Kiya: Hope of the Pharaoh by Katie Hamstead

Chapter Three

The Pharaoh kept me in near seclusion in a small room by the washhouse for that first month. Each day, someone woke me up, took me to soak, then scrubbed me from head to toe. They dressed me in a light linen dress, then veiled my face and head. Finally, Horemheb took me to the temple to join the royal family in their daily worship of Aten as the sun reached its height at noon. For a while, the other wives watched me as I entered. Horemheb situated me at the back, and throughout the ceremony, I would catch them glancing at me. Over time, this stopped, and they barely noticed me as Horemheb led me in and out, without a word to anyone.

Horemheb often stayed with me to eat lunch and to talk. I enjoyed his company immensely and looked forward to the daily visit, especially as I grew more and more lonely and homesick. I began to trust him, but always sensed, by the way he stared at me, something more going on inside his brilliant mind that he wasn’t sharing. I chose to be an open book with him, and told him all about my family and our customs. In the final week, I asked him, “Do you think I will be allowed to practice my people’s religion and customs?”

His face fell and he leaned back, scowling. “Definitely not. If all the Egyptian gods can’t even be mentioned, what makes you think the god of the slaves will be allowed?”

“I won’t bother anyone with it, and I will keep it discreet.”

He reached out and grabbed my shoulders. “No, Kiya. If you are discovered, your life will be at stake. Swear to me you will not risk your life. The Pharaoh will not live many years longer, and then you will be free of him. Especially if you bear him a son, as you will not be passed on to the next king. Then, and only then, can you practice your religion again. Be patient, Kiya.”

My hands trembled, so I replaced my cup on the table. I looked up at him and spoke softly.

“I’m so afraid. I feel like I need my God more than ever. But I swear to you that I will only keep my faith in my heart, so no one can know of it.”

I shook my head sadly. “I thought I would fear the Pharaoh all my days when I first saw him, but he is nothing compared to Nefertiti.”

Akhenaten and Nefertiti both visited with me during the month leading up to the wedding. Akhenaten always remained aloof, but kind. Every time he came to me, he sat beside me and looked me over without speaking. I tried to converse with him, but rarely received more than a single-word answer. Desperate for a male heir, he often had me stand, for him to examine my hips. He circled around me, his hand running over my hips before declaring them solid and strong, perfect for bearing sons.

I did notice a hint of madness in him during these visits. Although the signs never seemed overt, I saw it in his eyes and heard it in the tone of his voice. Being a descendant of Joseph, I was expected to interpret his dreams, but I didn’t know what they meant. He spoke to me of visions and told me in great detail of the day he sailed up the Nile and Aten rose over the cliffs to give him the sign of where he should build his city.

Despite all of this, he seemed to grow fond of me, and his appearance grew less fearsome for me each day.

Nefertiti was quite the opposite. Every time she came, she stood and stared at me for several minutes, then commented on my appearance, requiring something to be altered because it offended her. Then she sat and ran through the rules of being a wife of the Pharaoh with me. She usually spat out the same things every day, but sometimes she threw in something different. She made it very clear that she held the power over everything I did, once I married Akhenaten. She determined everything, from what clothes I wore, to when I would be allowed conjugal visits with the Pharaoh. With those, I hoped she resented me enough to make them infrequent—the fewer the better.