He knelt, touched his brother’s leg, then promptly turned and vomited.
Paser pushed his younger brother aside, knelt, pressed Hunefer’s wound together with his hands.
Aya began sewing the gash in Hunefer’s leg with neat tight stitches.
“Pimay, Wetka – start butchering the bull,” Kakhent ordered. His son might be dying, but meat could not be wasted. “I’ll start a fire – we’ll smoke the meat to preserve it, then fill the baskets Aya made.” He glanced down at Hunefer. “We’d have three times the meat if he’d obeyed me.”
Aya supposed Kakhent held her responsible for that too.
“What about the rest of the herd?” Wetka asked.
“Too far away now, and there aren’t enough of us to hunt them down.”
“There’s another jar in my pouch,” Aya told Kakhent as she continued to sew. Her fingers were red and slippery with blood now. “Take it. Collect some of the bull’s blood for Hunefer to drink later. He’ll need to replace what he’s lost. Let the beast save Hunefer instead of killing him.”
The men departed.
It took most of the day for Aya to completely sew the wound. When she was done she used the last water in her pouch to wash the fresh and already dried blood from Hunefer’s leg. Paser then took the pouch and went to refill it for her at the small pool near their hunting camp. Aya removed a container full of honey from her pouch and liberally smeared it over the stitches. She wasn’t sure why, but honey always aided in healing. Then she took a length of linen from her pouch and wrapped it around Hunefer’s leg. There was barely enough to cover the entire wound. Aya had to tear several strips from the bottom of her loincloth and use them to secure the bandage in place. By the time she finished it was late in the afternoon.
Meanwhile, Paser had started a fire half a dozen yards away from where Hunefer lay, still senseless, then made several trips moving the contents of their original camp to this new one. A little before dark Kakhent appeared carrying a chunk of meat newly cut from the bull, and the container of blood. He handed the meat to Paser. Paser put it on a spit and began to roast it.
Kakhent set the container of blood down next to Aya. “This wouldn’t have happened if Hunefer hadn’t been trying to impress you,” he said angrily. The hours spent butchering the aurochs under the hot sun had not improved his mood.
Aya had had enough. She’d never done anything as complicated as sew a man’s leg together. She was terrified that Hunefer was going to die. She hadn’t even begun to attend to the lump on his head yet, which was now a deep purple and black. She was physically and emotionally exhausted from hours of rendering aid, drenched with sweat, starving, her entire body splattered with Hunefer’s blood. “I didn’t ask him to!” she cried, tears springing to her eyes. “It’s not my fault he wants me!”
“Beautiful girls like you are dangerous. They need to be under a man’s control,” Kakhent snapped. “Bek needs to join you to someone, and fast. Until then – I don’t want you to have anything to do with any of my sons. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Aya said. She dared not point out how illogical Kakhent’s order was – the only boys available for Bek to join her to in their band were Hunefer and Pimay. And she didn’t want to belong to either of them.
Everyone ate a hasty meal. Aya chewed a few bites of meat, then gave up. She had no appetite. She felt awful about what had happened and, now that she had a moment to reflect, was scared that she hadn’t done enough to save Hunefer. Had she used the right combination of herbs? Would his bleeding stop? Would the stitches hold? Would the water touched by the talisman keep at bay evil spirits in the night? One by one the men returned to the wadi to continue butchering the bull by firelight, placing chunks of meat on an improvised rack to smoke them. Someone remained on guard at all times; Kakhent half–expected a lion or other predator would enter the wadi to contest their kill. As for Aya, she made her way to the pool near the original camp, washed Hunefer’s dried blood from her hands and arms and belly and thighs, then sat and hugged her legs to her chest and lay her head on her knees and sobbed, overwhelmed by everything she’d experienced this day.
Eventually, Aya returned to the wadi and resumed her seat beside Hunefer. He was burning with fever now and she mopped his brow with cool water, over and over, the entire night. By morning he was raving and she despaired for his life. She did her best to ignore Kakhent’s angry stares as he watched her soak off the bloody bandage and wash the wound again and then slather it with more honey. After, she left the wound unbandaged, for blood was no longer welling from between the stitches. Paser and Pimay erected a low sunscreen over Hunefer, made of bundles of long grasses laid across a wooden frame; it was much cooler for him in that patch of shade. At midday Aya brewed more herbs into a broth, then, desperate, removed the talisman once more and poured some of the bull’s blood over it into the broth. She let the mixture cool, then lifted Hunefer’s head slightly and poured it into his mouth. He spluttered, but swallowed most of it, the rest trickling down his chin.
His fever broke in the middle of the night on the third day. By then Paser had carried some of the smoked meat back to the ridge camp and returned with Hannu and Siese and Bintanath and another pouch full of Aya’s medical supplies to replenish what she’d exhausted. Hannu and Pimay and Siese had since carried the rest of the meat back to camp. Bintanath had relieved Aya for a few hours at a time, allowing her to get a bit of sleep. Kakhent and Paser and Wetka had remained at the camp and passed the time chipping at cobbles they’d found at the base of a nearby limestone outcrop, making choppers and cutters and other tools. The ground along one side of the camp was now littered with stone chips.
When Hunefer opened his eyes for the first time only Aya was awake. Firelight flickered from the nearby fire, turning his pale face to gold. Hope stirred in Aya’s heart. “Don’t try to speak,” she cautioned. “You’ve been out for days.” Then, after stealing a glance at Kakhent’s sleeping form, Aya impulsively bent and softly kissed Hunefer on the lips.
“I told you,” he whispered triumphantly, then fell back asleep.
The following day the men carried Hunefer back to the lake on an improvised litter, setting out before dawn, resting in the shade of an acacia grove in the heat of the day, continuing on in late afternoon. It took several weeks for Hunefer to be up and about, a couple more for him to regain the full use of his leg. Aya nursed him the whole time.
The first night back, as Hunefer slept, Aya told Bek everything that had happened, sitting with him at Hunefer’s side. Bek lifted the talisman from her chest with his fingers. “Doubt no longer, Aya, that this talisman is magic, blessed by the falcon god, and that his magic flows through you. That Hunefer lives is proof of that.”
***
“It’s because the rains never fell this year,” Hannu fumed. He paced back and forth in front of Bek, who was seated on a low leather stool in front of his hut. Kakhent sat near his brother, listening intently to his nephew’s report. Aya stood in the shadows, as usual in the evening, ready to keep the two elders’ cups filled with beer or fetch any delicacy they requested. Almost everyone else in camp had already sought their beds. “The grasses on the savannah never greened. So we have to graze the animals close to the lake or on the fringes of the three basins.”
Hannu had been put in charge of the herds by Bek after the band’s arrival at the lake, taking the departed Bebi’s place. It was a task Aya knew her father despised. In fact, her younger brother Iuput made most of the decisions concerning the animals these days. Iuput hardly checked with his disinterested father any more before moving the animals between pastures, or milking them, or deciding which to blood. Iuput, of course, didn’t have the stature to speak to Bek and Kakhent, so his report was being conveyed by a reluctant Hannu.
“But we can only graze them in certain areas because we need to preserve all the wild grain we can in case the emmer we planted fails or is inadequate,” Hannu continued.
“Which hardly
seems likely,” Kakhent interrupted. “The emmer and barley are growing tall in three separate fields, from what I can tell.”
“Yet prudence is called for,” Bek cautioned. “We’re still finding our way in this land, Brother. We don’t know for sure the cycle of the seasons. What if some pestilence we don’t know of strikes our crop before we can harvest? What if there’s an insect infestation?”
“Speaking of our grain, we’re having a hard time keeping our cattle away from it,” Hannu complained. “Believe me, they’d destroy an entire field in a single night.”
“That’s obvious. What point are you trying to make?” Kakhent asked.
Hannu colored. Aya knew that neither Hannu nor Kakhent loved or respected the other. “Just this, Uncle. Because of the restrictions I’ve mentioned we have no choice but to graze our animals along the lakeshore. Those shores are alive with predators. We lost another calf yesterday. A crocodile got it when we were watering the herd. And its not the first. Crocs are everywhere.”
Aya knew the loss of even one calf was significant, given the small size of the band’s herds.
“And, because the savannah is so dry, the predators that would normally be ranging it have drawn close to the lake to feed instead. We haven’t lost any animals to them yet, but we’ve had close calls during the night three times this past week alone. It’s just a matter of time until a lion or two slips through our defenses. We don’t have enough boys to watch the animals every minute of the day and night. None of them are a match for a lion anyway, or even a lesser beast.”
“What’s your suggestion?” Bek asked.
“Suggestion?”
“For dealing with the problem,” Bek said impatiently.
“I don’t have a suggestion, Father,” Hannu replied. “I’m just letting you know what we herdsmen are facing.”
Aya was embarrassed for her father. She faced issues at least as bad, or worse, on a daily basis when planning where and when the band’s women should forage. Yet she’d never once dumped her problems in the patriarch’s lap. She’d simply taken care of them. Well, since her father wasn’t going to be helpful, she might as well be.
“Grandfather, we could take the animals to the river valley for a few months,” Aya said boldly. She’d learned long ago that being timid around Bek and Kakhent was a sure recipe for being ignored. “The grasses will be tall and lush on the plains along the riverbank, and water will certainly not be an issue. We could drive our animals there in less than a week – first east, then south along the lakeshore, across the ridge that divides the lake from the river. There’s a well–worn trail from lake to valley made by animals that move between them regularly.”
“An interesting idea,” Bek mused.
“Many of the patches we’ve been foraging on the savannah are nearly tapped out,” Aya continued. “Because of the lack of rain, much of the plant growth was stunted this year, and the quantity poor. That won’t be a problem in the valley. Those who go with the animals will have plenty to eat.”
“What about our emmer and barley?” Bek asked. “We can’t simply abandon our grain. Our crops need to be cared for, protected from predators. It would only take a hippo or two a single night to wipe out a field. They’re voracious.”
“Split the band,” Aya said boldly. “Leave hunters here to guard the crops and a few women to see to the camp. Keep the children here as well so they won’t have to travel. You too, Grandfather, and Grandmother. Send everyone else to the river. I know the way. I can get us there and back safely.”
Hannu shot her a look that clearly said keep your mouth shut!
“What do you think, Brother?” Bek asked Kakhent.
“Given our situation, our lack of knowledge about this country, it seems a reasonable plan,” Kakhent replied. He stared at Hannu. “It’s better than throwing our hands up and doing nothing.”
Aya saw Hannu look daggers at her. Blame yourself, she thought.
“Hannu, have the animals ready to move the day after tomorrow,” Bek said.
Hannu nodded, gave Aya one last angry look, then turned and left.
“I should go to the valley with the herds, Brother,” Kakhent said. “I don’t trust Hannu to handle problems if any arise. Besides, one of us should see this river first–hand – who knows what role it might play in our future.”
“Agreed,” Bek said. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “While you’re there, keep your eyes open for signs of other bands.” He sighed deeply. “Hannu’s report highlights what we both know – there simply aren’t enough of us to watch over the fields and herds, and hunt and forage for food at the same time anymore, not since our band split. Even a simple illness, if it spreads, could decimate what’s left of us. And when our band is divided even further, as it will be these next months, we’ll be even more at risk.” He shook his head. “What I wouldn’t give to have Bebi and Amenemope and their families back with us! We need children, Kakhent – many more children – if our people are to thrive in this lake country.”
“You must realize the odds of stumbling on a band with women of an age to join with my sons Pimay and Hunefer in the vastness of this country are extremely small,” Kakhent said.
“Of course. We’ve only encountered suitable bands three times that I know of,” Bek replied. “The first was almost fifty years ago – that’s when Sitre became Didia’s woman, and half a dozen more of her people joined us. The second was more than thirty years ago – that’s how I found my woman, Nubwenet. And the third time we found Menhet, Aya’s mother – how old are you now, child?”
“Twelve,” Aya replied.
“Thirteen years ago, then,” Bek said.
“We will find more bands,” Aya interjected, with assurance. “I’ve seen them living at the lake in the dream given me by the falcon god. It’s a matter of when, not if.”
“So you say,” Kakhent scoffed. “What proof do we have that you even had such a dream? How do we know you’re not making it up, to make yourself seem more important than you really are?”
Aya was incensed. “I’d never do such a thing!”
Kakhent addressed Bek. “If I should happen to discover another band, what about Aya and Tabiry? That band’s patriarch will surely demand them in exchange if they give up women to us.”
Aya knew Kakhent still blamed her for Hunefer’s injury. He hadn’t let her forget it for an instant. He appeared to be jumping at a chance to be rid of her. What Kakhent was proposing – giving her to another band, sending her away – threatened the life she believed she was destined to live here at Ta–she, one shown her by the falcon god. She hated that these two old men were so casually arranging her future. She obviously meant no more to them than a cow or sheep or goat – she was property to be used as they saw fit to benefit themselves. She wished she had a say in her own life, but what woman ever did?
Aya almost wished that Hunefer was involved in the discussion. He’d argue strenuously that she shouldn’t be given away. He still wanted her in the worst way. Hunefer had pursued her even more aggressively since recovering from his accident. She’d come to regret kissing him the night he’d awakened from his fever. He’d taken her innocent kiss, a spontaneous display of relief that he was going to live, as a sign that she cared for him after all, that his attempt to impress her had worked. He refused to believe that she hadn’t fallen in love with him in the weeks she’d nursed him. He chalked her reluctance to embrace his love as fear of Kakhent, after how he’d threatened Aya and warned her to stay away from both of his sons. More than once she’d invoked that very reason when he’d become too aggressive with her. It was the only thing that ever stopped him in his tracks, for he too feared his father.
“Give them Tabiry. But not Aya,” Bek replied.
Aya was as surprised as Kakhent.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Aya’s our healer, and the falcon god’s chosen one. When I die, she’s the one this band is going to rely on to oversee farming, too.”
“But I…” Kakhent spluttered.
“You take no interest in selecting seed to plant, and caring for the crop, and seeing it harvested, Brother. You’re a hunter – you always will be. That’s why Aya must remain with us. Healer, god’s instrument, farmer – filling those roles are Aya’s true value to our band, not as a bargaining chip. I won’t give her away to another.”
“Probably doesn’t matter,” Kakhent said resignedly. “We have to assume I won’t encounter another band anyway. So how do we solve the problem of numbers? Join some combination of Pimay and Hunefer and Tabiry and Aya when I return from the river? They’re the only four old enough. And joining cousin to cousin is what we’ve always done in the decades we didn’t encounter another band. Paser and Siese and Wetka are joined to Bebi and Amenemope’s daughters, after all. And, actually, Tabiry is from another band. Only Aya is related to my sons.”
“We’ll wait for a year or two before taking that step,” Bek decided. “If we don’t find another band this year, maybe we will next year.”
“You plan to move the herds to the river valley regularly?”
Bek shrugged. “Maybe. Not necessarily. We’re close enough to the valley that we could send a few men several times a year simply to try to locate another band.”
“Even with an exchange of women, it’ll take generations for our band to multiply significantly – and that’s if nothing goes wrong,” Kakhent said. “Our people will be living on the edge, as you say, long after we’re both dead.”
“Unless we invite any bands we encounter to come live with us at Ta–she,” Aya interjected. Her grandfather had just said he considered her the falcon god’s chosen one – she might as well embrace that role instead of sitting silently by as her people’s future was decided. “That’s what I saw in the dream the falcon god sent me, after all.”
Kakhent’s brow furrowed. He obviously didn’t want her input and didn’t believe her dream.
Daughter of the Falcon God Page 6
