“Are you with his child as well?” Nefertiti stood too, her eyes shooting daggers at Kiya.
“No.” It was the only firm answer she could give. I know she is angry, she thought. I would be too. I wish I could tell you everything, Nefertiti.
Nefertiti circled the table and stood with her nose almost touching Kiya’s. “Are you sure?” she snapped through her teeth, thinking her friend had willingly betrayed her. After all, Kiya had said she was not afraid to die for refusing Pharaoh’s bed, and yet here she stood, alive and well.
When Kiya did not speak, Nefertiti strode out of the room, and Ainamun closed the door behind her.
Kiya sat back in her chair and laid her head over her arms. “I did refuse,” she whispered, and Ainamun came up behind her. “Now she thinks I have betrayed her.”
Ainamun could not formulate any words to tell the young Queen, so instead she stroked her back as Kiya’s tears fell.
NEFERTITI LINGERED at the chair where she used to sit as Kiya would teach her how to paint. The canvas was blank; Kiya’s paints had dried up. She pushed the chair over and threw the canvas to the ground with a grunt.
How could she? She thought these words over and over as she kicked each reed container which held the dried paint at the walls of the courtyard.
Her girls stopped playing, startled by their mother’s burst of anger. They began to crowd around Meritaten, pushing her in front of them. They had never seen their mother in such a destructive mood.
Nefertiti looked over, seeing Neferneferuaten Tasherit’s little eyes fill with tears. Nefertiti stopped and took a deep breath, raising her face to the Aten.
It was Akhenaten who made the command, not Amenhotep . . . but she said she would refuse him, she thought. And Henuttaneb? He probably commanded her as well. Her child is certainly his. He is not the man I married.
She longed to be next to her father so she could let go of the hurt she held inside. Wash yourself clean and start anew, she remembered her father’s words.
“It is so hard,” she whispered to herself.
The night prior, she suddenly recalled, something had felt . . . wrong. It seemed that the day shed light on the deeds done in darkness.
Should I approach Akhenaten? How will he react? He obviously has scared Kiya into not saying anything to me—or she was too overwhelmed by guilt to speak.
As she mulled this over, her daughters’ whimpers took her attention away. She looked to them and held out her arms and they ran up to her. She knelt to one knee and embraced all five daughters at once.
“What should I do, my beautiful children?” she whispered.
Meritaten stroked her mom’s shoulder. “Do what you always do, Mother. You decide what is best for Egypt and then you act. One day I will do the same.”
Nefertiti looked to her eldest daughter. “You are wise beyond your years. ‘Beloved of the Aten’ . . . my Meritaten.”
At this Meritaten smiled and pushed her sisters in closer as Nefertiti tried to extend her arms wider.
Nefertiti then rose and let Aitye care for her children as she went to the throne room. She would accompany her partially deranged husband in ruling the lands. He would need her to perform the simplest of tasks, surely.
If he knew I was suspicious, he would not be able to deal, and would perhaps irrationally sentence everyone to exile—or death, she thought bitterly.
She took a deep breath before opening the doors to the throne room.
The past is the past . . . but Kiya knew better. She had her mind about her. She told me she would refuse him but did not—and so I will refuse her.
SHE TOOK her place next to Pharaoh Akhenaten. Queen Tiye sat to the left side of her son a little way behind Nefertiti’s and Akhenaten’s thrones.
Nefertiti spoke only loudly enough for Pharaoh to hear as messengers approached, yet Pharaoh once again began to look to the Aten to give him visions. Fortunately, in his delusions, Nefertiti’s words became the Aten’s words, and so Nefertiti ruled Egypt through Akhenaten.
Queen Tiye realized what Nefertiti was doing and eventually—at Nefertiti’s great relief—had her throne moved closer as well so she could help Nefertiti rule the country. She appreciated the older Queen’s wisdom and years of experience.
Weeks passed and Nefertiti began using this newfound advantage to try and persuade Akhenaten through his visions that the other gods needed the people’s praise as well, but Akhenaten refused those visions as false. Queen Tiye would only shake her head in disappointment at her son, but would try as well, only to fail.
Nefertiti had not spoken with Kiya except a polite “Hello” as they occasionally passed through the halls, and when they sat next to each other at Meritaten and Smenkare’s wedding feast alongside Sitamun, Henuttaneb, Beketaten, and Iset. The sisters all talked amongst themselves and seemed to ignore Nefertiti and Kiya. Kiya tried several times to engage Nefertiti in conversation but was met with a cold shoulder.
After the subsequent wedding feast in Upper and Lower Egypt, Nefertiti noticed Kiya never came to the courtyard anymore and the servants made fewer trips to her chambers with painting supplies. She actually smiled grimly, hoping Kiya was in her bed crying for breaking her one promise to her—crying for how much pain she had brought to her friend.
Kiya spent her days in her chair or curled underneath her window. She still could not sleep in that bed. Ainamun had tried to have another bed made, but Kiya refused, saying it would only confirm Nefertiti’s suspicions.
Little did she know that Nefertiti had already confirmed the suspicions in her own mind and was plotting to have Kiya removed permanently from the royal court. Most nights as she curled up and held his arm, she would whisper to Pharaoh Akhenaten, “The King of Mitanni wanted his daughter to have a child by now. If she is unable, or refuses, then perhaps you should send her back in shame.” She loved Kiya enough to not whisper her sentence of a shameful return to Akhenaten while he was receiving a vision from the Aten—but still, she wanted her gone by Pharaoh’s command.
He would often respond, “There is no need to bring her shame.” He began to call Kiya the “Greatly Beloved of the King” and “Good Child of the Living Aten”—actions, Nefertiti knew, which stemmed from his own guilt.
Months passed as Nefertiti’s stomach grew large, round, and healthy, as did Henuttaneb’s. The servants whispered in the hallways, wondering if the son would be Henuttaneb’s or Nefertiti’s. Would it prove or disprove the vision of the Aten given to Pharaoh? Would it confirm or deny his belief that the Aten was the sole god of Egypt? And if his vision proved to be false, would Egypt rise up against their Pharaoh?
CHAPTER 22
THE TIME OF THE SON
Her teeth sunk into the wooden stick in her mouth as Nefertiti squatted over the birthing pot.
“Once more”—the midwife put her hand to the Queen’s lips to silence her whimpers—“once more!”
Nefertiti regained her breath and took in a long inhale, then exhaled with every force of her being. She fell backward into her servants’ hands and they took her up and laid her on the cot while the midwives tended to the birth.
“Aitye,” she whispered, trying to regain her breath.
“Yes, my Queen?”
“Tell me I have a son.”
Aitye did not respond, only smiled.
Nefertiti grabbed the back of Aitye’s head and pulled her face close to hers.
“Tell me I have a son!”
Shocked at the Queen’s actions, Aitye just cried, “I cannot.”
After a moment of silence, she continued, “You . . . you have a precious daughter.”
Nefertiti forgot to breathe. She let go of Aitye’s head and shook her own, finally whimpering, “No . . . no.”
The messenger looked to the ground, and the room was silent save for a crying female child.
“Next time, my Queen,” Aitye stuttered.
“Aitye, I doubt there will be a next time,” Nefertiti said quietly. Her spiri
t had given up, finally given up on the thought of having a son. “Send word to Pharaoh that he has a sixth daughter from his Queen Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti.”
The messenger bowed and went out to give the message to Pharaoh.
“If Pharaoh does not show his face to me today,” she told Aitye, “her name shall be Setepenre—‘The Chosen of Re’—because although I prayed for a son, Re has chosen a daughter.”
“Yes, my Queen,” Aitye said.
The wet nurse tried to stifle a cough as Aitye took the baby from her and handed the new child to Nefertiti.
“Another exquisite daughter,” Nefertiti said, her voice monotone. She remembered how she had cried when she held Neferneferuaten Tasherit for the first time. The feeling came over her again, but today was different; she felt such a finality about this child. Her heart knew this would be her last child with Akhenaten.
She would not bear the heir to the throne.
No tears came. Instead she smiled at her precious child. “I will love you, Setepenre,” she said, knowing Akhenaten would not come to her side that day. “I will never leave you, my chosen of Re.”
THE DAY PASSED and Pharaoh stayed in his temple, worshiping the Aten, sending word to Henuttaneb that the Aten had told him she would be the mother of his son, and that he would have to proclaim him as his child.
Beketaten heard the message as well.
“Henuttaneb, would you like to come with me to see how our sister-wife is doing?” she said with a sly smile.
“Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti is going to be angry,” Henuttaneb said, knowing Beketaten’s intentions were not of the friendly sort.
“It is even more fun when she can’t do or say anything,” Beketaten said.
“We don’t even know if my child will be a boy or a girl.” Henuttaneb still sat in her chair, unmoving. Her sister had dragged on her nerves the last few months she was there. The more she saw the callousness in how she spoke about their family, the uglier she became and the less of an idol she was for Henuttaneb.
“I can tell that it is a boy. Sitamun looked and carried the same as you when she was pregnant with Smenkare,” Beketaten said, confirming Henuttaneb’s suspicions about her sister’s intentions.
Henuttaneb rolled her eyes and planted her arms firmly on the arm rests of her chair. “We are going to look foolish if I have a girl as well.”
“Let us go congratulate the Queen on another daughter.” Beketaten lingered at the door. “Come, Henuttaneb.”
Beketaten was still the elder child, and perhaps for this reason Henuttaneb felt loyalty to her. She slowly picked herself up from her chair and waddled behind her sister.
“Besides, you need the exercise to make your first delivery go more smoothly,” Beketaten said, eyeing her pitiful sister.
“You try carrying a child for almost eight months, and then I can be the one to criticize how you look!” Henuttaneb snapped.
“Oh, sister,” Beketaten laughed, walking over to her and draping her arms on Henuttaneb’s shoulders. “I have much bigger plans for my life than having children for Pawah. He agrees our work matters more than reproducing offspring.”
She pushed her to the door and out into the hallway toward the Queen’s chambers.
“What is this work you have been referring to since you came here?” Henuttaneb finally asked. For months she had listened to Beketaten drone on and on about her work and watched her send messengers under the cover of darkness to Pawah.
Beketaten stopped in the hallway and grabbed both of Henuttaneb’s shoulders. “Just think of it as a homecoming and say nothing more about it. Promise me!”
“Yes, sister.” Henuttaneb loved her sister, and all the memories they had made when they were little, but there were times when she was frightened of her. The way her dark black eyes bore into hers, and the slight prick of her nails into Henuttaneb’s skin as she held her shoulders was just enough to make Henuttaneb not want to cross her path.
“Good girl,” Beketaten said and patted her shoulders. She whistled her way down the hallway.
They eventually ended up outside of Nefertiti’s chambers, where they let themselves in.
Kiya had been walking behind them for several minutes, but the echoes of Beketaten’s whistling masked her light footsteps. She wanted to see the new princess and wanted to try to make things right with her friend, but instead she saw the two women—the same two women who had manipulated her childhood friend, the Pharaoh, into forcing himself onto her—proceed uninvited into Nefertiti’s chambers.
She held back and at the crack of the door just listened to the conversation.
“Leave now,” Nefertiti ordered as soon as she saw them. She didn’t have the patience to deal with them right then.
“Or what?” Beketaten said. “Are you going to reverse your reversal of Pharaoh’s command? I’m sure he would love for you to do that. Henuttaneb might have three sons by the time you come back from your banishment next time.”
Kiya gritted her teeth.
“I will have Pharaoh command you to be beaten,” Nefertiti said. “Forty lashes each.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Beketaten said. Henuttaneb chuckled. “It’s not like Akhenaten has his head on straight to understand anything you say.”
“Why are you so mean to me?” Nefertiti asked. “I have done nothing to—”
“Nothing? The Queen who does nothing when her husband exiles his sister from the great Egypt? The Queen who does nothing when her husband gives her the alternative to die by impalement? Yes . . . you have done nothing! You coward of a Queen!”
Kiya could hear Beketaten’s spit hit the floor.
“I tried to talk your brother and your mother out of the impalement and the exile because you had not been told about the plan to restore power to the position of Pharaoh,” Nefertiti whispered back in a semi-hushed voice.
“Ah . . . the plan. Do you see how it has turned out? The only time Egypt was doing better was when you ruled in Pharaoh’s place. He doesn’t deserve the throne and never did. Mother would make a better Pharaoh than him. He has let this country go to the wolves, tossed it out like it was yesterday’s bread—and you let him do it!”
“Can’t you see he is ill in his mind?!” Nefertiti yelled back. Pain tinged her words; she was still sore from childbirth.
“Of course I can,” Beketaten said, smiling coyly.
“That is why we made him drunk that night,” Henuttaneb said.
Beketaten jabbed her elbow into her ribs.
Nefertiti paused. “What did you say?” She yanked the blanket off of her legs and swung them to the ground, standing up to face them, shoulders squared. “What did you say?!”
Henuttaneb shrank back a little bit, but Beketaten stood where she was with both hands firmly placed on her hips.
Kiya’s nails made her palms bleed as her anger crowded in her jaw. “They did this,” Kiya whispered in response to Nefertiti’s question.
“What did you say?” Nefertiti said again through her teeth, staring at Beketaten, matching the same dark cold gaze as hers.
“You heard her.” Beketaten shifted her weight to her other hip and leaned forward as if inviting Nefertiti’s vain anger. “We simply couldn’t wait for a Queen who is a failure at having sons to bear a son.”
“You don’t even know what the child will be!” Nefertiti yelled in Beketaten’s face.
“It will be a son,” Beketaten said with a cool voice. “Just like the vision your beloved Akhenaten had.” She raised her arms high above her head and looked to the sky in mockery.
Nefertiti raised her arm to backhand Beketaten’s cheek, but then Henuttaneb screamed.
“Water is running down my leg!”
Nefertiti looked and saw blood instead. She dropped her arm and immediately called for her own midwife. “Hers is not clear like mine!” Nefertiti said, pointing to the blood that ran down Henuttaneb’s leg when the servants arrived. “Help her!”
They imm
ediately brought the birthing pot. She was going to have this child in Nefertiti’s chambers. A midwife yanked out a small statue of Bes and Tawaret from her bag and said a quick prayer before she placed them back in her bag and attended Henuttaneb.
“Why is this happening so early?” Henuttaneb cried. “I am supposed to have another month.”
The midwife put the wooden stick between her teeth so she could bite into it and pressed her finger to her lips. Servants held her arms and one held her back as Henuttaneb pushed.
Soon the sound of a crying baby burst into the air.
Nefertiti looked at the newborn and her heart sank deep into the pit of her stomach.
A baby boy who looked exactly like Pharaoh Akhenaten.
“A baby boy!” a servant said to Henuttaneb as she fell back, and they laid her on the stone floor, since Nefertiti’s birthing cot had already been removed.
A messenger went off to tell Pharaoh that his royal wife bore him a son.
Blood slowly filled the floor as it flowed from Henuttaneb’s bottom. Springing into action, the midwives scurried about, leaving one of the servants to hold the newborn, still covered in afterbirth and crying for his mother’s warmth.
Henuttaneb kept calling for her mother, who by this time was surely on her way after receiving word from a messenger. By the time Queen Tiye made it to Nefertiti’s quarters, goosebumps had fallen over Henuttaneb’s body. She was slurring her words, beginning to drift into a daze.
The midwives did everything they could to stop the bleeding, but no matter what they put against her or inside her, they would remove it soaked in blood.
AITYE FINALLY TOOK the crying baby from the servant and cleaned him and tightly wrapped him. Queen Tiye and Beketaten were now kneeling and holding Henuttaneb’s hands as the midwives worked to try to stop the bleeding.
Queen Tiye placed her other hand on her forehead. “She is warm,” she said, and bent her head, wishing she could be in the temple of Amun-Re to plead with the priests to save her daughter. But instead she could only hope Amun-Re would hear her silent prayer.
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