundle of straw was thrown over them. The dry, poking lengths of grass clung to him all over; making him look even less human than he did when covered in mud. But he still saw them, looking down at him in shock.
It was Chisisi, and he had brought others. People they had both known. Other students, who had futures of their own. They’d all been jealous of him once, being sent to the Palace, praised for his intelligence and accuracy as a Scribe.
For half a heartbeat, he felt energized. They had come. Chisisi had told his old friends about the problem, and they had come to rescue him.
But the feeling vanished instantly as he saw them whispering to each other. They hadn’t come to help.
Lapis tried not to stare back, but he couldn’t help it. They had come to gawk at him. The people he had known when he was little more than a child, looking forward to a future where they would make their name, and leave their mark on the world. The people he had known as a young man, and now he was nothing but a slave to them. He saw them in their fine cottons and clean clothes. His own filth burned.
Humiliation. He thought, as he saw them almost laughing with each other. They weren’t there by chance. They had come to see if Chisisi was right, and he was really a slave in the mud now. Humiliation is my punishment.
Crack! “BACK TO WORK!”
The whip struck the length of his spine, and Lapis fell into the mud, face first. He’d been still for too long.
~/*\~
The humiliation broke his spirit, as the work broke his body. He very quickly had nothing left to fall back on. He was completely spent, and after only three days.
The raw agony that followed the stripe down his back had settled into a constant burn. It made it impossible to sleep, or even lie down comfortably. As he searched for a comfortable corner, he heard the now-familiar sounds of the guards beating up a prisoner.
Such sounds were not uncommon, but he needed a free corner to lay down, so he went over anyway. He could sleep through anything by now. The sound of human misery was a constant whenever he wasn’t working.
The prisoner in question was still mostly clean, aside from his bruises, so he hadn’t been there long. He was young. Still a teenager, perhaps. His feet were in fetters, and the guards were working him over.
If the guards still have him, then he’s new enough that he hasn’t made enemies in here yet. Lapis thought distantly.
The guards struck him a few more times, holding him in place while they worked. Even Lapis could tell there wasn’t any anger in it. They were… bored. They were just letting him know how the prison worked.
Lapis did as the other prisoners did, carefully not looking in that direction. He heard the boy shouting prayers to his God, but not in Egyptian. The difference got his attention enough to wait until the guards had left him alone, and then look back. The boy actually looked familiar. If he was in this Prison, odds were he’d served one of the officials at some point.
With the beating done for the day, the young prisoner was tossed back in the hole.
~/*\~
Lapis saw the kid again a few days later, when he was allowed to join the rest of the prison population.
The normal meal delivery was made, the food carried in and left to the prisoners. They fed themselves. The new prisoner’s stomach roared loudly enough that Lapis could hear it, and he glanced over. After days in the hole, the teenager was probably hungry enough to take a bite at the rats. Like I was, when I first arrived.
The kid headed towards the food, and Lapis caught his shoulder. “Not yet.” He whispered, pointing as a gang slithered out of their cell to get to the food. The Prison was like any other small community. It had predators; and that sort usually had a gang for protection. “Those guys eat first.” Lapis explained. “Because if anyone tries to go before Asim, they die.”
The boy held back with Lapis, his eyes were alert, roving over everything. The rest of the prisoners recognized that it was time to eat. Asim took his bowl, handed the ladle to one of his gang, who served each other, and then they went back to their cells, and everyone else shuffled out to eat.
Lapis got his meal. It was gritty soup, and even grittier bread. He ate it anyway, because there would be nothing else. Then he saw the young man again. He was praying over his food, eyes closed, and Lapis finally got a look at his face. He was a good looking kid, even with his dark purple bruises. When he lifted his eyes, Lapis finally saw his face properly, and felt a gasp strangle in his throat. It was the same prisoner from his unusual dream, still vivid from more than a week before.
“I know you.” Lapis said to him.
“You speak Hebrew?” The boy was surprised.
Lapis nodded. “I was a scribe in the Royal Court. I had to know a few languages, in order to keep the record accurate when there was business with foreigners. Now, where do I know you?”
The boy looked at him carefully. “My name is Joseph. I was in service to Potiphar, Chief of the Guard.”
“Yes!” Lapis recognized him swiftly. “You were in charge of his household. I remember. He hosted one or two functions, before I became the Royal Scribe.” Lapis gave him a dark chuckle. “Got tired of having a competent servant, did they?”
Joseph groaned, rubbing his neck. “How about you?” His head tilted. “You were… one of the Court Servants?”
“I was. I forgot that ‘doing things right’ can have two meanings.” Lapis said with grim understatement. I dreamed that I whipped you, then you pulled me up to the stars by a royal sash. What can that mean?
At that moment, the Prison doors opened again, and a familiar face walked in. He clearly wasn’t a prisoner. Lapis checked, and noticed that the Guards weren't closing in on him, but rather watching each other, to see if any would approach him publicly. None of them did.
Lapis rolled his eyes as Montu came over, taking in the prisoners at a glance. “Looking for fresh meat, Montu?” He remarked knowingly.
“A trusted customer is like silver, a new customer is gold.” Montu smarmed, and even his voice seemed oily. “And why should a prisoner be any less worthy of my wares than a King?”
“Kings pay better.”
“Small coins are still worth spending.” Montu took in the new prisoners. “And you, gentlemen? Surely the sad situation you find yourselves in has made it clear how desperately needed the little pleasures in life really are? After all, is the only point of living to work and suffer, until you die?”
Lapis shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. You sneak the worst vices to acolytes, why not prisoners?”
“Acolytes are deeply spiritual people.” Montu agreed. “But they’re still flesh and blood, however much the old men would like to pretend they’re halfway to heaven already. Your guards would like to pretend they’re sustained through all this human misery by focusing on their duty; but they need to leave it behind. And you, Lapis? Prisoners need it more than any free man in Memphis.”
And despite himself, Lapis licked his lips. Barley was one of Egypt’s best crops; and as such, beer was plentiful, if not the stronger drink. His back was still throbbing, and his every muscle kept working only because the pain outweighed the exhaustion. “You wouldn’t have… anything stronger than drink? Something to...”
“Something to help you sleep after a long hard day?” Montu supplied, nodding in satisfaction. “I would consider it a service to a hard worker.”
“A service I have to pay for, though I don’t know how.” Lapis countered.
“It can be done. If you have family outside these walls, they can pay your fees.” Montu offered. “Or barring that, I have other customers who can pay. They’d need the assistance of someone invisible, to hold or transport a few items.”
“And there’s nobody more invisible than a filthy, broken-down slave.” Lapis nodded, too tired to be offended. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the guards all pretended they didn’t see you walk in.”
“The guards have to live with this all day too, friend.” Montu nodded, turning his gaze to Joseph. “Ooh, he’s a pretty one. I have any number of clients who would pay handsomely for a night or two with him, once those bruises fade a bit.” He smiled broadly at Joseph. “I could make it worth your while.”
Joseph scowled. “No.” He said in Egyptian.
“Don‘t be so quick to say no.” Lapis said lightly in Hebrew, as if confiding in him privately. “If you say yes, you’d have at least a few hours where you’re not in here. Perform well for the right Patron, you could even get out of here for good.” He gestured at Montu. “At the very least, you’d have a favor from the only man who can get you a decent meal here.”
Montu knew a few words of Hebrew too, it seemed. “It would be better than the kind of work they usually give. They have prisoners put to work all over the City. You find out where, and I find a guard who can be… compensated for taking that chance, and you can have an hour or so with someone warm and willing...” His tone was tempting as he waved at Lapis in comparison. “Is it really better to turn out like him?”
Joseph scoffed in Egyptian. “Wouldn’t that make her laugh?”
Lapis blinked. “What do you mean? Who?”
Joseph shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He said to Montu. “The answer is no. I’ll get out of here. And I’ll do it honestly.”
“Oh, son. Of course you will.” Montu drawled, amused. “Good luck with that.” He turned back to Lapis. “A jug of the hard stuff, in exchange for anything I want from your house. Decide fast, because I’m sure the guards are helping themselves to your old home as we speak. Holding onto it is up to you, and if you’re caught with it, I don’t know you.”
“Agreed.” Lapis groaned against the pain in his back.
Montu turned to go. If Lapis hadn’t been watching for it, he probably wouldn’t have noticed, but one of the guards glanced around to see if anyone was watching, and gave chase, likely to make a deal of his own.
Lapis turned away before he was noticed watching, and found Joseph looking at him. It wasn’t judgment, it was analysis. Joseph was learning, reading everything, getting to know his new situation. He’d been in prison the length of one beating, his feet still in fetters, and he was already making plans. Despite himself, Lapis felt compelled to speak. “There are only two reasons someone ends up here: They get caught, or they get blamed. Either way, violence and vice are survival traits. I’ve only been here a short time, but I know that much.”
“So, what are you in for?” Joseph asked, mostly to make conversation with the only man in prison who spoke his native tongue. “Violence or vice?”
“Honesty.” Lapis said immediately.
“That’s not illegal, and I wouldn’t call it a vice.”
“Honesty is the most expensive vice there is.” Lapis said quietly. “It’s cost me my home, my job, and every other part of my life.” He looked sickly at Joseph. “I was trusted. So were you. Then the rich people changed their minds, and we were just… discarded. Our loyalty, our honesty? It means nothing.”
Joseph looked hard at Lapis, and gestured for him to sit down. With nowhere to go, Lapis did so.
“Honesty is not a vice, it’s a basic need of life.” Joseph said seriously. “My father taught me that honesty is hope, for servants of God.”
“Which god?” Lapis asked reflexively. Every city had a preferred god. Egypt as a whole had many many deities. Other nations had their own. Which one you served was often a matter of geography.
“I serve Jehovah God, in whose promises we all depend. The honesty of Jehovah is where all hope for people comes from. How can we ourselves not be honest in return?” Joseph reasoned. “Jehovah God has promised many wonderful things for the world, and for my family. What future is there if He can lie?”
Lapis smirked. He’d met acolytes from a dozen temples. Some of them were just looking for a job or education. Some of them believed slavishly. Joseph wasn’t even Egyptian, but apparently he was one of the fanatics. “I’ve been in many temples over my life, prisoner. If any of them are merciful to their worshipers, then why are any of us in prison?”
“Well, I can’t speak for Egyptian Idols. My God demands exclusive devotion.” Joseph said politely. “But I do know that serving Him isn’t about getting your way. Or even about making life fair. It’s about being sustained, even rejoicing in hope, during all your trials.”
Lapis stretched against the wall for a few moments, trying to get comfortable. “Hope?” He scoffed. “Can’t eat hope. It doesn’t keep you warm when you’re cold. Doesn’t quench your thirst when you’ve been working all day.”
“Hope feeds every hunger that food cannot.” Joseph said. “My father told me the story of how he married my mother. He worked for seven years to earn his future father-in-law’s permission and blessing. But he loved the younger of two sisters, and the older one had to be married first by custom… So when the seven years were up, the deal was changed without my father’s permission, and he had to pledge another seven years, to be allowed to marry his beloved as well.”
“I guess patience must run in your family.”
“The real patience was needed after he found himself with two jealous sisters for wives.” Joseph grinned, and Lapis burst out laughing despite himself. “But no, the lesson wasn’t ‘be patient’. At least, not when my father told it. My father waited seven years to receive his joyful reward. My mother waited longer to have a child, when her sister, then her rival, had almost a dozen.”
Lapis let him talk. Joseph was sharing a family story. A story of a world beyond prison walls. A place and time that Lapis would never see. It was… interesting, to listen to this story. There was precious little in a prison cell to help pass the time in a positive way.
“I asked my father once if he ever regretted waiting so long to have what he wanted.” Joseph said softly. “He said the right thing was worth waiting for. He said that for him, the time passed so quickly, because his eyes weren’t on the toil, or the betrayal. He only ever had eyes for my mother.” Joseph smiled a bit. “There was a lot to overcome. But he had faith that one day, he’d see promises fulfilled. Jehovah’s promises are worth more than what my grandfather offered, and if a man like Laban can keep a promise to his son-in-law, then certainly God can to me.”
Lapis took that in. “Well… I guess that’s not so bad.” He admitted. “But we’re in the dungeons of the powerful. There’s no god that opens the door for us. Only people can do that. The same people who discarded us all.” He gave Joseph a hard look. “You want out, you don’t pray to the gods. You pray to the priests.”
“Who you pray to is entirely your choice.” Joseph said lightly. “But even prisoners don’t pray for prison food. They pray for freedom. I know who to ask for a blessing like that.”
At that, Joseph withdrew, not to be dismissive, but because he knew the conversation was over. Lapis was aching from the work, and the lash blazed across his spine. With only stone and dirt to lay against, he made an effort to get comfortable.
Even so, the story Joseph told him stayed on his mind. His tone when he spoke of his father was so… gentle. He had told a story of betrayal and manipulation within his own family, and yet he seemed to feel no rage towards any of them. There was no mention of vengeance on behalf of his father, though being married to two bitter rivals could not have been easy. What put him in jail, I wonder?
~/*\~
There was nothing to do in prison except to wait. When there were work parties, there was nothing to do except work. The food was delivered twice a day. It was thin, watery stew. No meat, and plenty of grit that stuck between the teeth. The food gave Lapis hard stomach cramps until he got used to it.
The food was never prepared on-site by the work parties, or in the prison itself. It was brought in baskets. The foreman directed them when to eat, and assigned a prisoner to distribute the food to the others. It was a way of keeping balance among the prisoners. The gangs could attempt to intimidate their server for more food, but might not get it. The servers might give more to their friends, and withhold from their enemies, but if the food ran out, someone would be left hungry. Resentments could lead to murder in such situations, and the guards didn’t care.
Lapis kept his head down, doing as he was told, being invisible to the gangs. He didn’t dare risk being attacked. Prisoners were never embalmed. Prisoners were refused so many death rites. He’d spend eternity as a nothing in the Land of the Dead, unless he could vastly improve his means.
Food was authority in prison. Like any community, it had its natural leaders; usually the most dangerous ones, who were fed first. Those that worked were given food next, to keep them on their feet, hollow as the food was. When Lapis next saw Joseph, weeks after their last conversation, he still wore the fetters, still had the bruises. But he was giving his food to one of the old men.
How does a man so gentle get put in here? Lapis couldn’t help but wonder again. Not even a man. Barely more than a boy.
Lapis was ashamed to admit he’d never given any part of his ration to the old men. The old men scared him to death. They’d been discarded, some of them decades before, and nobody had given them a second thought. They’d grown old in the dark, with no hope of escaping. They’d die here, and nobody would miss them.
For the younger men, there was labor. Days and days of it. Prisoners weren’t paid, and were easily replaced, and that meant they’d always be the preferred option. The city of Memphis was always in motion, something being built or broken down. As Capital of Egypt, it was many things to many people.
Lapis gained his measure of hard labor in time, putting on as much muscle as his limited food supply would allow.
But after six months, he was summoned before the High Priest again.
~/*\~
The sunlight felt different on his face. He’d been out on work parties constantly. But this was the first time the fresh air meant he might be free.
Six months. Lapis told himself. You can do this. This is the moment you either get out, or go back in for life. Lapis passed the Idols of half a dozen Egyptian Gods, and sent quick prayers to all of them. I’m about to dance with the Priest. Which side are the gods on?
The guards brought him to the High Priest’s office, and kicked the backs of his knees to put him down on his face. Lapis didn’t try to stand, remaining prostrate.
“Lapis.” The Priest intoned, as though welcoming back a wayward child. “You know, I almost forgot how long you’d been gone. Fortunately, I have a reliable staff to keep track of these things.”
Lapis said nothing. This wasn’t really a discussion, and it wasn’t his turn yet.
“Lapis, I understand that you were trying to keep Pharaoh happy. In a way, that’s what all of this depends on.” The Priest nodded. “But what you did was… so petty. It was such a small thing, unworthy of you. We expect better from those who are honored to serve in the Court.”
“Yes, sir.” Lapis croaked around parched lips.
“You know why the Priesthood is such a prestigious job, Lapis?” The older man intoned. “It’s because we’re the most important service in the world. Life is so fleeting. The next world is where our hopes are pinned, because life is short, but afterlife is eternal. Put that way, there’s nothing a King, or a soldier, or a servant like yourself could hope to achieve that’s worth even a fraction of what we do in the temples.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I know you must be scared, losing all your prospects like that, at your age? You were valuable to us, but replaced within an hour. How could you hope to make a proper offering to the gods for your place in the next world if you stayed a prisoner?” The Priest shook his head, seeming unhappy with the matter. “I’d hate to see that as much as you would. I just… hope we can learn to trust you again, Lapis. After all, what you did was just so offensive to… Well, that’s ancient history now, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ve forgotten all about it. I know I’ve tried to.”
The freshest whipping hadn’t healed yet. Lapis could feel his blood still rolling slowly down his back. “I try not to think about… my mistakes, sir. Best to look forward.”
“I agree. And I hope you can rise from this, work your way back up. Maybe, one day, when enough time has passed, we’ll be able to forget what you did. I’d like for you to have a fresh start.” He held out his hand, with the golden seal on his ring.
Slowly, painfully, feeling his skin tear at the freshest wounds, Lapis crawled a few feet forward. “I would give anything for a fresh start, my lord.” Lapis had spent months rehearsing this. Pleading his case wasn’t going to work. It wasn’t like the man needed to be convinced of Lapis’ innocence. Reality didn’t matter here.
“Well, maybe we can… take it slowly, see if you can be trusted with something more… appropriate, to a prisoner, jailed for theft from his betters. But in time, I hope you can prove that you deserve to be trusted again.”
The tone was so brutally detached. The way an embalmer would approach a body, waiting to be wrapped for burial. Lapis’ life was a toy for this more powerful man to play with. If Lapis groveled, The Priest would win. If he broke down sobbing, The Priest would win. If he fought back, he would be put to death, and The Priest would win.
He thought of the old men in the prison. Left there, by men like this. Forgotten, until they ran out their time and entered the next world with nothing. Months of rehearsal for this moment, and he suddenly wanted to forget about that and just slap the smug fiend. He wants me to beg. He wants me to beg forgiveness for inconveniencing him once, six months ago, or he’ll bury me alive. And he won’t hesitate. He’ll laugh himself to sleep tonight if I die here at his feet.
There was only one option open to Lapis, and he took it, kissing the ring reverently. “Thank you, great one. Your generosity is unmatched in all the land of Egypt. I praise the mercy of our gods; and of you, their holiest of holy ones.”
The Priest smiled. “Very good.” He intoned. “You are forgiven.” He picked his hand away from Lapis carefully, frowning at it like it was suddenly diseased. “It seems to be the will of great Ptah that your path leads to a new way you can serve Egypt. Something… more appropriate for your new experiences. I understand the warden needs a new foreman on his work details. Well, that’s a position of authority over your recent peers. A good start, for you to earn my trust again.”
~/*\~
Walking through the Temple to the Palace of Pharaoh was always a holy experience. The wide stone pathways to the entrance, flanked by rows of sphinxes, the enormous stone entrance, with colorful hieroglyphs, depicting the old stories of the gods, and all their legendary acts.
The Temple was always full of lyrical prayers as the acolytes performed their rituals three times a day, chanting the glories of Ptah and other deities. The smooth white stone walls and corridors filled with palm fronds and fresh flower petals, and bowls of offerings of food and wealth.
The Temple was made of many rooms, each one becoming more and more holy and exclusive as you drew closer to the Shrines. Lapis walked through the outer courtyard, past the many people making offerings to their idols… And never to go deeper in. As Pharaoh’s Scribe, he’d been welcome in the Palace. His new role was as a foreman in the Palace Prison. He’d never see the Court again.
But I’ll never feel the lash. He reminded himself. If only because I’m directing the whip. It’s the best I can hope for.
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