Kiya and the God of Chaos

by Philippa Bower

  Chapter Forty Eight: Justice

  Kiya followed Huy’s men as they dragged the robbers towards the temple. Her back throbbed where the spear had hit her and she held her aunt’s arm for support.

  “By Thoth, I thought you had been killed!” Laylos said. “How are you, Kiya?”

  “It hurts where that spear hit me.”

  “Let me have a look.” Laylos dropped behind and Kiya felt her touch her back. Her voice sank to a whisper. “It is as I thought. The spear hit a gold nugget. You have had a lucky escape, Kiya. There is a small split in the shift but I think the nugget is still safely in its pocket.”

  “Worry about me, not the nugget,” protested Kiya.

  As the group made its way along the street, Kiya noticed a stirring of interest. Men stopped work on the half-constructed buildings and watched them walk past. She turned to Sabu, who was walking on the other side of her.

  “You are very quiet, Sabu.”

  “When I saw you fall I thought you were dead,” he said “Thank Thoth for your miraculous survival. I am ashamed that I failed as a bodyguard.”

  “No,” Kiya assured him, “You did not fail. You were brilliant, Sabu. You fought off the thieves with great courage.”

  Sabu smiled. “Your aunt was the brave one. I will never forget how she hit that soldier with her bucket.”

  “I am very grateful to you both,” said Kiya. Ahead of them she could see the temple entrance, which was wide and unguarded. It seemed strange to her that all were welcomed into such a holy place.

  Through the entrance she found herself in a huge space, at the far end of which was a raised platform and there, beneath a tasselled canopy sat King Ikhnaton and Queen Nefertiti. Kiya stared at them. They looked magnificent, their golden cloaks gleaming with embroidered rays. On their heads were crowns – that of Nefertiti so high that Kiya wondered how her slender neck could support it.

  Kiya pushed her way forwards through the people that milled around in the temple. Some carried flowers and produce, which they put into offering baskets. Kiya breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of fruits and lilies. As she approached the platform she heard music and saw a small orchestra playing under the shadow of the canopy.

  Huy and the prisoners reached the King ahead of her. She saw her uncle step forwards and bow low. “Your Majesty. We have apprehended three men who are accused of theft and attempted murder.”

  The prisoners were pushed towards King Ikhnaton by the guards and Kiya saw him frown. “It is a sin against the Aten to commit a crime in the holy city.”

  “We did not commit it here,” said one of the soldiers, “but in an inn on the road.”

  “Shut up,” said the second soldier under his breath.

  They have condemned themselves out of their own mouths, thought Kiya and was surprised to see the King’s frown diminish. “That is good,” he said. “Akhetaten is a city of peace and love as befits a site that has been chosen by the mighty Aten.”

  “My Lord,” persisted Huy. “These men stole a valuable armlet from this girl, here.”

  Kiya stepped forwards and bowed. She was conscious of the eyes of the King and Queen upon her.

  “Have you proof?” asked Nefertiti with an ill-suppressed yawn.

  “We will find proof, your Majesty,” said Huy. He turned to his men and commanded, “Search them!”

  Kiya watched as the prisoners were searched and prayed to Horus that they had not already disposed of the jewellery. To her relief, Dennu’s armlet was produced from the waist purse of one of the soldiers.

  “That’s it!” Kiya cried.

  “The armlet is mine,” said the soldier. “You cannot prove otherwise.”

  “I believe this armlet was given to the girl by Dennu the priest,” said Huy.

  “Dennu?” the King brightened. “He is a good man. One can certainly believe anything he says.” He raised his voice. “Send for the priest!”

  Kiya’s heart beat faster. Dennu was coming. He would find out that she had been telling the truth about the lost armlet.

  “You seem to know a lot about it,” said Nefertiti to Huy.

  Kiya stared at the Queen. She was a dangerous woman. She remembered Anubis saying that she had been driven half mad by the death of Osiris and she wondered what form that madness took.

  “This girl is my niece, your Majesty,” Huy said.

  “She is fortunate in that connection,” said Nefertiti and Kiya could sense an unpleasant edge to her voice.

  Huy turned his attention to the King. “Your Majesty, this man threw a spear at my niece, Kiya, and nearly killed her. We have many witnesses.”

  “She looks well enough to me,” said Nefertiti. She stared at Kiya and there was fire glowing in the depths of her eyes. Kiya hurriedly looked down to the ground.

  “She was saved by a miracle,” said Huy.

  “And it happened in the holy city,” interjected Laylos.

  “A miracle? In the holy city? Aten be praised!” said the King. Kiya looked up as he rose to his feet and held his hands to the sun. All around the crowd murmured appreciation of the power of the Aten.

  Kiya stared at the King in amazement. His cloak had fallen open revealing a pleated shift, which stretched over vast hips and thighs. Was he Tawaret, the hippopotamus god? Surely not, for Tawaret was female. Kiya held her head high, sniffing the air, trying to smell if Ikhnaton was an immortal. She could sense nothing but the roses scent of Isis, who was sitting beside him as Nefertiti.

  “Tell me more about this miracle,” said the King.

  “Your Majesty, this man threw a spear at my niece as she ran from him. It hit her here in the back.” Huy turned Kiya around and showed the King the split in the shift where the spear had hit. “The spear appeared to stick into her and she collapsed. We all thought she had been killed. Then, as she lay, the spear slowly toppled over and fell to the ground beside her. It was a true miracle, your Majesty.”

  “You have been blessed by the Aten,” Ikhnaton said to Kiya. “We must show him our appreciation of his miracle. You can become a flower girl.” He indicated the girls who stood at the side of the platform carrying baskets of petals.

  Kiya seized her chance. “I’m grateful, your Majesty,” she said. “But I think the Aten wishes me to serve your royal wife.”

  “Really?” King Ikhnaton sounded surprised. “In what respect?”

  “By working in the sacristy,” said Kiya. “Perhaps I could be a cleaner or a maid.”

  “See to it will you, dear?” said the King to Nefertiti.

  “As you wish,” said the Queen and she glowered at Kiya.

  “Ah, here comes Dennu,” said Ikhnaton.

  Kiya turned and saw Dennu hurrying towards them. He took a quick look at Kiya and then he sank on his knees before the platform. “Your Majesty, you sent for me?” he said.

  “Did you give this golden armlet to the girl, Kiya,” asked Ikhnaton. He indicated to Huy that he should pass the armlet to the priest.

  Kiya watched as Dennu got to his feet and studied the armlet. “Yes, Sire.”

  “Why?” said Nefertiti.

  Dennu blinked. “It belonged to my mother. I can no longer wear it as it is of heathen design and inappropriate for a priest of the Aten.”

  “It is a generous gift for such a girl,” sneered Nefertiti. Kiya’s heart sank. For some reason the goddess had taken a dislike to her. It would make her task that much more difficult.

  “Your Majesty,” said Huy. “The prisoners have been proved guilty without a doubt. It is time to decide their punishment.”

  “Oh dear.” Ikhnaton looked worried. “Do you repent of your sins?” he asked the three men.

  “Yes, we do,” they chorused.

  “Do you ask for forgiveness?”

  “Yes!” They sounded increasingly cheerful as they sensed the King’s reluctance to punish them.

  “Love, forgiveness and mercy. They are blessings in the eyes of the Aten. Do you forgive these men the wrong they
have done you, Kiya?”

  “No!” she said firmly.

  “Oh dear. What is to be done? The prisons have not yet been built.” Kiya felt exasperated by the indecision of the King. Was he really considering releasing such dangerous men?

  “Leave it to me,” said Nefertiti. “It is time for you to prepare for the midday ceremony, my dear.”

  “Yes, indeed.” The King gestured to the flower girls who hurried forwards to scatter petals before him as he walked. Slowly the little procession went through to the second courtyard of the temple. The musicians followed and the sound of music faded as they left.

  There was no breeze within the temple. Kiya felt the sun beat down and watched petals wither on the sand. In the silence that followed the departure of the King, Nefertiti issued her command. “Execute the prisoners – now.”

  “Prepare the condemned,” said Huy.

  The surprised men made no protest as they were pushed to their knees. With brutal force, their heads were pulled back by the hair. Huy removed a knife from his belt and slashed open the throat of the goldsmith’s son. Kiya looked on in distress as twin fountains of blood burst from the dying man’s neck. She heard air escape through the severed windpipe in a bubbling sigh as his lungs collapsed. The stench of blood filled her nostrils. It was as if she was drowning in gore, she could hardly breath for the heat and the shock.

  Huy’s knife rose and fell twice more but Kiya was only dimly aware of the carnage. Darkness was closing in on her and she fainted.