“I’m not,” Nykara said defensively and, I thought, instinctively.
“You are. I see it in your eyes. And in the way you act. This past year you’ve been different than you used to be. Less carefree. Less alive.”
He was silent for a long time, as if he was debating with himself. Then he took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “You’re right, Bakist. There’s an emptiness inside me I can’t shake. I am sad, and angry and frustrated and lost and lonely. I’ve tried to bury myself in my work so I don’t have to think about my situation. It hasn’t helped. I hoped coming to Maadi again would ease my depression. But even traveling the river doesn’t bring me peace the way it used to.”
“What’s her name?” I asked. What else could it be but a woman?
“Amenia,” he said softly.
“The potter?”
Nykara nodded. “I was eighteen the day I went to her uncles’ works to get jars for my first trip to Maadi. Ten years ago, only a month or so before I met you.” He shook his head. “I fell in love with her almost right away. Her uncle Hemaka promised he’d join her to me as soon as I became an elite. But he kept making excuses to put us off. This went on for five years. Then, out of the blue, Rawer made an arrangement with Hemaka, just to hurt me. Hemaka gave Amenia to his older brother, Sanakht. Rawer made Hemaka Nekhen’s leading potter in return.”
So I’d been right all those years. Nykara had been in love. “I’m so sorry,” I said sincerely. I knew what it was like to be denied the one I loved.
“A few years later Amenia discovered Sanakht had been robbing graves,” Nykara continued.
It was almost as if, now that he’d started talking, a dam had burst and everything he’d kept bottled up inside was flooding out. I supposed there wasn’t anyone at Nekhen he could talk to about Amenia. I was glad he trusted me enough to unburden himself.
“I hadn’t seen Amenia since her joining, but she had nowhere else to turn after she discovered what Sanakht was doing, so she sought me out. The two of us followed him to the cemetery one night, caught him in the act. We’d planned to confront him and convince him to stop. But things went horribly wrong. Sanakht resisted.”
I leaned over, traced the long white scar angling across his chest and stomach with my finger. “You killed him?”
“I had no choice. But Amenia just wanted me to stop Sanakht, not kill him. With his dying breath he accused me of murdering him so I could have her. She believed him. I could tell she loathed me then, for what I’d done.”
“Did she actually tell you that?”
“She said she wished I hadn’t killed him. Her exact words. And to make things worse, Ma–ee’s chief thug, Senebi, humiliated Amenia in front of her family and friends the next day, trying to make her confess to being Sanakht’s accomplice. I should have anticipated that. I should have gone straight from the cemetery to Ma–ee and confessed what I’d done. Then Amenia wouldn’t have had to suffer. That’s on me. Because of me Amenia has no man now. Because of me her two daughters are fatherless. I have no idea how they’re managing to survive. All three have disappeared. For all I know they’ve left Nekhen for good.” He looked into my eyes. “The guilt haunts me. It always will.”
“In a perfect world the two of you would have marched Sanakht to Ma–ee and he would have executed Sanakht for his crime and you would have been free to join with Amenia,” I said.
“Yes.” Nykara stared at the unfeeling sea. “I ruined everything. My only chance for happiness – gone. I still love her, Bakist. I think I always will, as foolish as that sounds. I just don’t know how to give her up and move on. She even told me I should once, months before I killed Sanakht. Gave me permission to.”
Another long silence, broken only by the crashing of the surf.
“Was Amenia your only love?” I asked. I had to know everything about him, figure out what I was up against.
He nodded. “She was the only woman I loved. But another loved me. Abar.”
“Ma–ee’s woman?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
“When I was a child I was with her at Dedi’s campfire several evenings each week,” he said. “She absolutely hated me back then, for reasons too ridiculous to go into. She treated me as if I didn’t exist. So I avoided her. Later, fate made me Dedi’s overseer, and Abar and I were forced to work together. We eventually set aside our animosities. Over time she began to trust me, and we started to rely on each other. Eventually she confided in me, drew me into a plot to take her father’s place when he died and become Nekhen’s ruler so she could pursue her grandfather’s quest to make Nekhen the dominant settlement in the valley.”
“Your obsession now.”
“Guilty.” Nykara sighed. “Abar was – is – a most magnificent woman. I’ve never met anyone like her.” He took a deep breath, threw his shoulders back. “She confessed one night she loved me. I’d just met Amenia. So I rejected her. It was actually an easy choice. I knew I couldn’t be with Abar because she was destined to rule Nekhen and I was a commoner.”
“Does she still love you?”
“Yes. But our feelings have evolved. We’re like brother and sister now. After working together for so long, plotting against Ma–ee, setting in motion Dedi’s vision for the valley, we’ll always have that bond.”
“Why do you stay at Nekhen, Nykara, if you’ve lost Amenia and you’re miserable because of it? You have boats – you could bring them to Maadi or even Farkha and trade from this region.”
“I promised Dedi I’d never let what he spent his life building come to harm,” Nykara replied. “I can’t go back on my promise to him. He made me what I am. And I can’t abandon Abar. I’m the only one who can protect her from Ma–ee.”
Another long lull in the conversation. It was bad enough Nykara loved one exceptional woman, but that he was involved with two? And that he continued to love even when he knew it would always be unrequited? What possible chance did I have?
“What about you, Bakist?” Nykara suddenly asked. “Your mother said you’ve rejected every man your father has ever proposed. You must get lonely. Don’t you want a man you can love?”
He’d answered my deeply personal questions honestly. I supposed I shouldn’t be immune from exposing my inner thoughts to him, perhaps even embarrassing myself. And I had to, if I was to get what I craved.
“I most certainly do,” I replied. I moved from Nykara’s side and sat directly in front of him, my knees folded under me on the soft sand, my palms resting on my thighs, our eyes level. I took a deep breath, let it out. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Nykara.”
He didn’t appear surprised. But his eyes were shadowed, so it was hard to tell.
“I’ve looked forward to you coming to Maadi to trade for as long as I can remember. I had a crush on you from the very first. Don’t you remember how I always used to plead with you every time you came to take me back to Nekhen with you?”
“You were a child. You were joking.”
“I was a child. But I was serious, Nykara. You never saw it; I know now you were under Amenia’s spell. I can’t blame you for that. She’s the love of your life.” I took hold of both of his hands. “Just as you are mine. The months I spend apart from you are empty and meaningless. The few days you spend with me in Maadi are glorious. I treasure them.”
I could tell he didn’t want to hurt me. “I’ve always liked you, Bakist, from the very first. I truly enjoy being with you. I do care for you very much. You’re a fine and wonderful woman, one of the most imposing and appealing and beautiful I’ve ever met.”
“I want to be your woman.”
“Even knowing about Amenia and Abar?”
I leaned towards him, earnest. “Yes. Especially knowing. I’ll never ask you to stop loving them, either. I’ll never ask you to forget or distance yourself from two women who are so important to you. You’ve had a life without me and they’re part of it. They’ve helped make you who you are. But you can’t ever be with either of them. You
said so. All I ask is that you give me a piece of your heart, Nykara, alongside the pieces you’ve given to Amenia and Abar. You told me about your mother once – she loved your father and Dedi. She loved Dedi while continuing to love your father. If she could love two men you can love more than one woman. You don’t have to spend the rest of your life alone, Nykara. You deserve a woman who loves you, one you can perhaps come to love in time. Me.”
“What if I never fall in love with you, Bakist? Wouldn’t you feel cheated?”
“Mama and Papa will force me to join with someone eventually. We both know I won’t love him. We both know he won’t be half the man you are. Even if you never fall in love with me, you’ll treat me with dignity and respect and as a partner. No other man will. So I’m willing to take a chance, Nykara. Take me with you to Nekhen. Let me be part of your life. Let me help you the same way I’ve helped Papa. Let me try to make you happy. Let me earn your love.”
Nykara gazed out over the sea.
I had no idea which way he was leaning. I needed to bolster my argument. “Let’s set love aside, if that’s not enough,” I said. “In practical terms, our joining will form a permanent bond between the traders of Nekhen and Maadi and Farkha. Isn’t that what you and Father and Itu once talked about being a good thing?”
“I’m afraid you’re letting your heart override your common sense,” Nykara argued. “Think about what you’re volunteering to do, Bakist – leave your family, your friends, your gods, your way of life, travel half a world away to a place where you’ll be an outsider.”
“Our lives aren’t that different, Nykara. You’re a trader, I’m a trader. We can overcome any differences. I can adapt. Look, Nykara, I know I’m not the complex powerful woman Abar is, or the talented woman Amenia is. I may be simple, but I love you with all my heart. I won’t demand anything of you.”
“Except your own way,” he said, then smiled.
That’s when I knew I had him. My heart began to sing. I laughed, overflowing with joy. “Except that.” I turned serious. “I’ll willingly yield to a man as exceptional as you, Nykara.”
“I’ll never ask you to yield, Bakist.”
***
“Bring Bakist when you return to Maadi,” Mama called from the dock as Nykara’s boat swung into the current.
He waved in acknowledgement.
“Mama couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I’m not even out of sight and she already misses me,” I said wryly, standing next to Nykara as he steered his boat into the channel, his men’s oars churning the water white.
Mama collapsed, sobbing, into Papa’s arms. He too was suppressing tears. He was going to miss my help in his trading far more than he’d let on, or even realized. Nykara’s and my announcement upon our return to Farkha from the Wadjet Wer that we were together had shocked and delighted and frightened him, all at the same time. He’d quickly seen the advantages of our union, given us his blessing. The feast he’d thrown in Maadi a few days later to celebrate our joining had been memorable.
I waved one last time to my younger sisters who were hugging each other and crying and waving at me. Then Nykara and I turned as one and faced south. The valley stretched before us, hemmed in by golden plateaus, the river silver beneath the bright sun, the plains intensely green. I wrapped my arms around Nykara possessively, raised to my toes, kissed him. I moved back. He brushed my long hair away from my face tenderly. I looked up at him. I supposed my eyes were shining with excitement. “I can’t wait to see Nekhen,” I said. “My new home.”
“I can’t wait for you to see it,” he replied.
He meant it. The crushing loneliness that had been his constant companion for years was starting to become a memory, still close to the surface, but tempered now with a measure of contentment and happiness. He’d told me so last night. The past weeks had changed both our lives for the better. Nykara was even more wonderful than I’d expected, and I think I’d surprised him too. I was glad now I’d taken a chance and confessed my love. He already loved me, at least a little. It wasn’t a love born of a shared mission, as he had for Abar, or one born of passion, as he had for Amenia, but who knew what it might become given enough time. I was very much looking forward to finding out.
***
“Is that one of your boats, Nykara?” I asked, squinting at a distant shape drifting towards us with the current.
We were approaching Tjeni from the north, our men rowing hard and sending sheets of silver water flashing skyward, and the other boat, also made of wood, was approaching from the south. It was an hour or so before sunset and shadows were already marching across the valley from the western plateau. I was glad, for the day’s awful heat was finally starting to break. The floodplain was narrower here than any place I’d seen in the valley on this trip; the high looming cliffs rose up very close to the river itself. I remembered Nykara telling me if the people of Tjeni ever took it in mind to exert control over river traffic they’d be able to do it easily. That was one reason he wanted the settlement to be under Nekhen’s control – so his boats would be able to travel north without hindrance or tariff forever.
“It’s one of the two I use to resupply my trading posts,” Nykara explained. “It travels once each month between Nekhen and Tjeni, carrying Nekhen’s goods north and what my traders in Tjeni have obtained back south. Another ferries goods between Nekhen and Nubt.” He angled our boat towards the landing place.
“Are we stopping for the night?” I queried.
“A few days. The men have been rowing hard against the current this past week. They need a break and we need to replenish our food and beer. I plan to spend a few days here, check on my trader Dagi and his post, drop off some of what we obtained at Maadi. I’ll send out a few hunters, too, and let the men fish, so we’ll have some fresh meat.”
“That’ll be welcome.” Eating mostly dried fish and meat was getting old.
We tied up, joined minutes later by Nykara’s other packed boat. By the number of goods on board I could tell trade between Tjeni and Nekhen was extensive and profitable. Ours were the only substantial vessels in what passed for a harbor but was really just a long stretch of riverbank free of patches of papyrus and reeds; a few small fishermen’s punts occupied the rest of the shoreline. The crewmen of Nykara’s vessels called greetings to each other and all hurriedly disembarked and set about establishing a combined camp.
“The other crew will carry the trade goods on their boat to the trading post in Tjeni in the morning,” Nykara told me. “Once it’s empty, they’ll load it with what Dagi has obtained in exchange this past month and has stored in the post.”
Nykara dropped into the water with a splash, then reached up and took me by the waist and swung me over the side of the boat onto dry land. I loved it when he gently manhandled me that way. He stepped ashore. The captain of the other vessel approached and greeted us. Nykara pointed out the goods from our boat he wanted him to carry into Tjeni tomorrow. Then Nykara and I set out for the settlement together, my arm linked in his.
Tjeni was much larger than Maadi. It sprawled north and south for nearly a mile, its edge just west of the cultivated strip lining the narrow floodplain. That strip, which should have been lush with waist–high emmer and barley by now, for the harvest would begin in about a month, was anything but. Scattered clumps poked through dry cracked earth, growing thickly only in the dozen yards closest to the river. The inundation had reached less than half its normal height this year. I assumed the Tjenians would have to live off what they’d set aside in granaries the past two years in the coming months. As would the inhabitants of Nekhen. Three years ago – Ma–ee’s first as ruler, I recalled – the inundation had been equally poor. Four years as ruler with two inadequate inundations – obviously not a positive development for a people who expected their leader to control chaos and assure a level of normalcy when it came to foodstuffs. We soon passed beyond the cultivation into the settlement. Tjeni’s houses were arranged along narrow winding lanes and con
structed of wattle–and–daub. Small pens were attached to many, holding pigs and geese and goats. Small gardens were interspersed among the houses, containing a variety of vegetables. Thick columns of smoke rose from one district; I supposed it to be where workshops were located, though I had no idea what products Tjeni made. I had a lot to learn about this part of the valley. The streets were fairly crowded, mostly with men heading towards their homes to eat the evening meal, or women bearing dripping jars they’d just filled in the river. The settlement seemed tame and domestic and the people all very similar to each other in appearance and style of clothing. All at once I missed the hustle and bustle of Maadi, the color, the excitement, the sweating porters, the cursing overseers, the different styles of dress, the babble of strange tongues, the dozens of boats from distant lands crammed with countless varieties of exotic goods, the strings of dusty donkeys. I wondered if I was going to find Nekhen to be as colorless and dull as Tjeni.
Nykara led me to the largest building in the settlement, a short walk from the landing place. It was long and low and wide, its reed sides thickly plastered with mud. We stepped inside. Linen wicks flickered in shallow bowls of oil, lighting the interior against the coming darkness. Containers in a variety of shapes and sizes were arranged in orderly rows on both sides of a narrow aisle that split the building in two. The trading post was so crowded I didn’t see how it could possibly hold any more goods. It was lucky Nykara’s transport boat had arrived. We were spotted. A man hurried from the back of the post to greet us.
“Nykara! This is a wonderful surprise!” he said gleefully.
Nykara embraced him, turned to me. “Bakist, this is Dagi, one of my oldest and dearest friends from Nekhen. Dagi, this is Bakist.” A long dramatic pause. “My woman.”
It still thrilled me to hear Nykara utter those words. I hoped I’d never lose how warm and happy they made me feel. Dagi looked shocked. I suddenly felt a bit strange. I’d known in the months and years to come I’d encounter people who’d been aware of the relationship between Nykara and Amenia, likely many who’d actually been their mutual friends. Knowing it and experiencing it firsthand were two very different things. I supposed it was better I jumped that hurdle here in Tjeni until waiting until I arrived at Nekhen, where it would likely be far more uncomfortable. It crossed my mind Nykara might have stopped here for that very reason. Was he too trying to acclimate himself to a similar feeling?
The Women and the Boatman Page 65
