The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

  “Exactly!” Grandfather cried. “Ability – the reason I chose you as my overseer, Nykara.” Grandfather addressed me. “We need dedicated and capable men to pull this off, Abar. We need to be concerned with Nekhen’s future, not our family’s. If the men you select are elites that will be a bonus, but not a requirement.”

  Nykara had made a good point. He’d also assumed I was going to pick the men. That was unexpected – a man ceding responsibility for something so important to a woman. And more interesting still, Grandfather hadn’t disputed him.

  “I’m giving the two of you a shared task – within three months, Abar, I want you to identify two men to lead the posts and half a dozen more to assist them. Nykara, I want you to help Abar every step of the way. She knows elites, you know commoners. Use your knowledge in concert. Cast your net wide. Don’t restrict your search to Nekhen – there are good men in the hamlets too. Once you’ve decided, I’ll personally begin training them to function as traders. When they’re ready we’ll establish the trading posts and send them there. Will the two of you do that for me?”

  “Yes!” I replied excitedly. To have Grandfather not only agree with my plan but set it in motion with me in charge was beyond anything I’d ever dreamed. And Nykara’s modification was acceptable. The gods knew I had little respect for any of the elite sons. I had a feeling my selections – our selections – would come mostly from among the commoners. As a bonus, this project would be a perfect opportunity for me to assess Nykara, to see if he truly would be able to help me pursue Grandfather’s quest once I became Nekhen’s ruler.

  “Absolutely,” Nykara echoed.

  “Never forget, when I’m dead it’ll be up to the two of you to carry on with Abar’s plan to ensure Nekhen’s future,” Grandfather admonished. “As long as you work in unison the two of you will be an unstoppable force.”

  Even more unstoppable if I’m ruling Nekhen.

  “Since Aboo doesn’t care about expanding Nekhen’s influence throughout the valley and Rawer sees no need either,” Grandfather continued, “whether Nekhen eventually becomes the dominant power in the South depends entirely on you two, Abar and Nykara, on the steps you take in the years to come, on what you set in motion. Nekhen’s future is literally in your hands. You both have to pursue this quest of mine for as long as you live. And you must raise your children to carry it on after you’re gone.”

  That was a powerful and solemn charge. It seemed to be affecting Nykara as deeply as it affected me. It hadn’t occurred to me before someone like him would even care about Grandfather’s quest. Another surprise. Little did he guess how much power we could in fact yield together, especially if everything I was planning fell into place.

  “Our children?” Nykara suddenly asked.

  “If Rawer continues to flounder, as I expect he will, and I make you my heir, you and Abar will be joined to keep the transportation network whole, as I told you the other night,” Grandfather replied.

  “But you weren’t serious!” Nykara objected, his voice rising. “You were just threatening Rawer to make him change his behavior. You’ll surely give him back the fleet someday.”

  “I meant exactly what I said.”

  Nykara’s face turned red. “But Abar can’t stand me, Dedi. I’m nothing, and she’s everything. It’d be cruel for you to join her to me.” His eyes rose to mine, distressed. “Believe me, Abar, that’s the last thing I want – to force you to be with me.”

  You might not have to force me. Had I just thought that? A few short hours ago I’d wanted nothing to do with Nykara. But my opinion had undergone a radical transformation since. He’d impressed me today with his intelligence and insight and hunger for knowledge and dedication to Grandfather’s quest. He was already far more qualified and fit to run Grandfather’s enterprise than Rawer would ever be. He’d be a far better partner for me than my cousin. My mistaken belief about his interactions with multiple women at a time had been corrected. The disgust I’d felt for him had vanished. I’m going to have to join with a man some day. That’s inevitable, because I must have an heir to succeed me once I become Nekhen’s ruler. No elite son is acceptable. But I can see myself at least tolerating Nykara. He is, in fact, already promised to me if Grandfather names him heir. Nykara’s searching for an exceptional woman – what woman in Nekhen is more exceptional than me? Maybe I’ll never love him the way he wants – I’ll never put any man ahead of ruling our settlement and chasing Grandfather’s dream – but I can offer him power and status by way of compensation. It’s clear I’ve got some thinking to do about Nykara and me.

  “Perhaps it won’t come to that. Perhaps you two won’t even become friends,” Grandfather said, “though your mutual path would be far easier for both of you to trod if you were. Perhaps Rawer will surprise us and regain the fleet and be joined to Abar. But, in case he doesn’t, it’s critical you unite in this common cause. Can I count on you?”

  “Of course,” we both answered simultaneously.

  I had two reasons for agreeing. The first was I believed in the quest Grandfather was setting me to. The second was he’d just given me the perfect way to break down the wall I’d erected between me and Nykara, not just a small section at a time, but all at once, and completely. That was necessary if I expected Nykara to help me in the coming years. I hoped Nykara would be amenable. I addressed him. “Grandfather wants us to set our past differences aside, Nykara. I’m willing to start fresh if you are.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Out of love for Dedi, I’m willing.”

  “I’m delighted that’s settled.” Grandfather smiled, rose, leaned over, kissed my brow. “And now, Nykara, back to the boatyard. We have work to do.”

  Nykara stood up and bid me goodbye. He looked both embarrassed and confused. I supposed he was still trying to come to grips with the possibility of actually being joined to me. He hadn’t taken that as anything more than a vague threat until today. What would he be thinking if he’d been able to read my mind a few moments ago?

  The two of them headed together in the direction of the river.

  What a life–altering week. Nekhen and I were suddenly on the brink of something extraordinary. Nykara had turned from a rival and irritant into a potential ally, and more. Ipu and Amenia had confirmed I had the right to succeed Father and rule Nekhen. Rawer’s position as heir had been greatly weakened. For the first time, I had the feeling the path I’d been trodding for years had taken a turn in the right direction.

  3449 BC

  Nykara

  “Fetch beer and honeyed cakes,” Abar ordered a serving girl standing along a wall in the audience hall. “Enough for Grandfather and Father and Rawer and Nykara and me.”

  The girl disappeared into the adjacent food preparation area inside Aboo’s house.

  Dedi settled into a leather–bottomed chair to Aboo’s right atop the low mud–brick dais at the end of the hall opposite its entrance. Rawer plopped down to Aboo’s left. He’d been observing Aboo’s audiences several times a week from that chair for months, the purpose, Abar had explained, to get the elites and petitioners who came to Aboo seeking justice used to seeing him as Nekhen’s next ruler. During the last harvest festival, nine months ago, not long after Ibetina died and I was named Dedi’s overseer, Aboo had proclaimed he’d never join with another woman, Rawer would eventually be joined to Abar, and so, since descent flowed from him through Abar, Rawer would succeed him. In his proclamation Aboo had not mentioned Rawer was in danger of losing both the fleet and Abar to me, even though that possibility was widely known in Nekhen. Someone who’d been around Dedi’s fire the night I was named overseer had spread the news, possibly one of the girls Rawer had used and tossed aside, one who’d taken advantage of an opportunity to cause him trouble. Dedi’s threat had significantly weakened Rawer’s standing with the elites. But instead of addressing the disconnect between his and Dedi’s versions of Rawer’s and Abar’s futures, Aboo had simply decided to ignore it. Thus, his inclusion of Rawer in
his audiences to visibly prop him up.

  Abar was perched on the top level of the dais, her bent legs to one side, body twisted so she faced Aboo. As always, she was ravishing, dressed in a skirt of immaculate white, bejeweled, her eyes outlined with malachite. One of the young girls who’d been fanning Aboo with ostrich feathers moved behind Dedi and began cooling him. His chair was the one Abar used when she observed audiences, or so she’d told me. I’d never been in this hall before. It was large, able to accommodate more than one hundred people at a time. Linen wicks flamed steadily in bowls of oil atop small wood tables in each of the four corners and at intervals along the walls. The walls were covered with mud plaster recently painted red and white, the ceiling layers of palm fronds covered with dried mud, held up by fifty thick sycamore posts arranged in five rows. A window in each side wall admitted a cross–breeze and some sunlight.

  I’d been the overseer of Dedi’s fleet for a full year now, the last six months entirely on my own, ever since Ameny’s death. I’d earned Dedi’s complete trust. And Aboo’s. Because of our weekly meetings I’d developed as close a relationship with him as a commoner could hope for. Tjenty rarely attended the meetings anymore; he couldn’t stand to be around me. That was fine with Abar – she preferred to handle everything associated with the donkey herd herself, and she was far more capable and energetic than Tjenty anyway. I’d spent a great deal of time with her since the afternoon Dedi ordered us to identify candidates to run the trading posts. Working so closely, the animosity that had stood between us had entirely disappeared. Very unexpectedly, given her treatment of me for most of the last decade, our few hours together in Tjenty’s hut had become the highlight of my week. Abar had thawed, let me glimpse what she’d always kept so carefully hidden beneath her impenetrable exterior, even in the months we’d been acquainted before Mother’s joining to Dedi. Inside was a quite decent person, one who was surprisingly lonely. Except for me, she had no one she could really talk to.

  Abar was extremely frustrated, caught up in forces beyond her control. That was partly my fault. I owed Dedi a tremendous debt for taking Mother and me in after Father’s death, so I was doing everything I could to be a good overseer. But I feared that if I did my job too well, and Rawer continued not to care about the fleet, Dedi would eventually make good on his promise and name me his heir and force Aboo to join me to Abar. Aboo might be our ruler, and Abar’s father, but in a battle of wills Dedi would win. So, if I succeeded as overseer, Abar would never be a ruler’s woman, her life’s ambition. And, once Dedi died, Rawer would surely take the fleet away from me. Abar would then be the woman of a common workman. Her talents would be wasted, her ambitions thwarted. Her family’s quest would be over.

  According to Abar, although Aboo was publicly expressing confidence in Rawer’s ability to regain the fleet at every opportunity, he’d privately conceded it to me. That, and the loss of Abar, would be a devastating blow to Rawer’s chances of succeeding him. Not only that, but his family’s losing control of the fleet would negatively impact Aboo’s wealth as well. As a contingency in case he lost that clout, Aboo had quietly made it known he was willing to join his three youngest daughters to the highest elite bidders when they came of age a decade from now. Linking three elites to him would not only replace what he stood to lose from the fleet, but would also gain three significant backers for Rawer. Aboo was committed to do whatever was necessary to ensure Rawer succeeded him.

  Aboo had been negotiating for several months already. What he really hoped, Abar informed me, was that Dedi would die before he named anyone his heir. In that case, Aboo would give the fleet to Rawer and join her to him. That would be a crushing defeat for Abar; though she’d be a ruler’s woman she’d be powerless, Rawer’s ornament, unable to use either fleet or herd to pursue her family’s quest. Whatever happened – joined to Rawer, joined to me – Abar’s future seemed dark indeed. She’d realize her ambition to wield power and pursue the family quest only if I gained the fleet and someone other than Rawer was named Aboo’s successor and she was joined to him and could bend him to her will. In my opinion, there were too many variables for that to ever happen.

  Rawer was glaring at me. He was still furious I’d taken the position of overseer from him. He absolutely refused to work for me and I’d given up trying to make him. He spent his time hunting with Aboo, or not so secretly carrying on with women and girls in Nekhen and the nearby hamlets, or causing mischief along with the smattering of younger elite sons who’d flocked to him once again after Aboo’s announcement. In truth, the boatyard was much more peaceful with Rawer absent, and he wasn’t missed by anyone. We’d hardly spoken a dozen words the past year.

  Aboo and Dedi were conversing in low voices. Aboo’s flail and was scepter, symbols of his authority, lay atop the leopard pelt he’d removed from his shoulders and casually tossed at his feet. He’d slain the beast himself years earlier. The headband he wore with its attached tall plumes rested atop the pelt as well. I stood respectfully a dozen paces from the dais, in the space reserved for supplicants. I had no idea why I’d been commanded to appear today. That Rawer was present was a bad sign. That meant this meeting was probably related to the fleet, and if it was I probably wasn’t going to like the outcome. I’d done well this past year, in my opinion. Farmers had received their daily rations of beer and milk and blood on time, and the residents of Nekhen the produce of the farmers’ fields. Boats had been repaired and constructed promptly, craftsmen had plenty of raw materials to keep them occupied each day, several trading expeditions had gone extremely well. At least in my opinion. Had I been exaggerating my accomplishments in my mind? The night I’d been made overseer Dedi had promised to give the fleet back to Rawer once he proved himself capable of handling it. No doubt Rawer had impressed Aboo as he’d attended his audiences each week and hunted with him. Companionship and friendship often blinded one to other realities, I’d learned. So, Aboo had either convinced Dedi Rawer was now ready to operate the fleet, or that for Rawer to actually follow him as ruler with the support of the elites he had to have control of the fleet and be joined to Abar. I assumed Dedi was about to strip me of my overseer position and replace me with Rawer for one of those two reasons. That it would happen in front of Abar was going to be humiliating. I’d come to care very much what she thought of me these past months. Once I lost my position I’d no longer get to see her on a regular basis, and certainly not talk to her. That was going to hurt; I craved the few hours I got to be in her company each week. Dedi would probably let me continue to labor in his boatyard. I could still be valuable to him there. Hopefully, I’d be able to help establish Abar’s trading posts before Dedi died and Rawer kicked me out.

  Three serving girls hurried into the hall, one with cups, one with a jug of beer, one with a platter of honeyed cakes. They passed the food and drink around to everyone on the dais. None thought to serve me. Perhaps everyone but me already knew my fate. The girls departed the hall as quickly as they’d entered.

  “I think it’s foolish,” Aboo told Dedi after he drained his cup. “Far too risky.”

  Dedi addressed Rawer and Abar and me. “I’ve got my heart set on finally taking a boatload of trade goods to Badari.”

  Badari! My heart was suddenly racing. I wasn’t being replaced as overseer. I was going to travel to the fabled settlement that figured so prominently in Dedi’s stories, a place I’d been dreaming about for years. “When are we leaving?” I asked excitedly, then remembered I wasn’t supposed to speak in this hall unless spoken to. “Sorry,” I told Aboo, reddening, realizing I’d done it again. It was acceptable for me to speak to our ruler when we discussed the fleet and herd, but those were different circumstances. I lowered my eyes, stared at the ground in front of me.

  “You may speak freely, Nykara,” Aboo laughed. “Though it appears the overseer of the fleet is not going to be my ally when it comes to talking some sense into Dedi.”

  Rawer stiffened at the mention of my title. Well, that
was his doing, not mine.

  “Nevertheless, I shall put you to the test. Tell me frankly, Overseer – what problems do you foresee with a journey to Badari?”

  Aboo had put me on the spot. As much as I wanted to back Dedi and go to Badari, I had to be honest or I’d lose the hard–won credibility I’d gained with Aboo. “There are the obvious – none of us boatmen knows if a reed boat will stand up to such a long journey. Although, if we need to make repairs, the river’s banks are lined with the materials we require, and I’m the best repairman in the fleet.” I wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.

  “You can’t go!” Rawer pointed out gleefully. “You’re the fleet’s overseer. You have to stay behind in Nekhen.”

  Rawer was right, confound him. Dedi would surely lead the expedition. Both of us couldn’t be absent from Nekhen at the same time. There was no one trustworthy and capable enough to take charge of water transportation in our places. Certainly not Rawer. Nor Senebi. Even his own grandfather hadn’t recommended him as his successor. Everything associated with the fleet and boatyard and craftsmen would fall apart without either Dedi or me around to manage it. Reluctantly, I accepted that my promotion had cost me the opportunity to do something I greatly desired. I swallowed hard. I wanted to wipe the smug grin off Rawer’s face.

  “Go on,” Aboo said.

  “Our largest boat is only forty–five feet long. We – Dedi – can probably squeeze the crew and their supplies into a third of the deck space if they take a minimal amount of food and drink along. They’ll have to spear fish and kill game and glean whatever they can when they tie up for the night. Every available remaining inch of the deck will have to be crammed with enough valuable goods to make the expedition profitable. So the goods will have to be packed in large earthenware storage jars instead of leather or reed containers to take advantage of height, not just the boat’s length and width.”