Father had informed me of his decision to remain unjoined as we walked home from the ruler’s cemetery where he’d laid Ibetina to rest. He’d also told me I’d be joined to Rawer at the conclusion of the next festival, to nip any elite protest against Rawer in the bud. I’d been depressed ever since. Based on my argument with Rawer at the brewery, once we were joined he wasn’t going to let me be involved in anything important, from Father’s herd to Nekhen’s affairs. I’d be his ornament, my talents unused, my dream of ruling Nekhen through him dead. Along with Grandfather’s quest. Two months to the next festival. Two months until my life ended.
“Speaking of the network, it’s actually fortuitous you’re here tonight,” Grandfather told Father. “I was about to make an announcement of my own. I never thought this day would come, but I suppose we all get too old to carry on eventually. It’s time for Ameny to take his successor as overseer of my fleet under his wing and train him, so he can take a long–deserved rest.” Grandfather placed his hand affectionately on Ameny’s shoulder. “Ameny’s been overseeing my boats for as long as I can remember.”
“Since well before you inherited the fleet from your brother,” Ameny said.
“Ameny taught me most of what I know about operating it,” Grandfather said appreciatively.
“I taught you everything you know,” Ameny said, then sipped at his cup.
Father laughed and clapped Ameny on the back. They’d worked together since Father was a child. He turned to Grandfather. “What about the rest of your enterprise?”
“I’ll continue to oversee the craftsmen directly, and lead trade expeditions, and make sure my people are fed and clothed. I’m not ready to spend my days sitting by the fire quite yet.”
“I assume you’re taking Ameny’s place, Rawer?” Father said cheerfully, addressing my cousin.
Father didn’t spend all his time ruling. While he too had an experienced overseer who handled most of the day–to–day details of managing our vast donkey herd, the only means of transporting goods by land in this part of the valley, he kept himself well–informed about what was happening in Nekhen and made all the major decisions about how and when his donkeys were used. Since the herd would someday be mine – or rather would have been, with Rawer out of the picture – he made sure I too was well–versed in the operation. I spent many hours each day with the men who cared for our herd, keeping tabs on it, and attended the weekly meetings Father held with Grandfather and Ameny and our overseer to coordinate activities. Because of that coordination, any change Grandfather made was important to Father and me.
Grandfather shook his head. “Not Rawer. Nykara.”
Nykara gasped in surprise. Father looked as shocked as I felt.
“You can’t!” Rawer exclaimed heatedly, jumping to his feet. “I won’t work for that… oarsman!”
“Yes, you will,” Grandfather snapped. He turned to Father. “Aboo, Nykara’s the most promising of my men, even though he’s younger than most of them. He’ll handle the day–to–day details of operating the fleet, with Ameny’s guidance until he’s fully trained.”
“Who is Nykara?” Father asked Grandfather.
“I am.” Nykara stood, bowed respectfully to Father, looked him straight in the eye. Even though he was as young as me he seemed to exude a quiet authority beyond his years. Unlike most commoners, he didn’t appear cowed by Father. He hadn’t been cowed by me either at the brewery, I recalled, probably because we’d become acquainted in the months before Tai joined with Grandfather. He’d even dared lay hands on Rawer that day.
“You remember him, Aboo. Tai’s son,” Dedi said.
Father scanned Nykara from head to toe, as did I. Nykara had obviously been working hard all day. He was grimy, sweaty, his kilt filthy, feet dirty. He hadn’t anticipated meeting Nekhen’s ruler face to face this evening, especially under these circumstances. He’d apparently been unaware he was going to be named overseer. Still, Nykara looked marvelous, especially contrasted with Rawer – taller, stronger, more capable. Not that his appearance interested me.
“I haven’t seen you in years. You’ve grown considerably.” Father turned to Grandfather. “But why not Rawer? He’s the logical choice. Or Senebi.”
“My grandson’s not competent to succeed me,” Ameny practically spat.
“I’m the only choice!” Rawer exclaimed again. “Overrule Grandfather, Uncle! You have the authority!” He was throwing a tantrum, like a small child.
Grandfather snorted, eyed my cousin. “Rawer doesn’t care about boats, Aboo. All the boy wants to do is hunt and fight.”
And chase girls. Despite his promise to me.
“Both of which he does extremely well,” Father noted.
Father too loved to hunt. He maintained an extensive menagerie, mostly wild animals he’d captured and kept penned in one of the side wadis that climbed towards the upper settlement. Some of them he bred; many he sacrificed during Nekhen’s major festivals. Rarely did a month go by without him adding one or more beasts to it. Rawer was Father’s preferred hunting companion. They were exceptionally close, more like father and son than uncle and nephew.
“If you took as much interest in the fleet as you do in killing things I wouldn’t have been forced to pick Nykara over you,” Grandfather lectured. “But you don’t. You ignore every attempt I make to educate you. I’ve taken you on trading expeditions to the North to expose you to the valley four times in the past two years. You hardly paid attention to what you saw. You once captained a vessel and made daily deliveries to the hamlets – but you took twice as long as any other captain to cover the same distance and you managed to alienate everyone who manned your boat. I had to take your boat away. Which you didn’t care about. You have no grasp of the intricacies of transportation schedules and integrating my boats with Aboo’s beasts and ensuring my craftsmen have enough raw materials and produce products valuable enough to trade throughout the valley. You’re too full of yourself to effectively negotiate with the elite men of other settlements during expeditions. Frankly, you rub them the wrong way. You don’t have the temperament to lead a man like Nykara, so you’ll labor under him instead. Maybe embarrassment will work where all else has failed to straighten you out.”
Rawer looked like he wanted to kill Grandfather and Nykara both. I’d have slunk away in shame.
“Tell me about Nykara,” Father demanded.
I could have told Father plenty, none of it flattering. I’d been around Nykara far too often for my taste when his mother was alive, though I’d kept my distance from him the majority of that time, considering him a threat to the line of succession and thus me. On the rare occasions I’d spoken to him after Tai joined with Grandfather it had only been to put him in his proper place. We hadn’t conversed even once after her death until that day in the brewery and hadn’t since. I knew he’d worked in Grandfather’s boatyard all his life, and that he rowed boats on expeditions, and that Rawer hated him. But if Nykara was going to be Grandfather’s overseer, that meant I was going to have to work directly with him to coordinate donkeys and boats. That also meant at some point I’d have to rely on his help to get around Rawer to pursue Grandfather’s quest. That – Nykara being overseer – was going to complicate my efforts. Nykara fully understood Grandfather’s dream to expand Nekhen’s influence in the valley, based on what he’d said at the brewery. But he’d no doubt place every roadblock he could in my way going forward, just to be contrary and get back at me for my past treatment of him. Having a bit of power and influence would no doubt go to his head. It did to all men. Why did everything important to me have to be so hard?
“Nykara’s grandfather and father both worked for me, and both were among my finest men. His father, Intef, was killed in the western oasis when we avenged your brother’s murder. Intef volunteered to go. He saved my life in battle. I learned to build boats beside Nykara’s grandfather.”
“Do you think because Dedi joined with your mother you’re no longer a commoner?�
�� Father asked Nykara sharply, his eyes narrowing.
“Of course not,” Nykara replied, with no hint of shame.
“I can assure you, Nykara isn’t common,” Grandfather said. “I took him with me on an expedition to Abu two years ago. He convinced me beyond any doubt during that trip his life’s ambition is to be a boatman. I’ve always seen potential in him, so I decided starting then to push him hard, to see what he could do. He’s done everything I’ve asked of him – and I’ve asked a lot. He’s learned to use all the boatmen’s tools, and wields them better than everyone but me. He’s even designed a boat, with my oversight – we’re constructing it right now. It’ll be the largest in my fleet. Frankly, when it comes to design and assembly he’s proving to be a genius. I hate to admit it, Aboo, but he’s surpassed me in that – even with all my years of experience.”
Nykara looked as if he wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole. I recalled his modesty when Inetkawes told me he’d rescued her from crocodiles – Wenher had explained in great detail what had actually happened after he departed the brewery and it was not the non–event he’d claimed it to be. The praise Grandfather was heaping on Nykara was making him uncomfortable. I grudgingly held that in his favor.
“Nykara’s learned to steer as well as any of my men,” Ameny interjected. “He can navigate the entire river between Abu and Nubt and Tjeni. He’s memorized every bit of it. I think he could even steer a boat in the dark. Never met anyone before who could. Nykara captains a vessel that makes daily deliveries to the nearby hamlets. Unlike Rawer, he’s earned the respect of his crew. He’s never shirked any work, no matter how difficult or distasteful.”
Grandfather leaned towards Father. “I’ll rest easy, knowing the fleet’s being overseen by Nykara.”
“It seems I should get to know you,” Father said, looking appraisingly at Nykara once more.
“You should,” Grandfather agreed. “But be warned, Aboo – you’re going to have to force Rawer to keep Nykara in place as overseer after I die unless you want the fleet plunged into chaos. Rawer will demote Nykara to common boatman again the instant he gets the chance.”
“Count on it!” Rawer exclaimed. “Leading the fleet is my birthright!” Flecks of saliva flew from his mouth.
I was embarrassed for him.
Grandfather stared at Rawer for a long moment. “It’s no more your birthright than Abar’s. She’s my grandchild too. Frankly, if she was a man I’d leave it to her.”
I was stunned. Grandfather has just publicly admitted I’m capable of running his enterprise. That used to be my dream, before Nykara killed it by becoming his stepson and the most likely person to inherit his fleet. My being a woman is now the only impediment. I can surely convince Grandfather that doesn’t matter. It won’t be easy, but at least it’s possible. Once I have the fleet I’ll be able to combine it with Father’s herd. Then I’ll be the most powerful person in Nekhen – more powerful than Rawer. The day Grandfather relinquished rule, before he forced Father to join with Ibetina, I figured out control of the transportation network was all I’d need to force Father to name me his heir and put the elites in their place. Grandfather has just resurrected my dream – if I can gain control of his fleet and free myself of the now–disgraced Rawer, I’ll be able to rule Nekhen in my own right and pursue Grandfather’s quest. I have a renewed purpose in life.
“The fleet’s too critical to be run by an incompetent,” Grandfather continued.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh? Rawer’s still a boy, after all,” Father said.
I exploded. “Why are you being so easy on my cousin, Father? Rawer’s seventeen! Most ‘boys’ his age already have a woman and several children. They behave like men. Why, look at the responsibility Grandfather just gave Nykara. He’s seventeen too.”
“Keep out of this!” Rawer snapped.
All of the sudden my face felt hot. Why did I just compare Rawer to Nykara? Am I crazy? Now he probably thinks I’m his advocate. I glanced at Nykara warily. He wasn’t even looking at me.
“Grow up, Grandson,” Grandfather said. “Start taking your responsibilities seriously. Prove to me you deserve to oversee the fleet and that very day I’ll put you in charge of it. But be warned – if you don’t I’ll name Nykara my heir instead of you. I’ll give him my fleet and boatyard and craftsmen permanently.”
I cursed under my breath. So much for talking Grandfather out of the fleet. Is there no end to the trouble Nykara causes me? I could have pried the boats away from Rawer and thereby ruled Nekhen. But Grandfather obviously considers Nykara capable if he’s made him his overseer. I’ll only get the fleet now if Grandfather’s wrong and Nykara fails in his new duties. And that’s out of my control.
“You can’t!” Rawer stomped his feet in anger.
“Oh, but I can,” Grandfather bristled. “What’s more, if you force me to name Nykara my heir I’ll join Abar to him that very day.”
Could this get any worse? Joined to the interloper, a commoner, a man I can’t stand. Robbed of the fleet. Robbed of the chance to rule in my own right. Without Grandfather’s enterprise under my control I won’t be able to force Father to name me his heir. Joined to a commoner, without the fleet, I won’t be able to bully the elites into accepting me. I glared at Nykara, furious. The mere thought of having to share his hut made me nauseous. I wasn’t about to let him lay his grubby hands on me, not after all the women they’d likely groped. Surprisingly, he didn’t look any happier about the prospect of being joined than I did.
“I beg you, Dedi – reconsider,” Father practically begged, panic in his voice.
I loved Father, but he was a weak man, especially when it came to standing up to Grandfather.
“Without the fleet and Abar, Rawer won’t be able to keep the elites at bay and succeed me. That he’s my nephew is too tenuous a blood link. The elites will create an alliance against him.”
“What do I care whether Rawer rules or not?” Grandfather retorted. “I’ll be dead. I care only about expanding Nekhen’s influence in the valley. With Abar joined to Nykara the transportation network will remain whole. They’ll have the clout to pursue my quest no matter who rules Nekhen.”
“But…”
“Look at it this way, Aboo. You’ve named Rawer your heir. When you die, as long as Abar and Nykara throw their support to him, he’ll succeed you. Family rule guaranteed. But does Rawer’s status really matter, Aboo? By the time you’re dead Abar will have given Nykara many sons. Even if the elites won’t support Rawer, they’ll have to support your oldest grandson.”
“A direct descendant,” Father said thoughtfully. “The elites couldn’t object.”
Me having children with Nykara? Inconceivable!
“You can’t give Abar to that oarsman!” Rawer cried. “You’ve already promised her to me!”
Grandfather snapped at Rawer again. “If you want her so badly, turn your life around! Your fate is entirely in your hands now.”
My fate too. I wanted to scream in frustration. The implications of Grandfather’s pronouncement were life–altering. Rawer would never regain control of the fleet because he’d wouldn’t put in the required effort. He didn’t care about boats and craftsmen and trade. Grandfather’s enterprise meant nothing to him. All Rawer wanted was to rule Nekhen. So he’d cede the fleet, and me, to Nykara, counting on our support when Father died. Yes, Nykara and I might have a son firmly in the line of succession by then, but given Father’s age he’d likely be too young to rule. Rawer had at least a decade and a half to create an alliance with the elites that would ensure his succession instead. I had no doubt he would, and part of the bargain would be to strip the fleet and herd from Nykara and me and give them to his allies. I’d spend the rest of my life joined to an oarsman – if Rawer even allowed Nykara to remain in the boatyard.
Thanks to Rawer’s ineptitude, I was now condemned to be Nykara’s woman. A boy I utterly despised. A boy far beneath me in status. During how
ever many years I had until Rawer became ruler, I wouldn’t be able to direct boats and donkeys in pursuit of Grandfather’s dream either. The boats would in fact belong to Nykara. I couldn’t conceive he’d let me tell him how to use them after we were joined, not after how I’d treated him. My wishes would be irrelevant. The ability to marshal Grandfather’s fleet to expand Nekhen’s influence throughout the valley would be out of my control, despite what Grandfather believed. Rawer’s laziness was going to cost him nothing and me everything. I hated Nykara and Rawer equally at this moment. They were both ruining my life. Nykara was going to be named Grandfather’s heir and gain his enterprise, at least temporarily. Rawer was going to rule Nekhen. I’d end my life the woman of a commoner.
Unless, before Grandfather died, even if I was already joined to Nykara, I could convince Grandfather to give me the fleet. I was the only person who’d actually ensure it would be used to pursue his quest; if I was able to convince him of that he’d surely give it to me. I’d even promise to keep Nykara on as overseer if Grandfather insisted. If Grandfather balked at that, if he passed the fleet to Nykara permanently, then the only way to change the future I foresaw would be to directly challenge Rawer and, with Nykara’s help, defeat whatever alliance he put together in order to become ruler myself. That meant I was going to have to turn Nykara from an enemy into a supporter. That was a daunting task, but necessary. If, by the time Father died, I had the transportation network firmly under my control, I’d be able to bring the elites to their knees and force them to recognize me as ruler instead of Rawer. So, despicable as it was, joining with Nykara and turning him into an ally appeared to be my only path to ruling Nekhen.
“Perhaps Rawer will surprise us, Aboo,” Grandfather said, eyeing my cousin speculatively. “Maybe my threat is the incentive he needs to take his responsibilities seriously. If he does, he’ll remain my heir and he’ll inherit the fleet and you’ll join him to Abar and he’ll succeed you. It’s as simple as that.”
“So, until Rawer has a chance to prove himself, one way or the other, do you agree we won’t join Abar to either Rawer or Nykara?” Father asked.
The Women and the Boatman Page 15
