The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

  Behind the servants strode Abar. Since Ibetina’s death she’d played the part of ruler’s woman at every celebration. She was wearing a sheer white linen skirt, with beads of carnelian and gold around her neck and wrists and waist and ankles. Her eyes were darkly outlined with malachite and her lips were red with henna and a bright lily was tucked behind her right ear, standing out against her jet–black hair. Like her father, she was cheerfully greeting the onlookers. Eighteen now, Abar was ravishingly beautiful. She smiled brilliantly at the boys and men who were clamoring for her attention.

  Behind Abar, leaning heavily on the arm of her great–granddaughter Amenia, shuffled Ipu, more stooped than ever. Her skirt was white and her legs and mangled arms were decorated from hip to ankle and shoulder to wrist with images of the falcon god, painted on with malachite. Around her neck dangled her falcon–shaped talisman. As always, she’d preside atop the dais along with Aboo. Everyone bowed to her reverently as she passed. Many called her name beseechingly and when they did she raised her talisman and blessed them. As for Amenia, she’d changed greatly in the four years since I’d first seen her in Dedi’s hut. She was a woman now, quite a bit taller, still almost painfully thin, just beginning to take on curves. Her long light brown hair, pulled forward over her right shoulder, seemed almost golden in the bright sunlight. Her eyes were focused on the ground before her. She appeared to be uncomfortable with so many people staring at her. I wondered if I’d see her tomorrow when I went to fetch her pottery for my trip.

  Nekhen’s leading men were clustered together in the curve of the court to the left of Aboo’s dais – the brewer Pipi and potter Teti and herdsman Salitis and hunter Merenhor and fisherman Itisen and flax farmer Raemka and Dedi and a handful more, as well as Rawer. Abar’s three half–sisters were there as well, the two youngest in the arms of their wetnurses. The emblem of each man’s family topped a ribbon– and feather–bedecked wood pole stuck in a hole in the ground behind him. Whenever Aboo called a conclave of everyone in the valley beholden to him the entire north end of the court on both sides of the dais was filled with elite men, and behind them stood a virtual forest of not only family emblems but those of the different gods watching over each hamlet. Today the curve looked practically empty by comparison.

  Aboo ascended the platform along with Abar. Amenia helped Ipu up the steps, then hurried down and melted into the crowed. She was still as shy as I remembered. Aboo seated himself in the middle chair, with Abar to his right and Ipu to his left. Three young girls standing in a line behind them began slowly waving ostrich feather fans. The elites seated themselves in a row of leather–bottomed stools. Young girls moved into place behind them, holding small woven reed sunshades over their heads. Dedi occupied the stool closest to the dais, since he was the eldest of the elites, with Rawer next to him. Did Dedi ever regret yielding rule to Aboo, I wondered. He’d be presiding today if he hadn’t.

  The conclave was a miserable endless affair. We stood, all of us, for hours, beneath the increasingly fierce sun, sweating, thirsting, growing hungry. There were specific rituals to follow and tasks to be completed and Aboo did each in the proper order.

  He and Ipu first descended the steps and moved through the crowd to the base of the pole at the court’s south end – Ipu assisted by Amenia again. Once there, Ipu raised high her talisman and called in a quavering but clear voice upon the falcon god to inhabit the wood falcon atop the pole and bestow upon it his power and bless us all with his presence.

  Then two men led a young calf to a space before Aboo and Ipu. They tied its rear legs together, then its front, then flipped the animal onto its side. It bawled, its eyes wide with fright. Amenia dropped to her knees beside the calf’s neck, an earthenware bowl in her hands, one in an old style – polished, red, decorated with the image of a bull outlined in white. She’d likely made it especially for this celebration. Ipu placed her hand on Amenia’s shoulder; at every ritual before today’s Ipu had collected blood herself, but she was obviously finding it difficult if not impossible to perform that task now. Her health seemed to have deteriorated since the last festival, during which she’d required no assistance from anyone. A servant handed Aboo a long serrated flint knife with an ivory handle. He bent and slit the calf’s throat with one quick movement. Blood spurted all over Amenia. The two men held the animal down, one kneeling on its hindquarters, the other on its flank, until it ceased struggling. Amenia kept the bowl pressed firmly against its neck the whole time. Once the calf was dead she stood up and stepped aside. Her skirt was red and her chest and arms and legs and cheeks and hair were thickly splattered. The men dragged the carcass through the crowd and out the monumental entrance, leaving a bloody trail behind. The calf would be roasted and served during the upcoming feast. Aboo sacrificed a dozen more domestic animals in similar fashion. Then two men led forward one of the wild gazelles Aboo had captured and kept penned in his menagerie. Amenia knelt beside it with an empty bowl decorated with a gazelle. Aboo sacrificed it. Its carcass, however, was dragged to the nearest section of the ditch and pushed in. Men immediately covered it with clean sand. Wild game belonged to the gods, not us. Aboo then slew a dozen more of his menagerie.

  The sacrifices complete, Amenia rose and slipped back into the crowd. She was a ghastly sight now, thoroughly drenched with blood. Everyone gave her a wide berth. Aboo and Ipu remained standing side by side at the base of the pole as a representative of each family, elite and common, came forward with their individual offerings. Each placed a jar or flint figurine or ivory implement or container of food at the pole’s base. Ipu momentarily pressed the talisman against each person’s forehead immediately afterwards, muttering words of blessing. When all the offerings had been made, Aboo and Ipu together emptied the bowls of freshly–collected blood over the piled items, consecrating them to the falcon god. They then returned to their seats on the dais, Ipu assisted this time by Aboo.

  Now came the most important part of the conclave – the actual reassignment of Nekhen’s fields. Aboo called farmers forward one at a time and confirmed the allocations he had made them earlier in the week. He had the uncanny ability to picture the entire landscape of the nearby valley, holding all its details in his mind, just as I could do with the river. Much of the allocation was routine since farmers for the most part occupied ancestral land year after year, but the division of farms between sons of men who had died since the past conclave, as well as the reassignment of farms of those who had died without heirs, was also necessary. Once that was done, based on the size of the farm Aboo had allocated to each individual, and on the land’s expected yield based on the height of the inundation – the best predictor of how much the fields would yield – Aboo established the levy of grain he expected from each farmer at harvest time. That some portion of each farmer’s crop was to be given to Nekhen’s ruler had first been established hundreds of years earlier; some was used to fill communal granaries against future years of low inundations, some to feed men who labored on public projects while idled by the inundation, some to feed the crowds during festivals, and some to support the ruler’s family and his dependents and servants.

  After he finished with the farmers, Aboo confirmed delivery schedules between farmers, brewers, potters, water carriers, woodcutters and the rest – which brewers would supply which farms with beer, which farmers would provide emmer to which brewers and bakers and so forth. I followed that discussion closely; for the first time, Dedi had allowed me to help him and Aboo and Abar work it out. After that, Aboo set the quota of products he expected from each industry and craftsman, both for exchange with nearby hamlets and the other settlements in the valley, and to offer to the gods at festivals.

  That done, a servant draped a leopard skin over Aboo’s shoulders. He summoned to the base of the platform all who were involved in disputes with others, listened to their usually contentious and contradictory testimonies, then settled each case in turn. Dedi had let me attend conclaves with him each of the past several y
ears, so I was used to seeing Aboo render justice. I was as always impressed. Not everyone was happy with his decisions, but I didn’t get the sense anyone thought them unfair. Fearing Rawer would take Aboo’s place someday, I couldn’t help compare him to our ruler. Rawer was nothing at all like his uncle – he was lazy and petty and vindictive, with a terrible temper and a cruel streak and a horrible habit of making up his mind without considering any facts. I hoped Aboo lived for a very long time, and that Abar would find someone other than her cousin to join with and make her father’s successor.

  When the last of his decisions had been rendered, Aboo rose and turned towards Dedi. The announcement was coming I’d been eagerly awaiting all day. While Dedi had established the parameters of the upcoming expedition, it was important Aboo give the impression it had been his idea and was being done at his behest. Over the past centuries the ruler’s power had evolved to give him authority over the other elites, and it was best to portray the fiction Dedi was totally subservient to Aboo to the same extent as everyone else now that he’d yielded to him.

  “Nekhen’s storage huts are overflowing with goods,” Aboo announced. “There are rumors of a great settlement, far to the north, called Badari. It was the original home of Dedi’s ancestor, Ankhmare, who settled in Nekhen five hundred years ago. Dedi, I want you to send a trading expedition there to discover if the rumors about Badari’s wealth are true.”

  Exclamations of delight and wonder rose from the crowd. Everyone had heard about Badari and its fabled wealth – especially after a few of us boatmen spread rumors about it throughout the lower settlement last night on Dedi’s orders. None of Nekhen’s boats had ever ventured so far north in anyone’s lifetime.

  “Fill a boat with Nekhen’s finest products, Dedi – microdrills, flint and ivory figurines, knives, beads, pottery. Exchange those products at Badari for the best of their goods. I want you underway within the next five days.”

  “As you command,” Dedi promised, smiling, bowing his head slightly. “The overseer of my fleet, Nykara, will personally lead this expedition. He will return with much wealth. He will make the rest of the valley aware of Nekhen’s might, and the power of its ruler.” He bowed to Ipu. “He will make the rest of the valley aware of the existence of our falcon god.”

  Just as we’d discussed yesterday with Aboo. This trip to Badari was now a deliberate step in what Dedi and Abar and I believed would someday be the recognition of Nekhen as the most important settlement in the southern valley and its ruler the most influential. Though we knew that would likely not happen in our lifetimes, nor our children’s, nor theirs.

  Ipu rose shakily and held up her talisman.

  Dedi signaled me to approach her. I strode to the dais, hesitated a moment, then climbed to the step below the highest, halted in front of Ipu, bent my head. I felt everyone’s eyes on me.

  “Go, Nykara, with the blessing of the falcon god, and under his protection,” Ipu intoned. Then she touched the talisman to my head.

  Dedi glanced at me and nodded triumphantly. Abar caught my eye and smiled. The trip I’d wanted to take for so long was about to be a reality. I’d never dreamed it would have such importance, or I’d be leading it. I descended the steps and stood respectfully beside the dais, on the side opposite the elites, facing the crowd.

  All during the conclave, the smell of roasting meat had been wafting into the court from the flat ground outside the walls just beyond the workshops. I’d heard more than one stomach growling around me.

  Aboo stood. “Many cattle and sheep and goats have been slaughtered for you who are beholden to me and gathered here in the oval court. Many fish have been prepared as well. A great feast awaits you outside its walls. This conclave is now over.”

  As everyone else rushed from the court – few of the elites were generous with the amount and variety of food they provided their dependents, and an opportunity to feast at Aboo’s expense was not to be wasted – Dedi summoned Rawer and Senebi and me to him. There was to be no feasting for us. I, for one, didn’t mind.

  “We have much to accomplish in the next few days,” Dedi proclaimed. “We need to begin preparations immediately. So it’s back to the boatyard for us.”

  Rawer’s face fell. He’d clearly expected to monopolize Abar at the feast to keep her away from his competition. Her cousin Wehemka had already attached himself to her.

  “Senebi, arrange with Tjenty to have donkeys ready in the morning so we can bring trade goods from my workshops to the landing place,” Dedi directed. “Rawer, you’re in charge of assembling the goods beforehand. Nykara, prepare the boat – the one you designed and built.”

  “Already underway,” I replied. “The crew’s been ready since yesterday. Food and supplies are aboard. The minute the trade goods are loaded we’ll be off.”

  ***

  At mid–morning the next day I led a string of five donkeys, each with four large empty rope nets slung over their backs, up the wadi path towards the upper settlement. As Abar had proposed two days ago, I was going to fetch the old–style and new cream–colored jars and pots Amenia was producing at a small pottery works near the crest of the plateau. Ipu’s grandsons Hemaka and Sanakht operated those works now; according to Abar, their father Khaemtir had recently died. The works were among Nekhen’s oldest, Dedi had added, tracing its founding back five centuries or more. Teti’s operation, in the lower settlement, produced by far the most pottery – because of that he was wealthy and an elite. All of the beer from Nekhen’s largest brewery, Pipi’s, also in the lower settlement, was shipped around the nearby valley inside Teti’s jars, as well as the herdsman’s blood and milk. Teti’s great–grandfather had been the first potter to shift production to a new style – thinner–walled, mass produced, common–place, undecorated, not suited at all for obtaining value in long–distance trade but perfect for transportation. And so, on this trip, we’d carry north the pottery of his rival. I’d never visited the upper settlement before – never had reason to. Normally I wouldn’t be particularly happy about performing such a menial errand, but picking up goods destined for exchange at Badari made even this task exciting.

  The wadi narrowed as it climbed towards the desert plateau, less than half as wide near the top as it was at its eastern end at the river, its sides increasingly steeper as it gained altitude. I reached an outcrop of rock rising like a large rounded chimney to the right of the wadi path; at its base was a pile of boulders, some shattered, some whole, most too high for even me to see over. I paused for a moment to study it. Footholds and steps carved in the outcrop spiraled up its broken outer flanks; it appeared the flat area on its top afforded a spectacular view of the valley. But I had no time to investigate today. I began to lead my donkeys past.

  A girl stepped from the shadows just beyond the outcrop into the path.

  Startled, I halted my donkeys.

  “Good morning, Nykara!” It was Wenher, Pipi’s daughter. She smiled at me brilliantly.

  “And to you, Wenher.” She was seventeen now, I calculated, and a real beauty. Good looks ran in Abar’s extended family. As many men were courting Wenher as were importuning Abar, or so her younger sister Inetkawes had told me once, rather enviously. Wenher’s long dark unbound hair cascaded over her bare shoulders and twisted a bit in the strong breeze. Her white skirt was of the finest linen, and she was adorned with a necklace and bracelets and girdle made of gold beads. She was an extremely friendly and outgoing woman; I’d conversed with her at every one of Nekhen’s festivals since she’d witnessed me saving Inetkawes from the crocodiles. She and Inetkawes were the only elite girls who routinely joined commoners in cheering for me during athletic competitions. She was very pleasant company.

  Her father moved to her side from where he’d apparently been sitting among the boulders in the shade.

  “Pipi.” I bowed to him respectfully.

  I knew who he was, though we’d never spoken. I had no idea why an elite like Pipi would be anywhere near the upper
settlement, much less apparently waiting to waylay me. That he was accompanied by Wenher was even more surprising.

  He glanced at my donkeys. “Teti’s furious you’re going to trade pottery from the upper settlement on your trip, instead of from his works.”

  Had Pipi come here to advocate on Teti’s behalf? Why? Why was he was confronting me in such a relatively out of the way place? Why had he dragged Wenher along with him? What business was it of his anyway, whose items I traded? I shrugged. “Teti doesn’t make decorated pottery,” I told Pipi. “His rough pottery is suitable for hauling items, not trade. Anyway, whose pottery to take to Badari was Dedi’s decision, not mine.”

  “Not my issue anyway,” Pipi said. “Just thought you should know.” He moved from the path back into the shade, sat atop one of the smaller boulders. “Join me.”

  I secured my lead donkey to a low bush beside the path, sat down on the boulder to his left. Even sitting I was looking down at him. I was a head taller. Wenher seated herself to my left, pulled the hem of her skirt above her knees to take advantage of the breeze and cool off. The day was already hot. I couldn’t help notice her long light brown shapely legs. She was quite distracting.