All of us jumped from the platform to the ground beside it, gasping for breath, wiping sweat from our eyes, rubbing sore arms and shoulders. As we rested for a moment and drank water from jars, a worker attached several more ropes so we’d be able to pull the statue from all four directions at once, to control it. I noticed Rawer standing next to Amenia, whispering. She laughed. I’d have to find out later what they’d been talking about. Then Rawer came forward and barked an order and everyone moved to their assigned rope. I picked up a copper adz and stepped to the base of the west side of the platform. Another worker took his position across from me on the east. At my nod we both began hacking at the very base of the platform. My mud wall disintegrated quite easily. In only a moment I broke through to the sand, which began to seep through the small hole onto the ground at my feet.
“Ready!” Rawer shouted.
I swung my adz hard several more times, widening my hole. With a rush, sand cascaded in a torrent from inside the platform, fanning onto my feet and the nearby ground. I stepped back. As the level of the sand in the center of the platform fell the base of the statue lost its support and the statue began to slowly tip towards the vertical. At that point men began pulling on the ropes, some to tilt the statue more upright, others to keep it from tipping to either side. In only ten minutes the sand had completely drained from inside the platform and Aboo’s statue rested upright on its stone pedestal. I breathed a sigh of relief. My idea had worked. I looked towards Abar and she smiled. I’d shown her my design a week ago, explained what was supposed to happen. She’d been as nervous today as me. Only the gods knew what Rawer would have done to me if my idea had failed. Aboo clapped Rawer on the shoulders, congratulated him. No doubt Rawer had taken credit for my ramp and platform.
Tomorrow we’d remove them both and wash the mud off the statue. But now it was time for the actual foundation ceremony to begin. Aboo handed Rawer his crook and flail and moved to the first posthole of the chapel. Rawer cradled the two symbols of authority possessively. A servant gave Aboo an ostrich egg and he held it high with both hands so everyone could see. Oohs and aahs rose from the crowd outside the compound; few had been privileged before to look upon such an object. Dedi and I had brought it back from an expedition to Abu several years ago, for such eggs were quite rare north of the cataract. One of Dedi’s craftsmen had subsequently incised the egg with a hunting scene. Amenia slipped beside Aboo and touched the egg with the talisman. Aboo knelt and bent and gently placed the egg in the bottom of the posthole. When he rose I moved to his side. I shoveled a layer of clean sand atop the egg.
Then Aboo and Amenia moved to the next three postholes in turn and repeated the offering. I shoveled in sand afterwards. If this first structure was any indication, Aboo was not going to stint on the riches included in his burial place.
Next the elites followed Aboo west to his actual tomb. The outline of the base of the structure that would stand over it was clearly visible and everyone gathered around the large rectangle. Steps led down into the burial pit, which had already been completely excavated. I’d dug a hole in each corner of the pit yesterday. Amenia and I followed Aboo down the steps. The three of us moved to the first corner and Amenia handed Aboo two pottery jars small enough to fit in his palm, one red, one black – one representing life, the other death.
“You made these?” Aboo asked Amenia.
“Yes, My Lord.”
Aboo bent and placed the two jars in the first hole and I covered them with sand. We circled the burial pit, repeating the ceremony at each corner. When the last jars had been placed all three of us ascended the steps.
Aboo and Amenia and I moved in order to the four corners of the structure that would stand over the tomb and one by one blessed and deposited and covered a massive variety of objects handed to Aboo by a host of servants – ivory wands, one with hippopotami, another with ibex, a third with elephants in procession across their tops – then various animal figurines carved from steatite and flint and ivory – hippos, rams, elephants, falcons, crocodiles. Aboo also placed shells from the Eastern Sea, cow horns, bundles of linen wrapped around malachite and other minerals, small arrowheads, imitation fish–tailed knives carved from soapstone.
The tomb compound appropriately dedicated, Aboo led the elites to the foundation of the first of the four pillared halls that would be erected in the precinct, this one directly north of the compound’s wall. Now as many of the common people as could swarmed around it. With great fanfare, Aboo made the first deposit.
“These are the halls where Aboo expects me to make offerings in his name after he’s dead?” Amenia asked in a whisper.
“Yes.”
“They’re like the pavilions in the workers’ cemetery. Only far bigger.”
“And they’ll be dedicated to only one person, not to generations of the same family, like in that cemetery. The walls will be made of closely–spaced posts covered with reeds and mud plaster – the woodcutters are going to be very busy. They’ll all be painted on the outside – red, green, yellow, blue and white. And their reed roofs will be supported from inside by a virtual forest of wood columns. This first hall will be only fifteen feet long by ten feet wide. But the next…” – I pointed to an area aligned with the eastern end of the tomb complex – “will be three times that size, with twenty–four columns inside. The remaining two structures will be about the same scale.”
“They sound remarkable,” Amenia said.
“They’ll be visible from all over the valley to anyone who looks to the heights.”
“Did you know having so many halls was Rawer’s idea?” Amenia asked. “He boasted about them to me earlier. He said the people need to be constantly reminded of a ruler’s power – even the dead ones. Because the halls will loom over the valley, as you say, no one will ever forget Aboo is watching us constantly, even in death. At least, that’s what Rawer believes.”
That was in line with what Rawer had said the day he and Abar debated Nekhen’s future. Rawer didn’t care about Nekhen; he just wanted personal power and he was obviously going to use whatever means were at hand to visibly display it. The more powerful he could make the position of ruler appear while Aboo still lived, the more power he’d be able to claim for himself when he took his uncle’s place. I could only imagine the magnificence of the tomb complex Rawer was going to erect for himself – unless, of course, Abar kept him from succeeding her father.
“Does Rawer confide in you often?” I asked Amenia.
“We talk at celebrations, mostly,” she replied. “He’s always been very pleasant and friendly.” She grazed my hand with hers. “Don’t worry – I don’t trust him.”
“You and half the women in Nekhen.” I gazed at Amenia, had a sudden realization. “Rawer gave you the circlet, didn’t he.”
She colored, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. “Don’t be angry, Nykara. I couldn’t refuse him. He said he commissioned it for the ceremony, to make it even more special. Aboo said I should wear it at every festival from now on, and whenever I make offerings at this complex after he’s dead.” Her eyes searched mine. “I won’t, after today, if you don’t want me to.”
“Of course not,” I assured her. “It’s beautiful. You deserve nice things.” I bent close, lowered my voice. “It’s a sign Rawer understands how important you are to him succeeding Aboo. He’s campaigning to gain your support. It won’t be the last gift he offers you.”
“Don’t worry,” Amenia replied. “I’m on to his game. I’ll be careful. Besides, I’ll never forgive him for how he’s treated and threatened you.”
It took hours for us to visit each of the halls and make the deposits. After Aboo dropped the last flint figurine into the last posthole, he rose to his feet and addressed the crowd in stentorian voice. “From these heights, after I am dead, I will continue to watch over and protect you, even as I have in life. I will protect you, as Depy has, as Gehes has, as have all others who have held my post before me.” He rai
sed both arms, swept them over the graves on the terrace. “We who have served as your ruler are the Souls of Nekhen. When I became your ruler I discarded my birth name, Huya, and adopted the name of the elephant. When Dedi ruled us he was known as Aby, the Panther. His brother called himself Crocodile, and his father Gazelle. The four of us took power from the animals whose names we adopted, and through them we controlled this valley. The four of us are joined together, as one, forever, as were our forebears, as will be our successors. Thus shall you and your descendants be protected from chaos forever.” Aboo lowered his arms. “And now, I will make offerings at Depy’s and Gehes’ graves. Join me.”
Amenia kept pace with Aboo, for she’d help conduct the additional ceremonies, as did Rawer, for he still held the crook and flail. They passed out of Aboo’s complex and into the much smaller adjoining one of his predecessor, Depy, Dedi’s brother. Depy’s grave lay beneath a low mound of sand beside his single funerary hall. The mound had once been higher, but the winds on the heights had blown much of it away since his death nearly a quarter–century ago. My participation was done for the day. I casually headed in Abar’s direction. She’d seated herself on the ground in the shade of the platform where Aboo’s statue now stood. Her half–sisters, Hunur and Nefertkau and Nubemshant, were dashing up and down the muddy ramp behind her, laughing and screaming in their high–pitched children’s voices. They’d had enough of the ceremony.
So had four of the elites. They were clustered around Abar – Wehemka, son of the brewer Pipi; Weni, son of the potter Teti; Khui, son of the herdsman Salitis; and Mitri, whose father Merenhor oversaw the men who hunted game for Nekhenians. The same thing happened every time Abar went out in public, especially during celebrations like today’s – she always found herself circled by admirers. She both despised and welcomed them – the latter because it was enabling her to create chaos for her father in his negotiations with their fathers for her hand. As usual, the elites were jockeying for position; by Abar’s easy smiles and carefree banter and lilting laugh I could tell she was flirting with all of them equally.
I sat down in their midst. My arrival was not greeted with enthusiasm.
“Is it true you’ve been digging trenches and postholes here in the cemetery these past weeks, Nykara, like a common workman?” Wehemka asked disparagingly.
The others laughed nervously. None ever had the courage to challenge me by himself; in a pack the elite sons behaved differently.
“I have,” I said cheerfully. They all thought they were better than me. I didn’t care what they thought. I wasn’t going to get into an argument with any of them. Besides, there was nothing wrong with honest labor.
“Why will Father have so many buildings when my great–uncle Depy has only one?” Abar asked me. She pointed to the crowd in the act of circling it. She obviously wanted to change the subject.
“Depy’s hall is like the pavilion in the workers’ cemetery, where people can come to remember him and leave small tokens whenever they have a mind to. Rawer intends your father’s buildings to be regularly used for a variety of ceremonies, to make offerings to him and the gods, overseen by Amenia and her successors forever, so his memory will never be forgotten.”
“Unlike the rulers whose mounds have collapsed or blown away?” Abar asked.
I nodded. “No one remembers their names anymore.”
“Not true,” Weni objected. “My ancestors ruled Nekhen once upon a time. I know their names from family stories.”
“I stand corrected. I should have said no one knows which grave goes with which ruler anymore.”
Weni had no retort for that.
“Dedi told me about Depy’s funeral once,” I continued. “He’s buried underground in a long rectangular pit, just like your father’s. There are more than one hundred jars full of grave goods in the pit along with his body.” I swept my hand around Depy’s complex. “Those other low mounds arranged around his funerary building cover the graves of his woman and his servants. They were buried here to serve him in the Afterlife. One was a dwarf.”
“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one,” Abar said.
“He was buried closest to Depy – so he must have been a prized companion,” I said.
“What about Gehes, or the leading men before him? Are their retainers buried with them?” Weni asked.
“I don’t know for sure. Gehes’ grave is clearly much simpler and smaller than Depy’s. It’s barely visible anymore – it’s beneath that pile of reeds and logs over there. I don’t see any grave mounds around it.”
Aboo began making his first offering.
I pointed to a line of mounds near Depy’s tomb. “Those graves contain animals. Part hold domestic – more than a dozen cattle, large goats, sheep, and two dozen dogs to herd them in death. Sacrificing so many demonstrated Depy’s husbandry skills and wealth. The rest hold wild animals, demonstrating Depy’s power over the chaos of nature – a hippo, a hartebeest, a crocodile, baboons, an aurochs.”
“Will animals be buried with Father?” Abar asked.
“That’s the intention,” I replied. “Most of your father’s menagerie will be sacrificed when he dies.”
“What a waste,” Khui said practically.
“During Depy’s long reign ritual killing by our ruler became a tried and true method of controlling chaos during times of immense change,” I replied. “The transition to our next ruler will likely bring great chaos.”
“Especially if it’s Rawer,” Weni said.
“Just look at him over there, holding Aboo’s crook and flail, strutting about like they’re already his,” Mitri snapped.
“Well, he finally did something correctly,” Khui said. He put his hand on the wall of mud brick next to him. “His ramp was ingenious.”
“The ramp was Nykara’s idea,” Abar informed him.
“That won’t stop Rawer from claiming it was his, since it worked,” Weni snorted.
“Last week he told Wenher he can run the boatyard better than you, Nykara,” Wehemka said.
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter whether he can or can’t. It’ll be his again soon enough. He’s Dedi’s blood. I’m not.”
“So, you’re conceding Abar to us?” Wehemka asked brightly. “Dedi won’t be joining the two of you after all?”
“Did you actually believe that nonsense?” I asked.
“Wenher certainly didn’t,” Mitri said. “She’s got her heart set on being joined to you.”
“Instead of Khui,” Wehemka laughed.
Khui’s father Salitis had been negotiating with Pipi for years, trying to arrange a union between Wenher and his son. Obviously, Pipi wasn’t going to agree to anything of the kind as long as there was a chance his arrangement with Aboo might come to fruition, which meant keeping Wenher free for me. Pipi was under the illusion I cared deeply for his daughter, an illusion I’d taken care to perpetuate on Abar’s behalf.
“We’ll see about that,” Khui said darkly.
“She’s not interested in you, my friend,” Wehemka said.
“Well, you’re going to be mine, Abar, not Nykara’s, even if he gets Dedi’s fleet,” Weni said. “My father will make Aboo an offer for you he won’t be able to refuse.”
I was shocked Weni was speaking so openly about dealings the elite men were trying to keep under wraps. And treating Abar as if she was a trade good to be bartered. Although, for all practical purposes, she was.
Wehemka stiffened. “Doesn’t matter what he offers. I have Aboo’s blood. You don’t.”
“I could end up joined to any one of you,” Abar interjected sweetly. “I just hope, when the time comes, Father will let me have a say in who it is.”
“You’ll pick me, won’t you?” Weni practically begged. “We potters are a rising force in the valley.”
“Compared to the brewers?” Wehemka sniffed. “Hardly.”
“Enough of this!” Abar said firmly. “I get it. You all want me. Now, run along like good little boys
. I need to speak with Nykara alone.”
Reluctantly they drifted away, grumbling all the while.
“That was fascinating,” I said when they were out of earshot.
“Pretty much goes like that every time I’m with more than one elite son.”
I laughed. I looked around to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard by anyone. “Did you notice the circlet Amenia’s wearing?”
“Yes.”
“Rawer gave it to her. He’s definitely trying to buy her influence, since she has the power to confirm him as ruler.”
“About that… there’s something you should know, Nykara.”
Her tone was ominous. “Oh?”
“You and Grandfather are leaving for Maadi next week, right?”
“He’s had his heart set on visiting the North his entire life. He won’t be denied any longer. I have to go with him, given no wood boat has ever completed such a long journey and I’m the only steersman who knows the river beyond Tjeni. I assume you’ll be looking after Dedi’s enterprise while we’re gone?”
“No. Rawer will.”
“What!” I exclaimed.
“I convinced Grandfather to put Rawer in charge this morning, after breakfast. I reminded him he promised Rawer the chance to regain the fleet if he proved he was capable of operating it. I told him Rawer’s been boasting to the boatmen’s daughters he’s ready. This is the perfect opportunity for him to prove it.”
Abar had betrayed me. She’d apparently reconciled with Rawer, forgiven him for carrying on with every attractive woman who crossed his path, accepted she’d be joined to him someday. That would make her a ruler’s woman – her ambition – but didn’t she realize restoring the fleet to Rawer would cost me Amenia? Didn’t she realize our mutual quest to make Nekhen the most powerful settlement in the southern valley would be dead, with Rawer having oversight of the fleet? Had she abandoned Dedi’s quest? Or had I done something to offend her to make her act so rashly? Was this a long–delayed payback for rejecting her in favor of Amenia?
The Women and the Boatman Page 40
