The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

  “I suppose your father had a hand in setting up the two storage areas,” Nykara said. “Which, of course, means you did.”

  I smiled and nodded. Then I delivered him to Papa’s house.

  “Do you realize you’ve been coming to Maadi for nearly a decade, Nykara?” Papa asked that night as we ate.

  Firelight flickered on the walls inside our house. Shadows danced as those of us clustered around numerous bowls and platters reached for fruit and bread and fish. The food was disappearing fast; Mama and Papa had added a new daughter to the family every year since Nykara’s first visit. Several of the older ones were missing from the circle tonight; they’d started families of their own. The youngest of my sisters in the room was barely three months old; I was by far the oldest.

  “It’s your seventeenth trip,” I informed Nykara, refilling with wine the cup he held in his outstretched hand.

  “You’ve been counting?” he asked, bemused.

  I placed my jar carefully on the floor, sat down cross–legged across from him between Mama and Papa. “Are you surprised I know my numbers, Nykara?” I asked facetiously. I extracted the ivory comb holding my red hair up and away from my neck. I shook my head and long loose curls tumbled over my shoulders all the way to my waist. That drove most men crazy. He didn’t react.

  “A trader’s daughter?” Nykara replied. “Not at all. I don’t know how Nabaru would stay in business without you.”

  Though he spoke jokingly he wasn’t exaggerating. To this day Papa had no clue how much I used my charms on the men he traded with, so they’d make trades to benefit him.

  “We’ll never find out if Nabaru can function without her,” Mama sighed wearily. “Bakist has driven off every man her father has ever tried to join her to. I’ve lost count there have been so many.”

  “Mama!” I bristled. This was not a subject fit for discussion in front of Nykara.

  “She’s too opinionated,” Papa told Nykara despairingly. “She thinks she knows everything. She insists on taking charge. She scares men. Who’d dare try to tame her?”

  “Why would a man want to?” Nykara asked, eyeing me speculatively. “I’d rather try to match a spirited woman’s passion than destroy it.”

  “Exactly!” I exclaimed. “Find me a man like Nykara, Papa. Then see what happens.”

  “Bakist!” Mama cried. She turned red. “She blurts out whatever comes to mind, too,” she complained to Nykara. “She doesn’t think.”

  “Well, he’s the man I measure the rest against.” I stared at Mama defiantly.

  She threw up her hands in surrender.

  Nykara was looking at me with amusement. In his eyes I was still that twelve year–old girl he’d first met. But I wished he could see me for the woman I’d become. The attraction I’d felt for him on his first visit had evolved long ago. I was madly in love with him and had been for years. But he was oblivious. And why not? I was sure he loved some woman in Nekhen, though we’d never discussed it – that would have been an awkward conversation. Me he only saw a few times a year. How could I compete with a woman he saw daily? I knew he wasn’t joined to anyone yet, but I didn’t know why. He’d surely had plenty of offers. That he hadn’t taken one so far was the kernel of hope I clung to, that some day he’d be drawn to me, not some woman in his far–off home.

  “How long has it been since you regained Dedi’s fleet? Two years?” Papa asked. He was trying to change the subject.

  “About that. Yes.”

  “Is Ma–ee any better as a ruler than he was as overseer of the fleet?”

  Nykara snorted. “He’s a monster and he gets worse all the time. He’s grinding the people who are beholden to him under his heel. You remember me telling you how he executed our previous ruler’s servants when he took over?”

  “Hard to forget that,” Papa replied.

  “Exactly. None of the elites dares challenge him for fear they or their woman or son or daughter will be killed. Ma–ee’s taken a hostage from every elite family – uses them as household servants. Ma–ee’s flunky Senebi seems to have more thugs working for him every month. They patrol Nekhen and the surrounding valley and enforce Ma–ee’s will. Ma–ee constantly demands ever more food and clothing and other resources from the elites so he can take care of them. In my case, he takes at least a quarter of what my craftsmen and smiths produce.”

  “What does this ruler of yours actually do?” I asked.

  “Ma–ee renders so–called justice – he favors those who pay him off. He reassigns fields after the inundation – the best, of course, to those who bribe him the most. He rewards his friends by taking from his enemies. He oversees the storage and acquisition and distribution of grain for festivals and to guard against bad harvests. He lives in luxury – he commandeers the finest items I return with from Maadi as his share, siphons off much of what Nekhen’s master craftsmen make. He spends most of his time hunting with Senebi and his closest friends – his menagerie grows larger by the month. I operate what were once his boatyard and workshops and fleet – he’s the first of Nekhen’s rulers who didn’t continue to have a hand in his family’s enterprise after he was confirmed. Dedi would be appalled.”

  “The people just take it?” I asked.

  “They grumble. That’s all. They’re afraid of him.”

  “I’d stand up to him,” I declared.

  “And you’d lose that pretty head of yours in short order,” Papa said. He sighed. “It’s so much easier here at Maadi. No one’s in charge. We traders work in concert. Everyone is equal.”

  “What about your smithy?” I asked.

  “The elites have been dependent on me for years,” Nykara said. “Frankly, I’m wealthier than any of them now, though I don’t flaunt it and so I don’t think they realize it. I’ve made sure Heth – the metalsmith I took to Nekhen from Maadi – shares in my good fortune. My workers too.”

  “I’m surprised you can travel to Maadi as often as you do when you’re responsible for so much in Nekhen,” Papa said.

  “Heth takes care of the smithy and guides the overseers I’ve appointed for the boatyard and the fleet and the craftsmen. Everything runs smoothly enough. Though it was easier scheduling deliveries when Abar was in charge of her family’s donkeys. Now I have to work with an overseer Ma–ee appointed. He’s unexpectedly turned out to be fairly competent.”

  “Your ruler’s woman owns donkeys?” I interrupted. “I oversee Papa’s herd – the one in Maadi. My brother Itu manages the one we keep in Farkha. We each have nearly fifty beasts.”

  “Abar’s family has owned all of Nekhen’s donkeys for generations, more than ten times as many as you have,” Nykara replied. “Long ago her family gained control of transportation on land. Ma–ee’s family gained control of transportation on water. That’s why Abar’s and Ma–ee’s joining was arranged in the first place – to keep Nekhen’s transportation network a consolidated whole.”

  “Speaking of running smoothly, we’ll need to conclude your trades by sunset tomorrow,” Papa said.

  “Papa and I are going to Farkha the day after,” I announced. “A caravan’s due from the North. Wine, olive oil, almonds. Itu is expecting us.”

  “Whose boat did you arrange for me to use to transport the goods from Farkha to Maadi?” Papa asked me.

  I had a sudden sinking feeling. I colored. “No one’s. I ran into Nykara and brought him here. I forgot.”

  “What am I supposed to do now?” Papa asked angrily. “What if I can’t find a boat tomorrow?”

  “Use mine, Nabaru,” Nykara offered. “I’m in no hurry to return to Nekhen. I’ve always wanted to travel to the delta and see Farkha and that ivory workshop you’ve told me about. This is as good a time as any.”

  Papa looked as relieved as I was. “I’m grateful, Nykara.” He turned to me. “And, by the way, Bakist, you’re not going.”

  I stared at him, incredulous. “Why? You always take me.”

  “I need you to stay here and look af
ter things for me. Assuming you don’t forget…”

  “Nykara gets to go and I don’t? That’s not fair!” I complained.

  “You wouldn’t have to stay if you’d settled for any one of the last dozen men your father found for you,” Mama snapped.

  “I don’t settle.” I crossed my arms, tilted my chin defiantly. “And just try to make me stay home,” I muttered under my breath. Nykara had come all this way and I was not about to be separated from him while he was in the North. I got to spend too little time with him as it was.

  “You will stay,” Papa insisted.

  I’d muttered louder than I’d thought.

  “I’ll have Setau station his guards outside our door if I have to.”

  I had enough presence of mind to keep my curse to myself. No sense making a bad situation worse. I got up in a huff and flounced to the section of the room where my sisters and I slept. I didn’t tell anyone in the circle goodnight.

  “See what I mean?” Papa said to Nykara. “What man wants to deal with that?”

  ***

  I waited the next morning amidst the porters and traders and oarsmen lining the harbor path until Nykara’s crewmen pushed his boat away from the dock. Then I hiked my skirt to my knees and sprinted a dozen steps and leaped over the growing watery gap between the dock and the boat and landed on its deck. Nykara spotted me out of the corner of his eye just before I went airborne and lunged into my path from his place in the stern beside the steering oar. He barely snagged my waist with his left forearm as I touched down. Otherwise I would have tumbled over the far side of his vessel into the river. My momentum swung us both around and carried me into Nykara’s arms. He held me for too brief an instant, looked down into my face, laughed, steadied me, set me on my feet.

  “That was overly dramatic,” he said.

  “Just try to send me back,” I snapped, my chest heaving, heart pounding, hands locked on his biceps. I looked up at him; the top of my head was even with his nose.

  “I’m not the one who said you couldn’t come,” Nykara observed.

  Papa, a few steps away, sighed, shrugged his shoulders. “What am I to do?” He seated himself in the shade of the pavilion in the center of the boat, turned his back to us.

  Nykara resumed his position at the steering oar and maneuvered the boat into the middle of the river. I joined him in the stern, uninvited, perched on the side of the boat. His men were relaxing on deck; since the current was strong and taking us in the direction we wanted to go there was no need for them to row. A few baskets and containers were neatly arranged in the center of the boat, holding a portion of Nykara’s trade goods to barter with at Farkha – pottery, stone maceheads, necklaces of semiprecious stones and gold, flint knives and such. He’d left the majority of his wares at Maadi to exchange with its traders once he returned from this side trip.

  “I don’t know anyone who could have made that jump, except for me,” Nykara said admiringly.

  “I’m light on my feet. And I was motivated.” Not just to go to Farkha, but to go with Nykara – an opportunity not to be missed.

  My hair had come unfastened during my leap and landing. It, and my white linen skirt, swirled in the strong breeze. A necklace – three rows of gold beads – graced my throat, and multiple bracelets of the same material both wrists. All had been gifts from Nykara over the years. I leaned back, closed my eyes, tilted my face to the sun, threw my arms wide. “It’s such a glorious day!” I exclaimed. Now that I’d gotten my way I was quite happy. I turned my head, squinted at Nykara. “I’ve never been on a wood boat before. You really figured out how to build it on your first trip home from Maadi?”

  “You paid attention when I told Nabaru about it on my second trip.”

  “I always pay attention to you.”

  He ignored my too–obvious flirting. “When I saw Heth’s copper tools I knew exactly what to do,” Nykara replied. “Since then I’ve constructed four large cargo vessels to use in trade and to deliver supplies in the Nekhen area, plus a smattering of smaller boats.”

  “Have you given up reed boats entirely?”

  “We still build them in the boatyard for fishermen and such. They take much less effort. They’re quite suitable for what they’re used for.”

  The stretch of river we were traveling was familiar to me, since Papa and I traveled to Farkha four or five times every year. The character of the valley was already changing from that in Maadi’s vicinity, the plateaus receding and diminishing in height to east and west, the plains subsequently growing wider. The patches of reeds and papyrus and groves of palm trees lining the banks reflected darkly in the water. A few crocodiles sunned themselves on open sections of riverbank. Birds flitted back and forth endlessly, their songs ringing across the water. I spotted a few fishermen on punts among the reeds, perch flapping silver on their decks. The sky above was deep blue, with a smattering of clouds.

  “How far to Farkha?” Nykara asked.

  “Two days’ travel there, three back against the current,” I replied. “Remember the time you brought Dedi with you to Maadi, and I went with you on that reed punt as your guide so he could see the delta?”

  “We drifted to where the river splits.”

  “That’s the foot of Ta–mehu. We’ll take the second branch from the right, and when that branch splits many miles to the north we’ll take the rightmost. I know the perfect spot for us to camp tonight – a long low turtleback close by the river, with plenty of wood for a fire and good fishing and reed patches to snare a duck or two.”

  In less than half an hour we reached Ta–mehu, an endless sea of waving green grass in every direction. The plateaus had entirely disappeared.

  “This is only the second time in my life I’ve seen an uninterrupted horizon,” Nykara marveled. “Atop the desert plateaus it’s similar, but there are rolling hills in the distance and usually a haze of dust kicked up by the wind.”

  Reeds and rushes and papyrus rippled and swayed in the breeze, all taller than a man, all alive with birds. Off in the distance I heard the roar of a hippo, and an answer. Turtlebacks dotted the delta in every direction, low ridges five or ten feet higher than the surrounding land. A few thin plumes of smoke were curling from one miles to the south, no doubt the location of a small isolated hamlet.

  “The turtlebacks generally stay dry during the inundation,” I said. “All the delta’s hamlets lie atop them. Three abut each other at Farkha, in fact.”

  We reached the second branch of the river a couple of hours later. Nykara steered into it as I had directed.

  “You truly enjoy the life of a trader, don’t you Bakist?” he asked.

  “Especially when I can travel the river like this, without a single care to weigh me down,” I replied. “Bartering with the other traders is stimulating, but it’s nerve–wracking too. This is relaxing.”

  “You always seem cool and in control to me,” Nykara said. “Never stressed.”

  “I know a trick or two.”

  “You mean, that every trader in Maadi would bend over backwards to please you?”

  I laughed. “Flirting is a powerful tool, but it only gets me so far, Nykara. Some men are actually immune to my charms.”

  “That’s hard to believe.”

  You are. “I’ve figured out a few strategies so I always have the upper hand.”

  “Such as? Surely after all these years you can tell me one or two of your secrets.”

  I laughed again. “I suppose so. One, at least. Here it is. I’ve picked up a number of languages over the years – those of desert tribes and various Northerners. I don’t let my adversaries know I speak their tongue – it’s quite an advantage when we’re trying to make a deal and they talk amongst themselves.” I gazed over the river, grew serious. “But sometimes I feel stifled, you know? There’s more to the world than Maadi and the delta. The North. The South. The deserts. I want to see everything.”

  “Is that the real reason you’re not joined to anyone yet?�
� Nykara probed. “So you don’t get stuck in Maadi forever?”

  “Partly. Plus, I haven’t met a man yet who didn’t expect me to give up helping Papa with the trade so I could stay home and make babies for him,” I said with disgust. “I aspire to far more than that.”

  “You should,” Nykara said earnestly. “You’re intelligent and resourceful and one of the shrewdest traders I’ve encountered in all the valley, Bakist.” He laughed. “You’ve more than held your own negotiating trades with me on your father’s behalf. No one in Tjeni or Nubt or Abu can claim the same.”

  “It seems to me we’ve become very attuned to each other these past years,” I said.

  “You mean because each of us can tell what the other is thinking when we’re dealing with other traders without exchanging a single word?”

  I nodded. “I sincerely appreciate you don’t hold my being a woman against me,” I said. “I know I have a temper sometimes, and I’m stubborn, and I don’t suffer fools easily…”

  “I’m glad I’ve only had to witness your tongue lashings, not receive them,” Nykara said. “Anyway, men who underestimate women do it at their own peril. I know two extremely strong and capable women at Nekhen, either of whom would do a far better job of ruling our settlement than Ma–ee does. You’re very much like them.”

  I blushed at his compliment. “Is one of them Abar? The donkey woman?” I guessed.

  “Yes. Ma–ee’s woman, the daughter of our previous ruler.”

  “Who’s the other?”

  “Amenia.”

  “The woman who makes the pottery?” I was surprised by that.

  “She’s far more than a potter.”

  Something in Nykara’s voice kept me from asking more.

  We stopped for the night at the landing place I’d mentioned to Nykara at the start of our journey. It was indeed perfect for our needs. We ate freshly–caught fish beside a roaring fire, the sky above awash with stars, the wind sighing through the tall grass surrounding us.