Heretic of El Amarna

Chapter 47: Nefertiti

I sat in the garden, silent and alone.

Amenhotep was tending to some matter of state — more than likely someone wanted to complain about the way he was running things or about the fact that he said no to getting involved in a war with the Hittites.

Kiya was recovering from her successful, uneventful birth. She and the baby were both healthy and happy. Her son was strong and looked a lot like her, despite his baby pudginess and wider eyes. The resemblance between them was still uncanny aside from that.

So I sat alone in the garden, a tear dropping down my cheek.

I was due soon after Kiya and had only weeks before the baby was supposed to come, but the aching disappointment over not being able to bear Amenhotep’s first baby boy was not going away. Not even when I considered that I might still bear a boy — if that happened, then my son would be the heir, not Kiya’s babe.

Nothing could soothe the guilt and pain I felt over having born my husband a daughter instead of a son the first time. My only small consolation — it was small indeed — was the prayer, the hope, that I might still bear him a son this time.

There was enormous pressure on women to bear sons and not daughters. I knew that in some cultures, my daughter would have been killed at birth to avoid having to feed extra mouths. Girls were considered burdens because they couldn’t provide for their parents in old age and were more difficult to wed than boys.

 I was thankful for the small mercy that that didn’t occur among the royalty of Egypt. Perhaps if I had been a lower commoner or of low status in the royal household it might have occurred then, but I was not of low rank, nor was I a commoner, and so my daughter had lived.

That did not ease the ache, and the tears began to flow quicker as I rubbed my belly. “I truly hope that you are a boy…” I whispered to the baby within me.

I felt a sharp kick in my side. It brought a small smile to my face. “Is that a yes to my prayer, then?” I murmured.

I felt two warm, calloused hands on my shoulders and Amenhotep’s gentle kiss on the side of my neck. “I do not care if your child is a boy or a girl… I love you no matter what.” He whispered to me, moving to sit down on the bench beside me.

I gave him a sad smile, shaking my head. “I wanted…” I stopped. “But it is of no matter now…”

He shook his head. “No… What matters to you is not of no consequence. Please… Tell me what is bothering you.” He pleaded, wiping away my tears with gentle fingers.

I sighed, pulling in a shuddering breath and resting my forehead on his shoulder. “I just… I desperately wanted to be the one to bear your first son…” I admitted.

His warm, strong arms wrapped around me, and he gave me a warm kiss on the top of my head. “I know… Nefertiti… I am not lying when I say it matters not to me whether your babe is a boy or not. It also matters not at all if you did not bear my firstborn son.”

I felt better when he said that, but the pain was still there. I had pinned all my hopes on that and had failed. Kiya, not I, had given birth to Amenhotep’s heir. And that one truth was such a bitter one for me.

“That does not stop the ache… I… I wanted it so badly, and the disappointment causes such pain to my ba.” I whispered.

He nodded. “I know. But you could still bear a son…”

I smiled. “I know that.” I looked down at my swelling stomach, resting my hands on my belly.

Amenhotep pulled me closer, placing his hands against my side.

The baby decided to kick just then, surprising Amenhotep with its strength and vitality. He grinned, white teeth flashing in the light of the half-moon rising in the sky. “The baby is strong… Its kick is hard.” He glanced up at me then, thinking. “Does it hurt terribly when the baby kicks?” He asked, eyes suddenly filled with anxiety.

I smiled. “Sometimes. But the pain is nothing compared to seeing the baby after so many months and knowing that we have brought another life into the world. In the end, it is worth every moment of pain.”

He nodded slowly. “If you think so…” He was silent for a moment.

I soaked up the silence and warmth of his arms, savoring the moment I had with him.

“Do you think…” He started. “Perhaps we should stop after this? Nefertiti, I know well the risks involved with pregnancy and childbirth. I do not want to lose you… Perhaps after our child is born, we should stop before something happens… I have heard terrible stories about maternal deaths. The rate for the deaths of those giving birth is high.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No! I do not think we should stop just because there are risks. Giving birth and being pregnant have been a fairly easy process for me so far. I see no reason why it will not continue to be that way.”

He sighed, running his fingers through my hair. “Very well… If you feel that way. I just wish there was some way to be certain you would be safe.”

I leaned against him, giving him a brief kiss. “I will be fine. You should stop worrying about me so much. After all, you have many other things to worry over. Adding me to the list can hardly be helpful.”

He laughed softly. “True, perhaps. But I would much rather spend my time worrying over you than worrying over court matters.” He made a sour face. “Court… I really hate being Pharaoh. Despite all the small benefits it gives, I find it to be a tiresome task.”

I grinned, laughing too. “I can understand that… Somehow, I see you more as a visionary religious leader. One who knows what he wants and how to accomplish it. Someone who wants life to be a good thing for everyone…”

He shrugged. “I know I cannot make life good for everyone. But I wish I could… No one should be forced to live in squalor.”

I hugged him, pushing off the bench slowly. I was becoming increasingly lower on energy these days as I ran into the last stretch of pregnancy. “That is what I love so much about you… You care even for the poorest of them. I admire that.” I whispered in his ear before making my way slowly inside.

And it was true.

That was the one thing I admired most about my husband. His compassion.

He cared about even the lowest of the low and never turned away someone who was hurting if he had the ability to help, but he tempered that compassion with reason. He had a balance between the two, which was a necessity for anything in life.