We bade Khamudi goodbye, then Nykara and I continued on to an adjoining workshop also belonging to Padiu. A passerby jostled me and I nearly stumbled into a group of men seated on the ground making beads and I cried out and Nykara grabbed me around the waist to keep me from falling.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologized to the craftsmen.
“No harm,” said one.
Containers next to the craftsmen were filled with already–shaped carnelian and amethyst and rock crystal and garnet beads, half of them awaiting final processing, half of them finished. “Carnelian is my favorite stone,” I said.
“Seni mines it in the eastern desert,” one of the men explained. He set an already–shaped carnelian bead into an indentation hollowed in a thick piece of wood. “I’m going to drill a hole through this bead now so it can be strung. The indentation in the wood will hold the bead steady while I work on it.” He placed the length of wood between his feet and held it down firmly, then centered his drill – a long wood shaft with a microdrill inserted into its end – against the bead. He started twirling the shaft between his calloused palms and a hole began almost magically to appear in the bead. He stopped after a moment, sprinkled a fine white powder into the hole. “Abrasive,” he explained. “It makes the drill more effective. Carnelian is hard and drilling takes a long time. Beads made from ostrich shell are the easiest. Other types of stone lie between.”
Uncle Hemaka had sent me today to commission a carnelian necklace for himself, offering in return a jar of his precious wine. Nykara took me to see Padiu. I described the necklace to him and sketched it on a sherd of broken pottery. He promised to have it ready in two weeks.
In turn, Nykara and I visited the workshops of a jewelry maker, who showed us many wondrous objects made of gold and precious stones, and a vase carver, and a man who was drawing an image on a large potsherd – a woman with her arms bound behind her, the rope being held by an elephant. “It speaks to the might of Aboo, who has taken on the power of the elephant. It portrays his command over all our lives.” The craftsman turned the sherd over, revealing an image of Bat. “Here Aboo symbolically gives the woman to our goddess, to ensure the land’s fertility. This sherd is an offering for the next festival. Aboo’s commissioned dozens.”
I noted many inscribed potsherds stacked in the workshop. Aboo was indeed generous with more than just his live animals.
Next door was a workshop where women were making linen, crouched around two ground looms made of wood poles, their ends resting on foot–tall stones. They were singing as they worked. The linen appeared much too fine for daily use. The overseer confirmed it was for rituals and burials. In one area women were coloring linen with a variety of minerals. One woman was painting a boat procession on a very long strip. “Commissioned by Aboo,” she explained.
“She’s from Inerty,” Nykara told me as we moved on. “I brought her back after one of my trade expeditions. No one in the valley illustrates on linen better than her.”
Nykara and I left the last workshop and retrieved the donkeys. He untied them and we headed towards the western edge of the cultivated strip just outside the lower settlement. I was sad, for Nykara had to deliver the donkeys to the men who’d unload my jars and put them in Dedi’s storage hut near the boatyard. After that, Nykara had to attend to his overseer duties. And I had a sick woman to call on.
We paused at the head of the path where we’d go our separate ways. We stepped to one side to let others pass. The path was a busy place.
“I commissioned a gift for you, Amenia,” Nykara said. “Since you gave away my first one.”
The boat amulet I’d placed around Great–grandmother’s neck before we buried her.
Nykara pulled the rolled up length of leather Khamudi had given him from his kilt, handed it to me. He was the only person who’d ever given me anything. A second gift was completely unexpected. I carefully untied and then unrolled the bit of leather. Inside was an anklet made of nine alabaster falcons linked together.
“To wear when you honor the gods,” Nykara said.
“It’s wonderful!” I cried. I turned it over and over in my hand. My eyes met Nykara’s. I started to tear up. “I’ll treasure it always.”
He knelt, took it from me. I lifted the bottom of my skirt and he fastened it around my left ankle.
“Beautiful,” he said.
“Me, or the anklet?” I asked jokingly.
He rose, kissed me. “Do you have to ask?”
I still didn’t know why Nykara considered me pretty when no one else did. But I wasn’t going to question my good fortune.
Laughingly, Nykara bid me goodbye, smiled, slapped his lead donkey on the rear and headed in the direction of Dedi’s storage hut. And I headed towards the farms lining the river, singing out loud for joy.
***
I stepped from the gangplank down onto the deck of Nykara’s wood boat. The sun had been up for only an hour, so the day was not yet hot. The valley was drenched with golden light. Stubble showed on the plains, harvested a couple of months ago. Birds trilled in the reed patches lining the river, their songs ringing in the clear morning air, for dust had not yet begun rising from the desert plateaus to dull the sky. Vultures rode the updrafts directly across the river from us, over Nekheb. Smoke spiraled into the sky from Nekhen’s upper and lower settlements, and from the farms lining the river in both directions. The river was low and rather sluggish just now; the inundation wouldn’t reach Nekhen and raise its level for another eight weeks, if my calculations were correct, and so far the stars had never misled me.
About half the elites and their sons who were going to participate in Aboo’s annual hunt, as well as many elite daughters, were already on board, all of them dressed in their finery, all excited. None had ever been on either a wood boat or a vessel so large before. Weni and Wehemka and Mitri and Khui and Satnem were closely trailing Abar, who was giving them a tour. She’d gone out of her way to look beautiful today, glittering with her finest jewels, wearing her sheerest skirt, a gold circlet on her brow, lips colored with henna. She was laughing and smiling and clearly flirting with those who were attending her. This hunt was Abar’s opportunity to make them desire her even more than they already did, a chance for her to generate chaos and confusion enough to impact her father’s deal–making with the elites and thereby delay one from being finalized as long as possible. She clearly wasn’t wasting the opportunity.
Aboo had been the first to board. He was seated on a leather–bottomed chair in the pavilion amidships now, in the shade, two young girls waving ostrich feather fans behind him, two more bearing jars of wine and platters of delicacies at his elbow. Pipi and Teti were seated with him, glaring at each other. According to Nykara, they were the only elites still actively bidding for Abar’s hand. Aboo had promised his youngest daughters to Teti, Seni and Salitis; Abar believed he’d done it explicitly hoping the three would create a second elite alliance to bid against Pipi and drive up the price for her hand. They had in fact done so, with Teti as their leader. Both Teti and Pipi were now trying to gain an edge by adding Hemaka to their alliance and thereby garnering my influence as the falcon god’s priestess. Unknown to Teti, Pipi was quietly trying to convince Seni to leave Teti’s alliance and join his; while wavering, Seni hadn’t yet made a commitment. Nykara strongly suspected Seni, with the clout of his gold mines behind him, might go rogue at the last minute and make Aboo an offer of his own, seeking to have his son Satnem named heir. I’d spotted Uncle whispering with Seni a couple of times; if Seni decided to abandon Teti he obviously intended to strengthen his bid by adding me.
As for Rawer, he was seated atop a container close to the bow, apparently oblivious to the deal–making going on just a few feet away, watching Abar closely, his eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. Her flirting was getting under his skin. That made me very happy.
The boat was filling rapidly. Several serving girls were trudging up the gangplank, their arms full of containers. They’d see to our needs today. I s
potted Herneith and Neith and Artakama huddled together in the bow, heads close together, whispering and laughing, nervously eyeing a couple of extremely muscular rowers who were seeing to their oars close by. The men were quite aware of the girls’ scrutiny. I expected they’d all sneak off together to a secluded spot along the river after the ritual concluded tonight. Elite girls always seemed to abandon their disdain for commoners during this hunt. Porters were dodging passengers, carrying aboard and arranging containers of provisions and wine jars enough to keep everyone well–supplied with food and drink on our three–hour journey. The strip of land next to the boat at the edge of the river was a similar beehive of activity, a mix of milling passengers waiting to join us and boatmen and porters and servants. Nykara was in their midst, directing everyone. Dedi was standing beside him, observing. He was the only elite who wasn’t going on the hunt. He’d oversee Nekhen in Aboo’s absence.
Two reed vessels had departed the landing half an hour earlier. The first held the servants who’d cut wood and haul water and maintain our camp, and the women and girls who’d cook and clean and wait on us. They’d have camp set up by the time we arrived downriver. The boat’s deck had been neatly stacked with containers and jars full of the provisions we’d need the next three days. The second boat held a number of Salitis’ herdsmen and Merenhor’s hunters who’d take part in the hunt, and a dozen of their dogs. That boat would transport back to Nekhen any animals the elites captured. Its deck had been crowded with piles of fodder and troughs for food and water, and plenty of coils of thick rope to secure the beasts, as well as the elites’ hunting weapons.
We were bound for Aboo’s favorite hunting ground, fifteen miles north of Nekhen. According to Nykara, a low section in the face of the eastern plateau there made it easy for hunters to climb to the desert and wrestle down whatever animals they captured. Drifting with the current, we’d likely arrive shortly after midday. While we women settled into camp, the elites and Merenhor’s men would scout the nearby desert to locate suitable game. After dinner this evening I’d lead a ritual to assure a successful hunt. Tomorrow, at dawn, the men would scale the plateau and spend the day pursuing and hopefully capturing a variety of beasts. I’d accompany them to care for the inevitable injuries. If past hunts were any indication, I’d be very busy. The day after we’d return to Nekhen with their prizes. Aboo and the elites went hunting together like this every year a month or two before the inundation arrived; this would be my third time, though the first at this particular location. The hunt had become a highlight of my year. Not only did I get to ride in Nykara’s boat, and be extremely well fed while in camp, but I got to be alone with him for two entire evenings. We usually spent most of each night beside the river, talking, nestled in each other’s arms. I was as excited today to be going on this hunt as I’d been the first time.
Nykara was the last to board. He wound his way across the deck to the stern, where I was perched on the boat’s top strake next to the steering oar. He gave me a quick kiss, then settled in. I spotted Wenher standing halfway across the boat, staring at me hatefully. She was still convinced she was going to be joined to Nykara. I resisted the urge to smile. Several men pulled the gangplank aboard with a clatter. Other boatmen, not part of our expedition, untied the mooring ropes and waded into the water and pushed the bow into the current. Nykara set a course that would take us north, into the channel between the western shore and the long island that paralleled Nekhen, then into the very heart of the river. The oarsmen poled us into deep water. Once clear of the riverbank they seated themselves on wood slats and slipped their oars through leather loops attached to the top strakes and began to row in unison. We moved crisply into the channel, silver droplets flying as the oars rose and dipped rhythmically. Once we cleared the north end of the island the men shipped their oars and we began to drift. Nykara hadn’t issued a single command; his men had known exactly what to do. The elites appeared impressed by the order and lack of chaos accompanying our departure.
Nykara had sent the supply vessels ahead because his wood boat was sleeker and much faster than any craft in the valley, despite its greater size. Otherwise, camp wouldn’t have been ready upon our arrival.
“The next few days are going to be exhausting,” Abar said cheerfully, joining Nykara and me and taking a seat on the opposite side of the stern. “I already need a break from my admirers.”
They were all watching her, as was Rawer.
“You’ve never looked more beautiful, Abar – or flirted so shamelessly,” I observed. “Don’t you agree, Nykara?”
“I have absolutely no opinion,” he replied, stonily staring at the river ahead.
Both Abar and I laughed. Nykara was a smart man.
“They lit the fire – I’m just fanning the flames,” Abar said.
“Your father and Pipi and Teti seem to be having a pretty intense discussion,” I said, indicating the pavilion.
“I overheard Pipi say ‘we’re tired of being put off’ and Father reply ‘be patient until Dedi’s dead. He’ll rally support against whichever of you I choose if we’re too hasty.’”
“So your father intends to keep them guessing as long as Dedi lives,” Nykara said. “That gives us time, as we expected.”
“Any idea which of those two he’s leaning towards?” I asked Abar.
“I’d guess Pipi. He’s joined to Father’s cousin, Khentkaus. He’s the largest brewer, and the brewers are fairly powerful. No one’s forgotten his family ruled before Grandfather’s – he reminds everyone constantly. Plus, his son Wehemka is my second cousin. Wehemka and Father and Rawer and I share a common ancestor. Taking Grandfather out of the equation, Wehemka’s blood claim is as compelling as Rawer’s. And then there’s the deal Pipi arranged with you, Nykara – your fleet and smithy in return for Wenher.”
Wenher was still staring at me. I regarded her coolly. Inside, I was panicking.
“Pipi’s proposed giving Wenher to Satnem to pry Seni away from Teti’s alliance,” Nykara said. “Wenher hasn’t found out yet.”
“She won’t be happy when she does,” I said.
“Wenher’s happiness isn’t my concern,” Nykara said. “Yours is.” He moved to the opposite side of the steering oar. “Seni hasn’t decided yet if he’ll abandon Teti and join Pipi.”
“Uncle’s still trying to play Pipi and Teti against each other,” I said. “I nearly stumbled over Uncle and Teti talking in the dark near the wadi path last week when I was coming back from my kiln after sunset.”
“Let’s hope he keeps playing them,” Nykara said. “Thanks to both Hemaka and Seni, Pipi and Teti’s alliances are both up in the air. Their negotiations with Aboo could drag out for months.”
“If Father aligns with Pipi I’ll be forced to join with Wehemka,” Abar said disgustedly. “He’ll relegate me to caring for his hut, just like Rawer. Grandfather’s quest will die.”
“So the best case for all of us is for Teti to outbid Pipi,” Nykara said.
“Teti’s the chief potter, and as he rightly points out pottery is the most valuable item we trade these days – thanks to you, Amenia,” Abar said.
“Even though Nykara doesn’t trade his second–rate garbage?” I asked.
“He conveniently ignores that fact. Still, to a large extent, the wealth of all the elites now has pottery at its base.”
“Would Teti’s son Weni be any better for you than Wehemka, Abar?” I asked.
“Marginally. It’s almost pathetic the way he follows me around. I have no doubt he’ll do anything I say if I have to join with him. If I can’t rule on my own, I can come close through him.”
“But the very best solution for you, Abar, would be if I named you Aboo’s successor,” I said.
“And best for Nekhen as well, I believe,” she said.
“Have the lesser elites – the ones not aligned with Teti – given up?” I asked.
“Harkhebi leads the woodcutters, Hori the water–carriers, Itisen the fishermen, Mere
nhor the hunters, Raemka the flax processors. If they stood together they could form a very strong alliance, for they could in one fell swoop cut off the other elites from everything their workers need to live. But they won’t, because there are too many of them and they all see the world differently and each one believes he’s the one the others should rally behind. Individually, what their workers do can be done by anyone in Nekhen – not as conveniently, perhaps, but it can be done. So, as long as they remain separate, none of them has clout, and thus no power.”
“Do you think Rawer could pull them together to fend off Pipi or Teti?” I asked.
“That’s an awful lot of moving parts, hard to assemble, perhaps harder to keep in place. Especially by Rawer. Because he’s irritated so many of them,” Nykara said.
“With his dalliances?” Abar asked.
Nykara merely nodded.
“On the other hand, Rawer’s been running around with many of those elites’ younger sons for years – the ones who won’t inherit enterprises from their fathers. I wouldn’t put it past Rawer to promise them if they convince their fathers to back him they’ll be rewarded once he’s the ruler,” Abar said.
“Probably by taking their fathers’ enterprises away and giving them to the younger sons,” Nykara said cynically.
I assumed he was absolutely correct.
“Enough of this!” Abar suddenly exclaimed. She tilted her face to the sun, threw her arms wide. “All these speculations are hurting my head. We’re on an adventure! Let’s have some fun!”
***
An hour after nightfall the last of the elites straggled into camp, each one reporting fresh signs of game. By then the rest of us were already eating. Abar and I were sitting together on Aboo’s right, cross–legged on the ground, in front of a roaring fire. The rest of the elites and their sons and daughters filled out the circle. Everyone was talking to a neighbor or shouting to someone on the far side of the fire, their conversations a rising and falling roar. Nykara was down by the river, barely in my sight, beside a second fire with the boatmen and herdsmen and hunters and servants. Despite most of the elites relying on his copper tools to operate their enterprises, and the fact he was Dedi’s heir, he wasn’t officially an elite, and so hadn’t been invited to sit with us.
The Women and the Boatman Page 46
