Chapter One Hundred and Two: An Empty Cot

  Itet opened the door and invited Kiya to enter. “Look! Is it not a pretty room?” she said.

  Kiya gazed around the room that was to be her home. It was similar to Itet’s, with a sunken bath, a seating ledge, a bed, a storage chest and a side table. Clothes stands stood around the walls and Kiya saw at once that Dennu had been generous with his choice of clothing. There were finely-woven shifts, an embroidered woollen travelling cloak and even a silk gown, such as she had seen in Crete. Light entered the room through a high slitted window and Kiya looked up at the sliver of sky.

  “Do you like your dresses?” said Itet.

  “Yes, indeed,” said Kiya and she longed to be a bird so she could fly through the window and away from this troubling new life.

  Itet hurried to the chest. “Look, you have beautiful jewellery.” She held up a golden collar set with jewels. There were other collars and many armlets. Kiya looked at the armlets with interest and was disappointed to see that none of them was the one Dennu had given her in the old days – the one that belonged to his mother.

  “I suppose the Queen of Crete wanted to keep his mother’s armlet,” Kiya said. Itet looked confused and Kiya realised that Dennu could have told her little about his past.

  To hide the awkward moment Kiya crossed to the table to admire the wigs on the stands. There was a plain wig for every day and an elaborate evening wig, both of the finest quality. She turned her head and saw for the first time the cot standing beside her bed. For a long moment she stared at the cot, memories of her darling baby overwhelming her.

  “Do you want the cot removed?” asked Itet. “Does it upset you? We could put it somewhere else until the baby comes.”

  Kiya knew that the cot would never be needed. She would never see Meri as a baby again. She would never feel again his urgent mouth upon her breast or feel the softness of his chubby arms and legs. She would never be able to enfold him completely in her arms, to protect him from the world. Tears sprang into her eyes. If only she had been able to protect him. She had failed and this feeling of emptiness was her punishment.

  She felt Itet’s arm go hesitantly around her shoulders. “I am sure the baby will be here soon,” she said.

  Kiya shook her head. “The cot can be taken away.”

  Itet clapped her hands and a slave girl appeared. “Remove the baby’s cot and clothes and toys. They need to be stored for a while.”

  The slave girl bowed and ran to get another to help lift the heavy cot. As they carried it past, Kiya could see the swaddling clothes and stuffed toys it contained. A small towelling donkey with long floppy ears stared at her with mournful embroidered eyes. It reminded her of Enno and she smiled.

  “That’s better,” said Itet, who was quick to notice Kiya’s changes of mood. “Dennu will want to see you when he returns home. You must prepare yourself.” She called after the departing slaves. “Lady Kiya will want a hot bath.”

  “Thank you,” said Kiya and secretly gritted her teeth. Itet had taken control of the harem. As sister of the King she was higher ranked than Kiya and taking command came naturally to her. For a moment Kiya wondered whether to rebel but she hadn’t the energy. All she wanted after her long journey was peace and quiet. “I would like to be alone now,” she said.

  “Of course,” said Itet. She gave a gracious bow and left the room.

  The slave girls came in with buckets of hot water.

  “Would you like us to bathe you, My Lady?” asked one of them.

  “No, thank you,” said Kiya. “I can bathe myself.”

  After the slaves had bowed low and left the room Kiya took off her shift and put it and her money belt safely in the jewellery chest. She then sank down into the hot water of the bath and let the tension leave her body.

  She was not looking forward to her meeting with Dennu and feared he would be annoyed about Meri. She resolved to be honest with him. She had kept things from him in the past and secrecy had damaged their relationship. Now they were married he was entitled to the truth.

  She dipped the flannel into a pot of swabu and rubbed herself all over until her skin glowed. She felt wonderfully clean. Life in a harem was luxurious, but was it really the life she wanted? She had thought that she and Dennu would face the challenges of the world together, but this was different. Dennu lived a life she knew nothing of and she would have to share his love with others.

  She rose from the water and helped herself to a dry towel from the pile that had been placed beside the bath. There was a mirror on the wall beside the table and she looked at her reflection for the first time in many months. The beauty of the face that looked back at her was unchanged. Her eyes were clear and bright, with no trace of a wrinkle in the surrounding skin. Her lashes were long, her cheekbones high, the contours of her cheek rounded, her lips full and her neck long. She gained confidence from the perfection of her looks and was determined that Dennu would be impressed by her beauty.

  On the table beside the wigs was a stick of kohl, a pot of rouge and a flask of oil. Kiya oiled her skin and outlined her eyes with the kohl. She then rubbed rouge into her lips and cheeks. After choosing the most transparent of her shifts she decided against wearing a wig. Her hair was newly washed and oiled and looked thick and shining. She checked in the mirror again and was pleased with the result.

  Dressed in her finery she decided to explore the rest of the harem while she waited for her husband’s summons. There were two more bedrooms, already furnished and ready for more wives. There was a locked door, which must lead to the servant’s quarters and there was a large reception room with cushioned seats around the walls and a brazier for warmth.

  Scented woods lay upon the brazier, ready for burning and, as Kiya passed, she smelt the aroma of frankincense. It reminded her of Seth. Kiya frowned. Here within the palace it would be easy to forget the problems of the world but she was reminded of her father’s threat to stop the Nile flooding.

  “Lady Kiya?” a slave stood in the doorway of the reception room bowing to her.

  “Yes?”

  “Lord Dennu has sent for you.”

 
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