“Looking forward to your trip?” Pipi asked conversationally.
“I have been for years,” I replied. “I’m only sorry Dedi can’t go himself. He’s wanted to his whole life.”
“Aren’t you scared?” Wenher asked, concern etched on her face. “Going off into the unknown?”
“Men have traveled between Nekhen and Badari before. Just hundreds of years ago, is all.”
“Nonetheless, if you return from Badari in triumph Dedi will surely name you his heir,” Pipi predicted. “Don’t look surprised, Nykara – I know what Dedi promised the night you became his overseer. All the elites do. Succeed, and Rawer will never get the fleet back. With all the bad blood between you two I’ll bet you’re looking forward to that.”
I shook my head. “Dedi threatened to name me his heir to shock Rawer into growing up. Dedi won’t actually take away Rawer’s birthright. The fleet won’t ever be mine. Besides, all I really want is to be a boatman.”
Pipi laughed. “It’s alright, Nykara. I don’t expect you to tell me how you really feel about one of the elites, especially not Aboo’s heir. It’s always good to be circumspect with a stranger. You don’t know me, after all.”
“But you do know me, Nykara,” Wenher cooed. She put her hand on my forearm. “We won’t repeat anything you tell us today. Isn’t that right, Father.”
“Yes. Just as I’m sure Nykara won’t repeat what we tell him.”
“Of course.” I wondered why they were being so secretive.
“Good. So let me get to it,” Pipi said. “Not a single elite wants Rawer to regain the fleet. We’re all afraid of what will happen to water transportation if he’s ever put in charge. We’ve all been observing you, Nykara. We like what you’ve done as overseer. You’ve kept the fleet functioning the way it should. Rawer would turn transportation from stable to chaos. And, not surprisingly, we’re all equally fearful about what will happen if Rawer becomes Nekhen’s next ruler. If he doesn’t have the ability to oversee a single enterprise how can he oversee an entire region? Plus, he has no character. Frankly, we elites are disgusted by how Rawer’s played around with most of our daughters.”
“Don’t forget about the common girls, Father,” Wenher added. “So many common girls.”
“Every elite is desperately hoping you’ll have a successful trip,” Pipi continued. “Assuming you do, Dedi will surely reward you by making you his heir. That’ll keep the fleet out of Rawer’s hands permanently. Without it, all that will justify his claim to be Aboo’s rightful successor will be his joining to Abar, because Aboo says descent from him passes through her. Would it interest you to know we elites have agreed among ourselves that if descent passes through Abar it must also pass through her half–sisters?”
“That’s why the elites have been pressing Aboo to promise them to their sons,” I said.
Pipi squinted. “You know about that?”
“Abar told me. She said Aboo’s conceded the fleet to me. She said to garner support for Rawer, to strengthen his blood claim, Aboo’s building an alliance of elites, using her sisters.”
Pipi laughed. “So Aboo and Abar don’t really know what’s going on. Frankly, Nykara, when Aboo proclaimed descent through Abar he unleashed forces he doesn’t understand and will never be able to control. He may truly believe he’s building an alliance to support Rawer as ruler. In fact, the three elites who ‘win’ Aboo’s daughters plan to create a grand alliance of their own and use it to push Rawer aside when Aboo dies. One of the three will then become Nekhen’s next ruler.”
“Hunur’s only three years old,” I said. “Nefertkau’s two, and Nubemshant’s one.”
“Indeed. My fellow elites are going to have to wait a long time for their gambit to pay off. At least a decade.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Are you one of the three?”
“Hardly. I intend for my son Wehemka to rule Nekhen when Aboo dies. And I don’t intend to wait decades for Aboo to name Wehemka his heir in place of Rawer.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Everything. I’m counting on your trip to Badari to be an unparalleled success, Nykara. I’m counting on Dedi naming you his heir the very moment you step off your boat back here in Nekhen. That will cut the legs out from under Rawer and make him irrelevant. Without the fleet he’ll have no weapon to wield against we elites. You having the fleet will also weaken Aboo. He’ll only control land transportation. He’ll steadily lose wealth for another decade, until his three–headed alliance takes effect. I’m counting on him realizing he needs to make up that lost wealth now. I’m counting on Aboo realizing he needs to align himself with an elite who isn’t planning to eventually betray him.”
“You,” I inferred.
Pipi nodded. “The price for that alignment will be Abar.”
“Joined to Wehemka.”
“Yes.”
“Even though Aboo’s publicly promised her to Rawer.”
“Dedi’s just as publicly promised her to you. Everything’s negotiable, Nykara. Think about it – Aboo’s herd and my brewery will have more combined wealth than any three elite families. The union of Abar and Wehemka, my son and her cousin, will represent multiple blood lines of descent from Aboo, too. That, and economic power, will make a formidable alliance.”
“I’m useful to you because I can cripple Rawer and keep him from succeeding Aboo and at the same time weaken Aboo to the point he must make a deal with you. Why tell me all this? Why reveal your plot to me at all? You could pull this off without me ever knowing I played a part.”
“True. But you have another part to play. A very important part.”
“What’s that?”
“Dedi will make you his heir,” Pipi said with assurance. “He’ll be dead in a few years. The day he dies you’ll become an extremely important man. The three elites I told you about – the ones whose sons will soon be promised to Aboo’s daughters? Each will offer you considerable wealth and status to combine your fleet with his enterprise so he can force Aboo to name him or his son Aboo’s heir.”
“You want the fleet aligned with you now, so you can convince Aboo to ally himself with you and head off the other elites,” I said.
Pipi smiled. “You’re as bright as everyone says. Yes. Combined with your fleet, Aboo’s and my alliance would be unassailable. Even if all the other elites aligned themselves against us they wouldn’t prevail.”
“What’s your offer?” I asked. Might as well play along with Pipi. Especially since Abar would want to know what she was up against. Despite my promise to Pipi I was going to tell Abar about this conversation. I owed her everything and him nothing.
“I’m willing to gamble everything will play out exactly the way I’ve projected. So, agree that you’ll ally yourself with me the very day you’re named Dedi’s heir and I’ll give Wenher to you the instant you make your promise. You’ll be part of my family, with all the wealth and influence that brings.”
I was astounded. Out of the blue – wealth, status, and a most beautiful and engaging woman.
“I’d like that, Nykara. A lot,” Wenher said boldly. She’d obviously known about her father’s offer in advance of this encounter. She sidled a bit closer to me. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks touched with red.
“That’s a very generous and…” – I searched for the right word, gazing at Wenher – “…pleasing offer.” She really was fetching. “But what if you’re wrong?” I asked Pipi. “What if Dedi doesn’t name me his heir as soon as I arrive home from Badari?”
“Right away or a few years from now – it doesn’t alter my plan,” Pipi said. “I’m convinced the pieces will fall into place eventually. But, as a sign of good faith and to keep you out of the hands of the other elites, I’ll give Wenher to you the moment you’re back from Badari, assuming you give me your word then you’ll ally yourself to me as soon as Dedi dies.” He placed his palms on his thighs. “Once you promise me, I’ll make Aboo an offer he wo
n’t be able to refuse. I’ll see to it Aboo names you an elite afterwards, too. You’ll have everything you’ve ever desired.”
I’d never imagined myself in such a position, raised far above my station, or that I’d be offered a woman like Wenher. An obviously willing and enthusiastic woman. And beautiful. For years I’d been searching for an exceptional woman I could love and who’d love me. The only truly exceptional woman I knew was Abar, but she’d never be more than a friend. Not so long ago she’d actually hated me. I couldn’t imagine her making the leap from friendship to love. She’d never given any sign she might. Besides, she was going to end up joined to Nekhen’s next ruler, either Rawer or Wehemka or maybe even a different elite. Being a ruler’s woman was her ambition, her destiny. That’s what she’d dreamed of her whole life. She’d never be that joined to me. But having gotten close to Abar, I now measured other women against her intelligence and ambition and drive. Might Wenher be that woman? I didn’t know her well enough to judge how she stacked up. And as for love, what if we joined and love never came? Would we both be miserable for the rest of our lives? Was agreeing to join with Wenher simply to ensure I became an elite fair to her, or me? Besides, gaining a woman or improving my status wasn’t what was most important to me. Having the freedom to use the fleet to pursue Dedi’s quest, as I’d promised him I would, was. It’s what I was devoting my life to, after all. “How much autonomy would I have running the fleet in your alliance?” I asked Pipi.
“Use it however you like, just as long as deliveries get made on time and trade goods continue to flow,” Pipi replied. “What do I know about boats and workshops and craftsmen and trade?” He stood. “Think about my offer, Nykara. I assume you’ll keep it to yourself, as you promised. If anything we talked about today gets out I’ll deny every word.”
I nodded.
“Good. Of course, if your trip to Badari is a failure the whole deal’s off. The fleet will be back in Rawer’s hands and my potential alliance with Aboo will be dead.”
“I understand the stakes.”
“We’ll speak again the very hour you return from the North. Be prepared to give me your answer then. And now, I need to get back to my brewery. Come along, Wenher.”
She rose, smiled engagingly, took a step. Her hand lingered atop mine for a moment. “Have a very successful trip, Nykara. Hurry back. Don’t keep me waiting.” Then she followed Pipi down the wadi path. She looked over her shoulder at me several times.
I remained perched atop the boulder until they were halfway to the lower settlement. My head was spinning, trying to process Pipi’s offer. It was almost too much to comprehend. I was going to have a lot to mull over on the trip north. There was much about it to like – especially the autonomy to pursue Dedi’s dream. Abar would be interested in that. How she’d feel about being joined to Wehemka I hadn’t a clue. Nor how I’d feel joined to Wenher.
But I had business to attend to and I was behind schedule. I unhooked my lead donkey from the bush and hurried up the path.
On the wadi terrace, to the right behind the outcrop, far over my head, was the cemetery where Nekhen’s dead rulers lay at rest, a wall of wood and reed plastered with mud lining its edge, painted with colorful figures and patterns. The curved roof of a twenty–three foot long wood hall standing next to Depy’s grave was barely visible above the fence, as were the roofs of the halls marking the graves of Depy’s father Gehes and another now–forgotten ruler. The most impressive funerary hall, a great square building nearly sixty feet long on each side, larger than the other three structures combined, belonged to Pipi’s ancestor, the last of the brewers who’d ruled Nekhen. Earlier rulers lay mostly in unmarked pits, though a handful were close by small reed buildings long ago fallen into ruin. Taken together, the graves and funerary halls – buildings where mourners could come to honor and remember their ancestors – made this cemetery a sacred precinct.
The wadi path soon intersected another perpendicular to it heading due south and I took it. Ahead of me sprawled the upper settlement, a nondescript collection of scattered mud–reed huts and houses arranged in no particular order, some with pens and fenced areas attached, most without. At one time, according to Dedi, about half the elite families had resided in the upper settlement, including Nekhen’s ruler, but those days were long past. In one section columns of thick smoke rose from what I supposed were kilns, the smoke bent nearly horizontal, for as usual at this time of day the hot wind off the desert was blowing fiercely. In fact, sand stung my cheek with every gust. To my right, at the base of the western plateau, at the terminus of the path I’d been walking earlier, were more plumes of smoke. I’d been told there were many kilns located there to take maximum advantage of the wind.
I encountered a young boy in the path, his head shaved except for a long sidelock, and asked after Hemaka. The boy pointed me up the slope to a small cluster of houses. I headed that way.
I passed a brewery, much smaller than Pipi’s, its yard filled with tell–tale water jars and empty transport jars and clay granaries and several donkeys waiting to be loaded. This brewery likely served the needs of the residents of the upper settlement, and probably the funeral feasts held in the nearby cemetery. That was the reason Amenia still made decorated pottery, according to Ipu – for funerals. Just past the pottery was a large building with walls of mud brick, the only one of that construction in Nekhen, heavily scented with smoke and offal. Cattle and goats and sheep were butchered there, and fish were processed, both for daily consumption in Nekhen and for funeral feasts in the adjoining cemetery. I’d been told there were ten separate hearths inside where meat was cooked. Workmen were currently piling bloodied bones and stacking hides from the animals slaughtered for yesterday’s feast on the flat ground adjoining the building. There were currently no live animals in the attached pens.
I continued on a narrow lane, accompanied by the squealing of pigs and the baas of goats from inside pens. Before long I reached the very edge of the settlement. The house before me was finely constructed of reeds and mud, with a palm frond–roofed verandah on its long side. A similar house, older and larger, was a few paces beyond. I entered a vast open yard edged by the two houses and a few workers’ huts. The scarred and broken face of Nekhen’s rocky western plateau loomed sixty or seventy feet high some fifty yards beyond the pottery works. Atop it was desert, reaching to the horizon.
A grimy worker saw me and stepped forward.
“I’m looking for Hemaka. I’m here to pick up a load of pottery.”
While I waited for him to appear I surveyed the area. At the rear of the yard were five kilns, simple pits cut into a platform of highly–fired mud, open on one side. Men were arranging unfired pots atop sticks of wood and broken pottery sherds covered with a layer of mud in several of them. The yard itself contained hundreds of coarse reddish jars and pots, undecorated, arranged in somewhat orderly rows by size and shape. They looked exactly like those produced by Teti; apparently, Hemaka’s and Sanakht’s ancestors had also adopted that style. Off to one side were a smaller number of large cream–colored jars painted with images in reddish–brown, as well as polished–red jars with images in white, the decorated ones I’d come for. There were also black–topped jars, the most ancient style. Half the yard was shaded by a large rectangular wood frame roofed with palm fronds. Below it men and women and a few girls were on their knees, kneading masses of clay. More men were seated beside them, carefully winding coils of clay atop each other to create pots. Still more were using sherds of pottery to smooth completely formed pots inside and out. Unworked lumps of clay were stacked to one side, edged with many jars full of water. In the sun, atop reed mats, lay rows of pots and jars that had been formed but not yet fired. I noted the mark on each pot indicating it came from this works. A few acacia trees provided more shade in one corner of the yard, remnants, I assumed, from the groves that had once spilled down the wadi and had somehow escaped the woodcutters.
“I’m Hemaka. You’re looking
for me?”
I recognized him from the conclave. He was in his late twenties, finely dressed, his hair long and braided. Though he was only a minor potter he was my better. I bowed to him respectfully.
“I’ve come to collect pottery to take to Badari, as Aboo directed yesterday.”
“I remember.”
“The decorated and black–topped styles.” I handed him a handful of rounded stones, given me by Dedi, representing the desired quantity.
Hemaka studied them briefly. “I can’t imagine why Badarians would want decorated jars,” he said disdainfully. “We don’t even use them in Nekhen anymore, except for funerals. You’ve come on a fool’s errand, Boy. You’ll get nothing in return for them.”
Hemaka struck me as narrow–minded and full of himself. And ignorant about trade.
“Nonetheless, they’re what I require,” I said politely.
Hemaka shook his head. He snorted disdainfully. “Nekauba!” he shouted.
A boy about my age hurried to us. He was much shorter than me, stocky, his hair long, kilt dirty, skin darkened by the sun. He eyed me disinterestedly.
“Take these donkeys over to the decorated jars and pots. Load every last one of them,” Hemaka barked. “You can wait under the trees in the shade until Nekauba’s done,” he told me. He shouted towards the canopy. “Girl! Beer for our visitor. Now!”
Hemaka turned to follow Nekauba and the donkeys. A girl detached herself from two others and raced from under the canopy and into the closest house in a swirl of skirt and a flash of long brown legs. I took a seat on the ground under the nearest acacia tree. It was much cooler in the shade. I wiped sweat from my face. It felt good to rest; all of us in the boatyard had worked through the night, ever since our return from the conclave, and would the rest of today too. I planned to depart well before Aboo’s deadline. In a moment the girl reappeared, gracefully and carefully carrying with both hands a cup filled to the brim with beer. It was Amenia. She crossed the yard and moved under the tree and handed it to me.
The Women and the Boatman Page 22