“On behalf of my band, I thank you for your hospitality, and the preparations you have made,” Meru said. He indicated the men clustered behind him. “These are the heads of my band’s families – my brothers Bebi and Djau, and of course my half–brother Qen. And this is my son Menna.”
“He’s the one who saved me, Grandfather,” Ahaneith interjected.
“Saved you?” Meru asked.
“From a viper, Patriarch,” Ahaneith volunteered.
“He saved my granddaughter and my daughter,” Hannu offered.
So Hannu paid no attention to what Qen told him, Aya thought. Just because I’m a woman.
“Menna did not mention it,” Meru said.
Aya sincerely doubted that. Menna was not the type to downplay his exploits. She assumed Meru knew exactly what had happened on the plateau – or Menna’s version of it, anyway.
“Tell the tale,” Hannu urged.
Menna puffed out his chest. “A viper slithered out of the grass towards the women. I saw they were in deadly peril. So I shot it.”
“Menna’s too modest! It was coiled to strike!” Ahaneith exclaimed, addressing Meru. “It was right by my leg. Menna didn’t even have time to aim. He just let fly. Took it right in the head!”
“Its fortunate my father sent Menna ahead of us to the valley, then,” Meru said. “He’s the best marksman in my band, despite his youth – except for me, of course.”
So the father is as boastful as the son, Aya thought.
“I am deeply in your debt,” Hannu told Meru. “And yours,” he said to Menna.
The reason for Menna’s presence was suddenly clear to Aya. Meru had brought Menna to this feast to remind Hannu of what his son had done, to give himself a position of power in the upcoming negotiations. Well, she’d take care of that. In one swift motion Aya drew her knife and hurled it towards a cluster of palms at the edge of the river a dozen yards away. It thunked into a trunk, quivered. “His arrow was faster, is all,” Aya said defiantly. She crossed her arms, stared at Meru.
“Excuse my daughter,” Hannu said hurriedly. “She’s too spirited for her own good.”
“Ah! But what man wants a woman who isn’t in constant need of taming?” Meru asked, smiling knowingly, sweeping his eyes over Aya again.
She wished she’d thrown her knife at him.
“Indeed,” Hannu answered. He pointedly turned his back on Aya. “This is my cousin, Wetka. His brothers Pimay and Paser, and my own son Siese, who head my band’s families, are not with us in this camp tonight. And now, everyone, please, sit.” Hannu indicated stools with leather seats, lined up in an arc around one side of the fire. He and Meru took the seats in the center, Wetka to his right, the newcomers to Meru’s left. Hannu turned to Aya and Ahaneith. “You’ll serve us.”
Aya breathed a slight sigh of relief. Her unthinking outburst hadn’t caused her to be banished from her own fire. She definitely wanted to observe the strangers up close, to listen to the two men’s discussion, for whatever they talked about would directly impact the future of her daughter. She was surprised Hannu was letting Ahaneith stay – while Aya could be trusted to keep whatever was said tonight confidential, Ahaneith would tell anyone who’d listen everything. Her daughter had not yet learned to be circumspect. “As you command,” Aya said. “Come, Daughter.”
Aya and Ahaneith hurried to the cookfire. Pageti and Betrest were bustling about, watching over a number of bubbling pots resting on a bed of red and orange coals. The pots, the work of Aya’s and her daughters’ hands – making pottery was one of her favorite pastimes and she’d taught her girls to work with clay long ago – were bell–mouthed, stout, their bases flat so they could stand on their own. Aya noted that to one side were a couple of jars being used to malt a few measures of grain – Aya would use that grain to brew beer tomorrow. Pageti was glancing over her shoulder at the newcomers, clearly curious. Betrest, only five, was oblivious.
“Is everything ready?” Aya asked.
“Just about,” Pageti replied.
“There’s a boy waiting with the boat down by the river,” Aya told her. “Take him some food after we’ve fed the men. His name is Khay.”
Pageti nodded.
Aya picked up a large earthenware jar of beer. She lugged it to the group of men. Pageti followed bearing a leather pouch filled with small cups, rough yet elegant, pinched from balls of clay and fired. Each had four small feet to keep it from falling over. Aya had made them too. She and her daughter walked down the line of men, Pageti handing Aya a cup, Aya filling it and distributing each in turn. Aya couldn’t help but notice that Meru continuously followed her with his eyes. Hers met his twice and he didn’t look away, but stared boldly. After the second time she kept her gaze lowered. Meru made her very uncomfortable. Qen thanked her as he reached for his brimming vessel. She didn’t respond, though he alone of all the men expressed gratitude. Now that Meru was here, Qen was clearly a person of no importance and, noting how even the leading men of his own band were shunning him here before her fire, and how he’d lied to her and Hannu, she saw no reason to treat him with anything beyond mere civility.
“Qen told me you’ve been traveling from the eastern sea,” Hannu said to Meru.
Meru nodded. “For the last three months.”
“How was the journey?” Hannu asked.
“Very pleasant. Good hunting. A child born.”
“Ah! A band can never have enough children,” Hannu said.
“How true,” Meru replied.
“We have only a handful of very young,” Hannu told him. “Frankly, we’ve been seeking another band with which to exchange women for more than a dozen years. We need more children if our band is to thrive. Qen told me you too have been seeking a band for the same reason, without success.”
“That is true. We have many men and girls of an age.”
“As do we. Based on what Qen told me, the number of available partners in our two bands are nearly equal. Surely both of us have been guided here to this section of the river at the same time by the gods,” Hannu said.
Meru nodded. “To waste this opportunity would offend them.”
“Indeed.”
As Aya had expected, the two men had for all practical purposes just agreed that their bands were going to exchange women. Aya assumed that Meru believed the rest of her band was camped nearby. Based on what she’d observed so far, she knew he’d never trade five of his women for only one from her band. He seemed to want partners for all of his men and girls as much as she did for hers. That gave her a bit of comfort, for that made it almost certain that Meru would lead his band to the lake once her father broached the subject. Once there, faced with the lake country’s bounty, she couldn’t imagine he’d ever lead his band back to the river. She might lose Ahaneith to these barbarians, but at least she’d be close by. Unless… it was possible that Meru would agree tonight to exchange Ahaneith for a single woman from his band. After all, he himself needed a woman, based on what he’d told her. She wouldn’t put it past Hannu and Meru to put their individual needs above their people’s. In that case Aya would never see Ahaneith after tomorrow. So, it was imperative that Hannu persuade Meru to come to the lake, to put off any joinings at least until the inundation festival. But, even if Meru’s band came to the lake and the joinings were delayed, they would eventually take place. That was a problem. Aya had already developed an intense dislike for Menna and Qen and now Meru – assuming they were representative of the rest of their people, the lives of any of her women joined to the barbarians were not going to be pleasant no matter where they dwelt. Tears welled into her eyes and she roughly brushed them away. But whatever Ahaneith’s fate, Aya was just a woman, powerless to change it, though she vowed to try her best to do just that.
Ahaneith appeared, carefully carrying a clay cooking pot, shielding her hands from its heat with two lengths of animal skin. She set it down. Its outside was burnished and its inside covered with red slip. It was, Aya thought prou
dly, one of her best pieces. Aya used a small turtle shell to ladle bubbling–hot fish stew into hand–sized clay bowls that Pageti produced from the pouch. Aya had made most of the bowls too. Ahaneith began distributing them to the men, moving gracefully among them. Her light–brown skin glowed golden in the firelight, her dark eyes were mysterious in the shadows. She glanced fleetingly at each of the strangers. Aya was reminded of a bird darting from tree to tree to tree. She saw Ahaneith’s eyes meet Menna’s and hold there. Her daughter smiled, her teeth white between full lips. Menna smiled back. He managed to rest his fingers on Ahaneith’s when she gave him his bowl. She smiled again. Aya glanced at Qen and saw disgust on his face. Is he jealous of his nephew? Does he really think Ahaneith would be more interested in him than she is in Menna? Qen is at least twice her age. Why, if he thinks any girl in my band would be interested in him he’s out of his mind. No one is so desperate they’d want to join with a man so deformed. But who Ahaneith or Takhat or any girl back at the lake joined with, of course, wasn’t up to them. In the worst case, if the barbarians traveled west with them in a week, Kakhent would simply assign one of his band’s girls to Qen and that would be that. Although, since Meru seemed to dislike his half–brother, it was far more likely that he’d arrange for Qen to be excluded from any joinings.
Betrest brought an earthenware platter piled with chunks of roasted snake. Hannu insisted that Menna be given the first piece in honor of his “saving” Ahaneith, and she placed one on a small flat dish and carried it to him. He took a bite and proclaimed it excellent. As the rest were served Hannu insisted that Menna pull the arrow with the viper’s head from his quiver and show it to everyone.
Ahaneith began distributing bread piled high in a reed basket, the loaves thick and light. She handed Menna a piece.
“Why isn’t it flat?” Menna asked her.
“I was preparing my dough one day by the river when Mother called me away to help her. I was in such a hurry I left my mixture in the hot sun. When I returned it had risen. I baked it, to see what would happen. This was the result.”
Menna took a bite, smiled. “Quite a happy accident, I’d say.”
Ahaneith blushed.
When the last man had been served, Aya and Ahaneith filled bowls for themselves with fish stew. Menna invited Ahaneith to sit beside him.
“Yes. Stay,” Hannu commanded. “Both of you.”
Ahaneith complied, sitting cross–legged on the ground beside Menna’s stool. Aya noted that he let his knee fall against her daughter’s arm. Ahaneith didn’t move away. Aya knew Ahaneith could be a coquette when it suited her – and Ahaneith wasn’t about to miss this opportunity to let Menna know she was very interested in him. Aya shook her head in disgust. She sat on the ground to one side where she could observe everyone without herself being noticed, blew on her stew to cool it, tasted it. It was excellent, though heavily flavored with wood smoke and ash. Aya’s miu suddenly appeared and rubbed his head against her knee. She put a bit of fish on her palm and he quickly downed it, then sat in front of her and stared at her expectantly.
“The plains are green from the river almost to the base of the escarpment, from what little I could see as I descended into the valley,” Meru observed. “The last four years wild grass has grown on only a narrow strip beside the river at this spot.” He indicated Qen. “My father sent my half–brother ahead of us to determine the yield in our usual campsites, including this stretch of the river. Qen claims that being able to do so is his particular talent.” He addressed Qen. “Will the valley support us?”
Aya turned her attention to Qen along with everyone else. Unexpectedly, she recognized the same mix of panic and hopelessness in his eyes that she saw whenever she found an animal still alive in one of the snares she’d set, at the moment it realized it couldn’t escape her. It was almost as if he feared to answer his brother. Qen swallowed hard. His eyes swept the others seated around the fire. Aya saw that Meru’s men were anxious, waiting expectantly. And why not? Their band’s survival depended on the supply of food available to be gleaned.
“The inundation was superior in every part of the valley that Menna and I traveled this year,” Qen reported, “better than any year in my memory.”
Qen’s half–brothers all relaxed, seemingly pleased.
“Yet none of our usual campsites will support us.”
Aya heard the surprised murmurs that passed between the strangers, the sudden looks of consternation.
“None? Explain,” Meru demanded imperiously.
“Most of the wild grass at this campsite has been cropped close by the animals Hannu and his band keep,” Qen answered. “There’s virtually none left for us to harvest. The same is true at two other of our campsites farther south, where they’ve also spent time. What’s left isn’t enough for us to live on – between a tenth and a quarter of what we need at best.”
“You’re telling me that the parts of the valley we’ve used all our lives, Brother, following in the footsteps of our forefathers, are unusable?” Meru exclaimed.
“Yes,” Qen said rather reluctantly.
“This is hard news indeed,” Meru said stiffly, frowning.
There was no mistaking the hostility that now stood like a wall between the leading men of the two bands – those of Meru’s outraged that, according to Qen, Hannu’s band had stolen their food, Hannu and Wetka furious that Qen had accused them of a crime. Aya realized she’d badly misjudged Qen – he wasn’t an afterthought; he was more dangerous than a dozen Merus. He’d just single–handedly stirred up both bands and set them against each other. No wonder Qen had been so reluctant to speak in front of everyone. He’d anticipated this reaction. Now everyone was angry at him. Well, he deserved the anger directed his way. If only he’d made his report to Meru before this feast. But he hadn’t been able to because Hannu had kept Qen in camp, Aya recalled. Her father’s strategy had backfired miserably.
Or had it? It occurred to Aya that Qen’s report might have just inadvertently saved her daughter from being condemned to a life among the barbarians. Qen might have just driven a wedge between Meru and Hannu, a wedge deep enough that they might decide to go their own ways without exchanging women. If that happened, she’d have reason to be grateful to Qen for the rest of her days.
Assuming that the two bands did not come to blows in the next few minutes. Hannu had gone pale. Aya saw Wetka’s hand stray to the hilt of the flint knife tucked in his belt, saw Meru’s brothers doing the same. She wished now that her own knife wasn’t protruding from the trunk of a palm tree out of reach. She wished that Iuput wasn’t half a mile away watching over the herd.
“Brother, this is a very large valley,” Qen interjected, rising to his feet and leaning on his staff. Everyone turned to look at him. “Give me Menna and Khay to pole my raft, and a week’s time, and I’ll locate enough new campsites north of our usual range that we’ll be able to meet our needs.”
“You can’t possibly know that,” Meru said dismissively.
“If the inundation was excellent here, it must surely have been excellent everywhere. I’ll travel farther south instead of north if you prefer. It shouldn’t make any difference.”
Meru stared at Qen for a long moment. “What choice do I have?” he finally asked, his voice clipped. “Leave at first light. Take my sons. Find us campsites enough.” After a pause – “Don’t you dare fail me, Brother.” He addressed Hannu. “I expect we’ll exchange women immediately upon my sons’ return.”
Aya realized that Meru had just neatly outmaneuvered Hannu, had taken the decision of when to exchange women out of his hands. First he’d gotten Hannu to proclaim he was in Meru’s debt because of the viper. Then he’d gotten Qen to accuse her band of ruining the valley – Aya supposed Qen might have discussed the state of the wild grasses with Menna as they drifted on the river, and that Menna had passed the information on to Meru before he descended into the valley. In fact, this whole act of Qen’s smacked of being planned in advance, t
o give Meru leverage over her father. Now, backed into a corner, what choice did Hannu have but to accept Meru’s demand?
“Yes,” Hannu said.
Aya sensed relief in Hannu’s tone. And why not? He didn’t really care if Meru’s band went to the lake. All he cared about was getting a woman for himself. Meru had just agreed to give him one, in exchange for Ahaneith. Hannu could report to Kakhent that he’d been unable to so much as ask the barbarians to come to the lake, because of Qen. Her father had won. Aya had lost. She saw now that the moment she’d met Qen on the plateau the fate of her daughter had been sealed. She glared at him, as if somehow that might make a difference. He returned her stare, carefully mouthed “the lake.” It took a moment for that to sink in. All evening she’d been waiting for Hannu to make that very suggestion to Meru, but so far he hadn’t and it didn’t appear he was going to. Qen was obviously urging her to, and she knew she must. Otherwise, her daughter would indeed be lost.
But why would Qen want me to bring up the lake? Aya wondered. What’s in it for him? The obvious answer was Meru’s admonition to Qen – “don’t fail.” If Qen returned from his expedition without finding suitable sections along the river to harvest, who knew what Meru might do to him? Similarly, if Qen himself recommended going to the lake, and the wild grasses there proved inadequate, he’d be held responsible. But if Aya suggested the lake, Qen would be off the hook. He wouldn’t have to prove his claim that there was adequate land to harvest in the valley. He wouldn’t be held responsible if the lake failed to meet Meru’s expectations. Aya would. Qen was using her, setting her up to be his scapegoat. He was devious and cunning and looking out for his own self interest. He was dangerous. She stared at him with distaste. But she couldn’t let her dislike for him get in the way of voicing his suggestion. It was the only way to save the daughter she loved.
“Patriarch, instead of sending Qen on this expedition, you should lead your band to where the rest of my people are camped,” Aya said innocently, her heart pounding. “There’s grain enough there for your band and mine to harvest.”
Daughter of the Falcon God Page 12
