Kiya and the God of Chaos

by Philippa Bower

  Chapter Twenty Three: The Funeral Procession

  Huy burst into the room. “Quick!” he said. “The whole of Thebes is down at the dock waiting for the funeral barges to arrive. We may just be in time to see them.”

  “Oh, good!” said Laylos, rising to her feet. “Come on, sister, I have never witnessed such a thing.”

  “You go ahead,” said Ramala, shaking her head with a rueful smile. “I will stay here with Kiya and you can tell us all about it.”

  “Please can I go, Mama,” pleaded Kiya.

  “No, dear. You must stay in hiding,” said Ramala.

  “For how long?” wailed Kiya. “I cannot be stuck in this farmhouse for the rest of my life.” Filled with resentment, Kiya stood in the doorway and watched Laylos, Huy, Teos and Dennu run down the path towards the crowds heading to Thebes on the upper road. She sighed and turned back to where her mother was sitting.

  Ramala looked pale and her face was drawn. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said. “Playing host to our visitors has taken all my energy.”

  “You must rest, Mama.” Kiya made Ramala comfortable on the seating ledge with rugs and cushions.

  She took the goblets into the kitchen and saw Huy’s tunic on the floor. He would be upset if it wasn’t washed by the time he returned home. With a sigh, she picked it up, went out into the yard and dipped it in the tub. It needed a good scrubbing before it was clean and her hands were cold and sore by the time she had finished and hung it over the drying rope.

  When Kiya returned to the living room, Ramala was asleep, her breathing slow and regular. On impulse, Kiya tiptoed to the chest, found her travelling cloak and put it on. If she hastened, she told herself, she should be back before Ramala woke and no harm would be done.

  Kiya hurried up the pathway. She pulled the hood of her cloak more closely around her face as she joined the people heading to the city. By the time she reached Thebes she was already regretting her adventure. The streets around the temple were packed. She took a short cut through alleyways in the hopes of reaching the quay but found herself at the rear of a giant crowd waiting for the funeral barges to arrive. She could see nothing but people’s backs, but faintly at first and then with increasing volume she heard the sound of mourners wailing in a pulsating unison that made her shiver. She stood on tiptoe and, in the distance, she could make out the tips of oars, raised for docking. The desolate sound continued as more barges arrived and disembarked. Kiya wriggled forwards to try to see the new King descend from his barge. There was the swirling of dancers as music was added to the dirge and then the crowd parted. Kiya found herself looking straight into the eyes of Eopei. Her friend stared and faltered in the dance. Then the crowd closed once more.

  Oh, no, thought Kiya. I should never have come! May the gods grant that Eopei did not recognise me. She pulled her hood down further over her face, pushed her way out of the crowd and hurried homewards. How she regretted her foolish impulse to watch the procession. What if her mother was awake upon her return? Heedless of the attention attracted by her haste, she almost ran through the streets of Thebes and along the road home.

  By the time she reached the house, Kiya was out of breath and her heart was beating like a hammer. She pushed open the door and was pleased to see that her mother still lay with her eyes closed. She tiptoed to the chest and put away her travel cloak.

  “Kiya?”

  Kiya whirled round. “Yes, Mama?”

  “Ah! You are here. I thought you might have gone to Thebes.”

  “Oh no,” said Kiya. “I was told to stay at home.”

  “You are a good girl, Kiya.” Ramala gave a light laugh. “You are showing so much more maturity since your visit to your aunt. In the old days, you would have defied us and tried to sneak off to the town.”

  Kiya was embarrassed to receive such a mis-placed compliment. She turned away from her mother and hurried into the kitchen. “I must start making flour for lunch,” she said. She took a handful of wheat from the grain jar, placed it in the mortar and started to grind, creating enough noise to prevent further conversation.

  “You must grind the wheat more gently, Kiya,” called out Ramala, “or you will wear away the pestle and the flour will be gritty.”

  Kiya obediently worked more quietly and by the time Teos, Laylos and Dennu returned, a good pile of flour had been prepared.

  “How was it?” Kiya asked as they entered the house.

  “Very interesting,” said Teos. “But how fortunate you did not come with us, Kiya. The entire temple was gathered at the quayside to greet the King’s coffin.”

  “Tell us about it,” said Ramala.

  Kiya listened from the kitchen as the others described the magnificent costumes, elaborate coffin and the beauty of the new queen.

  Laylos joined her. “Poor Kiya,” she said. “It must be difficult to hear of such wonders while you are confined to the house.”

  “I am fine,” Kiya assured her. “Did Huy not return with you?”

  “No, He chose to stay in Thebes. I fear that a peaceful life in the country does not suit him.”

  “What a shame. I shall miss him.”

  “So will we all,” sighed Laylos. “Here,” she added, handing over a loaf and a leaf-wrapped parcel. “I bought bread and cheese in the market. What a wonderful place it is, such a good selection of herbs. I found everything I need for your mother’s poultices - cubeb, fenugreek, frankincense, turmeric and blue lotus. With such a market I need never worry about a herb garden again."

  “That’s good news,” said Kiya, remembering the long hours of work they both spent in her aunt’s garden.

  “We will start her treatment this afternoon,” said Laylos. She peered at the flour. “Is this your handiwork, Kiya? How fortunate I bought bread, such flour would be the ruination of my teeth. Come let us serve lunch, I am hungry.”

  Lunch was bread and cheese accompanied by dates.

  “It is a shame we have no catfish to go with the meal,” said Teos. “We will set the traps this afternoon.”

  “That sounds like fun,” said Dennu.

  “But first we must finish in the cowshed,” said Teos. He rose to his feet and led the way, followed by Dennu.

  After the men had left, Laylos said, “How helpful Dennu is, despite his high birth. You would have thought that farm work was beneath him.” She turned to Ramala. “It’s time for us to start your treatment, sister. Go upstairs and get yourself ready.”

  “Can it not wait?” asked Ramala.

  “What better time than now?” said Laylos. “All the men are busy and we have the place to ourselves.”

  While Laylos mashed up herbs and mixed them with honey, Kiya copied the hieroglyph of the appropriate spell. She felt distracted. Had Eopei seen her? she wondered. If so, what would her friend do? How she wished she had not disobeyed her parents. She was unable even to warn them for fear of their displeasure.

  Laylos ladled the mixture into a small linen bag. "Is anything wrong, Kiya? You are very quiet.” Kiya assured her aunt that everything was fine and she followed her up the stairs to the roof, where Ramala lay under a blanket, looking apprehensive.

  “Please, Laylos,” pleaded the unwilling patient. “I would prefer to eat your medicine. I’m sure it would be just as effective.”

  “No, I’m sorry, sister,” said Laylos. “It’s a poultice and must be placed where the wound is. Now open up your legs and raise your knees.”

  “Don’t look, Kiya,” said Ramala.

  “Have no fear,” said Kiya. “There are some things a daughter should never see.”

  While Laylos started to rummage under the blanket, Kiya turned away and gazed out over the parapet of the roof. In the distance she saw a familiar figure.

  “You had better hurry, Laylos,” she said. “Huy is on his way home.”