The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

  “Masterful. I assume Aboo and Rawer don’t suspect you’re working against both of them?”

  “Being a woman gives me cover. Who’d expect I’d be trying something as outrageous as I’m trying?”

  Besides Nykara. He knew I intended to have a say in Nekhen’s affairs once Father was dead. He thought I intended to do so as a ruler’s woman, not as ruler in my own right. I wasn’t prepared to reveal my true intentions to him until I had everything in order – including Amenia being officially named Ipu’s heir – but someday I would. I believed he’d support me then. Without his backing I’d have no chance of succeeding Father; a woman ruler was going to be hard for men to accept. Nykara had risen greatly in stature since his return from Maadi – between taking over entirely from Grandfather and establishing his smithy he was being looked upon as a leader by the elites now. Elite women were pursuing him – especially my cousin Wenher – though he was obviously smitten with Amenia. She’d nearly filled Grandfather’s storage hut with her black–topped pottery preparatory to Nykara’s next trip to Maadi; Grandfather had recently traded a load of her decorated styles at Nubt. I’d seen Nykara and Amenia together at every festival; neither seemed to notice anyone else was present. To tell the truth, it made me jealous, which was an unfamiliar feeling – I’d never cared about any man enough to experience that emotion before. Amenia was, to be charitable, plain, far from beautiful, but she was a sweet girl, and strong and caring and passionate. I wasn’t surprised Nykara was attracted to her. I liked her too. Friendship had blossomed between us during our secret sessions as I taught her what she needed to know about Nekhen and the surrounding valley and the elites. Amenia had become my only true friend, the only person in Nekhen besides Nykara I could confide in, though we scarcely acknowledged each other in public so when she succeeded Ipu and confirmed me as ruler – if she in fact selected me – no one would have cause to think I’d influenced her. That Nykara was involved with Amenia was fortunate for me. When Father died I hoped I could convince him to speak to Amenia on my behalf. His opinion would matter to her. I assumed Nykara knew nothing about Amenia’s pending selection as Ipu’s heir – when he talked about her it was always in terms of her supplying pottery for his expeditions. That I was already doing my best to convince Amenia I was worthy of being confirmed as ruler was one piece of information I was going to keep to myself for now.

  “If your plan works, Abar, you may be able to steer Aboo into allying himself with an elite man of your choice – one malleable enough for you to manipulate. He’s going to be a very lucky man. He’ll be able to sit back and let you run Nekhen on his behalf. An easy life for him,” Nykara observed wryly.

  Men wanted me because I was beautiful. More than that, because I was Aboo’s daughter, the power and wealth I represented attracted the attention of every ambitious man in Nekhen. Unlike most of them, Nykara had never professed love for me. Despite that, I knew he cared deeply for me, as evidenced by his dedication to helping me achieve my goals. What man in Nekhen supported a woman that way? He didn’t do it because he was interested in obtaining power for himself, either. That made him a most unusual man.

  Funny – Grandfather had once threatened to join me to Nykara in the event he named him his heir. I’d rebelled against that prospect. I’d been so stupid. In my defense, I’d never wanted to rely on any man. From when I was old enough to understand what it meant to be pledged to Rawer and the kind of person he was I’d vowed to dominate him and force him to act as I desired, ruling Nekhen using him as a figurehead. I’d never respected him. Nor had I respected Nykara. I’d actually despised him. But after he became Grandfather’s overseer I’d gotten to know him. I’d come to trust him, and rely on him, and like him, and ultimately to confide in him. Then Pipi had offered to join Nykara to Wenher, and he’d left on his trip to Maadi, and jealousy made me realize I was in love with him. Me! Who’d never wanted or needed any man. I’d fought hard to subdue that love at first. I knew the possibility I’d someday rule Nekhen made our being together complicated, if not impossible. But in the end I hadn’t been able to ignore what my heart desired. I’d surrendered. I’d gone to Nykara’s boat the night he returned from Maadi to tell him I’d made the biggest mistake of my life by holding myself at arm’s length, and that I loved him. I’d kissed him. I’d offered myself to him. But then he’d shown me the copper boat amulet he intended to give to Amenia and told me she was the woman he wanted, not me.

  Ironic, that of the hundreds of suitable companions in Nekhen Nykara had become involved with Amenia, the woman who literally held my future in her hands. I could have made Nykara forget about her that night if I’d wanted to. I could have convinced him our mutual love was strong enough to overcome anything we faced. He’d rejected me for what he thought was my own good, so I could be a ruler’s woman, so I wouldn’t resent him if someday some other woman ruled at Rawer’s side. I could have told him my true ambition was to rule in my own right, that when I did he could ascend the dais at my side, that together we could wield the transportation network to make the elites accept us. But then the boat amulet had clattered to the deck. If it had been intended for any other woman, Wenher, for example, I would have told Nykara everything and bent him to my will and we’d be joined already. But I wasn’t going to rule Nekhen unless Amenia confirmed me. I couldn’t afford to alienate her by taking Nykara from her. And so, in that moment, I’d restrained myself. That night, Amenia belonging to Nykara had been only a possibility, after all. Nykara’s attraction to her had been brand new. For all I knew, it might go nowhere, or her uncle might give her to another man – I was aware he’d promised her to Nekauba. In either case Nykara might come back to me of his own accord. So I’d gambled. I’d decided to wait and see if their relationship evolved or fell apart instead of doing something hasty that might anger either Amenia or Nykara or both and cost me what I wanted most.

  I’d lost my gamble. But despite my restraint, despite Nykara’s obvious love for Amenia, it was possible I’d eventually be joined to him anyway. While Father had publicly declared I was to be joined to Rawer whether or not he regained the fleet, Grandfather had never rescinded his threat to join me to Nykara if he named him his heir. Grandfather had put Nykara in charge of his whole operation after Maadi, but he’d stopped short of that final step. If he someday took it, he and Father would be forced to resolve their competing pronouncements. That would be exceedingly interesting, since Father was also trying to arrange my joining to Wehemka or another elite to counteract the potential loss of the fleet and Grandfather knew nothing about it.

  To say my future was extremely uncertain was an understatement. Father would rule for many more years, given a normal life span. But in just a few years, so I’d start producing grandsons, Father and Grandfather would join me to either Rawer or Nykara or an elite. Eventually that man, or me, would succeed Father and rule Nekhen. If I was joined to Rawer when Father died and Amenia confirmed him I’d spend the rest of my life as an ornament, cut off from donkeys and fleet, unable to pursue Grandfather’s quest. If I was joined to an elite and Amenia confirmed him I’d be able to work in concert with Nykara to pursue Grandfather’s quest, but only if my man was malleable and agreed to let me use boats and donkeys. Otherwise, the quest would be dead. But if Amenia confirmed me – and as Father’s most direct heir she should – she’d elevate me over whichever man I was joined to. Then I’d be able to send the fleet throughout the valley and make Grandfather’s dream live.

  None of those three alternative realities would come into play, of course, if I was joined to Nykara when Father died. I’d have taken him away from Amenia. She’d never confirm me then, out of jealousy. That was human nature. She confirm some elite man as ruler instead, maybe even Rawer out of spite. Sometimes I thought being joined to Nykara would be worth not being either a ruler or a ruler’s woman. I loved him and I was convinced I could make him love me too. He was the finest man in Nekhen. He could make me happy. He’s the only man I actually
wanted to be with. But between the night he’d returned from Maadi and now it had become crystal clear his relationship with Amenia had moved forward. He loved her desperately, and she him. How I envied her. How I hated her. How I needed her. Whatever chance I might have had to be with Nykara had come and gone. I was to blame for that. I could have had him in an instant if I’d chosen to give up everything else. But I hadn’t. I’d chosen the opportunity to rule. I’d love him forever, but only from afar. Because I’d yielded to Amenia, I now faced the prospect of a long and loveless life joined to a man I couldn’t stand.

  “I’ll expect a ride when your boat’s finished,” I said lightly, to cover my morose mood.

  “There’s no one I’d rather take.”

  ***

  Rawer accosted me when I was halfway home from the boatyard.

  “Nykara had his hands all over you just now!” he exclaimed. “You encouraged him! Dozens of people saw! They’ll tell their friends. Everyone in Nekhen’s going to know! Are you out of your mind? What will everyone think?”

  “I don’t care what people think – any more than you do,” I snapped. “If Nykara hadn’t lifted me, how do you think I’d have been able to see over the side of his boat?”

  “What business do you have checking on the boat anyway?” Rawer asked harshly. “Shouldn’t you be sitting next to Uncle in the audience hall, looking pretty?”

  That was infuriating. I spent my time on the dais learning to be a ruler. Half the time, on the days when Rawer was in attendance, I caught him dozing. “Unlike you, I actually want to know what’s going on in Nekhen,” I retorted. “Everything’s important to a ruler. Besides, Father asked me to check on Nykara’s progress.”

  Rawer’s eyes narrowed. “There you go again – talking like you’re going to rule someday. Get over it, Abar. You’re not. I am. Uncle could have checked on the boat himself if he was interested. You’re lying. You went to the boatyard to see Nykara. The boat was an excuse.”

  “If I wanted to see Nykara I wouldn’t need to make up an excuse. We work together. Work – a word you don’t understand.” I started to push past him.

  Rawer seized my arm, spun me around, leaned so close I could feel his breath hot on my cheek. “Admit it! You’re in love with him!”

  I laughed in his face to cover my lie. “You’re so insecure, Rawer. Why are you concerned about Nykara? Don’t you want to know about Weni and Satnem and Khui? Or if there are elite men you don’t know about?”

  Rawer tightened his grip. “Stop your incessant flirting, Abar! Immediately! What’s gotten into you lately?”

  I yanked my arm free. There’d be bruises tomorrow where he’d grabbed me. “Why should I?” I asked defiantly. “I don’t belong to you – not when it’s likely Grandfather will make Nykara his heir. If that happens, do you think any woman will want to join with you? Are you so deluded you think you can lose the fleet and still gain me? You’re crazy! You’re a fine one to talk anyway. Is there a single woman or girl in Nekhen you haven’t been with these past years, even after you promised me you’d stop chasing them? Frankly, it’s embarrassing, some of the girls I’ve seen you with. Commoners!”

  “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “It just is.”

  I chuckled. Rawer had no idea how much he’d alienated the elites by fooling around indiscriminately with their daughters. Or irritated them by dallying with commoners. If the elites hadn’t been afraid of Father’s and Grandfather’s reactions they’d have put a stop to Rawer’s shenanigans themselves by now. I contented myself knowing if Rawer expected to have the support of any of the elites when Father died, he wouldn’t.

  “You’re mine, Abar. Accept it. Our joining was arranged when we were practically children.”

  “And delayed when I grew up and you didn’t.”

  Rawer shrugged off responsibility for his situation. “You asked your Father to delay it, didn’t you. You hope he’ll give you to Nykara!”

  “I told you you’re wrong about us,” I said wearily. I wasn’t about to explain Father’s negotiations with the elites, the true cause of the delay.

  “Grandfather will never name Nykara his heir,” Rawer promised. “I’ll have the fleet back. I’ll see Nykara gone from the boatyard if it’s the last thing I do. Whatever it takes.”

  “Then what, Rawer? You’ll run it?” I laughed.

  “I’ll put Senebi in charge.”

  “His own grandfather called him unfit!”

  “That was his opinion,” Rawer said. “I don’t share it.”

  “When you become ruler, why not leave Nykara in charge of the fleet?” I asked. Might as well stroke Rawer’s ego, make it seem I believed him becoming ruler was inevitable, and strike a blow for Nykara at the same time. “You know he’ll operate it flawlessly. You won’t have to think about it, won’t have to worry about goods and foodstuffs being moved about the valley. Everything will remain orderly. Isn’t preventing chaos and assuring order a ruler’s primary job?”

  “Nykara’s tried to show me up my entire life,” Rawer charged. “He wormed his way into Grandfather’s good graces, convinced him to give him the fleet. It belongs to me! I won’t have Nykara around.”

  Nykara showed you up by simply doing his job. Your laziness makes a log look ambitious by comparison.

  “Anyway, stay away from Nykara,” Rawer snarled. “I won’t tell you again.”

  “You’re blind,” I rejoined. “Nykara’s in love with Amenia, the potter from the upper terrace, the one who makes trade goods for Dedi. Or haven’t you noticed them together at all the festivals?”

  “I don’t make a habit of noticing Nykara.”

  “Unless he’s with me,” I said. Rawer’s actions this afternoon were giving lie to his claim.

  Without warning Rawer seized me by both shoulders, pulled me close, kissed me hard. I was shocked by the suddenness of his attack. His kiss was vicious, possessive, so different from the one I’d shared with Nykara. I tried to twist free. He tightened his grip. I slammed both of my fists into his ribs with all my might. His hands loosened and I squirmed from his grasp, crouched a few paces away.

  “Plenty more where that came from,” Rawer laughed, then turned and headed towards the river.

  I watched him go, wiped my lips with the back of my hand, spat. Both of my shoulders would ache tomorrow. Rawer’s assault was a sign of weakness, of his utter lack of self control. It was consistent with his lack of vision and initiative, how he planned to diminish Nekhen if he became ruler, how he planned to diminish me if we were ever joined. I couldn’t help compare Rawer to Nykara – complacent versus visionary, weak versus strong, brutal versus kind. If I’d ever doubted challenging Rawer in order to succeed Father was somehow wrong, Rawer had just erased those doubts.

  ***

  Amenia

  ***

  Great–grandmother lay on her pallet beneath a thin linen sheet, her chest slowly rising and falling with each labored breath. The day I’d dreaded for years had arrived.

  She’d been fading for months. This morning she hadn’t been able to rise. She’d weakly ordered Uncle Hemaka to send for Aboo. Her passing – priestess of the falcon god, healer – was no ordinary thing. Aboo had arrived moments ago, along with Dedi. I should have been terrified in the presence of our ruler, especially in light of the responsibility I was about to assume, but my grief dulled me to every other feeling. Nykara had come too. He stepped to my side, crouched. I was kneeling next to Great–grandmother, placing cool wet strips of linen on her fevered brow. He rested his hand on my shoulder. He was aware how drastically my life was about to change. That he’d come to support me meant everything.

  Uncle Hemaka was on the opposite side of the pallet, sitting cross–legged on the floor beside Auntie and my cousins Kapes and Nebet. Peseshet, my oldest cousin, and her man, Yuny, had made the trek to the upper settlement from their farm along the river with their young son and daughter in tow. They were at the foot of t
he pallet. Uncle Sanakht was seated behind Uncle Hemaka, his back against the wall, Nekauba to his right. Nekauba was glaring at Nykara, as usual.

  The scent of flower petals and spices and resins steeping together in a container of fat wafted into the room. I idly noted the walls of the house were curving gently inward. I assumed that was because of the roof’s weight. Funny where the mind traveled at a time like this.

  Dedi sank to his knees next to me, took one of Great–grandmother’s twisted hands in both of his. It was fitting he was at her deathbed – they the last of their generation, both descendants of the first of their respective families to settle at Nekhen.

  “You’re the… last of us… now,” she gasped, looking up at him through half–opened eyes.

  He bent, kissed her mangled fingers. “I’ll join you before long, Ipu, among the imperishable stars. Keep a place for me.”

  I was touched by his tenderness. He rose and moved back to stand beside Aboo.

  Great–grandmother’s eyes settled on Aboo. “Good… you have… come. One last… task I… must perform. You must… witness.” She looked at me with fevered eyes. “Amenia… remove… talisman.”

  Since the day she’d put it on she’d never taken it off except to bless a person or object at a festival or funeral. That she was giving it up meant she knew her life was nearly over. Tears sprang to my eyes. I gently tilted her head, slipped the sacred object from around her neck, placed it in her hands. She cradled it awkwardly.

  “Time… to pass… on.” Great–grandmother raised the talisman to her lips reverently, kissed it, rested it in her hands on her waist once more. Her eyes were filled with emptiness and loss. She closed them for a long moment. She was summoning the last of her strength. She opened them, looked at me.