by Diana Ballew
She turned and fixed her gaze upon Alia. “Do these duties meet with your approval?”
With an eager nod, Alia grinned. “Yes, Mistress. I loved the nursery when I lived in my mother’s household. And I will be honest and true in my other duties.”
“Very good.” The great wife faced Ineni, who’d awaited his mistress at the door since the time Alia entered. “Ineni, find Alia a permanent pallet and garments befitting her duties. She will attend Pharaoh’s table this moonrise as another Kadeshi delegation has requested an audience. Please have Alia shown the bathing rooms, and also the kitchen so she can become familiar with the way table is served.
“I will spend some time in solitude now. Pharaoh wishes my attendance at the unveiling of his new chapel at the temple of Nekhbet at Re’s zenith.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Ineni bowed low before directing Alia to precede him toward the hall.
“We shall speak on the morrow at garden, Alia,” the queen said as they departed.
Still astounded by the queen's generosity, Alia dazedly followed Ineni through the warren of corridors until they came to the open-aired kitchens. Here, the priests and cooks were sampling delicacies and arranging platters of sweets. He introduced her to the head cook and today’s attending priest, explaining Alia’s new role in the queen’s household. Both men studied her without comment, then resumed their work.
From what she could see, Pharaoh’s cooks prepared food in a similar manner to the way she’d been taught. Although destined to become wife to a prince, Alia had spent many days each month learning to cook and clean. Her mother had insisted that each of her daughters understood every aspect of the maintenance of a household. And there had always been the possibility that the prince she married commanded little wealth or influence — thus, she might have been forced to perform such tasks herself. Never in her wildest dreams had she considered slavery as her eventual lot.
“Come,” Ineni said, then motioned to a door beyond the kitchen, “the bathing chambers are this way.”
After passing through two short halls, both very dark and close, they emerged into a chamber that held four square baths, each about six feet across. One bath was glazed in beautiful blue tiles, which echoed those she had once seen when an Assyrian trader had come to her mother’s home. Lotus patterns traced their way around the upper ledge of the bath, and the water was obviously infused with herbs and flower tinctures, as the heady fragrance almost made her head spin.
"As you can see, the main bath belongs to our queen. Her attendants use the others, unless invited to join our mistress in her waters. Queen Neferure uses a special mix of powders in the waters to maintain her youth and beauty. She is very particular about her blend and shares it only when an attendant has truly pleased her.”
Alia smiled as she stepped closer; the vapors alone smelled intoxicating.
“Our mistress usually takes her bath before sundown and eats the evening meal shortly after, unless Pharaoh requests her presence at his table. The queen and Pharaoh often share meals when Pharaoh has no diplomatic guests.”
With a discreet nod, Alia indicated she understood the routine. “What of the royal children? Do they ever dine with Pharaoh?” she asked, remembering the rare occasions she attended her father’s mealtimes at a small table at the rear of the hall. She learned very early that her presence was only ever required when her father wanted to show her off to suitors of political importance. On one occasion, she had barely made it through the meal as the elderly prince she was ordered to impress continually spat on the carpets like a camel. His furtive glances filled her with fear, and she was just about ready to flee to the safety of her mother’s tent when the man gave offence to her father and fighting broke out. Her brother Arad sustained a bad cut to his cheek, but she was so happy that there’d be no wedding; she offered to nurse him and dress the wound daily until it healed. Later, Arad had laughed at her, saying he would not have allowed his sister to marry such a vulgar oaf, anyway.
“The children remain most days with their nurses and tutors. The princes accompany Pharaoh to learn the hunt and arts of war. The royal daughters stay closeted in the women’s apartments at all times; the purity of their line must be maintained.
“The lesser princes, the issue from Pharaoh’s concubines, usually train for the priesthood of Amun, just as Pharaoh once did. Some might travel to conquered lands as governors or magistrates when they reach such an age that they can carry the mantle of power.”
As she listened, she realized these princes and kings might live in larger houses and wield more power, but their lot appeared basically the same as that of the princes of her homeland.
“So, Alia, do you have any questions?”
“None that I can think at the moment, Ineni. But I thank you. My understanding of your way of life is better now.”
Ineni allowed the slightest of smiles to cross his implacable face. His bald head and plain long skirt had stamped him for a priest at first, until she noted that all the eunuchs in the queen’s household were similarly shaven and attired.
“It will take time. Just as it did for me. I had seen but ten harvests when I was captured and brought to the palace. At that time Pharaoh’s father ruled the upper and lower lands alongside Hatshepsut, his great wife. My family’s boat ran aground in the shallows that lead to the sea beyond Kmt. All were thrown to the crocodiles, except my sister and I. I’m not sure what happened to her; she was very young. The soldiers said my father was a pirate.
“Hatshepsut allowed me to stay as a playmate to her young daughter — and the other royal princesses — after I was cut, of course.” He turned and for just an instant, Alia saw a fleeting look of regret cross his features.
“But I’ve had a good life with Pharaoh’s great wife. She became my first friend, and I was very happy because they brought me into this household. When Hatshepsut’s steward died, I trained for that role. But she also went to the afterlife only a few moons later. I have served the queen ever since.” Love and something more than devotion flared in his expressive gray eyes as he spoke of his mistress.
Ineni took Alia to her new pallet, which lay in the same room where she’d slept the previous night. However, it nestled under a high window that allowed Alia a view of Nut’s glittering night sky.
“As you can see, Inhapi has brought some garments for your use; you may alter them to fit better if you wish. Adjedaa always keeps sewing tools by her.”
“Thank you, Ineni, I’m sure they will fit just fine.”
“Thanks should be given to your mistress, not me. I merely see that her wishes are carried out. Now I will leave you among the women.”
For three weeks she remained in the queen’s apartments, learning the routines, helping with the younger children. A feeling of contentment settled over her as she came to be part of this extended family of the most powerful ruler in the world.
Pharaoh often visited his great wife, and though she was never close enough to hear their conversation, the two appeared relaxed in their friendship and caring of each other. This fascinated Alia — they behaved so unlike her own family that she found it difficult to believe all the stories her mother had told her about those who wielded the power of kingship.
The last time Pharaoh had come to the queen’s rooms, some three days ago, he stopped before her and enquired whether she was happy in her new home. Again Alia couldn’t believe it! Why would a king — the mightiest king in the entire world — be concerned about the welfare of a lowly slave girl?
“I am very content, Majesty. The queen is wonderful and all the women have become my friends — I thank you for placing me here.”
He gave her an enigmatic look and said, “That is well,” before he took his leave.
As she turned, she nearly walked straight into Ineni, who was standing directly behind her. “Pardon, Ineni,” she mumbled as she made to step by, “— I will return to the nursery.”
He laid his hand on her arm, sending a strange shi
ver along her spine. “That is not necessary. Alia, the vizier has just informed me that you must prepare to be attendant at Pharaoh’s table once again. When the sun crests the temple gate,” he pointed out the window to the nearby temple of Amun and its massive pillared wall, “I will return to escort you to Pharaoh’s dining hall. Be ready. Bathe and wear your best garments. And be sure to have Adjedaa’s women paint your face as befitting your station. Tonight you must be extremely discreet. It seems Pharaoh’s guest is a young prince who might have been known to you in your former life. This meeting will test you, young Alia. Do not fail it, your Pharaoh would not be pleased.”
After promising she would do what he asked, she turned from Ineni, her heart pounding. Who is this ambassador I must spy upon this moonrise? She knew very few princes, apart from her father and brother. Why would Pharaoh consider it a test? A test of loyalty, perhaps? Or something else entirely?
Alia sighed. She’d learn nothing if she remained staring out at the temple. Glimpsing the streets beyond the palace, she wished she were free to go out and mingle with the crowds moving to and fro under the burning sun. Her life had been as a prisoner since the time she could remember, and once, just once, she dearly desired the freedom to walk about unhindered and explore. Everything she’d seen had always been from a distance, except for the long march from the battle that changed her destiny, yet even then, she’d been kept under cover and guarded, tethered to her companions as they walked or sailed during the long journey to Thebes.
She sighed again. Freedom will never be mine.
When she returned to her sleeping place a new set of clothes awaited her — made of sheer white linen, the gown seemed quite demure compared to the clothing she was made to wear the first few times she served at table.
Adjedaa, slightly stooped and assisted by several young women, stepped into the alcove and smiled with warmth in her eyes. “The garments are to your liking?”
“Oh, yes, thank you for your kindness.”
Adjedaa swatted the air. “Nothing. Ineni tells me we must again prepare you for serving at Pharaoh’s table. Sentnay here will take you to the baths and help you wash and dress your hair. When you are done, return so we can fix your face and clothe you properly.”
Alia bowed her head in obeisance. “Yes, Adjedaa.”
Reaching out a withered hand, Adjedaa gently patted Alia’s hair, then smoothed her cheek, lifting her chin so she could scrutinize Alia’s face. “Mmm, I hope our mistress does not regret her kindness to you.”
Alia’s eyes darted up to meet the older woman’s. But she read no malice there, only concern. “I promise, Adjedaa, I will be the very best servant she has in her house.”
To that Adjedaa laughed. “You will have a lot of competition if that is your plan, young Alia. Most of the women here would die for their mistress without a moment’s hesitation.” She patted Alia's cheek again. “But yes, I think you will do well. Go now, the sun marches across the desert and time is short. There is much to be done.”
Pharaoh’s amber eyes studied her with a measuring look the moment Alia entered the chamber. His wondrous face revealed no expression or even recognition, yet she knew he watched her, just the same.
Taking up her station behind the prince, Alia bowed her head and waited. She couldn’t help darting another glance toward Pharaoh, and when she met his warm gaze, she felt him communicate without words. She barely resisted the temptation to smile, because although she had no idea what he was trying to tell her, she felt a secret pact forming between them, and it was reassuring to know she had an ally in this foreign place, especially since that ally was none other than Pharaoh himself.
The prince before her began to speak, cutting off the silent conversation, and Alia became instantly alert. As Ineni had said, this prince was indeed known to her; he’d been a friend of her brother’s whom she’d met, just once, when she’d seen no more than thirteen harvests. The rendezvous had been clandestine; her brother had arranged that his friend would meet his favorite sister.
Unknown to Alia’s family, the two young princes had, in the way youths full of exuberance and grandiose plans do, decided they would lead their people in future years and be allied against all invaders. To that end, Arad would marry Enlil’s sister, and Enlil would marry Alia.
That was nearly four harvests ago, and Alia remembered only a little of the meeting, Arad had dragged her behind the stables and declared as he removed her cowl: “See, Enlil, she is pretty and not too fat. She will bear good sons.”
“So you say, Arad, so you say,” muttered the handsome young man with fiery black eyes. Then, without ceremony, her brother shoved her back to her nurse, who waited nearby, warning both to remain silent about the meeting. So Alia remained silent. Somehow, she knew Enlil and Arad would not follow through.
Only a few weeks later, her brother married the daughter of a prince from further north, beyond the land of the Canaanites, putting an end to any plans and sealing a bargain for her father that ensured a supply of sound wood to build war chariots.
Enlil did not recognize Alia — at least, he gave no indication as he motioned for her to refill his wine cup.
“So, young prince, you wish to administer some of my new territories. Why should I grant such an important post to a defeated enemy?”
Enlil straightened in his chair and placed his cup on the low table with care. His smile, viewed from the angle where Alia stood, seemed false, and her eyes flashed to Pharaoh in the same moment that Pharaoh turned his gaze upon her. Silently, he intimated that he’d seen it too, and she felt pride brim in her heart at being his confidant.
“Majesty, in my humble opinion, the peoples I seek to govern for you would be more pliable if they feel they have someone they trust, whom they know, as their ruler.”
“Ah, but I am their ruler …” Pharaoh leaned forward to pluck an apple from the platter before him. A priest leapt up to cut a small piece from the side of the fruit and swallowed it with care, before nodding to his king and stepping back, “… and they can trust me to be honest in my dealings with them if they are loyal and honest with Pharaoh. The tribute I ask from the territories is not such a great burden that they cannot meet it. Perhaps there is logic in your argument, but rebellion would also be far easier to incite.
“Do you have any other requests you wish to place before me?”
Enlil’s hand came from beneath his robe and tugged at his short beard, a habit many men of her country used in silent warning. Again Alia’s eyes met Pharaoh’s in mute concord. With a slight lift of his index finger, Pharaoh commanded the guards to move closer.
“If it pleases, Majesty, I also seek the sister of my good friend who was killed in the fighting. She is dear to me as I was to become her husband. I would ransom her if it meets with your approval.”
A coldness swept over Alia’s as she realized Enlil spoke of her. For some reason, one she didn’t know herself, she did not want this man to bargain for her release. Again her eyes clashed with Pharaoh’s, this time mentally shouting her alarm.
“And this young woman, did she wish to be your bride?” Pharaoh’s tone sounded almost amused.
“Indeed, Majesty. We felt great affection for each other. I do not expect you would have seen her yourself, but Alia, daughter of Hallil, is a rare beauty.”
Terror filled her chest at the prince’s words.
With casual grace, Pharaoh glanced up at Alia and lifted an eyebrow.
Ever so slightly, she shook her head, mutely begging that he pay no heed to Enlil’s lies.
“Well, if she is such a beauty, I will have your flower brought here so I may look upon her and measure her fairness. Alia, you say?” Pharaoh’s face took on a thoughtful cast for several seconds, then he shot a quick glance at her as if asking whether or not she wished to be revealed. Her eyes widened. Please, no!
A long moment passed, and Alia almost took a step toward the royal dais. Please! her mind cried.
“We have many serva
nts here at the palace, indeed all over Kmt. Do you know where she has been assigned?”
With a sickly grin, Enlil reached for his cup. “It is my belief she was brought here to your palace, Majesty, that she might be among the chief concubine’s women. If I am taken there, I should easily point her out.”
“No man should enter the concubine’s quarters but Pharaoh. Sitiah’s women will be brought to us.” Motioning to Vizier Rekhmire, Pharaoh spoke in quiet tones. Rekhmire appeared perplexed at first, then nodded and strode off in the direction of Sitiah’s apartments.
“Perhaps you would like more wine while we wait, Enlil,” Pharaoh said, a mischievous smirk crossing his face for the merest instant. Flicking his fingers at Alia, Pharaoh indicated he wanted her to fill Enlil’s cup. “This young slave is pretty also; would you care for her if we cannot find your flower?”
Enlil spared her only a passing look. “With respect, Majesty, no woman but Alia would please my heart.”
“Not even one as beautiful as this? See her perfect skin? Her lithe body, though small, would bear fine sons,” Pharaoh taunted, despite Alia’s mental pleas for him to stop.
Enlil perused her assets with disinterest. “Although she is beautiful, this one is nothing compared to my betrothed.”
Relieved, Alia resisted the urge to laugh — Pharaoh had just outwitted the young prince.
Both men sat in silence as they awaited the chief concubine’s retinue. When the women entered the chamber, their eyes were filled with fear. Alia knew them all, had spent a season among them, and knew they probably cowered as much from the dire warning the chief concubine would have issued, as they feared what could befall them at being brought before Pharaoh. In fact, it surprised her that Sitiah had not accompanied them, wailing about her rights and the intrusion upon her household.