The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

  ***

  The entire moonlight–drenched valley was laid out before me. It was the evening after the inundation festival and I was sitting at the base of the western plateau where it intersected the wadi path descending from that point all the way to the river. I’d been working at my kiln since dawn firing the last of the pottery Nykara was going to take to Maadi. It was arranged now in neat rows in my gully, ready for him to pick up in the morning. I was exhausted, my skirt filthy, my body sweaty, and I was starving. But I wanted to savor the coolness of the evening for a moment or two before heading to Uncle Hemaka’s for a well–deserved meal.

  The nearly full moon shone brilliantly. Every tree and undulation on plain and plateau cast a dark shadow. The wadi path was like a white ribbon, winding towards the river, itself a dancing ribbon of silver. Above me, to my left, loomed the cemetery where Nekhen’s rulers lay. Somewhat below me, to my right, were the huts of the upper settlement from which rose columns of smoke. Countless points of yellow and orange marked the houses of the lower settlement and the farms along the river, the vast majority of those on Nekhen’s side, far fewer on Nekheb’s. A few fires twinkled in that hamlet. I picked out the smithy, where Nykara was no doubt eating with Heth. Tomorrow, at this time, Nykara and I would be camped many miles downstream on our way to Maadi, sitting together beside our own campfire, later sharing our own pallet for the first time. Everything was finally going to turn out the way we’d planned. Years of waiting and unrequited longing were almost over. I could hardly stand the anticipation. My fingers strayed to the talisman around my neck. “Thank you,” I told the falcon god.

  “This is far enough. No one comes here at night. We won’t be overheard.”

  Startled, I recognized Uncle Hemaka’s voice. He was with someone. Two dark shapes were standing in the shadows. Quietly, holding my breath, I rocked forward onto my hands and knees, crawled into the deeper shadow at the base of the plateau. I sensed it was best I not be discovered eavesdropping.

  “You’re absolutely sure?”

  Rawer. I’d never seen him with Uncle before. That they were meeting like this was clearly not a good thing.

  “Why have you summoned me here?” Uncle asked, clearly irritated.

  “I’m owed a debt that needs paying.”

  “I don’t owe you anything,” Uncle averred.

  “I didn’t say you did, did I? Tell me, Hemaka, are you really planning to join your niece to Nykara?”

  What was Rawer up to? He already knew the answer. I’d told him myself more than once, when he’d questioned me during Nekhen’s various festivals. He and Weni and Wehemka had discussed Nykara and me at length not two months ago, the night before the elite hunt. Something was up, and it directly concerned me.

  “I’ve held out that possibility, assuming Nykara earns a place among the elites.”

  Held out that possibility? Nykara had been right yesterday. Uncle had been leading us on all this time. Had he been planning to join me to someone else all along?

  “Does he love her?” Rawer probed.

  “Why are you asking me, and what does it matter?”

  “Just answer my question.”

  “If they had their way they would’ve been joined years ago. I wouldn’t put it past them that they’ve… already taken certain matters into their own hands.”

  My face was suddenly burning. I recalled yesterday and the hours I’d spent in Nykara’s arms both in and beside the river.

  “But I haven’t given my approval,” Uncle Hemaka assured him.

  “Why not?” Rawer asked.

  “I’ll only give Amenia to an elite. Nykara is on track, but he isn’t one – yet.” I could almost see Uncle’s smirk. “You put an obstacle in his path, Rawer, when you dismissed him from the boatyard. But he overcame that nicely – perhaps too nicely.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Amenia’s a valuable commodity, Rawer. Her pottery brings me much wealth. The day she joins with someone I’ll lose control of her, and it. So I’m in no hurry to join her to anyone. And because she bears the falcon god’s talisman I can barter her to improve my position any time I want. I’ve had better offers than Nykara’s. They’re all still in play.”

  Uncle had indeed lied to both Nykara and me. Uncle Sanakht might be savage and brutal, but Uncle Hemaka was a snake.

  “Weren’t you going to join Amenia to your nephew at one time?” Rawer asked.

  “Before Nykara came on the scene.”

  “Do it,” Rawer ordered.

  I gasped out loud. Luckily, neither he nor Uncle heard me. Why did Rawer want me joined to Nekauba? Why was he interfering in my life?

  “Join her to your nephew or an elite,” Rawer continued. “I don’t care which. Just do it immediately.”

  “Why?” Uncle queried.

  Rawer raised his voice. “Nykara stole my inheritance! I barely got it back. Removing him from the boatyard should have ruined him. But it didn’t. He’s wealthier than ever, more influential. He’s made a laughingstock of me. So, since he loves your niece, what better way to get my revenge than to deny him what he wants most, to make him feel the same pain I felt?”

  “It has nothing to do with how he showed you up in the contests yesterday, I suppose,” Uncle said mockingly.

  “It has to do with a lot of things,” Rawer said, his voice clipped.

  Apparently, yesterday’s humiliations had pushed Rawer over the edge. Now I wished Nykara had let him win. Then I recalled I’d ordered Nykara to beat everyone.

  “I stand to lose a significant amount of wealth if I do what you ask,” Uncle said. “I receive a substantial share of every cargo Nykara brings back from the North. What will I get in return if I do what you ask?”

  Uncle was bargaining. That meant my fate was sealed. I began to tremble.

  “I’m going to be Nekhen’s next ruler. When I succeed Aboo you’ll be my chief advisor. You’ll have tremendous influence up and down the valley.”

  Uncle snorted. “Influence! What will that buy me? Nykara trades Amenia’s pottery and brings me riches from Maadi and Nubt and Tjeni. I’m wealthy in my own right. Why should I give that up?”

  “I’ll make sure you’re Nekhen’s leading potter,” Rawer promised. “I’ll name you an elite. You’ll have all the wealth you desire from pottery alone. You won’t have to share any of it with Nykara.”

  “When? Be specific.”

  “Tomorrow, if you join Amenia to someone tonight,” Rawer replied.

  “How?” There was skepticism in Uncle’s voice.

  “Not your concern,” Rawer said. “You’ll have to trust me.” Rawer stepped closer to Uncle. “Believe me, you don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

  Uncle didn’t debate with himself for long. “I agree. Amenia will be joined within the hour.”

  “This must remain our secret,” Rawer said. “She can’t find out I was involved. No one can.”

  “Of course.”

  Their business concluded, the men turned and disappeared down the wadi path.

  I remained where I was, too stunned to move. A few short hours from now I was supposed to leave for Maadi along with Nykara. But Uncle had just given me to Nekauba. It couldn’t be anyone else – he didn’t have time to negotiate with the elites if he was going to join me to someone before morning. I hated Rawer in that instant, more than I ever had. Because of his vendetta against Nykara he’d just ruined my life. The same way he’d ruined Abar’s. I wished Aboo would die tonight so I could confirm Abar in his place tomorrow morning. She’d stop Uncle from being Rawer’s tool.

  But Aboo wasn’t going to die tonight. He wasn’t going to die for many years. In the meantime I was going to belong to Nekauba. I shuddered. I’d hated being promised to him as a child. I’d told him I didn’t want to be with him for years. Now, because I’d chosen Nykara over him, he’d take that rejection out on me, over and over, for the rest of my life. He was a hard man, as hard and callous as his father. Nekauba terr
ified me. I couldn’t meekly accept what Uncle was about to do to me. I had to escape. I had to run to Nykara, make him take me away from Nekhen tonight. That would destroy Abar’s plan to someday rule Nekhen and expand our settlement’s influence in the valley. I wouldn’t be around to confirm her when her father died. But even if I did, it was doubtful the elites would ever accept her. Whoever had the most power or the best alliance would probably seize Aboo’s place by force. Time for me to be selfish and choose my life over hers. Time for me to finally be with Nykara. The falcon god had sent me a dream – me sitting with Nykara and our child, watching the sun set over the delta. That was clearly my destiny and always had been – to flee with Nykara tonight, to escape Uncle and Nekauba, to leave Nekhen forever, to start a family in the North. The falcon god’s dreams always came true.

  I stood. I moved from the shadows, started to half–run down the wadi path towards the boatyard.

  I hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps when I was seized from behind and lifted from my feet. I tried to scream but a hand clamped hard over my mouth and another squeezed my waist.

  “Going somewhere, Amenia?”

  Nekauba. I tried to wrench free. He grasped me tighter.

  “I’ll let you loose if you promise not to scream,” he hissed.

  What choice did I have? Who’d hear me anyway? I nodded. He let go, blocked the path between me and the river.

  My heart was in my throat. “What are you doing?” I snapped angrily.

  “I followed Uncle Hemaka and Rawer here,” he said. “I heard every word they said. So did you.”

  Time to bluff. I had to make him believe I hadn’t. “Why would Uncle Hemaka be talking to Rawer up here? I’ve been working at my kiln all day. I just finished. I’m on my way to the river to bathe.”

  “Liar!”

  Nekauba slapped me so hard I staggered. I tasted warm blood at the corner of my mouth.

  “I’m taking you to Uncle right now. You’re going to be my woman this very night.” He laughed wickedly. “I can’t wait to see that boy’s face when he comes to pick up your pottery in the morning and I tell him you spent the night in my hut.”

  This couldn’t be happening. I was supposed to spend my life with Nykara, not this beast. Instinctively, desperately, I shoved Nekauba. Taken by surprise he lost his balance, cursed. I spun and dashed down the wadi path, ignoring his cries for me to stop. I ran like I’d never run before, terrified, in a panic, knowing my life depended on reaching Nykara. He’d save me. I could barely see the path in the moonlight. I tripped on a large rock, nearly fell, recovered, struck another, stumbled, ran on. Much too soon I heard Nekauba coming, pounding down the path. Suddenly he tackled me from behind. He drove me face–first into the hard–packed gritty path, landed on me with all his weight. I slid, scraped my forearms and shoulders and chest and belly and thighs. He sprawled atop me, pinned me down. I tried to squirm free but I could hardly move. Nekauba weighed too much. I tried to gulp air. I could scarcely breathe. I felt blood welling from a multitude of scrapes. After a moment Nekauba slid backwards onto my hips and sat up. He reached around and ripped a strip of linen from my skirt. He seized my hands in turn and pulled them behind my waist, bound my wrists together with the linen. He stood up, yanked me viciously to my feet.

  “You’ll pay for that,” he panted, his lips close to my ear. Then he shoved me in the back and started me down the path towards the upper settlement, one hand clamped on my right arm. I didn’t go easily despite being restrained. I kicked him. I screamed. I tried to rip my arm from his grasp, over and over, frantic, half out of my mind. Every painful step I took was one farther away from the man I loved and one closer to a life with a man I abhorred. I lost count of how many times I fell, how many times Nekauba grabbed my hair and jerked me upright, how many times he struck me. When we finally reached the upper settlement he gave up trying to make me walk and practically dragged me its entire length. No one responded to my cries for help. Either they were too shocked by what they saw happening or they were used to looking the other way when a man dealt with his woman.

  Uncle Hemaka and Uncle Sanakht were standing under the verandah with Auntie and my cousins when Nekauba hauled me into the yard. They were peering anxiously in our direction. They’d obviously heard us coming from a long way off. We were trailed by dozens of people who’d followed to see what was happening. I was by that time overcome with fear and despair, crying so hard I could barely breathe, my chest heaving, my cheeks streaked with tears, my body covered with dust and oozing bloody scrapes, what was left of my skirt filthy and torn to ribbons. Uncle Hemaka quickly closed the space between him and Nekauba and me.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” he screamed at Nekauba.

  “I heard you talking with Rawer,” Nekauba admitted, his voice raised to drown me out. “By accident,” he hastened to assure Uncle.

  That was a lie. One I was in no position to dispute.

  “Amenia overheard too. I was afraid she’d run away. I think she was already on her way to Nykara when I spotted her.”

  Uncle Hemaka grabbed my hair with his right hand, yanked my head backwards so he could stare into my eyes.

  I cried out in agony.

  “Is this true?” he demanded.

  “Ye.. yes!” I was sobbing so hard I could barely talk. “Overheard… accident... swear! Firing pottery. Please, Uncle... Don’t... Love Nykara... You promised.”

  Uncle Hemaka raised his left hand. “I ought to beat Nykara out of you, right here and now.”

  I let out a strangled hopeless sob, braced myself for what was coming.

  “But that’s for your man to do.” Uncle Hemaka lowered his hand and released me.

  Nekauba chuckled gleefully.

  “Go with Sanakht to his house. Now,” Uncle Hemaka said. “I’ll send your things tomorrow.”

  Through tear–filled eyes I saw Uncle Sanakht smiling broadly. “Don’t understand…”

  Uncle Sanakht roughly seized my right arm above the elbow. I cried out again.

  “But she’s mine!” Nekauba protested, stepping towards the two men and me. “You promised Amenia to me!”

  Uncle Hemaka shoved him aside.

  “Things have changed, Boy,” Uncle Sanakht growled. “She’s too valuable as a potter to give to you.” He eyed me greedily. I shrank from his stare. He was twice my age and was a cruel and heartless man. How ironic – the passion Nykara had arranged for me to pursue – my pottery – had ultimately been my downfall.

  “Kapes!” Uncle Hemaka cried. “Go with Nekauba to his house. You’re his woman now.”

  “What?” There was distress in my cousin’s voice.

  “You heard me. Go with him. Don’t make me drag you.”

  With that Uncle Sanakht propelled me towards his house, my wrists still bound. Kapes was a few steps behind me, sobbing. Auntie was questioning Uncle Hemaka, Nekauba cursing. He’d thought I’d be his woman tonight, not his stepmother. He was furious. My uncles’ workmen and their families edged the yard, drawn by the shouting. Everything at the pottery works would be different from this day forward, for all of us. No doubt Uncle Hemaka had traded me for the controlling interest. Kapes’ and my joining would cement the ties between my uncles; not only would they continue to operate their kilns jointly, but whoever died last would inherit them from the other. And be an elite. Or so Rawer had promised.

  Agonizing hours later, after Uncle Sanakht finally fell into a satisfied exhausted sleep, an arm and a thick leg draped heavily over me, I lay wide awake, staring at the roof, unmoving, not daring to disturb him, aching in body and mind and spirit, tears streaming down my cheeks, crying noiselessly – for myself, for Nykara, for our child who’d never be born. I’d been so close to a life of love and tenderness and sheer happiness. What lay ahead of me now was brutality. I recalled the dream the falcon god had sent me – Nykara and me together, in the delta, with our child. A fairy tale.

  And I was to blame. I cursed myself for my stu
pidity. I’d worried Abar would sabotage my dream if I told her about it, but I’d sabotaged it myself. Had I informed Abar I was going to confirm her she would have had years before Dedi died in which to forge an alliance of elites. Backed by that alliance, she could have refused to join with Rawer. But because I’d remained silent she now belonged to him. She was suffering, and so was Nekhen, and so, now, was I. I’d turned away from the falcon god for my own selfish reasons. As punishment, tonight, he’d turned away from me. I’d never felt so lost and alone and helpless.

  The next morning Uncle Hemaka informed Uncle Sanakht that Teti’s pottery works had mysteriously burned to the ground during the night. All the business that had once been his now belonged to them. Uncle Hemaka was an elite.

  3443 BC

  Nykara

  Rawer appeared at my smithy a little after dawn. He was carrying a bow and a long lance with a wicked–looking flint blade on its end. A quiver full of arrows was slung on his back. A fish–tailed knife and a throw stick were tucked into a thick length of leather wrapped around his waist. I regarded him icily. He had some nerve showing up at my works. I hadn’t spoken to him since Dedi’s death two years ago, except at the fateful inundation festival. When he’d taken Dedi’s fleet from me he’d expected me to slink away and become a manual laborer. When I instead became successful working copper and trading in the North with my own boat and establishing new workshops for the craftsmen he’d cut loose he’d been livid. So he’d lashed out at me again and bribed Hemaka to join Amenia to Sanakht. I knew Rawer was responsible for their joining because Nekauba, also cheated of her, had drunkenly relayed how Rawer and Hemaka had arranged it, and the tale had gradually spread throughout Nekhen and gotten back to me. Losing Amenia had nearly killed me. The fleet had meant comparatively little but she’d meant everything. The morning I’d gone to Hemaka’s to claim Amenia as my own and she’d emerged from Sanakht’s house, bruised and bloodied, with Sanakht grinning broadly beside her, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders, had been the worst moment of my life. I still wasn’t over it. That picture of them together still haunted my dreams. I’d been miserable and lonely and depressed for the entire year and a half since. I was adrift, without purpose, forcing myself to rise each dawn simply because I had responsibilities to meet, dragging myself through each day, tossing restlessly half the night wrestling with regret and longing and guilt.