“Do you ever make mats down by the river, Amenia?” I asked.
“Usually once a month, or whenever there’s a funeral. I make mats to cover bodies in graves.”
“I help my cousins Inetkawes and Wenher weave occasionally. Whenever you and I are beside the river at the same time, after our respective groups break up, we can meet at some isolated spot away from prying eyes. Over time I can explain how Nekhen works, how the enterprises interface with each other, who’s important, who’s not, what a ruler does, Grandfather’s vision for Nekhen, and anything else you want to know.”
“I’d like that very much,” Amenia said, her eyes finally meeting mine. “Until you asked your questions I didn’t even know how much I didn’t know.”
“Maybe you can tell me your family’s stories and I can tell you mine, too. We can fill in the gaps,” I offered.
“I might even join you two for that,” Ipu chuckled.
They departed for the upper settlement soon after. I resumed my seat atop the dais, reflected on what I’d discovered this unexpectedly illuminating day.
I’ve learned Ipu considers me a legitimate successor to Father. I wasn’t crazy to believe in my right to rule after all. I’ve also learned Amenia’s going to play the key role in deciding Nekhen’s future, and mine, and Rawer’s. I know it but he doesn’t, and neither do any of the elites. That’s a significant advantage for me. I’m not going to waste it. Grandfather gave up rule to pursue a dream. Father will let it die, Rawer will let it die. I’m the only person in Nekhen who won’t. So, beginning today, I intend to provide Amenia with all the information she needs to defend me as her choice to succeed Father. And just let Rawer or Father or Nykara or anyone else try to get in my way.
***
About mid–morning a week later I joined Father and Tjenty, the overseer of our donkey herd, under a sunscreen next to Tjenty’s hut. The hut was beside the mouth of a long wide wadi just south of the lower settlement Father used as a pen to contain his animals. A sturdy fence of acacia poles completely blocked the opening, except for a gate. Two wide dusty lanes – one leading from the gate down to the river, another connecting with the wadi path and the upper settlement and the plateaus beyond – were marked by thousands of hoof prints and splattered with piles of dung and pools of urine. The pen was mostly empty; the majority of the animals were currently making their daily deliveries. A few sick or injured beasts were huddled in a corner, being cared for by older herdsmen. Several boys were shoveling dung from the pen using the shoulder blades of wild animals. Others were hauling great piles of fodder into the pen, a few filling long troughs with water from leather pouches carried on donkey–back from the river.
Grandfather and Ameny were approaching. The five of us met at the beginning of each week to arrange the scheduling of Grandfather’s boats and Father’s donkeys, since delivery of all foodstuffs and drink and supplies and craftsmen’s products were dependent on synchronization between our two operations. Nykara was walking a few respectful steps behind Grandfather. Now that he was overseer he’d be attending this meeting regularly. As much as I hated him, in light of what had occurred beside Grandfather’s campfire, from now on I was going to have to treat him like a partner in order to achieve my goals. Given Rawer’s lack of ambition, it was highly likely Nykara would eventually be named Grandfather’s heir and gain control of his entire enterprise – and me. I’d been trying not to dwell on that prospect despite its near certainty; there was no man in Nekhen I despised as much and the mere thought of sharing Nykara’s pallet was disgusting and infuriating. But I knew if I couldn’t transform Nykara from enemy to friend Grandfather’s dream would die once the boats were in Nykara’s hands. He wouldn’t be any more willing to let me wield the fleet to spread Nekhen’s influence throughout the valley than Rawer would. Of course, if Amenia confirmed me as Nekhen’s ruler I’d be able to direct the use of the fleet no matter who was running it. In that case, I had to admit, I’d much rather have Nykara in charge than Rawer – assuming Grandfather’s and Ameny’s glowing claims about Nykara’s abilities were true. I wasn’t going to accept those claims on blind faith. He was going to have to prove himself to me. I was admittedly prejudiced against him. I was skeptical he was intelligent enough to understand what we were gathering here to do – put together a proper schedule for the fleet. It was a critical yet basic task. Nykara was a common worker in a boatyard, more fit to row a boat than ponder complexities. Scheduling might well be beyond his capabilities. For all I knew, he didn’t even know how to count. But I decided to keep an open mind. Maybe Nykara would surprise me. If he turned out to be competent, and if he inherited the fleet, and if I became Nekhen’s ruler, Grandfather’s dream would live. Under any other scenario it would die. One thing was certain – if Rawer ever regained the fleet I’d never rule Nekhen. So, it was up to me to make sure Nykara was at least competent enough as an overseer to keep the fleet out of Rawer’s hands.
Nykara’s eyes flickered slightly as he spotted me.
So he thinks I’m out of place because I’m a woman while he, who knows nothing, belongs. Not a promising start for him.
After the usual greetings and downing of refreshments brought to us by one of Father’s serving girls we settled down to business. I assumed Nykara would be reticent and silent today, afraid to look foolish or incompetent or display his inexperience in front of Father and me. Either that, or puffed up with self–importance, expressing opinions unsupported by facts. Rawer’s assessment Nykara was only a common oarsman was probably nearer the truth than not.
Over the next hour we went over the usual arrangements concerning the transport of milk and blood from Salitis’ herd in the north wadi and Pipi’s beer from his brewery in the lower settlement to Grandfather’s docking place, and when to have animals waiting when Grandfather’s boats returned from up and downriver loaded with foodstuffs destined for the upper and lower settlements. We also discussed arrangements for Father’s next trading expedition into the western desert two months from now, and the quantity and variety of fine goods he planned to carry from Grandfather’s workshops. Nykara listened to the discussion attentively, but remained silent. In his place Rawer would have tried to take over the meeting, to dominate it, even though he wouldn’t have known what he was talking about. At least Nykara had sense enough not to do that. Either that, or he was mute because he was having trouble understanding our arrangements. I didn’t know which.
“One last thing,” Father said after the schedules had been confirmed. “In two days Seni is sending an expedition into the eastern wadis to bring back the gold his men have extracted from his mines the past three months. He’ll be gone from Nekhen for two weeks. Tjenty, he’ll need at least two dozen donkeys to carry the gold back, and another dozen supply animals, all fully equipped with carrying pouches and straps, loaded with food and supplies enough for Seni’s men and our men who will go along to manage the animals. The beasts will need to carry their own fodder. Water shouldn’t be a problem. The usual pools are reportedly full.”
“I will arrange it,” Tjenty assured him.
“I’ll get our animals down to the riverbank early in the morning and manage the men and animals during the day until Grandfather’s boats can ferry them across the river,” I said. I’d done it often enough. Seni went on such expeditions several times a year, sometimes to retrieve the flesh of the gods, sometimes various types of stone his men had quarried. “I’ll arrange for fodder enough to last most of the day, and pick out an open space along the river to water the donkeys, with shade for the men while they wait, and food for their midday meal.”
“Very good. Dedi, can I count on your boats ferrying a few animals at a time across the river as they return from making their daily deliveries?”
“As always,” Ameny hastened to assure Father.
“That’s settled, then.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to transport all the animals at once?” Nykara asked.
That he’d que
stioned a decision Father had already made was appalling. Everyone looked surprised. Grandfather was clearly embarrassed, for himself and Nykara both. No doubt he’d warned Nykara to simply observe during this meeting.
“We’ve always done it this way,” I told Nykara sharply. “From a time beyond remembering.”
“I’m aware. I’ve ferried donkeys on my boat for many of Seni’s expeditions,” Nykara said quietly. “It usually takes all day because our boats return from their deliveries at unpredictable times. Frankly, none of my fellow captains feels much urgency about making their deliveries and then hurrying back to Nekhen to ferry large balky animals across the river. Boats aren’t designed to carry livestock, and the beasts terrify the oarsmen. They nip at the men and sometimes kick after standing in the hot sun on the west bank waiting for transportation most of the day. Then, by the time the donkeys are all on the east bank, there aren’t enough hours of daylight left for Seni’s men to load them with their burdens and set out for his mines and quarries, so his expeditions never get underway until the following morning. Wasted time, an extra day’s worth of fodder for the donkeys and food for the men, suffering animals – all preventable. In my opinion.”
“My animals are not your concern,” Tjenty said haughtily. “Stick to your boats, Boy.”
Nykara did not look the least bit chastened. Apparently, when he took a position he was prepared to defend it. Even one as wrong–headed as this.
“What’s your idea?” Father asked. If there was one thing he cared for above all else it was the welfare of his donkeys. They were the source of his wealth and power, after all.
“Move your animals down to the riverbank when it’s cool, before sunrise,” Nykara replied. “I’ll have four boats ready, devoted solely to ferrying them across.” He named three captains and himself. “Thirty–six animals. Three to a boat plus one of your men to control them. Three trips for each boat. It’ll take a couple of hours. The donkeys will all be across by midmorning.”
“What about our regular deliveries?” Grandfather asked. “What you suggest will disrupt our enterprise.”
“Only marginally. We’ll pack a few more jars on each of the other boats, send them on the most distant delivery routes, give each an extra stop or two,” Nykara replied. “When the four of us who are ferrying are done with the donkeys we’ll make the local deliveries. They’ll be a couple of hours late, is all. We’ll warn those farmers and hamlets in advance.”
“Ameny?” Grandfather asked.
“Quite doable. An excellent idea, actually.”
“What about the supplies and fodder and equipment, and Seni’s men?” I pressed. “It’ll take hours more to get them across. Our donkeys will still have a long wait before they can be loaded. On the east bank instead of the west.”
“That’s right!” Tjenty chimed in.
“Our boats sit idle after their last delivery every day,” Nykara answered. “We can move Seni’s men and their supplies and the animals’ fodder across the river the afternoon before. Your men can start loading the donkeys immediately after they disembark on the east bank the next day. The only delay before the expedition can get underway will be the time it takes to load the last twelve donkeys.”
Reluctantly, I conceded I might have underestimated Nykara. His plan was admirable, developed with no prior warning it was needed and without being asked while risking Father’s and Grandfather’s and my wrath. I’d been involved in Seni’s expeditions for years and nothing like Nykara’s solution had ever occurred to me. Nor to any of the rest of us seated under the sunscreen. We’d executed without discussion the plan handed down to us from earlier generations. Nykara was not what I’d expected – he wasn’t at all timid, and he was clearly as bright and capable as Grandfather had claimed. Perhaps I’d been wrong to be skeptical about his intelligence and had prejudged him too harshly. There really wasn’t much for the rest of us to think about or debate. Nykara’s plan was impressive – assuming it could actually be carried out. Planning and execution were two different things in my experience.
“I accept your plan, Nykara,” Father said.
Grandfather looked at Nykara proudly. “Your idea – you’ll be in charge.”
Nykara nodded. “I’ll begin making the arrangements this morning.”
Father looked around. “Our work is done, then.” He rose, and the rest of us with him.
“Tjenty, could you explain the workings of the donkey herd to me sometime?” Nykara asked before we started to go our separate ways.
“Why?” Father queried, halting in his tracks.
“I’d like to understand Nekhen’s entire transportation network – not just the interface between the herd and the boats. That might prove useful someday.”
“A reasonable request,” Father acknowledged.
“Too many arrangements to make today,” Tjenty said harshly. “In a week or so…”
Tjenty would be too busy then, too. He’d never get around to speaking with Nykara, or, if forced, he’d impart little useful information. He clearly didn’t appreciate Nykara showing him up in front of Father and Grandfather. He, an overseer, the son of an overseer, was obviously looking down on Nykara because of his background. The same way I always had. And admittedly still did.
Father could tell as well. Tjenty was set in his ways, and getting old. In not too many years he’d have to be replaced, as Ameny had just been. Father already relied more on me to keep the herd functioning than he did Tjenty. “Abar, I’ll leave it up to you to explain to Nykara whatever it is he wants to know,” Father directed. “And now, I’m off to the audience hall. Something always needs sorting out there.”
Everyone departed, leaving Nykara and me alone. I wasn’t any happier to have to answer Nykara’s questions than Tjenty, but I couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse to avoid them. We sat on the ground, facing each other, me first, of course, as befit my status.
“You’d better deliver what you promised,” I warned him. “Otherwise, your tenure as overseer will be short–lived. Father will be furious and Grandfather will be embarrassed.”
“I’m aware of the stakes,” Nykara said calmly. “I understand the risk Dedi took making me his overseer. I won’t let him down.”
The determination on his face said he was sincere. His plan for Seni’s expedition was good. Making all the pieces work in unison would be the trick. But that was his problem, not mine.
“You seemed surprised to see me here,” I said, recalling his reaction when he’d first spotted me earlier. “Do you think I’m only in this meeting because I’m some type of ornament?” If he did I’d gladly set him straight right now.
“Rawer might, but I don’t. I was simply reacting to seeing a familiar face, though not a friendly one. Frankly, I’d have been shocked if you hadn’t attended,” he replied.
“Why is that?”
“The transportation network is the most powerful enterprise in Nekhen. Your father and Dedi control whose products go where and when, what foodstuffs are moved around, what raw materials get delivered. The two of them could easily bring any or all of the elites to their knees, as we discussed many years ago. A woman with your ambitions needs to understand it, be involved in it, be able to wield it as necessary. Rawer may take the fleet for granted, but I don’t imagine you take anything for granted. From what I observed this morning, you know the herd as well as Tjenty and your father. And a great deal about every elite enterprise. I’ll bet you understand the fleet nearly as well as Ameny. Certainly better than me – so far.”
I smiled in spite of myself. Nykara was exactly right. Unexpectedly right. “True. I’m not like my cousin. I don’t shirk work and I do fully understand everything I’m responsible for.” I stared at him for a moment. “But what do you know about my ambitions?”
“You declared them the night of the executions, and again the time I accompanied Rawer to Pipi’s brewery. I’m sure you forgot about those encounters long ago – no reason for you to remember. At
the brewery I was keeping an eye on Rawer for Dedi. I remember you telling Rawer you were going to help him rule Nekhen. He made it clear he wasn’t going to let you.”
I willed my face to remain impassive, though a chill ran up my spine. I’d been careless that day, speaking plainly in front of him. Because Nykara had been Rawer’s nursemaid and because of our past history I’d considered him irrelevant, invisible. But he’d been attentive and had remembered what I’d said. Execution of my plan to succeed Father depended on absolute secrecy so I could take Rawer or any other rival by surprise when the time came. That Nykara had an inkling of what my heart desired could ruin everything, especially if he told anyone and it got back to Father. Or if he decided his new job as overseer and his mother’s relationship to Grandfather gave him status equal to me and Rawer and he made his own play for power. Or if he concluded revealing my ambition was an excellent way for him to get revenge on me for how I’d treated him these last years. With a sinking feeling, I realized Nykara had the means to make me pay for my past actions and by so doing destroy every dream I held dear. Time for me to dissemble. “Perhaps I simply chose my words poorly,” I said.
Nykara gave no indication he considered me a liar. “If you say I was mistaken, then I was,” he replied. “Who rules Nekhen isn’t my concern anyway.”
The Women and the Boatman Page 17
