I gasped. I gazed at the talisman with new respect. I had no idea it was so ancient, or so sacred.
“Aya’s band was the first that tried to grow grain and herd animals in this part of the world. Before that, people hunted the wild animals that roamed the savannah and gathered whatever food they could find wherever they could find it. But the plains where Aya’s people dwelt became sere and brown after many years of too little rain. Their emmer and barley wouldn’t grow, their animals weren’t thriving. They were down to their last handful of seed. Aya’s band was about to give up the farming and herding lifestyle and return to hunting and gathering.
“One night, when the band’s situation was most bleak, the falcon god cast this talisman from the sky in a great thundering fireball that shook the earth and set the plains on fire. The next morning he took the form of a falcon and led Aya for many miles across those plains until she came to the crater the talisman had gouged into the earth. She dug it out. Then the falcon god led Aya to the shores of a great lake not far west of this valley. The lake was edged with wide, well–watered plains, perfect for growing crops. Aya immediately saw the possibilities, returned to her band, convinced her patriarch to lead her people to the lake and settle. They sowed their last seed. It grew. Their cattle and sheep and goats grazed the lush plains and multiplied. Thereafter, Aya’s band prospered. Other bands joined them. Over centuries, their lifestyle spread to this valley. Thanks to Aya, we now grow emmer and barley and raise cattle and sheep and goats.”
“She’s our mother, then,” I said.
“Yes. And, blessed by the falcon god, Aya became a healer,” Great–grandmother continued. “She led the celebrations of her people when they made offerings to the falcon god. She even ruled her band for several decades.”
“A woman?” I asked, astounded.
“Why not? Do you feel less capable than your cousin Nekauba?”
“Hardly.”
“It’s only men’s pride that keeps us women subjugated to them,” Great–grandmother said. “But back in Aya’s time, how could they not follow a woman who was in direct contact with their god?”
“I suppose they couldn’t.”
“Thanks to the falcon god, our ancestors prospered on the shores of their lake. Aya lived so long she was succeeded as the talisman bearer by her great–grandson, for by that time her children and their children were all dead. He passed it on to his son, and he to his, and so the talisman has remained in our family to this day. After many generations the talisman made its way to a savannah far to the south and west of Nekhen. It eventually came into Tiaa’s possession.”
“Do women often bear the talisman?” I asked.
“Rarely. Tiaa was the third. I’m the fourth. You’ll be the fifth. Never before, as far as I know, has one woman passed it to another. That makes our situation unique. The falcon god must have a special reason for that, one he alone knows.”
That was sobering.
“You know the story of how Tiaa wandered the valley with the trader Ankhmare and eventually settled in Nekhen. What you don’t know is the falcon god called her here.”
“How?” That my ancestors – many of them, apparently – communicated directly with our god was fearful and astounding.
“The very night Tiaa put this talisman around her neck for the first time the falcon god sent her a dream, just like the one he sent me about you. Like I said before, every dream he’s ever sent to the one who bears the talisman has always come true in every detail. Tiaa saw herself confirming a man as the ruler of thousands. The dream was vivid – she saw every detail of the ceremony, of the settlement where it was to take place – it was Nekhen, though she’d never heard the name and had never left her playa before. She saw everything in her dream except the face of the man she was to confirm. Shortly thereafter Ankhmare magically appeared at the playa, and Tiaa left for the valley in his company. On the way to his home at Badari they stumbled on Nekhen. Tiaa immediately recognized it. As it turns out, the falcon god was already Nekhen’s god.”
“How could that be, if Tiaa bore the talisman and she’d never been in Nekhen?” I asked.
“At some time in the distant past the talisman’s bearer traveled from the great lake in the far north to the playa in the far south. Whether that happened in the course of a single lifetime or over many generations our family’s stories do not say. It’s my belief one or more of the bearers settled here for some period of time before moving south. He may even have been among Nekhen’s founders. Otherwise, why wouldn’t Nekhen have adopted Nekhbet, the vulture goddess of Nekheb right across the river? Or Seth, the aardvark–like god of Nubt Dedi has told me about, a god of chaos and disorder? Or Bat? Or one of the dozens of other gods who look over the hamlets in our region?”
I shivered. “The gods are a mystery to me.”
“To us all. Anyway, at that time Tiaa had to continue past Nekhen. She wasn’t able to return for many years. When she did she discovered two issues contradicting what she’d seen in her dream. First, Harmose, the grandson who was to succeed the current ruler, the man she should by rights confirm after him, was a truly awful man. Tiaa couldn’t believe the falcon god would have sent her to confirm Harmose when he would have become ruler in the normal course of events without her present. So she assumed she’d been called to confirm someone else.”
“What was the second issue?”
“At that time Nekhen was considerably smaller than it is today, home to hundreds, not thousands. There were fewer elites, and they were far less powerful. There was no trade network with other parts of the valley. None of the nearby hamlets even owed allegiance to Nekhen. Because the reality of Nekhen did not match Tiaa’s dream, she and Ankhmare set out to make it match. After many years they identified a man named Kairy who was a better choice as ruler than Harmose, and they quietly convinced the valley’s patriarchs to support him. When the ruler died, Tiaa and Ankhmare arranged for those patriarchs and their people to attend the confirmation ceremony in Nekhen – the thousands she’d seen in her dream – and she confirmed Kairy as ruler in their presence. The patriarchs immediately pledged fealty to Kairy. And so, for the past five hundred years, everyone in the nearby valley has recognized Nekhen’s ruler as his or her own, and Nekhen has become the largest and mightiest settlement in the valley. The bearer of the talisman has confirmed every ruler since Tiaa’s time. I confirmed Depy and his brother Dedi and finally Aboo when he took Dedi’s place.”
“If you’re dead when Aboo dies, I’m the one who’s going to confirm Nekhen’s next ruler?” I asked as the import of the story sunk in.
“Exactly,” Great–grandmother confirmed.
“That’s why Aby – Dedi – asked if you would confirm Huya – Aboo – that day in his hut? Because rulers have accepted you – I – must confirm them?”
“Yes.”
I pondered for a moment. “All the girls say if Ibetina’s unborn child isn’t a son Aboo’s nephew Rawer will succeed him, since Rawer’s going to be joined to his cousin Abar and the two of them are both Dedi’s grandchildren.” Aboo had joined with Ibetina, eldest daughter of Seni, the elite man whose family mined gold and quarried stone, some weeks after the meeting in Dedi’s hut. She was already pregnant.
“The girls may say that. So may Aboo and Dedi. The elites may have even grudgingly accepted it, primarily because together Rawer and Abar will control Nekhen’s transportation network and all the elites are dependent on it. But rule has never passed to a nephew before,” Great–grandmother said. “Only a son or brother or grandson.”
“Most of the girls don’t like Rawer,” I confided. “He lords it over everyone. And he gets away with a lot because of who his grandfather is.” I was too embarrassed to tell Great–grandmother the kinds of things Rawer was alleged to regularly do. A few of my girlfriends and acquaintances actually liked Rawer’s advances, and bragged about receiving them.
“The elites, and Dedi and Aboo, are all overlooking Aboo’s most direct
descendant,” Great–grandmother said. “Abar. Aboo’s daughter. They don’t consider her a possible ruler because she’s a woman.”
“But she could rule, like Aya, who led her band?” I asked wonderingly.
Great–grandmother nodded. “If you’re fortunate, Child, the falcon god will send you a dream about who to confirm and you’ll simply have to carry out his will. If not, it’ll be up to you to untangle the mess and choose Rawer or Abar or Aboo’s so–far unborn son – or someone else.” She paused for a long time. “What that means, Amenia, is that on the day you stand before the people to confirm Nekhen’s next ruler you’ll be the most powerful person in the river valley. You’ll make a choice that will affect the lives of every single person in our world, not just now, but for generations to come.”
“Like Tiaa’s did?” I asked.
Great–grandmother nodded. “Because of Tiaa, Nekhen is not a small settlement anymore, but the leader of a large region. Dedi relinquished rule to pursue a quest his family began during Tiaa’s lifetime to make Nekhen the leader of the entire valley. In a sense, his family’s quest is our family’s quest too, for as Dedi spreads Nekhen’s influence he’ll also spread the falcon god’s influence. So, whoever succeeds Aboo must carry on that quest. Whether or not they’re willing or capable is something you’re going to have to consider when you decide who to confirm. Our world is changing, Amenia. From now on rulers are going to be increasingly powerful and the stakes for all of us higher.”
The weight of the responsibility to choose was almost overpowering. “Who am I to make such a crucial decision?” I asked. “I don’t know anything about rulers. Except for occasionally helping you treat the elites and their women and children I don’t know anything about them, about the type of people they are, about their capabilities. And I most certainly don’t know Abar or Rawer. What am I supposed to do when it comes time to choose? Guess?” I shook my head. “Couldn’t the falcon god send you a dream, Great–grandmother? You could outlive Aboo and be the one to choose. I hope you do, anyway.”
“That’s sweet, Amenia, but unlikely. I’m old. I don’t have many years left to me. And don’t forget – each person who bears the talisman receives only one dream. Mine was about you. When Aboo dies, if the god hasn’t sent you a dream about his successor yet, you must look to the god for strength, then decide for yourself. Don’t be afraid to call on him – he’s always helped me in my time of need.”
I didn’t feel any less uneasy. Too much was going to depend on me. But choosing the next ruler wasn’t my only problem. “If I pray to the falcon god, will he keep me from being forced to join with Nekauba?” I didn’t look forward to that either. In fact, I’d wracked my brain for years, trying to figure out a way around it. But even if I did, what would it matter? Grandfather controlled me. He’d already decided I’d join with Nekauba. He hadn’t given me any say. No girl ever got any in Nekhen. Not even one as important as Abar.
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Nekauba as long as I’m alive,” Great–grandmother replied. “Your grandfather’s been pressuring Hemaka and Sanakht to join the two of you for several years already, and even though you’re well past the usual age they’ve resisted.”
“Why?”
“They expect your grandfather to split his pottery works between them when he dies. They’re both greedy for wealth and power, but they recognize they can’t outstrip Teti and become Nekhen’s most important potter unless they work against him in tandem. Each wants to be independent of the other eventually, though, and the talisman is the key. Right now, Hemaka hopes I’ll choose one of his daughters as my heir, and Sanakht hopes I’ll choose Nekauba. Whichever of your cousins I choose, they believe, will instantly gain status within Nekhen. If I choose one of Hemaka’s daughters, he believes he’ll be able to join her to an elite son. If I choose Nekauba, Sanakht believes he’ll be able to join him to an elite daughter. Whichever of my grandsons is able to ally himself with an elite in that way will break away from his brother soon after and start his own pottery works, and hope to replace Teti in time.”
“But I’m your heir, unbeknownst to them, and neither of my uncles controls me,” I said.
“Because they don’t know yet, you’re safe for now,” Great–grandmother predicted. “Hemaka won’t agree to join you to Nekauba before I name an heir, for if I subsequently name you that will make Sanakht the more powerful brother. Hemaka needs you as a bargaining chip. He’ll take control of you when your grandfather dies for that reason. Sanakht will yield you to Hemaka, grudgingly, expecting if you’re named heir Hemaka will honor the joining of you and Nekauba your grandfather arranged, and he’ll then gain your status. Hemaka, of course, will then refuse, and seek to join you to an elite.”
“So I won’t have to join with Nekauba under any circumstances?” I asked hopefully.
“Sanakht is a hard and devious and greedy and grasping man, Amenia. Hemaka has never been able to stand up to him. Whether he will, with the stakes higher than they’ve ever been, I can’t predict.”
That was unsettling. Uncle Sanakht was an awful man. It was the reason I hated Nekauba so much – he mirrored his father in every way.
“You’re going to have to learn to read the stars,” Great–grandmother informed me. “It was apparently a vitally important skill when our ancestors lived on the southern savannah and it’s been handed down ever since.”
“What use is it now?” I asked.
“The stars tell me when the inundation is going to arrive at Nekhen, weeks before it actually does. That’s how I know to inform Aboo, so he can set Nekhen to preparing for its arrival. That will be one of your responsibilities too.”
“You don’t use magic? That’s what everyone thinks. The stars actually tell you?”
Great–grandmother nodded. “One last thing, Amenia.” She pulled her skirt well above her knee and pointed to the falcon tattooed on her upper thigh.
I’d seen it many times.
“Tiaa was a most extraordinary woman,” she told me. “Her hair was gold, the color of the falcon god’s flesh. She was born with his image on her thigh, the sign of his favor, the sign he’d chosen her even before she was born. Once the talisman is yours you must get this same tattoo. As I have and all of Tiaa’s descendants.”
“I promise,” I said solemnly.
3452 BC
Nykara
“Would you like a drink of water, Nykara?”
A dozen of us were assembling a reed boat beneath the fierce sun a few paces from the river’s west bank, opposite the center of a long island parallel to that bank and separated from it by a narrow deep channel. I was using a length of rope to secure a ten–foot long bundle of reeds to its neighbor. A hull consisted of a vast number of such bundles and it was critical they be joined correctly, so when the boat was put in the water the reeds would swell and pull against the ropes lacing them together and form a watertight seal. Otherwise, the boat would take on water and sink. At age fifteen, I’d spent two–thirds of my life engaged in that task. I could thread and tie rope better than any of Dedi’s men or boys. That wasn’t my only skill – I was an expert at using a variety of flint tools to cut and shape the reeds and short bits of wood required to construct vessels. I was fortunate to already be doing what I wanted most in life – building boats, like my father and grandfather before me.
Meret was smiling down at me over the side of the vessel. She was the prettiest of the boatmen’s daughters, lithe, dark–eyed and dark–haired, one of many who sought me each evening around the boatmen’s fires, though I never encouraged them. All they ever wanted to talk about was having babies and setting up households of their own and the shortcomings of other girls. None of them were interested in the things that interested me – building boats, traveling the river, seeing the world, expanding Nekhen’s influence throughout the valley. The last – the vision Dedi had expounded the day he yielded rule to Aboo, just as Abar had a year earlier the night of the barbarian execu
tions – had taken root deep within my heart. I thought about it constantly. I’d vowed to never let his dream die, for I equated its pursuit with personal adventure.
“I’d appreciate that,” I told Meret. I wiped sweat from my brow with my forearm, scrambled up and over the side of the boat, dropped lightly down beside her. She smiled again and handed me a brimming jar of water.
“Thank you,” I said gratefully. I drank my fill, then poured what remained over my head. It was very hot today. I handed the jar back to her.
“How about meeting me down by the river tonight after dark?” she asked coyly.
“Meret!”
I didn’t even have to turn to know Rawer was approaching. When I’d started working inside the boat a couple of hours ago he’d been fast asleep in the shade beneath one of the palm trees lining the riverbank. He was exactly my age, but that was our only similarity. His head barely reached my shoulder, he was stocky where I was thin, his hands were soft where mine were calloused. When we were younger, and I was first learning to wield the boatmen’s tools, his job had been to carry supplies from one workman to another. Most of the time, when someone wanted him, he couldn’t be found. He’d earned a reputation for laziness. No one, including Dedi, trusted him to do any work that required thought or a modicum of effort. For the past couple of years his sole task had been to patrol the riverbank in the vicinity of the boatyard and keep it free of crocodiles. Hunting was one skill he did excel at.
Rawer despised me for many reasons – and had for as long as I could remember – but mostly because girls like Meret pursued me and avoided him. Despite his pending joining to his cousin Abar there was nothing Rawer liked more than being with a pretty girl. Though he’d made more than his share of conquests among commoners, gossip said most of them only tolerated his advances because of the growing possibility he’d someday be Nekhen’s ruler – a few months ago Aboo’s new woman, Ibetina, had given him a daughter, Hunur – and they hoped to gain an advantage for themselves by being with him. Rawer’s insecurity about girls’ true feelings fueled his hatred for me. I, being only a worker in his grandfather’s boatyard, who’d be beholden to him someday – my mother had died the day of Hunur’s birth, so I was no longer Dedi’s stepson – couldn’t reply in kind to his repeated insults and verbal and physical assaults. I went about my work, kept my head down, and gained some measure of revenge by humiliating Rawer during the athletic contests that were part of every festival in Nekhen. Like me, none of the boatyard workers ever complained about Rawer to Dedi. Rawer had a long memory and it was certain he’d pay back anyone who’d ever crossed him once he became Nekhen’s ruler, even though that wasn’t going to happen for many years. Aboo was in his early thirties and would undoubtedly live for at least another decade. I wasn’t the only boatman who hoped Ibetina’s next child would be a son who’d cut Rawer out of the line of succession.
The Women and the Boatman Page 8
