“Agreed,” Grandfather replied.
That was the only positive to this lousy day. My joining to Rawer was no longer imminent. My near–certain joining to Nykara wasn’t going to happen for perhaps years either.
“Uncle!” Rawer said pleadingly.
“Abar knows everything there is to know about my herd and my transportation network,” Father said. “Dedi clearly expects no less of you, and rightfully so. As he said, if you want to run the fleet, Nephew, earn the right. As far as succeeding me as ruler, I want to see you in my audience hall first thing in the morning to go over my expectations for that.”
***
I tossed and turned on my pallet all night, unable to fall asleep, my mind racing. Father and Grandfather had granted me a delay in my joining to either Rawer or Nykara, but delay wasn’t a solution to the problem I faced. Joined to Nykara there was a slim chance I could carry on Grandfather’s quest and extend Nekhen’s influence in the valley; joined to Rawer there was none. After looking at it from every angle, I concluded the only way I could make Grandfather’s dream live was if I ruled Nekhen in my own right. To become ruler I’d have to defeat both Rawer and Nykara.
Then, just before dawn, I remembered the meeting in Grandfather’s hut when he’d relinquished rule to Father. Neither Father nor Grandfather nor the elites were going to choose Nekhen’s next ruler – Ipu, the falcon god’s priestess, was. She’d practically demanded Father join with a new woman and produce a son to make the line of succession clear. He’d dutifully taken Ibetina into his house, but had only three daughters to show for their union. Was that a sign the falcon god actually intended for Rawer to rule, as Father believed? Or that the god wanted an elite who was more amenable to Grandfather’s vision to follow Father? Or that he wanted me? I rose at dawn, summoned one of Father’s servants, told him to take a donkey to the upper settlement and return with Ipu. I needed to find out where she now stood in light of Grandfather’s threat to disinherit Rawer, and Ibetina’s recent death.
***
I was waiting alone in Father’s audience hall when Ipu entered at midmorning. Father and Rawer had gone hunting together hours earlier after their own meeting, so we wouldn’t be disturbed. I was seated on a leather–bottomed chair on the two–step mud–brick dais at the end of the room opposite the entrance, the chair I used when I observed Father’s audiences, just to the left of his. Sunlight slanting through the eastern window illuminated part of the thick smooth clay floor. The rest of the hall was brightened by guttering bowls of oil on small wood tables in the four corners and along the walls. A few reed mats hanging on the mud–plastered walls lent splashes of color. More were spread on the floor. Five rows of tall sycamore posts, ten per row, each fifteen inches in diameter, supported the reed roof. The hall was the first room a visitor encountered when entering Father’s compound. It was the largest space in Nekhen, used whenever Father assembled the elite men or received a report from one of his overseers or heard complaints from commoners or rendered justice. Our living quarters and the work areas for our servants were attached to the hall beyond the opening behind the dais.
A young serving girl waved a fan of ostrich feathers behind me, keeping me cool, for it was already hot. Several more girls stood by with a cup and a jar of beer in case I wanted a drink.
Ipu was shakier than she’d been at the last festival a few months ago. She shuffled towards the dais between the two central rows of posts, scarcely lifting her bare feet, slightly hunched over, leaning on Amenia. Amenia was supporting Ipu’s strangely twisted right forearm with her left, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor before her feet. Ipu’s pouch of medicines was slung over Amenia’s right shoulder. She helped Ipu to a chair I’d ordered placed where supplicants usually waited, a few paces in front of the dais, then took a step backwards and stood next to one of the posts, hands at her side, eyes still lowered.
I’d encountered Amenia three times since the gathering in Grandfather’s hut three years ago. She’d assisted when Ipu attended Ibetina during the births of each of my half–sisters. She’d been a very meek and inconspicuous girl each time, obviously intimidated by me and Ibetina because of our elite status, at least until Ipu called on her to help. Then she’d become a different person entirely, quietly but firmly taking charge of the birth bower. She’d known exactly what to do, not only to help deliver the babies, but to comfort and encourage and care for Ibetina and her daughters during the following week–long afterbirth rituals. She’d stayed awake three straight days after Nubemshant’s difficult delivery, trying desperately to help Ipu save Ibetina’s life. I’d gone outside after my stepmother passed away and saw Amenia seated in the shade of a distant palm tree with her head on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Her compassion for her patients was genuine. She was still unjoined; unfortunately for Amenia, the years hadn’t improved her looks. If anything, she was even thinner than the first time we’d been together, her ribs more prominent. She was taller than me by half a head now, but her body had taken on barely any curves. A man would be lucky to have her for his woman, but there was precious little about her that would attract a man.
I gestured to a girl with a fan and she moved behind Ipu and began cooling her. The only sound in the room was the swishing of fans.
I looked down at Ipu from the dais. Something about the setup didn’t feel right. Ipu was no supplicant. She represented the falcon god. She had his favor. He spoke to her. She was at least as important as me, if not more so. She was certainly vital to my future and deserved to be treated with more respect than I was showing her. I rose, descended from the dais, sat cross–legged at her feet, looked up at her. After all, I was the one who needed answers, not her.
“Thank you for coming, Ipu,” I said sincerely.
“I suspect you didn’t call me here because you feel ill,” Ipu said, looking me up and down.
“No. That was a pretext. I’m sorry. I didn’t want anyone to know the real reason. I’d like to discuss Father’s successor with you, if I may.” I eyed Amenia over her shoulder. “We should talk in private.”
“I’ll likely be dead long before Aboo,” Ipu replied practically. “Amenia should hear what we have to say. She’s my heir.” Her eyes bored into mine. “I have good reason to keep that secret.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Only the three of us must know.”
“Of course,” I promised. I wondered why she wanted it kept secret. I considered it a good sign she trusted me enough to tell me. I addressed Amenia. “Please, come sit with us.”
Amenia moved forward reluctantly, sat on the floor next to Ipu, faced me.
“When Grandfather turned rule over to Father, you said Father should join with another woman so she could give him a son to succeed him,” I began.
“But Ibetina gave Aboo only girls before she died – Hunur and Nefertkau and Nubemshant. All of whom Amenia and I delivered,” Ipu said.
I nodded. “The years Ibetina was producing girls the succession remained muddied.”
“Let me guess – now that Ibetina’s dead your father’s not going to join with another woman, he’s going to name Rawer his heir, and he’s going to join you to him,” Ipu said. “Rawer an indisputable successor – both of you with Dedi’s blood, controlling all transportation in the valley.”
Ipu was more intelligent than I’d thought. “The thing is, Grandfather made Nykara the overseer of his fleet last night – instead of Rawer. Grandfather also threatened to make Nykara his heir and give him his entire enterprise unless Rawer proves he’s capable of operating it.’’
“Tai’s son?” Ipu asked.
“Yes. He works in the boatyard.” I leaned forward. “In addition, Grandfather threatened to join me to Nykara if he makes Nykara his heir. Assuming that happens, Rawer’s claim to succeed Father will be based solely on the fact he’s Father’s nephew. Rawer won’t have the transportation network or descent from Father through me to prop up his claim. So, in light of this new information, I’d like to know if y
ou plan to confirm Rawer when Father dies. Or, if not, how you’re going to decide who to confirm.”
“Does Aboo know you summoned me this morning?” Ipu asked pointedly.
“No,” I admitted. I hoped she wouldn’t get up and leave. If she did, I hoped she wouldn’t tell Father. He wouldn’t be happy I was involving myself in the succession.
“If what Dedi threatened comes to pass – you and Nykara operating all transportation, you joined to Nykara – would you be content for Rawer to be Nekhen’s next ruler?” Ipu queried.
I debated with myself. Revealing what was in my heart could be dangerous. But if I wanted the truth from Ipu I had to be honest with her. “When Grandfather yielded rule, he did it so he could pursue his dream of making Nekhen the dominant power in this valley. That’s something I firmly believe in. I’ve vowed to spend the rest of my life pursuing it, Ipu. Father and Rawer both promised Grandfather they’d pursue his quest too. You heard them say so. But they were lying. I know that for a fact. They’ll play along with Grandfather as long as he’s alive. But the day he dies they’re going to turn their focus inward and completely abandon Grandfather’s dream. They want to expand their personal power, not expand Nekhen’s influence in the valley. So, no, I’m not at all content for Rawer to be the next ruler. Even if he straightens out his life and regains the fleet and I end up joined to him.”
“I see,” Ipu said thoughtfully. “I believe your reason for wanting to know where I stand is valid, Abar. So I’ll be frank with you. In the past the ruler’s successor has always been obvious – either his brother or son. If he had neither, the next ruler was someone all the elites agreed upon without reservation. In this case, even though Ibetina produced no sons, your father does have a clear–cut heir.” She glanced at Amenia.
“You,” Amenia said.
Confirmation. Surprisingly. “That’s what I believe too,” I said.
“The three of us are of one mind on that point, then,” Ipu said.
“Which doesn’t match the elites,” I said. “Father established years ago that if he never had a son succession would flow through me to Rawer, which the elites have accepted. For them to abandon that concept and instead pledge fealty to me? Don’t you think that’s expecting too much of them?”
Ipu’s fingers rose to the object dangling around her neck. “Aya, the woman who received this talisman directly from the falcon god, ruled her band for generations. Men followed her willingly.”
I hadn’t known. “That must have been hundreds of years ago.”
“Much longer. One hundred eleven generations, to be precise,” Ipu replied.
I gasped. “I had no idea your talisman was so ancient.” I looked at it, and her, with new respect.
“Never, in all that time, have two women in a row borne it,” Ipu continued. “But it will pass to Amenia when I die. So, Abar, anything is possible.”
“Bearing a talisman is not the same thing as ruling Nekhen,” I argued.
“Of course not.”
“I know, from a family story about Tiaa and Ankhmare, that they settled in Nekhen and identified a man named Kairy to succeed the current ruler instead of his own grandson, Harmose. So, even if I’m the clear–cut heir, as you say, you might still confirm someone else you think would be better for Nekhen? Am I right?”
“Tiaa’s selection of Kairy over Harmose was not arbitrary,” Ipu replied. “Your family’s version of the tale lacks certain important details. You see, the very night Tiaa wore this talisman for the first time the falcon god sent her a dream showing her confirming a man as ruler who was then acclaimed by thousands of people. Not long after Tiaa had that dream he sent Ankhmare to the playa – he was obviously the falcon god’s tool to conduct Tiaa to this valley. Though Tiaa had never even heard of Nekhen, her dream was so vivid she recognized it as the place she’d been called to the instant she glimpsed it from Ankhmare’s boat. Ankhmare and Tiaa simply made her dream come true, in accordance with the falcon god’s will.”
“So, the falcon god may send you a dream, Ipu, telling you to confirm either me or someone else as Father’s successor,” I affirmed. “But if he doesn’t you’ll decide whether I’m fit to serve or not. If you don’t think I am you could choose Rawer or an elite or even a commoner?”
“The falcon god has already sent me a dream, and it wasn’t about your father’s successor,” Ipu said. “It was about mine.” She reached down, idly stroked Amenia’s hair. “I’ll be in my grave long before Aboo. So, either Amenia will receive a dream about the succession, or she’ll have to make the choice.”
That was an extremely frightening thought. I studied Amenia. Her eyes were downcast once more. She appeared to be wishing she was someplace else. She had to be terrified by the thought of bearing so much responsibility. I assumed she knew nothing of the world. I doubted she knew much about Nekhen itself beyond the confines of her grandfather’s pottery works. Yet the moment she took Ipu’s place our settlement’s fate would be in her painfully shy and simple hands. My fate would be in her hands. Even the pursuit of Grandfather’s quest.
“Do your stories about Tiaa relate how she chose the man she confirmed?” I asked.
“No. They’re silent about it,” Ipu said.
I addressed Amenia. “How will you decide?”
She looked up, panic in her eyes. “I don’t know. Whoever’s best for Nekhen.”
“You don’t know Rawer or me or any of the elites, our strengths, our capabilities, our flaws, our beliefs. Will you simply guess at who’s best?”
Her eyes were downcast again. “I don’t know.”
“Do you spend time in the lower settlement, or are you only familiar with the upper?”
“I accompany Great–grandmother when she calls on the sick, wherever they live, whoever they are,” Amenia replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve done it most of my life.”
I was being harsh. She was trembling slightly. There was no helping it. “Elites as well as commoners?”
“Yes. I’ve been in their homes.”
“Do you know who heads each enterprise?”
“I think so.”
“Do you know the names of all the hamlets that pledge fealty to my father?”
“No.”
“Do you know how many there are?”
“No.”
“Do you know the names of the settlements we trade with in the north and south?”
She shook her head no.
“Do you know what my grandfather’s dream for Nekhen is?”
“I heard him explain that time in his hut. I didn’t understand it.” Amenia’s lower lip was quivering. She was about to burst into tears.
I reached out, put my hand comfortingly on her forearm. “I’m so sorry, Amenia. I’m not trying to be mean or make you feel bad. But since you’re going to decide Nekhen’s fate I need to know what you know. Or don’t.”
“Precious little,” she said apologetically in a small voice.
“It’s my fault, not yours, Child,” Ipu said comfortingly. “I haven’t properly prepared you.” She addressed me. “Truthfully, I couldn’t answer half your questions either, Abar, and the rest I only know because I’m so old.”
“Why should you know?” I asked somewhat bitterly. “What ruler would think to keep you informed about Nekhen’s affairs? You’re a woman. You don’t count any more than I do.”
“Amenia clearly needs to be educated,” Ipu said practically. “Let’s assume the falcon god doesn’t send her a dream. That could make her choice difficult, because the selection of Aboo as ruler was not normal. He had no hereditary right to rule. Dedi simply picked him and the elites went along. Subsequently, the falcon god granted Ibetina only girls. That could be a sign the falcon god wants Aboo’s line to end with him and for Dedi’s to continue.”
“Meaning either Rawer or I could succeed Father,” I said.
Ipu nodded. “Or, the falcon god could have caused Dedi to step aside in favor of Aboo without him e
ven knowing.”
“Meaning the god wants me or even one of my half–sisters to be the continuation of Father’s line.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the leading candidate to be Nekhen’s next ruler,” Ipu replied. “You alone carry on either Dedi’s or Aboo’s line. That can’t be a coincidence. But the three of us know if Amenia confirms you – without the benefit of a god’s dream – she’s going to have to defend her choice. The elites will have to be convinced to submit to a woman, as you’ve said. If Amenia decides you’re not fit to rule despite your lineage she’s going to have to choose someone who is. So, what are you and I going to do about it?”
I pondered for a moment. “I can teach Amenia everything I know about the valley, Ipu,” I said. “I can teach her about the hamlets that owe fealty to Father, about the settlements to north and south. I can teach her about all of Nekhen’s enterprises, what they do, how they work in concert with all of the others. That’s important information, and non–controversial. But it’s vitally important for Amenia to learn about every individual who might be eligible to succeed Father. Since you believe I’m one of them, isn’t it inappropriate for me to discuss Rawer or myself or any of the elites? I have a vested interest. I desperately want to rule Nekhen because I believe I can be a better ruler than anyone else. So, likely, anything I’d tell Amenia would be colored by my perspective, by my prejudices. I could try to be objective, but I doubt I can be. Not completely.”
“Complicated by the fact a successor more palatable to the elites might not even be born yet,” Ipu pointed out. “Your father could rule Nekhen for several more decades. If you were joined to Nykara as Dedi threatened and gave him a son…”
“He’d be Father’s most direct male descendant. I know. That’s actually Grandfather’s position.”
“The best person to teach Amenia would be Dedi,” Ipu said thoughtfully. “He knows you and Rawer and the elites better than anyone. But he’d see no reason to. He’s pushing Rawer as your father’s heir, or your own son, as you’ve said. Even asking him to educate Amenia would raise suspicions I think none of us want raised. For better or worse, Abar, you’re going to have to teach Amenia yourself. Amenia, you’re going to have to take whatever Abar tells you about herself and others as starting points, not necessarily complete and accurate fact. You’re going to have to closely observe every candidate for ruler closely from now on and make up your own mind about them.”
The Women and the Boatman Page 16
