The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

  Girls were circulating among us, keeping cups filled with wine. More had practically covered the ground with clusters of bowls and jars and platters of every type of food imaginable. My mouth had been watering all afternoon, thanks to the delicious odors wafting from the spits where beef and waterfowl had been roasting. The food alone was reason enough for me to look forward to this annual hunt; sometimes it seemed Uncle Hemaka was purposefully trying to starve me and my cousins, as well as his workers and their families. The only times I truly ate well were during festivals and when I visited Nykara at mealtimes.

  “How many beasts are in your menagerie right now, Aboo?” Harkhebi asked as he picked at a date.

  “Just short of one hundred,” Aboo replied. “I expect us to capture at least twenty more during this hunt.”

  “Why not forty?” Rawer interrupted. He addressed the elites. “Uncle and I captured seven baboons by ourselves two weeks ago. But, then, we’re Nekhen’s best hunters. I’ve personally accounted for at least a third of Uncle’s menagerie. Between the two of us, I guarantee we’ll round up the most beasts tomorrow.”

  “Guarantee indeed!” Teti scoffed.

  “Divide yourselves however you like. Uncle and I will defeat all comers,” Rawer challenged.

  “What’ll you wager?” Pipi snapped. He was still seething over Rawer’s destruction of his ancestor’s funerary hall to accommodate Aboo’s complex in the ruler’s cemetery.

  Rawer removed his carnelian necklace, casually tossed it on the ground in front of me, smirked. “The falcon god’s priestess to oversee the stakes.”

  Aboo smiled, removed a necklace of gold, tossed it on top of Rawer’s. Pipi did the same, glaring at Rawer as he did.

  “Must I remind you we’re not going to shoot anything?” Salitis asked. “Unlike the rest of you I’ve spent my life herding animals. I know how to round up and control them. My group will have the advantage.” He dropped a necklace on the growing pile.

  “You have to find them before you can catch them,” Merenhor reflected. “I’ve spent my life hunting and tracking. The rest of you will stumble around and make noise and spook your prey before you get within a quarter of a mile.” He added a necklace of crystal beads and a fish–tailed knife.

  Before long almost everyone had wagered and arranged themselves in groups, sons along with fathers. Harkhebi and Raemka and Hori alone remained, none of them chosen by the other elites. Even combined they had no hope of winning. They whispered together for a moment.

  “We claim Nykara,” Hori announced. He looked right at Rawer. “He’s a better tracker and hunter than you. Everyone knows it.”

  “He’s not elite,” Rawer said smugly. “He’s not allowed to hunt.”

  “Animals don’t know the difference between an elite arrow and a commoner’s arrow,” Hori said practically.

  “Let him hunt,” several men clamored in unison.

  Clearly, many of them looked up to Nykara despite his uncertain status. I was glad. He’d worked hard to earn their respect.

  “No! I won’t let him!” Rawer insisted.

  “Why not?” Pipi asked pointedly. “Because he took Dedi’s enterprise from you? Or because you’re afraid of him?”

  Rawer gave the older man a look of sheer hatred and started to rise. I half–expected him to draw his knife and lunge at Pipi. Pipi looked like he’d welcome the opportunity to fight. He too began to rise. At a hissed command from Aboo, Rawer settled back. “Fine,” he snapped. “Include him. It won’t help you any.”

  I’d seen the look Rawer then gave Pipi before. Rawer was going to make Pipi pay for practically calling him a coward in front of the elites. I wouldn’t be surprised if Pipi had a fatal “accident” of some kind during the hunt tomorrow. I couldn’t help thinking if Pipi did it would simplify things for Nykara and Abar and me.

  “Enough. Time to prepare for the ritual,” Aboo announced, his usual way of dealing with conflict – by avoiding it.

  The men and boys immediately headed off to don their hunting regalia and collect their weapons. The serving girls began clearing away what was left of the food and drink from around the fire. We girls assembled some distance away beside a smaller fire, where cosmetic jars and palettes and chunks of malachite and containers of henna awaited. All the girls except me paired off and started painting images of the various animals we expected the men to capture the next day on each other’s arms and legs and backs and chests and cheeks, covering nearly every bit of exposed skin. As always, I decorated my body with images of the falcon god, for my role in the ritual would be different than the rest of the girls.

  We reassembled beside the main campfire an hour later. At Aboo’s command, the men and boys formed a large circle around and facing the fire. Nykara was among them. They all carried weapons – bows, arrows, lances, knives, nets, ropes. All were adorned with some item expected to transfer the power of or power over their prey to them – dog tails and oryx tails and aurochs tails attached to belts, ostrich feathers tied into hair, pieces of horn or bone made into necklaces, strips of exotic pelts made into sashes, even kilts adorned with images of various animals. Most of the men had also drawn images of their prey on their bodies.

  The women formed a smaller circle, tightly ringing the fire within the circle of men and facing them. They carried small drums or ivory clappers or strings of beads to shake. I stepped into the space between the two circles, also facing the men. I’d changed into a skirt short enough to expose the image of the falcon god tattooed on my upper thigh. I touched the talisman with my fingertips, then began to chant softly, an ancient chant from a time when our ancestors lived by hunting and gathering on the vast savannahs edging the river valley, long before they’d begun to farm and herd. After a moment, Abar took it up. Then, one by one, the other women joined in. Soon after they began to lightly strike or softly shake their instruments.

  I stopped chanting though the rest continued. I moved directly in front of Aboo. I removed my talisman, touched it in turn to each of Aboo’s weapons. “Aboo, I grant the god’s blessing to your arrow, that it flies true, to your knife, that it cuts cleanly, to your lance, that it thrusts deep, to your net, that it tangles the legs of your prey so it may not escape you.” I touched it to the elephant he’d drawn on his chest with malachite. “I grant you the strength of the elephant, that you may trample your foe underfoot.” I touched it to his forehead. “Receive the falcon god’s blessing, that you remain free from harm during the hunt tomorrow, and return to camp victorious.”

  Aboo recited the ritual words of acknowledgement, then he began to slowly sway from side to side, marching in place, barely lifting his feet. I moved to his right, blessed Rawer and his weapons, then Hori, then Pipi, then all the rest in turn. All the while the women continued to chant and keep the beat, the men to slowly move. Last I stood in front of Nykara.

  “Receive the falcon god’s blessing, that you remain free from harm during the hunt tomorrow, and return to camp victorious.” I leaned close, whispered. “Tomorrow and always, My Love.”

  Nykara began to march as the others already were. I replaced the talisman around my neck, moved back into the middle of the space between the men and women. Aboo uttered a wild cry, raised his hands and weapons in the air. The rest of the men followed suit. The sudden noise startled the hunting dogs tied up down by the river. They began barking furiously. The women broke into full–throated song, pounded drums and clappers harder, shook beads faster. They began circling the fire. I fell in line behind Abar, joined the dance, clapped my hands in time in lieu of an instrument. The men circled in the opposite direction, added their voices to the song. They spun and dipped and rose, slashed the air with their knives, thrust with their lances, released skyward the drawstrings of arrowless bows, slew imaginary prey. The dance grew ever faster, the men’s gestures increasingly violent, the women’s ever wilder. Dust rose from my feet, drops of sweat flicked from my fingertips, soaking–wet hair clung to my brows and shoulders and ch
est. The talisman swung on its chain as I spun, gasping for breath, chest heaving, caught up in the intensity of the ritual. Sweat–drenched bodies glistened all around me. Serving girls and women and hunters and herdsmen and boatmen and others gathered to watch, clapped along, raised their voices in song, uttered wild cries, ringed us ever more closely. The fire crackled, sending sparks towards the heavens. We danced without stopping for an hour, relentless, mesmerized. Then, exhausted, I finally called a halt. I pantingly invoked the blessing of the god on the hunt in general, ending the ritual.

  Serving girls hurried to us bearing jars of wine and beer and water. Everyone downed their chosen beverage greedily. Many poured jars of water over their head.

  My thirst slaked, I trudged wearily towards the river along with Herneith and Artakama and Wenher and Neith and Semat to bathe. My legs were aching and my heart was pounding and sweat was flowing and I was still trying to catch my breath. I had no idea where Abar had gotten off to. The moon was full and so bright it nearly washed the stars from the sky and illuminated the flats along the riverbank almost as clearly as at midday. The palms lining the bank cast deep shadows, swaying slightly in the light breeze, fronds softly clacking. The river shimmered silver in the moonlight. The night was alive with the sounds of insects and nightbirds and animals rustling about in the patches of reeds, scented with water and mud and flowers. I stripped off my skirt and stepped into the river and waded to where it was waist deep and then dove. Coolness washed over me. Instantly, I was refreshed and invigorated. I emerged from below the surface, stood with my feet sinking into the cool mud, tilted my head back. Water tinkled musically from my long hair as it streamed into the river. Shouting and laughing, the rest of the women joined me. Soon we were splashing and chasing each other and scrubbing the animal images from our bodies and having a generally good time. In the midst of it I closed my eyes and pictured Nykara with me in the river instead of the girls. I felt alive, and hopeful, and insanely happy.

  And then the near trance–like exuberance of the ritual dance wore off. Instantly, I was very tired. I sloshed to shore, slipped back into my skirt, sat down in the shadows, wearily rested my back against the trunk of a palm tree. Before long the other girls clustered around me, equally exhausted, a couple lying flat on their backs and looking up at the moon through the palm fronds, all of us soaking wet, our hair tangled, skirts plastered to our legs and slowly drying in the night’s heat.

  “There you are!” Inetkawes called. She emerged from the shadows into a patch of moonlight.

  Her brother Wehemka was with her.

  “I wanted to make sure she got to the river safely,” he announced. Without asking anyone’s leave he sat down in the midst of the women, facing me. In the moon–dappled shadows I could clearly make out his features. “Is it true Abar is going to be joined to Nykara, now that he’s Dedi’s heir?” he asked abruptly. “Because Aboo either can’t or won’t give anyone a straight answer.”

  “But Amenia’s in love with Nykara,” Inetkawes protested. She sat down next to me, put her arm around my shoulder, hugged me close.

  “I don’t know any more than you do,” I told Wehemka. “I’ve heard Aboo’s promised Abar to Rawer, and that Dedi’s threatened to give her to Nykara. Why would I know what either of them are actually planning? They don’t consult with me.” Indecision about her status played into Abar’s and Nykara’s strategy to keep the elites off guard, to make them all believe they still might have a chance to join with her. I was glad for the chance to reinforce the uncertainty.

  “That would be awful, if Abar and Nykara ended up together instead of you and Nykara,” Inetkawes told me loyally. “Even if she’s my cousin.”

  “Maybe not so awful, Sister,” Wehemka said. “If Rawer doesn’t join with Abar his claim to succeed Aboo will be no better than mine. We’re both related to Aboo. But Rawer’s lost the fleet, and someday I’ll have the brewery and the wealth and status that goes with it. Wouldn’t you like that, Inetkawes – to be the sister of Nekhen’s ruler, to live in exceptional luxury, to be able to order everyone about?”

  “No!” Inetkawes exclaimed. “Amenia and Nykara are my friends. They’ve both saved my life. They should be together.”

  “You’re dreaming, Wehemka.”

  We all turned at the sound. Rawer stepped from the shadows, where he’d apparently been eavesdropping, into a patch of moonlight. “Trying to sway Amenia, are you?”

  “Same as you!” Wehemka snapped. “I’ve seen you hanging all over her at the festivals. I’ve seen the gifts you’ve given her – or at least tried to. The gold circlet. The necklaces and bracelets and girdles. I’ve seen her turn most of them down, too. You should take the hint.”

  “You’re jealous because you don’t have anything to offer Amenia that’s as fine as what I can give her,” Rawer retorted. “I have craftsmen at my disposal and you don’t. Besides, why should I bribe her? I’m Dedi’s grandson and Aboo’s nephew. He’s already declared me his heir,” Rawer said superciliously.

  “Which our fathers accepted when you were heir to Dedi’s enterprise and Abar was promised to you. Neither of which is true anymore.”

  That was Weni. He moved next to Rawer. I wondered if every man on the expedition was going to appear to argue his case to succeed Aboo tonight. I could scarcely believe how frank everyone was being. I took that as a sign Rawer’s position was indeed as weak as Abar and Nykara and I believed.

  “Without Abar you’re nothing, Rawer,” Weni continued. “You lose the second link to Dedi. And without the fleet to use as leverage, how do you think you’re going to get any of the elites to support you?” He turned to Wehemka. “As for you, your family makes beer. Beer! My father could stop supplying your father with jars and supply a different brewer and then where would you be? Brewing might have been important in Nekhen once, but now pottery is our most important commodity. Isn’t that right, Amenia? We all know you’re generating considerable wealth with your special pottery.”

  “Which benefits my uncle, not me,” I informed him.

  “Exactly,” Weni concurred. “If I was trying to bribe you, which I’m not,” he hastily but unconvincingly assured me, “I’d ask you how you’d like to reap the benefits of your pottery for yourself. We all know your uncle has promised you to Nykara. Well, if Nykara joins with Abar you’ll be free. You’ll be able to join with anyone you choose.”

  “You, for example?” I asked innocently.

  “Why not? Think of it! Joined to me you could fully utilize your talents in my father’s pottery works instead of your uncle’s. You could share in the wealth you generate. You’d never have to lift a finger again to do anything except create at your kiln. Servants would do everything else for you. Wouldn’t you like to live that way?”

  Precluded, of course, on me naming him Nekhen’s next ruler.

  “You should take Weni up on his offer, Amenia,” Wenher said harshly. “You’ll never belong to Nykara. He’s mine. And when he combines his fleet with my father’s brewery and Aboo’s herd and Abar is joined to Wehemka – well, my brother will be Nekhen’s ruler. Grab what scraps you can while you still may.”

  “Exactly right!” Wehemka exclaimed.

  “Don’t listen to them, Amenia,” Rawer insisted. “You’re better off with me than anyone else. Just think of it! Nekhen’s ruler and god’s priestess joined – what power we could wield together! Everyone would bow before us! And our first–born son – all the power of the falcon god and man combined in one person. Think what that could mean for him.”

  Rawer needed to be brought down a notch. “Would you be more faithful to me than you’ve been to Abar?” I asked.

  “Certainly,” he said without hesitation.

  I doubted he believed that any more than I did.

  “What about the promises you made to me?” Herneith objected.

  “What promises?” Weni snapped.

  “He said I’d rule by his side!”

  “You were a pleasan
t dalliance,” Rawer said nonchalantly.

  “One of many, from what I’ve heard,” I said.

  “I ought to break you in two!” Weni cried, stepping so close to Rawer their chests were touching.

  “Go ahead and try,” Rawer said belligerently.

  “Serves you right, that you could lose Abar to Nykara!” Weni practically shouted. “Everyone knows he’s a better man than you!”

  “Nykara will pay if he takes Abar away from me,” Rawer retorted. “At a time of my choosing.” He took a step back, poked Weni in the chest with a finger.

  Weni slapped Rawer’s hand away.

  “You’re so desperate to be ruler I’ll bet you’d agree to join with Hunur,” Rawer snorted. “What is she, five years old? Only seven more years to wait. By then it’ll be too late for you.” Rawer laughed.

  “Go ahead and laugh. The elites will never accept you as ruler,” Weni retorted. “My sister’s not the only elite daughter you’ve sullied.”

  “That’s true,” Artakama piped up.

  “Yes it is,” added Semat.

  I wondered if I was the only woman in Nekhen Rawer hadn’t been with. Guess that was one advantage of not being beautiful.

  “Daughters are pieces in a game,” Rawer said. “Their so–called honor doesn’t matter to their fathers – only the influence and power I can give them.”

  “Nykara’s more powerful than you now, Rawer,” Weni said. “He has the fleet and his smithy. He’ll never let Amenia slip from his grasp, no matter what Dedi says. As for me, Amenia, I’ll fight to make sure Nykara’s joined to you. Then Abar will be free. I’ll take her to be mine. I’ll deny her to you, Rawer. I’ll be Aboo’s successor.”