“I assure you…”
Abar held up her hand. “Let me finish. I’ve been waiting a long time to say this. The weeks were empty without you, Nykara. They passed agonizingly slowly. Every day I sat distracted in the audience hall – I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Every evening I wandered along the riverbank, aimless, gazing towards the North, thinking about you. I never understood until you were gone how much I want you in my life.”
Amazing admissions, coming from Abar. “I am in your life,” I assured her. “I always will be.”
“You could share it completely, Nykara,” she said breathlessly, leaning towards me. “Grandfather’s promised me to you, after all.”
Abar didn’t seem to be joking. “That used to be your worst nightmare.”
“At first. But then we got to know each other. You’ve changed my mind about a lot of things this last year. Especially us.”
Had Abar fallen for me? Impossible! Didn’t she see her belief we could be together was based on the same faulty premise Pipi’s deal relied on? “Dedi’s promise doesn’t matter,” I said. “It was an empty threat. Aboo’s clearly disregarded it. He’s publicly promised you to Rawer. He’ll never give you to a commoner – or an elite who was born a commoner.”
“We could go to your hut right now,” Abar insisted. “Father would be angry at us for a day. Then he’d realize our joining had tied herds and boats unbreakably together. He’d realize he’d soon hold his grandson in his arms.”
I couldn’t tell for sure, but I suspected she was blushing.
“That’s something Father wants above all else. A direct male descendant. A continuation of his line. Grandfather would throw his support to us – our being joined was his idea in the first place. It assures his quest to expand Nekhen’s influence will continue after his death.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I said cautiously.
“Our joining will put a dagger in Rawer’s hopes of ruling,” Abar added. “Without the fleet, without me, no elite will support him.” She slid closer, so our legs and arms were touching. Hers were smooth and warm. She smelled of flowers and sweet resin. “Wouldn’t you like that, Nykara? Having me?”
Abar was so beautiful in the moonlight, her lips inviting, eyes shining.
“I’m in love with you, Nykara,” she said earnestly. She placed her hands on my shoulders and pulled me down to her and kissed me – not like she had at the brewery to make Rawer jealous, but as a woman kisses a man, with warmth and desire and passion.
For a moment I yielded to her, intoxicated. My heart cried out to surrender, to accept my unexpected good fortune, to revel in it. Why turn down a woman like Abar? Who in Nekhen was like her? Why reject the chance to become part of Nekhen’s ruling family? Why reject wealth and influence? But wealth and influence weren’t what I wanted. I wanted a woman who truly loved me. Did Abar, really, despite what she’d just said? Or did she only want me to keep me away from Wenher? Or, was eliminating Rawer as a potential ruler behind her confession of love? Her life’s ambition was to not just be a ruler’s woman, but to guide that ruler. That wouldn’t be possible with Rawer. It would be if I took his place. She’d manipulated me in the past. Was she doing it again? Was her plea we be joined merely a transaction, one she’d convinced herself was based on love but actually wasn’t? If she’d so much as given me a sign she cared in that way for me in the past year I might feel differently. But I couldn’t help be skeptical about what was behind her unexpected change in attitude.
I gazed at Abar. But instead I saw Amenia’s face, a woman awash in possibility. She’s who I truly wanted to be with. Thought of her brought me back to reality. I drew away a little, looked down at Abar, brushed her hair from her face with my fingertips. “I care deeply for you, Abar. I have for a long time. But I don’t love you the way you say you love me.” I slid away so our arms and legs were no longer touching. The amulet slipped from my thigh and clattered to the deck.
“What’s that? A gift for Wenher?” Abar asked petulantly. “Have you surrendered to her already?”
I bent, picked up the amulet, handed it to her. “No. It’s for Amenia. For supplying the pottery.”
Abar studied it. “I’m sure she’ll like it. It’s beautiful and unique.” She gave it back to me.
“Remember the first time we met her, when Dedi transferred rule to your father?”
“She was terrified. Very meek.”
“She’s only like that when powerful men are around,” I said.
“She was like that around me too, at first. But I’ve gotten to know her the past couple of years. She’s a sweet girl.”
“And an extraordinarily talented potter, as you also know. She’s as passionate about her work as you are about Nekhen’s future. She reminds me very much of you.”
Abar gazed at me strangely for a long time. Then she seemed to shake herself. “The amulet’s not just because Amenia supplied pottery, is it?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Do you care for Amenia, Nykara?” Abar asked.
“As ridiculous as it seems, having spent literally no time with her, I do. Something about Amenia touches me deeply. I believe she’s interested in me too.”
“How can she not be?” Abar asked.
“The kiss… Love… If we weren’t who we are, Abar…” I said apologetically.
“You’re choosing Amenia over me.”
“Am I really, Abar? Your destiny – your obsession – is to be a ruler’s woman. You can be, joined to Rawer or Wehemka or another elite. You can’t, joined to me. You’re actually the one with the choice – be a ruler’s woman, or be with me.”
“Then I choose you,” she said decisively.
“You can’t, Abar. I’d make you happy for a time. But the day Rawer ascends the dais in the oval court with some other woman at his side you’d fully realize what you’d given up for me. You’d start to resent me then.”
“Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s not.”
“I won’t put you in that position. Or let you put yourself in that position.”
Abar was silent for a long time, gazing at the distant plateau. The river lapped against my boat, gently rocking us.
I took her hand. I had to be the strong one. I had to hurt her. I had to put the future she deserved before the future she thought she wanted tonight. “I’ll always care for you, Abar. But we can’t be together.”
She pulled her hand away, stood up brusquely. “You must think I’m a fool, wanting to be joined for love,” she said bitterly. Her eyes glistened with tears.
“You’re no fool, Abar,” I replied softly. “You want what every woman wants, and man too. But you were born an elite and you’re a ruler’s daughter and you’ve taken on Dedi’s quest. Expectations come with all those roles. They define what you can and can’t do. You’re their prisoner.”
“And you’re not,” Abar said. Her eyes met mine. “I suppose you deserve the chance to be happy, Nykara. I hope you are, with Amenia.”
Abar disembarked without another word and disappeared into the darkness. I felt awful. Her confession of love was going to change things between us. That I’d rejected her would be hard for Abar to get over. If she ever did. No one ever turned her down. Had I been a fool for doing it? Then I felt the amulet pressing into my palm, a reminder I’d thrown away the chance to be with Abar in order to pursue a woman I wanted far more.
***
Two days later I hurried up the wadi path to Hemaka’s and Sanakht’s pottery works leading a trio of donkeys, two laden with jars of wine, the foremost bearing Dedi. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was in my eyes. A hot wind was blowing and sand stung my cheek. My heart was pounding, and not just from the walk. I was anxious to see Amenia again, in hopes of discovering if she felt about me the way I felt about her. After what had happened with Abar on my boat there had to be. Otherwise, I’d thrown a chance for love with an exceptional woman away for nothing.
Dedi and I entered Hemaka’s yard
. Men and women were bustling in every direction. Smoke was rising from kilns where pottery was being fired. A dozen or so men were attending them. Hemaka was seated beneath his verandah alongside Sanakht, both of them on leather stools, both leaning back against the wall of Hemaka’s house, overseeing everything from a distance. Hemaka was shading his eyes with one hand against the sunlight slanting under the verandah’s roof. He saw us and recognized Dedi and rose, startled. I brought the donkeys to a stop in front of him. He hastened to help Dedi dismount.
“Your visit honors me,” Hemaka said, bowing low.
“I’ve brought you jars of wine,” Dedi explained, indicating the trailing donkeys. “An exceptional drink Nykara obtained in the North. Aboo is parceling it out only to Nekhen’s elites – and you. This wine is in return for the pottery you sent on the expedition. Half is from Retenu, a land along the seacoast. Half is from desert oases. I believe you’ll find the quality of both to be excellent. I’ve already developed a taste for it.”
A smile creased Hemaka’s face. “I told you those jars and pots would be worth something,” he told his older brother.
Sanakht had moved from the verandah to join him. He shrugged his shoulders.
Hemaka hadn’t predicted any such thing. He’d told me the exact opposite, that taking Amenia’s pottery on my expedition would be foolish and a waste of time. Amenia had made clear to me her uncles’ feelings about the value of the pottery she created. I suspected Dedi would shortly change their minds.
“Nekauba!” Hemaka shouted.
Nekauba came running from the direction of the kilns. When he saw me he stopped short and stiffened and glared. And looked more than a little scared.
“Unload these donkeys. Put the jars in my storage hut. Leave one here. Don’t break any of them!”
Nekauba removed one jar from the back of the first donkey and set it on the ground under the verandah. Then he took hold of the rope and led the donkeys out of sight, looking back over his shoulder at me the whole time.
Hemaka indicated a reed–bottomed chair next to his stool beneath the verandah. “Please, sit,” he told Dedi. “I’d like to hear about the North, if you have time.”
“I do.” Dedi settled onto the proffered chair with a sigh.
Hemaka stepped to the entrance of his house. “Itet! We have a visitor!” He moved back to his stool. “This is my older brother Sanakht,” he told Dedi. “We operate these works together.”
“I knew your father well,” Dedi told them. “Khaemtir fought beside me when I went into the western desert to punish the raiders who killed Aboo’s brother.”
Sanakht greeted Dedi but did not acknowledge me. His head was shaved, his mouth downturned, eyes suspicious, brow locked in a seemingly perpetual frown. He was stocky, like his son, his skin dark brown from the sun, chest broad, biceps bulging.
A woman and two young girls appeared from inside the house, one perhaps fourteen, the other twelve. “My woman Itet and my daughters Kapes and Nebet,” Hemaka said.
“Welcome to our home, Dedi,” Itet said respectfully. “Nebet – fetch some honeyed cakes for our guest. Hurry!”
“Kapes, bring cups. Then pour wine for us from that jar,” Hemaka ordered, indicating the one Nekauba had left behind.
Nebet was the younger of the sisters. She dashed back inside, followed by Kapes. Itet had ignored me. And why not? To her and the rest I was only an errand boy.
A moment later Amenia appeared in the entrance. Her eyes were focused on the ground before her, watching where she was going. She was supporting Ipu as she shuffled along. Ipu was tightly gripping Amenia’s arm just above the elbow. Her long dark braids were brushing Amenia’s arm. Once under the verandah Amenia looked up and recognized me and blushed furiously. So she had been thinking about me these past weeks, much as I’d been thinking about her. That was promising.
Dedi rose. “It’s good to see you, Ipu.”
The old woman cocked her head, peered at him, smiled. “Dedi? I’m surprised you’ve made the trek to the upper settlement.” She reached out with one twisted hand and took his.
Hemaka addressed Dedi. “How long have you known my grandmother?”
“Since we were children,” Ipu answered.
“We’re the last left in Nekhen from our era,” Dedi said a bit sadly. “We were quite close when I ruled Nekhen. Now we just see each other when Ipu celebrates alongside Aboo at festivals.” Dedi stepped to the side. “Please, Ipu, take my chair.”
“Itet – more stools,” Hemaka ordered.
Amenia helped Ipu sit.
“Dedi, you remember Amenia,” I said, introducing her.
He nodded. “Of course.” He addressed Amenia. “You are a truly magnificent potter!”
Amenia blushed again, at being singled out.
“I taught her most of what she knows,” Ipu said proudly. “But her skill exceeded mine long ago.”
“I know how that goes,” Dedi said, glancing at me.
The sisters appeared with cups and cakes and Itet with stools and there was a flurry of activity as everyone was seated and waited on, Ipu next to her youngest grandson, Dedi to her left and me between him and Sanakht. Amenia picked up the jar of wine and filled the cups Kapes had procured. Then she distributed them. Our fingers touched for the briefest instant and I smiled at her.
“That will be all,” Hemaka said, dismissing her. “You too, girls,” he told his daughters.
“Amenia should stay, Hemaka,” Dedi said. “What I have to say concerns her.”
Hemaka eyed Dedi for a moment, then grudgingly nodded to Amenia.
She couldn’t hide her curiosity. She sat on the ground, cross–legged, her back against one of the verandah posts directly in front of me, facing everyone. She was more bewitching than I remembered. It seemed strong emotions of any kind transformed her appearance. Or maybe it was just how I perceived her.
“You’ve come a long way to deliver a message in person,” Hemaka observed. “It must be important.”
Dedi nodded. “Nykara’s expedition to the North was far more successful than Aboo expected, as you can tell from the amount of wine he granted you. I’ll be traveling there regularly as soon as Nykara builds me a proper boat. Amenia’s pottery brought us many valuable goods in exchange, both in Nubt along the way and in Nykara’s final destination, a settlement called Maadi. I intend to take all three types of her pottery with me on every future expedition – and in far greater quantity than Nykara did on his first journey.”
I glanced at Amenia. She was beaming with pride.
“If you can believe it, Hemaka, the Nubtians don’t make any decorated pottery at all,” Dedi continued. “The Maadians had never seen black–topped. That makes the pottery Amenia produces unique and thus extremely valuable in both settlements.”
“The styles the rest of Nekhen’s potters have abandoned?” Sanakht queried.
“Yes,” Dedi replied. He leaned towards Hemaka. “So, it appears you have a monopoly on the types of pottery I need. I’ll be bypassing the rest of Nekhen’s potters and calling on you alone for my future expeditions.” Dedi sipped wine from his cup. “And you, Hemaka, can expect to receive far more wine next time, and perhaps more than just wine.”
That pleased Hemaka immensely. He directed his attention to Amenia. “Girl, you’ll have to spend more time at your kiln from now on.”
His tone implied he had to force her to make pottery. I nearly laughed out loud at his blustering.
“Thank you, Uncle,” Amenia replied happily.
“Don’t think you can slack off your other chores,” he admonished.
“Of course not, Uncle.” Her eyes shone with excitement. She clearly didn’t care about the extra work; being able to pursue her passion without hindrance more than made up for that.
“Do you think the other type of pottery Hemaka and I produce would interest the Maadians as well?” Sanakht asked, clearly angling for Dedi to include his cheaper ware in the next expedition.
&nb
sp; “No,” Dedi said. “Rough pottery has no value there.”
Sanakht seemed to deflate.
“What’s Maadi like, Dedi?” Ipu asked.
“I’d like to know too,” Hemaka seconded.
Dedi tilted his head towards me. “I’ve never been. Nykara?”
A chance to let Hemaka and the rest see I was more than an errand boy.
“It’s a few miles from the foot of the delta, where the river splits into five branches flowing into the Wadjet Wer,” I told them. “Maadi’s quite small in comparison to Nekhen. There are only a couple of hundred inhabitants. Maadi’s on a low narrow ridge running north–south at the mouth of two wadis beside the river. The ridge is less than a mile long and barely a quarter mile wide. The houses are oval, with post walls and frames of mud–covered wickerwork. Some people from Retenu – a land in the North – have settled at Maadi. Their houses are different – dug a little ways into the ground, the foundations of fieldstone, the corners rounded, their entrances slanting ramps. They place their hearth in a sunken pit in the center of the floor, and roof the house with woven mats.”
“Where did the Maadians come from?” Amenia asked eagerly, her hunger for knowledge obvious.
Hemaka didn’t seem to object to her question, so I answered. “I was told bands that wandered the savannahs to the east and west of the river settled there more than a century ago when the plains dried out and turned to desert. Since then, foreigners from the lands along the seacoast have come to live there. A few farmers from Nubt and Tjeni have emigrated to the North the last couple of years and they’ve started farms and founded a few hamlets south of Maadi – usually no more than a couple of huts with related families.”
“Are the Maadians like us?”
“In some ways. That’s true of everyone who lives in the valley. But Maadians don’t have all of our enterprises, don’t have a ruler like Aboo, don’t have a ceremonial grounds, don’t have the same natural resources. They bury hardly anything with their dead – they weren’t interested in your decorated pottery for that reason, Amenia. They hunt less and fish more. They keep animals – cattle, sheep, goats, and pigs – and grow emmer and barley and lentils and peas. They use donkeys for transport, same as us. What’s most amazing – copper is so plentiful in Maadi they don’t use flint tools anymore. Can you imagine?”
The Women and the Boatman Page 30
