Even after we landed that first night almost everyone moved about the boat in a daze, practically paralyzed by fear and uncertainty. The shock of their ordeal was not close to wearing off. I was dead tired; keeping the boat on course in the flood had been exhausting. Luckily, Heth and Ibi and his sister Aat – at nineteen, she seemed to have quickly recovered from the episode in the oval court and the hut afterwards – were able to collect enough wood to build a small fire on the riverbank well above the waterline. Amenia’s girls carried baskets of food from the boat, and Nebet fixed something for everyone to eat, and then made sure they did. Afterwards, Nebet and Aat cleaned up, then rejoined the women and children who had already returned to the boat to sleep. Amenia and Bakist and Heth remained on shore with me, along with Hemaka and Nekauba and Yuny. We gathered in a circle around the fire.
“Time to make plans,” I said. I got on my knees, smoothed the dirt, traced a map of the river valley with a twig. I placed my finger at the southernmost point. “Here’s Nekhen. We’ve drifted roughly to here so far.” I pointed. “If we continue at our current speed we’ll reach Inerty around sunset a couple of days from now. We’ll drift past after dark.”
“You said we weren’t going to travel at night anymore,” Hemaka accused.
“Not the whole night. An hour or so. Then we’ll tie up downstream. Inerty lies atop two large hills. From those heights we’d be easily spotted in daylight. I’ve traded at Inerty for years. My boat would be recognized. If we pass in the dark no one will see us and won’t be able to report our progress to Ma–ee. The longer he remains in doubt about how far ahead of him we are the better.”
“You’re sure he’ll assume we’ve gone north?” Yuny asked.
“Ma–ee’s a boatman, though a very bad one. Senebi too. It’ll be obvious to them. No boat can make much headway against the inundation in the direction of Abu. And Ma–ee knows we have no experienced oarsmen aboard. He’ll head north.” I turned back to the map. “The river swings almost directly east not far past Inerty. Eventually it swings west, then directly north once again past Hiw. Here, and here, in the great paw of land between Inerty and Hiw, are hamlets. The valley’s fairly wide, with high hills to the west.” I pointed to the apex of the paw. “This is Nubt.” I drew a line from Nubt due east. “A wide barren wadi runs across the desert all the way to the Eastern Sea. Caravans use it to carry trade goods both directions, particularly gold.” I drew a line across the desert between the southern and northern ends of the great paw. “This caravan track links Nubt to Tjeni and continues on to the oases in the western desert.” I pointed to the northwest end of the paw. “This is Hiw. I’ve traded there too. It’s loosely aligned with Tjeni, though much smaller, and ruled by elites, though only a few. Its people venerate beetles. From Hiw the river runs mostly northerly all the way to the delta. Tjeni is about two days past Hiw, half a day north of its satellite Abdju. It’s the last of the valley’s three large settlements. There are no other and very few hamlets the rest of the way to Maadi at the foot of the delta, except in the Badari region.”
“How are we going to replenish the supplies Hemaka and Nekauba ruined?” Bakist asked practically, glancing at the two men in turn.
“We’ll tie up near Tjeni. I’ll go into the settlement after dark and arrange what we need. I have friends there who won’t give us away.”
“Dagi and his assistants,” Bakist said knowingly.
“Why not Nubt?” Hemaka pressed.
“We’ll pass it at night too,” I replied. “I want my trader Pabasa and his men and everyone else in Nubt to be able to truthfully tell Ma–ee they didn’t see us – if he makes it that far north.”
“If?” Hemaka asked.
“To catch us Ma–ee’s going to have to rely on boatmen who are loyal to me,” I replied. “They’ll drag their feet repairing a boat and they’ll use the inundation as an excuse to follow us exercising due caution – meaning slowly. Ma–ee will storm about and threaten and curse and drive them on for a few days, maybe even a week, blinded by fury. But at some point he’ll realize he’s already gotten everything he wants. He’s taken everything I have in the world, so he’s gotten his revenge on me. He’s eliminated you as a rival, Hemaka, destroyed the conspiracy you led against him, created a new group of elites completely beholden to him. And he’s rid Nekhen of Amenia, the falcon god’s priestess, so he can exercise the powers of a god himself. Once he realizes what he’s won he’ll turn around and go home.”
“How do you know Ma–ee didn’t stay in Nekhen and send Senebi after us?” Hemaka probed. “Senebi always does his dirty work for him.”
“Your escape surely threw Nekhen into chaos,” I answered. “Ma–ee failed to prevent it. I guarantee you he’s deathly afraid the elites will use that chaos as an excuse to rise up against him. He’ll fear they’ll perceive him as weak and vulnerable. As bloodthirsty as he is, he doesn’t have the courage to face a mob and put down a large–scale rebellion himself. But Senebi does. I guarantee you Ma–ee left Senebi behind to deal with the elites and is leading the chase personally. At this moment he’s fixated on what he’s going to do to us when he catches us. But he’ll tire eventually and return to Nekhen and proclaim victory.”
“You’re wrong, Nykara. He’ll pursue us all the way to the Wadjet Wer,” Nekauba charged. He pointed at Hemaka. “He sentenced you to death. He’s going to make you pay for conspiring against him.”
“Which he wouldn’t have known about if you hadn’t betrayed me!” Hemaka rejoined.
“Because you gave my inheritance to Teti!”
“Shut up! Both of you!” Bakist commanded, rising to her feet and staring down at them. Her eyes flashed. “You’re both despicable grave robbers! Hemaka, you conspired against our ruler and got caught. You deserve to die. Nekauba acted in character when he turned against you. You shouldn’t have included him in your hapless bumbling conspiracy if you expected your plot to stay secret. And you, Nekauba – no one’s ever going to trust you again.” She pointed her finger. “You were obsessed with power, Hemaka. You were obsessed with Amenia, Nekauba. Those obsessions stop now, do you hear me?”
Hemaka muttered something unintelligible.
“Particularly yours, Nekauba,” Bakist continued. “Bother Amenia even once the rest of this journey and I’ll break another oar across your back. Or better still, I’ll tie you to a tree on the riverbank for Ma–ee to find. Or a crocodile. I don’t care which.”
Amenia gave my woman an admiring glance.
“What kind of man lets his woman speak for him?” Hemaka asked me scathingly.
“A very happy man,” I said, smiling at Bakist.
She gave me a knowing smile in return.
“If you really think Ma–ee’s going to give up chasing us, why shouldn’t we settle at Nubt or Tjeni?” Hemaka asked insistently, pointing to the rough map. “Why should we go any farther north?”
“Settle at Nubt or Tjeni if you want. Get off my boat here. Frankly, I don’t care,” I said. I’d had enough of his whining, and everyone else’s. “The only reason I dug you, and Nekauba and Yuny for that matter, out of your prison was because I didn’t want your women and children to pay for your crimes. I’d just as soon have left you three men behind for Ma–ee to deal with. I only rescued you because Bakist asked me to. After how you’ve treated me, and Amenia, and your own families for years you’re getting much better than you deserve. So leave my boat wherever and whenever you want. I won’t stop you. None of us will miss you.” I glanced around the circle. “As for Bakist and me, we’re continuing north. We’re going to found a Southern colony in the delta a day’s journey north of Maadi – one that will someday link up with Nekhen and unify this entire valley.”
“Maadi’s enterprises are at capacity because the nearby farms won’t support any more workers,” Bakist explained. “Nykara and I have picked out a spot for our own farm in the delta. We’re going to supply foodstuffs for my father in Maadi, so he can expand his operation.
We’re going to plant emmer and barley and other crops, set up a smithy and pottery works and brewery and everything else we need to be self–sufficient. Nykara’s going to operate a fleet, of course, for transport and trade.”
“Both in the delta and along the seacoast,” I added.
“You and Heth and Bakist are going to run a farm?” Yuny scoffed. “The three of you?”
“Boatloads of farmers are being turned away from Maadi every week,” Bakist said evenly. “It’ll take us less than a day to obtain an experienced and willing workforce.” She addressed Amenia. “My father will set up a pottery works for you in Maadi, if you’d like. Your black–topped pottery is prized throughout the North. You and your girls will be taken care of.”
“We appreciate that,” Hemaka interjected. He turned to Amenia. “I’ll operate the pottery works, just like at Nekhen. I’ll look out for your interests.”
Amenia stiffened.
“You’ll have nothing to do with it, Hemaka!” Bakist exclaimed, furious. “Amenia’s life is her own now. You gave her away to Sanakht. You can’t have her back. You have no say over her anymore. You never had any right to her. She can do whatever she wants with her life – not what I want her to do, nor you, nor any other man.” She glanced meaningfully at Nekauba. “Don’t you ever forget – she’s the falcon god’s priestess, no matter where she is in the valley. Ma–ee didn’t have the authority to strip her of that title. She’s everything and you’re nothing. Amenia, ignore this shameless opportunist.”
Amenia gazed at her uncle. “I will.”
“That goes for you, too, Nekauba,” Bakist added.
Hemaka jumped up angrily and stalked towards the boat in a huff. Nekauba followed after, though gingerly. His back was stiff and deeply bruised where Bakist had struck him with the oar.
I sat beside the fire long after everyone else returned to the boat and watched it die to embers, pondering a future greatly changed from the one I’d always envisioned. I’d devoted my life to pursuing Dedi’s quest to make the rest of the valley beholden to Nekhen. I’d always expected to do it from my home in the South, assisting Abar. We’d taken the first step together on the path Dedi had pointed out. The trading posts we’d set up in Nubt and Tjeni were well–established now, positioned to transform those settlements from within to eventually be like Nekhen. Whether or not Nekhen took advantage of that foothold was now in Abar’s hands. If she outlived Ma–ee and convinced Shery and his sons to embrace her vision for the valley and pursue it all would be well. If not… At any rate, that part of Dedi’s quest was now behind me. I’d play no part in it any longer. Ahead of me was a new quest, to establish a Southern colony in the North from which to transform the delta’s culture to be like Nekhen’s. Then, someday, if all went as it should, South and North would meet in the middle and join together and unite the entire valley. It was entirely possible my leaving Nekhen and moving to the delta might actually hasten unity. I surely wouldn’t live long enough to find out. But I could take the first steps on that new path. How far that path would lead, and to where, would be up to Bakist’s and my children, and their children, and theirs.
Dead tired, I rose and headed towards the river. I was a dozen paces from the bank when Nekauba stepped into my path. He’d been waiting for me.
“You murdered my father,” Nekauba hissed.
“Your father was a thief.” I eyed him. “Just like you.”
He bristled at that. “Go ahead. Spew your venom. As soon as we reach Maadi… or maybe before… well, I wouldn’t sleep too easily if I were you.”
“So… this is a warning?”
“You’d better believe it,” he said arrogantly.
Before he knew it I was behind him, his throat clamped tight in the crook of my right elbow. He grabbed my forearm with both hands, gasped for air, thrashed about fruitlessly trying to free himself.
“No more threats, Nekauba,” I snarled. “I’ve tolerated them all these years for Amenia’s sake. I won’t anymore.”
I released him, shoved him. He fell, spun around, crouched facing me.
“So… you still want Amenia,” he spat. “You’ll never have her. I will.”
I laughed at him. “I already have a most excellent woman. So do you. And from what I’ve observed Kapes isn’t pleased with your obsession for her cousin. If I were you I wouldn’t sleep too easily at night either.”
“She wouldn’t dare try anything. And if I want a second woman I’ll take one.”
“It won’t be Amenia.”
“Don’t be so sure. A woman alone in Maadi, with two helpless children? Who’ll want her but me?” He chortled. “She’ll beg me to join with her.”
“If you say so,” I said wearily. It was pointless to argue with him.
“You’ll never have her,” he said sharply. “Steer clear of me – and her – if you know what’s good for you.” Nekauba rose and stomped off.
I returned to the boat and lay down and nestled against Bakist atop a reed mat unrolled in the stern. She murmured in her sleep, awoke, turned on her side, draped an arm over me.
“Where were you?” she asked.
“I had it out with Nekauba. His usual bluster.”
She stroked my cheek tenderly. “To tell you the truth, I can’t wait to unload him and Hemaka and Yuny at Maadi and move on and establish our estate.”
“We’ll have to start small,” I said. “It’ll be hard work. Heth will join us. Maybe Ibi and his woman – he’s nothing like his father Yuny, and he’s an experienced farmer.”
“Aat too,” Bakist said. “Haven’t you noticed the shipboard romance that’s developing between her and Heth? Whenever he goes to the bow to watch for sandbars she’s at his side. Whenever he isn’t in the bow she’s with him too.”
“I haven’t noticed,” I admitted. “I’ve been busy with other things.” I leaned over and kissed Bakist. “And now, back to sleep, My Love. You need your rest.”
I awakened several hours later, startled by the sound of splashing in the river. The moon had gone down and the stars were fading and the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. Had I misjudged Ma–ee? Had he and his men caught up to us already? Was I hearing their oars in the distance? I raised my head and scanned the deck. The passengers were all asleep, dark shapes lying close together amidst our supplies. I felt for my knife and got on all fours and held my breath and carefully peered over the stern. I relaxed. Amenia was bathing in the shallows close by, washing dried blood from her skin. I saw a white shape draped over a fallen tree trunk; it had to be her skirt. I lay back down, set aside my knife, closed my eyes and got a few more precious minutes of sleep.
***
We were underway half an hour after sunup. Before we departed Bakist enlisted Aat and Nebet and the three of them cut armloads of fresh rushes and gathered dozens of long thin acacia branches and tossed them aboard. They spent the next few hours assembling sunscreens as we drifted north, affixing rushes thickly to rectangular frames made from the branches. As each sunscreen was completed they set it across the gap between containers of supplies so the women and children could crawl into those narrow spaces to avoid the harsh sun. By midday, from my position in the stern the boat’s deck looked like one large undulating reed mat. Hemaka decided the shaded pavilion amidships belonged to him and he seated himself there. He didn’t lift a finger to help anyone at any time.
Beginning that day we settled into a routine. We took to the water at sunrise, camped at sunset, occasionally stopped for an hour or two to fish or hunt to supplement our meager supply of food. We were hungry far too much of the time. Bakist made sure the children didn’t suffer, but she allocated only limited portions of the grain and vegetables and fruit we’d brought with us to the adults. I made her consume much of mine so she could keep up her strength; my stomach growled most of the time. There simply hadn’t been time to properly provision the boat for such a long voyage in our haste to escape Nekhen. The inundation made everything we did difficult –
navigating, locating dry wood for our nightly campfire, hunting, finding a decent spot to land each evening. At no point did any of the men stop complaining or questioning my decisions, especially the one to continue on to Maadi, Heth excluded. He couldn’t wait to see his old home again. Only Bakist made the trip bearable for me. When she wasn’t keeping the women and children occupied to take their minds off what was happening she sat with me, helping me navigate the river, reminiscing about past trade expeditions, making plans for our estate, sometimes just holding my hand. The highlight of my day was stretching out beside her at night and holding her in my arms until we both fell asleep. Sometimes I forced myself to stay awake just so I could watch her. She looked so beautiful and serene in the moonlight. I couldn’t remember any more why I’d thought I might never fall in love with her.
On the fourth day of the trip Keminub, Amenia’s eight year–old daughter, joined Bakist and me in the stern. Keminub seemed inordinately interested in Bakist’s belly. Occasionally I caught Amenia watching her; she didn’t seem to mind her daughter was near me so I didn’t send Keminub away. Keminub was as curious as her mother had always been about the world and she pestered me with questions about boats and my travels and what we were seeing as we drifted north. She also interrogated Bakist about Maadi and what life was like there. Keminub was a cheerful girl, and her non–stop chatter with Bakist and me made the hours pass quickly. Bakist assigned her to keep an eye on the river behind us, to watch for any sign our pursuers were drawing near, a task Keminub took very seriously. She often fanned Bakist during the hottest part of the day to keep her cool.
We stopped a bit early one evening and ate a hurried meal. The river had turned due east at midmorning and we’d been traveling that direction all day. As the sun disappeared behind the western horizon we re–embarked.
“We’ll reach Nubt in an hour,” I told Keminub. She was sitting between me and Bakist in the stern.
The Women and the Boatman Page 78
