The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

  In that moment I hated Ma–ee beyond telling.

  “Plus, he’s well–liked by the elites,” Senebi noted. “They depend on him. Killing Nykara might make him into a martyr. Some of the more capable elites might rise against you.”

  “A risk not worth taking.”

  “What about the others who are involved – Pipi, Teti, Wehemka?” Senebi asked. “Should I round them up?”

  “We can’t be sure we’ll get all the conspirators,” Ma–ee replied. “Nekauba alluded to another important elite. Maybe it’s Nykara, maybe it isn’t.” He pondered for a moment. “Isn’t Hemaka’s youngest daughter a servant in my house?”

  “A fan bearer. Nebet.”

  “Grab her tomorrow too. If seeing Hemaka’s entire family wiped from the face of the earth isn’t enough to keep the rest of the elites on their best behavior, I’ll go ahead and slay every servant in my house and demand new ones from every elite family.” Ma–ee smiled broadly. “I predict after tomorrow no one will ever think about rising up against me again.”

  As quickly as I could I slipped from my house through the food preparation exit, passed through the yard, scrambled over the fence edging it, ran towards the river. I wasn’t about to let Amenia pay the price for what her uncle was doing. I’d come to love her as a friend in the years she’d been part of my personal conspiracy. She’d comforted me at my father’s deathbed. She’d attended me at the births of my sons. She’d saved my life. She’d saved Shepseska’s life. No one in the world had been as close to me. I’d missed her ever since her disappearance after Sanakht’s death. She was innocent of doing anything wrong and I wasn’t about to let her die just because Ma–ee and Senebi had spiraled out of control.

  I headed straight for Yuny’s farm. Thank the gods I’d been in charge of scheduling my father’s donkeys for so many years. Yuny supplied Hemaka with foodstuffs. His farm was close enough to Nekhen that his crops and supplies were moved back and forth by donkey, not boat. No doubt I’d even met him once or twice when I’d accompanied Father after an inundation and he’d marked field boundaries anew. If I had met Yuny, there was nothing memorable about him.

  I had a very slight head start over Senebi. He’d have to round up some men, give them directions, then set out. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Once beyond the lower settlement I began to run as fast as I could. I knew I was at the right farm when I saw a small nondescript hut roofed with palm fronds beside the charred remains of another hut. Yuny obviously hadn’t bothered to rebuild properly after Senebi burned him out. Amenia’s life must have been awful these past years, indentured to a man so lazy and lacking in ambition. Sure enough, he was lying on his back in the shade of a palm tree at the edge of his field, fast asleep. Three women were busily working on something in the shade of the hut; none of them noticed me. Amenia was down by the riverbank. I ran to her across the stubble–covered field, my steps raising puffs of dust.

  Amenia and two young girls were harvesting watermelons. Perhaps two dozen were piled in a heap beside them. She heard me coming, looked up, clearly surprised.

  “Abar!” She beamed.

  I took hold of her arm. “No time to talk,” I panted, my chest heaving. Sweat was pouring into my eyes. Dust was turning to mud on my feet and calves. “Nekauba just told Ma–ee your uncle is conspiring against him. Your uncle wants to depose Ma–ee and become Nekhen’s ruler.”

  “I know,” Amenia said. “Uncle and Nekauba and the rest have spoken openly about it in front of me. I thought their conspiracy would wither up and die. They’re a bunch of blundering fools.”

  “No doubt. But Nekauba betrayed them moments ago because your uncle promised his pottery works to Teti. Ma–ee just promised to give them to Nekauba. Along with you.”

  “Nekauba’s a snake,” Amenia hissed.

  “Ma–ee’s going to round up your uncle and his family at the festival. And Nekauba. Senebi’s on his way to capture you and your daughters. You have to get out of here right now.”

  Fear momentarily passed across Amenia’s eyes, then they filled with determination. She crouched down to her daughters’ level. Keminub was eight now, I calculated, Peksater six. “We have to leave the farm,” Amenia said calmly, though her hands were trembling slightly. “Some bad men are coming. Abar’s going to help us get away.”

  Terror instantly colored their faces.

  Amenia hugged them each in turn. “You have to be brave, no matter what happens. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” they said in unison, earnestly. Both looked like they were about to cry.

  Amenia rose. She took Peksater’s hand and I grasped Keminub’s. Hurriedly, I led them along the hard–packed dirt path edging the river. It disappeared with every inundation, then was created anew every year once the fields were reoccupied. The path was shaded by clusters of palm trees its entire length; the trees would give us a little cover, more than crossing open fields, at least.

  Amenia called a halt in a thick grove of acacia trees on the fourth farm south of Yuny’s. “The girls need a short rest,” she said.

  They sat down with their backs against an acacia trunk, breathing hard, holding on to each other.

  “Where are we going, Abar?” Amenia asked.

  There was only one man in Nekhen who could defy Ma–ee and get away with it. “To Nykara. He’ll save you. He’ll put you and your girls on a boat and take you somewhere.”

  Amenia suddenly looked lost. “He won’t.” She said it firmly and sadly and despairingly.

  “Amenia! Nykara loves you!” I exclaimed. “Of course he’ll help you.”

  “He loved me once. Not anymore.” She looked down at her feet.

  “Because he’s joined to Bakist?” I asked.

  She shook her head no. “Abar, I’m the one who discovered Sanakht was robbing graves. I convinced Nykara to help me stop him. We thought we could confront Sanakht and talk him into giving up his thievery. But Sanakht pulled a knife. He and Nykara fought. Nykara killed Sanakht – he didn’t have a choice.”

  “His scar?” I asked. Now it made sense.

  “Yes. You know what kind of man Nykara is – so fine and upstanding. He didn’t go to the cemetery to kill. He went to talk. That he had to kill was my fault. I turned him into a killer. He wouldn’t even look at me afterwards. He hates me for what I did to him. He won’t help me now.”

  I took Amenia in my arms. She lay her head against my shoulder. Her body shook with racking sobs. How many years had she held that pain inside? “You’re wrong, Amenia,” I insisted, hugging her tight, stroking her hair. “Nykara could never stop loving you. He loved you too deeply and too long. And even if his feelings have changed he won’t let Ma–ee kill you. Or your girls.” I pulled back, stared into her eyes. “If you won’t go to him for yourself, go for them. Go for Keminub.”

  Amenia gazed over my shoulder at her children, one of them Nykara’s daughter. Her chin was quivering. She wiped her tears away. She nodded.

  With that we took hold of the girls once again, continued along the river. Every field we passed was deserted, completely harvested, covered with stubble, awaiting the coming inundation to renew it. The river itself was sluggish, brown, lower than at any time of the year, dotted with sandbars. Crocodiles were sunning on a number of them. The reeds in the patches lining the shore drooped, enlivened only by flashes of color from a multitude of birds. A couple of small boats were being rowed up the river, standards propped in their bows; men from nearby hamlets had been arriving at Nekhen since early this morning for tomorrow’s festival. Within fifteen minutes I spied smoke curling from Heth’s smithy. We were nearly to the boatyard and, I prayed, safety.

  Senebi and half a dozen men stepped from behind a cluster of palm trees a little ways ahead, blocking our path. All were armed with knives and lances.

  My heart started pounding. I took a deep breath, seeking calm. “Follow my lead,” I hissed to Amenia.

  We continued walking towards them, as if such an encoun
ter was perfectly normal. I willed my face to remain impassive. I was sweating.

  “That’s far enough,” Senebi said as we reached him.

  We stopped.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked.

  Thank the gods Senebi was unaware I’d been hiding outside the audience hall. Though I was sure he suspected something wasn’t right. Otherwise, why would I be with Amenia at this particular moment? It had to be too much of a coincidence, even for someone as dull–witted as Senebi. He was going to take Amenia and her girls away from me and to Ma–ee. That was a foregone conclusion. If they were going to be rescued afterwards and saved from execution it was up to me to pull it off. I was going to have to enlist Nykara’s aid, develop a plan, get them away from Nekhen. But to do that I had to keep Senebi from locking me away along with Amenia. Otherwise all would be lost. Time to bluff as I never had my entire life. “Amenia and her girls and I are on our way to make reed mats down by the river,” I said innocently. I pointed to the patch the elites had used since I was a girl. “Over there. We do it all the time.”

  “That’s right,” Amenia echoed. “You like to make mats, don’t you girls?”

  They both nodded, their eyes wide with fright.

  “There won’t be any mat making today,” Senebi snapped. “Ma–ee wants to see Amenia.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Not your concern.” Senebi took a long step forward and seized Amenia by the bicep, so hard she yelped.

  Immediately both Keminub and Peksater burst into tears.

  “Unhand her!” I insisted.

  Senebi stared at me, smug. “No.”

  I moved so my face was inches from his. “You may be Ma–ee’s favorite, but I’m his woman and the mother of his heir,” I said threateningly. “Some day my son is going to rule Nekhen – and you. He’ll do what I tell him to. I have a very long memory, Senebi. You don’t want to do something stupid and get on my bad side today.”

  Senebi released Amenia with a little shove. “She’d better come along quietly. Make no mistake – she needs to come along.”

  I leaned close to Amenia. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, low enough that Senebi couldn’t hear. Tears sprang to my eyes.

  “You tried. I couldn’t ask for a better friend,” she whispered back.

  “Enough of that! Move! Now!” Senebi barked.

  I walked alongside Amenia, my left hand grasping hers, my right Keminub’s. Senebi led the way, proud and full of himself. We were flanked and followed by guards. There was no chance of us getting away. Everyone we passed on the way from the river to the lower settlement and my house stopped what they were doing and stared. Obviously, something major was afoot when the ruler’s woman and the falcon god’s priestess, a woman who hadn’t been seen in public for years, were being escorted by Senebi and armed men.

  We stepped into the audience hall. It was empty.

  “Wait here,” Senebi ordered. He continued on into the living quarters, no doubt to report to Ma–ee. The guards stationed themselves beside the two entrances.

  Amenia bent over, pretended to pull something from the hem of her dress. The guards watched disinterestedly. She stood, pressed the falcon talisman into my hand without looking at me. I quickly secreted it inside my girdle.

  “Keep it safe,” she whispered. “If my daughters live, give it to one of them. If not – bury it with me.”

  Tears spilled down my cheeks. I wiped them away with my fingertips. “I promise, Amenia.”

  Senebi and Ma–ee appeared in the hall. Ma–ee took his seat atop the dais. He looked down at me. “Leave.”

  I gave Amenia’s hand a last squeeze, patted each of her girls on the head, then proceeded into the living quarters. Once through, two guards blocked the opening to the audience hall behind me. I continued down the long corridor to my room, lay down on my pallet, and cried until I could cry no more.

  ***

  Nykara

  ***

  The fifth inundation festival of Ma–ee’s reign came four months after the confrontation at Yuny’s farm. The valley’s farmers were still in an uproar over the raids. The ill–will and anger Ma–ee engendered had been for naught. What Senebi’s men acquired had barely made a dent in the inventory of Ma–ee’s foodstuffs. But the threat of starvation and chaos in the coming year for everyone in the valley he’d stolen from was now very real.

  A week ago Ma–ee had announced that after three consecutive poor floods he’d spare no expense to ensure this year’s would be excellent. He’d promised to slay every single animal in his domestic herd and his entire menagerie of exotic wild animals – including his two lions – to propitiate the god of the inundation and rid Nekhen and the surrounding valley of the chaos that had descended upon it. If Ma–ee was prepared to kill his lions he must be desperate and truly afraid of everyone who was speaking against his failures as our ruler.

  Yesterday dozens of boats from up and down the river had tied up amidst those of my fleet in my boatyard, more than I recalled ever seeing before. Now, at dawn, I was lined up with the rest of the elite men and their standard bearers to the right of the entrance to the oval court. Ordinary Nekhenians were filing by us to fill it, each carrying an appropriate offering. A lion roared. I turned with everyone else. Ma–ee was approaching, following the keepers who were holding his doomed pets’ leashes. He was carrying his crook and flail. The lioness’ tail was affixed at the back of his belt and plumes were bound to his brow. He was flanked as usual by Senebi and his armed guards. Abar was immediately behind him, then Tentopet. Shery and Shepseska were each grasping one of her hands. They were dressed in imitation of their father. Abar was still the most beautiful woman in Nekhen and bystanders stared at her and called her name. They despised Ma–ee but they loved her. Abar’s half–sisters walked directly behind her along with their men, sons of elite families. Except for Hunur, who walked alone. Her man, Senebi, was a few steps ahead, overseeing Ma–ee’s omnipresent guards.

  Ma–ee and his entourage reached the court’s entrance and stepped into the shade of the portico to wait for the standard bearers to precede them into the ritual area. Just then Shery broke loose from Tentopet and dashed towards we elites. Tentopet followed, calling out for him to stop. He ignored her. She stumbled just as she was passing me. I caught her, kept her from falling, righted her. She pressed an object into my hand, whispered “Ma–ee’s going to take away what used to be most important to you,” then straightened and continued after Shery. She caught him and herded him back towards the procession.

  “Did I do it right?” Shery asked as he passed me.

  “You did. Exactly right.”

  The mad dash had been staged for my benefit? I surreptitiously inspected the object Tentopet had given me. Amenia’s talisman? I’d never seen her without it around her neck since the day her great–grandmother had given it to her. Why had she discarded it? Why did Tentopet have it? Why had she given it to me so mysteriously? What was going on? My mind began racing with questions that had no obvious answers. I secured the talisman inside my waistband. I certainly wasn’t about to put such a sacred object around my neck or let anyone see I had it.

  Ma–ee and Abar passed through the entrance into the oval court. Ma–ee’s going to take away what used to be most important to you, I repeated over and over. Bakist was most important to me now. Tentopet surely knew that. So her warning had to be referring to my life before I’d joined with Bakist. The fleet! Of course! Now I knew what was about to happen, and why. Ma–ee was going to take advantage of this public setting to take the fleet away from me again. Senebi’s guard must have talked after the raid on Yuny’s farm. Ma–ee must have found out I’d helped Amenia during the raid. Ma–ee had warned me beforehand, in front of Abar and Senebi and the elites, what would happen if I didn’t follow his orders in those raids exactly. I hadn’t. I’d helped Amenia knowing it might cost me the fleet, and now it was clear it was going to. Ma–ee had waited this long to act simply so he could use me as
an example for the elites and gloat in front of everyone in the valley over my fall. The promises Ma–ee had made me at the time of Aboo’s death had been empty and meaningless. He was weak, and fearful. I’d repaired the damage he and Senebi had done to the fleet and it had run as smoothly the last four years as it had when Dedi was in charge. But Ma–ee was apparently willing to risk it falling apart once more and bringing even more chaos to the valley at a time when many already blamed him for their poor crops and lack of food, simply to have his revenge on me for what he considered a lifetime of slights. Well, let him have his victory. I’d already resigned myself to my fate. Bakist and I had been making preparations to steal away from Nekhen and emigrate to Maadi for months. This would give us the impetus to act. As far as the talisman, I assumed Senebi must have gone to Yuny’s farm and taken it from Amenia to punish her for her part in my transgression. Somehow Abar must have gotten it away from him and given it to Tentopet to give to me. No doubt she was counting on me to return it to Amenia.

  I walked into the oval court along with the elites from Nekhen and the surrounding hamlets for what I now expected was the last time. Tomorrow evening I’ll be miles downriver from Nekhen. Bakist and Heth and I and my best men and their families will be on our way to the estate I’m going to establish in the delta. It’ll be a fresh start for all of us, away from Ma–ee’s lunacy. Maybe Abar and her boys will come with us. Maybe Amenia and her girls. I’ve got many people to speak to and a lot to arrange tonight. I need to steal away from Nekhen before Ma–ee guesses my intention and seizes my boats. Deep in thought, I took my place to one side of Ma–ee’s dais and sat on my leather chair. Heth accompanied Bakist into the court and assisted her to a place among the elite women not far away, facing me. One of the boatmen’s girls stationed herself behind Bakist, holding a sunshade to keep her as cool as possible. I made a quick calculation. Assuming we left Nekhen tomorrow, Bakist would give birth a week or so after we arrived in Maadi. The timing was horrible, but what could I do?