The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

  Rawer swept ahead of me through the entrance into the living quarters. I followed. We passed a food preparation area and storerooms and a large workroom, the last crowded with tearful serving girls and solemn boys, then a number of rooms on either side of a long corridor obviously used as sleeping quarters by Aboo’s family and servants. Aboo’s room was at the very end of the corridor. We entered. All the elites were gathered there. Aboo was laid out on his bed, his body already prepared for burial, on his side, knees flexed, hands over his face, mace and crook and flail next to him. Abar was sitting beside him on a low stool, dry–eyed in the midst of her three crying half–sisters. Shery was nowhere to be seen; I assumed his wetnurse was looking after him in the nursery.

  Amenia was standing behind Abar, her hand on Abar’s shoulder. Misery overwhelmed me. I hadn’t seen her since her joining to Sanakht. She looked thinner than ever, and ineffably sad. As hard as it had been to have her ripped away without warning a single day before she’d have been mine forever, this was almost worse – to be standing a few feet away, knowing she belonged to someone else, unable to comfort her, to kiss her, to envelop her in my arms, to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to tell her how much I loved her. Even after what had happened I desired her with every fiber of my being. Amenia kept her eyes averted. I didn’t feel much like meeting hers either. I should have kept her from her fate, but I’d failed. If I’d only used my smithy as leverage to force Aboo to name me an elite… No doubt she’d never forgive me.

  Pipi and Hori and Salitis and Hemaka and the rest of Nekhen’s elites, along with a few prominent men from hamlets along the river, were standing on the other side of the bed. Wehemka was seated there, directly opposite Abar. He was the male with the best claim next to Rawer’s to succeed Aboo. Abar regarded the cubs calmly. I nodded in response to her unasked question. The rest of the elites spotted the lion cubs and pushed backwards just as Sanakht had done. Any other day I would have smiled. But not today.

  A clay bowl with a wide flaring rim rested on a table next to Aboo’s bed. Five clay elephants marched around its rim, their figures reflected in the water filling the bowl. Dedi had commissioned it and presented it to Aboo when he was confirmed as Nekhen’s ruler. Beside it were a large trapezoidal palette made of diorite, five rubbing pebbles, and three hollow hippopotamus tusks containing ochre and malachite. Abar and her half–sisters had probably used them when they prepared Aboo’s body for burial. Also on the table was a small wood box containing Aboo’s ivory combs, one with a delicately carved donkey on its top, ten more decorated with hippos. Standing behind the bowl was an ivory figure, a man with large ears and aquiline nose and almond–shaped eyes and a small beard, quite tall, carved from a large hippo tusk, his skin painted red. I remembered bringing the tusk back from my first visit to Maadi. One of Dedi’s craftsmen had carved it. A second statue, nearly identical, graced the audience hall.

  Rawer moved in front of the table. He turned and faced the elites.

  “This valley has been in chaos ever since Uncle Aboo took sick,” he cried, loud enough those in the adjoining rooms could hear. “But no more. Today I have personally brought order to our valley.” He held up the lioness’ tail, the severed end caked with blood. He’d cut it from the carcass on the return trip.

  There were exclamations all around.

  “I have slain the lioness who was killing our livestock and threatening our people. I have captured the lioness’ two cubs, whom I intend to raise. They are the start of my own menagerie.”

  I let the cubs lunge at several nearby serving girls, drawing screams. Rawer appreciated the dramatic touch. And Abar. It was an opportunity to ensure Rawer didn’t guess I was plotting against him and I took advantage of it. The excruciating stab of pain accompanying the lunge momentarily left me breathless.

  “By this act I have proven I can control the most destructive forces known to our world.” Rawer’s eyes swept the leading men. “Can any of you claim the same?”

  Silence answered him.

  “These lions are a sign that I, Rawer, joined to Abar, am the rightful ruler of Nekhen, that I should succeed Aboo. Does anyone here dispute me?”

  The elites looked first at Wehemka, then Pipi, then at each other, but no one spoke. They were all stunned by this sudden turn of events, completely at a loss about what to do. Certainly, none of them wanted to be subservient to Rawer. Some had clearly aligned themselves with Pipi. The rest had no doubt expected a long and protracted debate amongst themselves, arrangements, alliances, joinings of daughters and sons, payments to ensure the next ruler’s support, whether it was Wehemka or Rawer or another of them. Instead, Rawer had taken the decision out of their hands. He’d seized what they desired by startlingly quick and decisive and unexpected action. He’d acted totally out of character, overwhelmed them. Looking at the uncertain faces in the flickering light, it was clear none of the elites had the will to set aside their own self–interest and unite behind one of their own against Rawer.

  “Hail Rawer, ruler of Nekhen!” Abar suddenly cried. She rose from her seat beside her father’s body, moved next to him. She was smart enough to seize the initiative and take advantage of everyone’s indecision before they could rally behind Wehemka or anyone else. Our plan was to defeat Rawer; before we defeated him we had to nullify his rivals. “Hail, Rawer!” she cried again.

  “Hail, Rawer!” the servants in the room began to shout, dropping to their knees. “Hail, Rawer!”

  The cry was taken up in the outer rooms, then among those waiting outside Aboo’s house. Finally, even the elites in Aboo’s bedroom joined in, unenthusiastically to be sure.

  Rawer swept his eyes around the room, smiled. He addressed Amenia. “We’ll make it official in a day or so.”

  Amenia nodded her head. “Yes, My Lord.”

  “You’re finally going to be what you’ve always wanted to be – a ruler’s woman,” Rawer told Abar.

  “Yes. What I’ve always wanted,” Abar said. The flicker in her eyes spoke volumes to me – what we’d done today – Abar and I – had lulled Rawer into complacency. He had no idea we were conspiring against him. He had no idea what was about to happen to him.

  But Amenia and Abar and I knew. Abar was going to rule Nekhen and Rawer was going to be subservient to her. I had no idea if Abar would cast him aside once she was confirmed. All I knew for certain was Dedi’s fleet was mine again. I’d defeated Rawer at long last. But, gazing at Amenia, my revenge was hollow. I’d never regain the most important thing Rawer had taken from me.

  ***

  We buried Aboo the next day.

  At dawn six elite men carried his body from his house on a long plank of wood, the mace and crook and flail he’d used in life, symbols of his authority, lying next to him. He was on his side, hands before his face, knees tucked towards his waist. Since the previous night his body had been completely wrapped with lengths of fine linen. At the head of the procession walked three men carrying emblems atop slender poles – the goddess Bat, the falcon god, and Aboo’s elephant. Next came Amenia, dressed in a simple white skirt, adorned only with her talisman and falcons painted on arms and legs in malachite. She would preside over today’s ceremony. Behind her walked Abar and Rawer and Abar’s half–sisters. Rawer was dressed, presumptuously, in a white kilt, with the lioness’ tail fastened to the back of his belt. I strode directly behind him, firmly grasping two leashes, maintaining a semblance of control over the lion cubs. My midsection was tightly wrapped with lengths of linen to minimize the pain in my ribs. My shoulder had purpled overnight as well and it was throbbing. The cubs dashed every which way and kicked up dust and those lining the route to the cemetery scooted out of the way as I approached. The lioness’ tail and the lion cubs were visible signs clearly informing everyone watching the procession Rawer already considered himself to be their ruler. Behind me walked Inetkawes and Wenher and Wehemka and their father Pipi and his woman Khentkaus, Aboo’s cousin. Wehemka and Pipi were visibly seething over
being outflanked by Rawer. Wenher’s eyes were fixed on me; her tears today weren’t for Aboo. The deal between Pipi and me that would have joined her to me was irrevocably dead. Next came Aboo’s household servants, most of them young girls, each bearing funerary offerings of food or drink. All the women, Abar and her half–sisters and Inetkawes and Wenher and Khentkaus included, were wailing and constantly bending to grab handfuls of dust and rub it into their hair. Behind this first extensive group came those of Nekhen’s elite men who weren’t carrying Aboo’s body, and their families.

  The elites were followed by the rest of Nekhen’s most prominent residents, and then the leading men from the hamlets up and down the river who’d been loyal to Aboo, each group led by a man bearing that hamlet’s standard. Behind them, under the control of numerous handlers, came a swarm of domestic and wild animals from Aboo’s menagerie, all of which would join their master in death this day. At their end lumbered the magnificent old elephant Aboo had captured upon being named Nekhen’s ruler and whose name and power he had taken. Aboo’s wealth had been almost unimaginable, and he would take every bit of it to his grave for use in the next life, except for cattle and sheep and goats and pigs slain a few hours ago, already being roasted nearby in the meat–processing facility on the upper terrace for the upcoming funeral feast.

  The entire path up the wadi from the lower settlement to the cemetery was lined on both sides with men and women and children, the women keening and throwing dust on their heads, the men watching silently for the most part. As the tail of the procession passed all fell in line behind it.

  The head of the procession passed through the gate in the wall surrounding the tomb precinct. People were already massed there, standing several rows deep around and between the funerary structures comprising Aboo’s magnificent complex. Farmers had finally completed it during the last inundation after years of effort. More buildings were clustered here than in some of the hamlets that owed Nekhen’s ruler their fealty, most of them larger than any structure in the lower settlement except Aboo’s house, all of them plastered with mud and brightly painted red and white and yellow and green. There was no single site as spectacular anywhere in the valley. Two low mounds next to Aboo’s tomb marked the graves of Iaret and Ibetina, his children’s mothers. More freshly–dug unfilled graves were scattered near them amidst the structures, soon to contain the beasts that would accompany Aboo into the next life. Reed mats and small black–topped jars and red–polished bowls and straw–tempered bottles and cooking pots were piled in the vicinity of the open graves. Even the animals would be buried with goods.

  The elites carried Aboo’s body into the pillared hall next to his grave. The hall was wondrous, each column in the rows supporting the roof brightly painted with images of plants and animals, the reed walls plastered inside and out and also freshly painted. Aboo’s statue I’d helped set in place glimmered whitely through the open entrance of the small chapel beyond the end of the hall. The elites set the plank with Aboo’s body down on the ground in the center of the hall. An attendant handed Rawer a coarse clay mask with a pointed chin and ears attached high on either side of the head, with holes cut for eyes and mouth, its hair, eyebrows and chin all painted red. Rawer secured it over his face with a leather thong. The rest of the elite men donned similar masks. Those masks would supposedly help them channel the power of whatever lay beyond this world and make it present for this ceremony.

  “In this life,” Amenia cried, loud enough those gathered outside the hall could hear, “Aboo exerted his power over animals and their spirits. He will continue to in his next life.”

  At her signal, pairs of elite men positioned themselves around the hall. She signaled again. Rawer, at the doorway, knelt and, using a wide copper blade, scooped a deep hole in the sand beside one of the doorposts. Pipi handed him a quantity of flint figurines from a leather sack one at a time – donkey, gazelle, hippo, ibex, elephant, falcon, scorpion. Rawer placed each carefully in the hole, then filled it with clean sand. In turn, the elite pairs at each of the hall’s four corners repeated the ceremony, burying figurines of their own. This part of the ritual was reminiscent of the foundation ceremony that had made the complex sacred in the first place.

  The elites lifted the plank with Aboo’s body and carried it from the pillared hall and into the wood structure sheltering the burial pit through an opening we’d left in the narrow end. Some of us who were in the pillared hall followed; the tomb structure was considerably smaller than the hall and could accommodate only immediate family and elite men. The carriers set the plank down at the edge of the grave and the rest of us ringed it. I was given plenty of room, because of the cubs.

  Amenia knelt beside Aboo, slipped the talisman over her head, grasped it in her hand. She touched it to Aboo’s wrapped head and performed the ritual she’d invented for Ipu. “I open your eyes so you can see. I open your nose so you can breathe. I open your ears so you can hear. I open your mouth so you can eat.” She touched his swaddled hands. “I awake your hands so you can feed yourself.” Amenia replaced the talisman around her neck, stood.

  All day yesterday and through the night men had been carrying the grave goods Aboo had accumulated during his life up the wadi path to the cemetery. The grave was crammed with jars and baskets and containers, except for a rectangle in the center. I recognized objects from Aboo’s room – the elephant jar, the palettes and what remained of the cosmetics used to prepare his dead body, the ivory combs used on his hair – in fact, almost every one of his personal belongings. There were dozens of items I’d brought back from Maadi and Tjeni and Nubt and Abu, as well as a rich selection of Amenia’s pottery. Aboo would not want for anything in his next life.

  Half the men who’d been carrying Aboo’s body descended the steps into the grave, moving to its center, avoiding the goods already placed there. The rest of the men handed the plank to them once they were situated. Gently, they moved Aboo’s body from the plank and onto sturdy mats lining the bottom of the rectangle, arranging Aboo on his side. Rawer placed a plethora of delicate reed mats over Aboo’s body. Amenia had likely woven them last night.

  All the men but Rawer climbed out of the grave. One by one Aboo’s household servants came forward bearing a jar filled with food or drink or figurines or beads or minerals and, after Amenia blessed it, gave it to Rawer. He set each item down beside the body. The finest object, a jar, was very large, black, in the shape of an elephant’s head, with incurving tusks and two depressions for the eyes. Abar passed Rawer the final item, a greywacke grinding palette in the shape of an elephant’s head, one Aboo had used in life. After he placed it, Rawer arranged Aboo’s mace and crook and flail at his side, along with the white plumes he had worn on his brow. Then he climbed out of the grave. While we watched, workmen shoved the sand mounded to one side into the grave with the shoulder blades of aurochs, covering Aboo forever.

  Two objects remained to be buried. Abar used a copper trowel to dig a hole at the head of Aboo’s grave. A servant brought her the two tall ivory statues that had graced Aboo’s bedroom and the audience hall. Abar placed them face down in the hole, then covered them. Amenia helped her rise. Then everyone exited the tomb structure. Rawer removed his mask and hung it on a copper hook beside the entrance. The rest of the elites did likewise. Those masks would remain there forever, silent witnesses to the gods’ everlasting presence.

  The sun was high in the sky now. Servants appeared with reed screens to shade the elites. Several workmen heaved a door made of thick woven reeds into place over the opening in the tomb structure. They applied a thick coating of wet mud over all four edges of the opening. Seni handed Amenia a cylindrical seal carved from limestone. Amenia rolled it over the wet mud, symbolically sealing the tomb with an image of Aboo leading his elephant on a leash, as a sign he would continue to control nature from beyond the grave. When that task was done everyone moved through the gate and into the cemetery beyond it.

  Amenia led the way to an open area w
here Aboo’s animals were temporarily penned – cattle and goats and sheep and baboons and a leopard and a few gazelles and Aboo’s elephant and more. A host of herdsmen and dogs were keeping the domestic and wild animals separate. A few beasts were placidly munching last meals of river plants or acacia twigs or emmer.

  An attendant handed Rawer a long flint knife, its ivory handle decorated with an orderly row of animals. He raised it high.

  “In life,” Amenia cried, “our valley prospered under Aboo. He was generous with his livestock, feeding us in time of need, and during festivals. Today, all of his wealth shall accompany him to his next life.”

  A keeper led a goat to Rawer. Another bound the animal’s legs together, flipped it onto its side. Rawer slit its throat with the knife. The men dragged it, spurting blood, to the lip of one of the empty graves and left it there. The beast would be wrapped in linen and buried later after the ceremony concluded. The elite men lined up. A keeper brought forward a ram. Pipi slew it, then gave way to Hemaka, who killed a second, followed by Harkhebi, who finished off a third. Soon the kilts and arms and legs and chests of the elite men were bright red with hot blood. A cloud of flies descended on the growing number of carcasses edging the graves. To conclude the domestic animal phase of the ceremony, the elites sacrificed twenty cattle, all under three years of age and thus prime food, next to a long deep trench. I could tell everyone in the crowd was impressed, not only by Aboo’s wealth, but by the fact none of it had been held back. Rawer would have a mighty task rebuilding a similarly–sized menagerie of wild and domestic animals from scratch. He’d have to do so quickly, in time to feed Nekhenians at the next festival. Or so, I assumed, he presumed. In actuality, if all went well I’d be helping Abar create the next ruler’s menagerie.