Chapter Sixty Eight: The Queen
Before she left the arena, Kiya paused to wave at the crowd. The response was a mixture of cheers and booing. Vitane followed her example and the cheering intensified. Her new friend was popular in the kingdom, thought Kiya, and wondered if that boded good or ill for her.
They were escorted down a wide corridor past a bull pen in which their old adversary stood, head bowed and sweat steaming from its body.
“What has happened?” said Vitane. “Has my father relented? Are we to be set free?” The guards who were walking on either side of them did not reply.
They climbed a wide flight of steps at the top of which was a hall. As they entered the hall Kiya saw that an entire wall was missing and in its place was a row of columns beyond which was the terrace. Crowds of people swarmed upon the terrace, some were looking upwards and waving, others were talking and laughing. Beyond them were tiers of seats in which many of the audience still sat.
Another flight of stairs led to the throne room. The sound of tinkling water came from a small, raised pool with a fountain, which cooled and freshened the air. All around, the walls were decorated with brightly coloured friezes.
A woman stood with her back to them on a wide balcony, waving to the crowds below. She was wearing a dress with short sleeves, a tightly-fitted waist and a long skirt with many flounces. When she turned to acknowledge them Kiya saw that the neckline of her dress plunged to her navel and revealed breasts with rouged nipples. Her face was made up to resemble a doll, with heavily kohled eyes and circular patches of rouge on her cheeks. The artifice of her make up made it difficult to gauge her age, but Kiya reckoned she was in her thirties.
“Hello, Vitane,” said the woman.
“Hello, your Majesty,” said Vitane and bowed low. Kiya understood that this must be the Queen and also bowed.
“You gave us a good show this afternoon,” said the Queen. “I did not know you had it in you, child. It takes courage to dance with a bull.”
“Am I to be set free?” said Vitane eagerly. “Can I go home?”
The Queen shook her head. “I am sorry, Vitane. You are a hostage, held as a guarantee of good faith. Your father has failed to honour our treaty and so you cannot be returned. I must admit, that by surviving the sacrifice you present me with a problem.”
“Have pity on me, Aunt.”
The Queen frowned. “I pity you, Vitane, but the affairs of state cannot be run on emotion. Take her away.” She waved her hand and two soldiers stepped forwards. They escorted Vitane out of the room and Kiya was pleased to see that she managed to walk with dignity, her head held high.
“What will happen to her?” Kiya asked the Queen.
“You are insolent, slave girl,” said the Queen with a frown. “Give me the armlet you wear around your neck.”
Kiya obediently removed the armlet and handed it to the Queen, who examined it and then raised her head.
“This is my sister’s armlet,” said the Queen. “Where did you get it? If your answer displeases me you will die.”
“It was given to me by Dennu, it belonged to his mother.”
“Dennu? The priest’s son?” Kiya nodded. “Why would he give you such a valuable gift? He should treasure the link with his mother.”
“The link with his mother is in his heart,” said Kiya. “He has become a priest of The Aten. He told me that the bull’s head depicted on the armlet represents the god Apis and so he cannot wear it.”
The Queen stood silently her head bowed as she gazed at the armlet, turning it slowly in her hands. She sighed and looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It has been a long time,” she said. “At first we hoped that she would tire of her priest and return home. Then we were told she had died in childbirth. All hope vanished at the news, leaving only grief.”
“From what I hear, she could well have died in battle,” said Kiya. “At least she was saved by Massui and lived long enough to give you a fine nephew.”
Her words of comfort were not well received. “I do not need a slave girl to point out the obvious,” said the Queen. She hung the armlet around her neck and Kiya’s heart sank. If she ever got out of this alive, how would she explain to Dennu that she had lost his armlet yet again?
“I believe you were bought from Itaja, the slave master,” said the Queen.
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“I have sent for the companions who were captured with you. You may wait for them to arrive.”
The Queen indicated that Kiya should sit on one of the marble benches that ringed the room and then she went back to the balcony. There was a cheer from the people as she emerged into their view.
Kiya sat and waited and, as she watched the Queen wave, she contemplated the swiftly-changing path of fate. Her life was like the Minotaur’s maze, full of twists and turns. She had thought she would never see Laylos and Huy again, but soon they would be here. She felt increasing excited at the coming reunion.
The noise of the crowd diminished and the palace fell silent. Kiya expected the Queen to leave the balcony, but still she stayed on, no longer waving but seemingly lost in thought. The sound of many footsteps mounting the stairs made the Queen turn and re-enter the room.
Kiya’s heart leapt at the sight of her companions. Huy, Massui and Laylos looked very different from when she had last seen them. Itaja had prepared them well for the slave market. Massui and Huy wore Cretan-style kilts with wide leather belts that clinched their waists and enhanced the breadth of their shoulders. Huy, of course, looked magnificent but so did Massui. His hair had been trimmed and combed. His beard had been shaved revealing a good strong jaw line. He had lost yet more weight and the Cretan outfit suited him.
Laylos wore a short tunic the hem of which she kept tugging as though trying to lengthen it. She looked unhappy but her eyes lit with joy when she saw Kiya. She ran towards her and Kiya rose from the bench to meet her embrace.
“Kiya, my darling. I never thought I would see you again!” Laylos held her tightly and Huy put his arms around them both. “I have heard terrible things about the ceremony. What a miracle you are still alive!”
“Enough!” said the Queen. They all turned to look at her. Kiya bowed low and the others followed her example, all except Massui, who stood staring.
“Zahra!” he exclaimed and took a step towards the Queen.
“I believe you must be Massui the Priest,” said the Queen, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“Zahra!” cried Massui. He took another step forwards and fell onto his knees. “Zahra!” He held out his arms to her, then he bowed his head and started to weep.
“Get up!” said the Queen, but Massui took no notice. His weeping increased until his whole body was shaking with grief. He started to cough in an alarming manner as if he might choke, then Kiya watched in amazement as a large lump of ice emerged from his mouth and fell onto the floor.
“What magic is this?” asked Huy.
“It is a spell, but it is one he has laid upon himself,” said the Queen. “He had not the courage to face his grief when my sister died and so he built a wall of ice around his heart.”
“Forgive me,” cried Massui. “I could not bear to lose you.” He cried so hard that it was as if his tears mingled with the ice that was melting on the floor.
“What of your son?” said the Queen.
“Dennu?” Massui looked up briefly. “I treated him harshly and now I have lost him as well.” The intensity of his grief grew and Kiya’s heart was filled with pity. She stepped forwards to try to comfort him, but the Queen held up a hand to stop her.
“Let him grieve. His tears are long overdue.”
After a while Massui’s sobs diminished and he slowly recovered. He remained kneeling for a while and then he got to his feet. “Forgive me, your Majesty,” he said with a bow. “You reminded me so much of my wife.”
“That is because she was my sister,” said the Queen. A look of realisation crossed his face
and, for a long moment, their eyes locked. Then he looked away. “I have much to think about,” said the Queen. “You will remain as my guests in the palace.” She waved her hand and soldiers came forwards to escort them away.
Kiya and the God of Chaos Page 68
