In the midst of the slaughter Abar slipped to my side, one eye warily observing the lion cubs. She was wearing a sheer white linen skirt, filthy from the dust she’d tossed on herself, a red linen girdle, and a necklace and bracelets of garnet and carnelian and quartzite and gold beads. Her eyes were darkly lined with malachite, and her lips and cheeks were reddened with henna. Her hair was thick with dust and mud streaked her cheeks where dust had mixed with tears. In the end she had mourned her father.
“You slew the lioness?” she asked.
“I did.”
“Since you made Rawer give you the fleet before you went hunting he’ll have nothing after tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait to see his face,” I said.
She moved away.
The cattle were now all dead. A herdsman led several dogs forward on leashes.
“As these dogs herded Aboo’s livestock in life, so shall they herd his animals in death,” Amenia proclaimed.
The elites killed them. Their bodies were placed beside graves interspersed among those of the domestic animals.
Amenia moved to where the wild animals were corralled. She faced the crowd. “As Aboo controlled the chaos of the world in life, so will he control it in death. Those wild animals he captured to bring order to our valley will die with him.”
“As well as those I captured on his behalf,” Rawer proclaimed.
Murmurs of amazement rolled through the crowd. Slaying Aboo’s animals was one thing; slaying Rawer’s own was beyond anyone’s expectation of him.
One after another, keepers brought wild animals to Rawer – hartebeest, aurochs, baboons, gazelles, a hippo. He slew them all himself, at his insistence. None of the elites objected. Among the beasts were four crocodiles. Their graves were situated at the four corners of Aboo’s complex. They’d be buried with their heads facing outward, to guard the entire complex from enemies.
The final animal led forward to be killed was the bull elephant, the pride of Aboo’s exotic herd, the animal whose attributes Aboo had taken on in life and whose capture had cemented him in the position of ruler a decade ago. A particularly large grave had been excavated for it, the most massive I’d ever seen. A quantity of grave goods was stacked on its far side – red ocher, malachite, a diorite macehead, an alabaster jar, amethyst beads, an ivory bracelet, fine black–topped beakers, a bowl decorated with images of plants in white, a wine jar from Maadi. Close by was a great stack of reed mats and a huge pile of linen to swaddle the beast once it was dead. Keepers led the elephant to the side of the grave, its trunk swaying back and forth. It began munching from a pile of river plants placed there to divert its attention. Several keepers quickly slipped long wooden stakes through the ends of ropes that had earlier been tied to each of the elephant’s legs and pounded them into the ground. The crowd moved far back as the elites edged warily into position, closely ringing the beast, bows and lances at the ready. Rawer signaled, then with a great cry plunged a lance deep into the elephant’s heart. It raised its trunk and trumpeted, eyes wild with fright and pain. It tried to rear up but couldn’t, its legs immobilized. It trumpeted again. Several of the elites loosed a volley of arrows into its thick hide from point–blank range. Others stabbed with their lances. Many in the crowd scrambled even farther backwards, trying to get as far as possible from the elephant in case it broke free. For a moment it stood, blood flowing copiously down its flanks from countless wounds, then swayed, then toppled to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. A couple of elites barely avoided being crushed.
The crowd moved closer again, to get a good look at the magnificent beast.
“As Aboo was served in life, so too shall he be served in death!” Rawer suddenly cried.
Amenia looked at him quizzically.
“This part of the ceremony does not concern you,” he snarled. “Step aside.”
Amenia started to object, but stopped when Abar caught her eye. Amenia slipped to Abar’s side. I was close enough to overhear their conversation.
“You don’t want to be associated with what Rawer’s about to do,” Abar said in a low voice. “I didn’t think he’d really go through with it. I thought I’d talked him out of it. He’s going to reveal his true colors to the people of Nekhen today. This will make what we’re going to do tomorrow easier.”
Rawer strolled to a section of the wall between two of the pillared halls where Aboo’s household servants were huddled, ringed by Senebi and his guards. The guards were all armed with lances and knives. I noticed empty wine jars scattered at the servants’ feet. Senebi had apparently been forcing the servants to drink the whole time the animals were being slaughtered. Now, mercifully, most were quite drunk. Mercifully, because Rawer’s intention was crystal clear to every spectator.
Seni handed Rawer the same knife Aboo had used to decapitate the criminal during the inundation festival. Rawer strode to the front of one of the pillared halls, where the servants could not see him. A young girl – I’d noticed her fanning Aboo in the audience hall – was led, stumbling, to Rawer by Senebi. Senebi turned her so she was facing the crowd with Rawer directly behind her. The girl was only eight or nine and had no idea what was about to happen. Buzzing rose from those behind me, whether of sympathy or something else I did not know. I felt sick. Killing a criminal was one thing. Killing a child to serve a dead ruler in the next life was quite another. Such a thing had never been done before. If there was any question Rawer intended to claim absolute power for himself once he became Nekhen’s ruler it was about to be answered. Rawer clamped his hand over the girl’s mouth and pulled her head against his chest and quickly and deeply slashed the knife across her throat. Her eyes registered surprise, then pain. Blood gushed. Her hands rose to her throat as if she could keep her life from slipping away. After a moment Rawer released her. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. Then she toppled to her knees, then fell face forward onto the ground. She thrashed about for a moment, then was still. Amenia turned away and vomited. She wasn’t the only one. Two of Senebi’s men picked up the girl’s body and placed it near the entrance of the largest pillared hall, leaving behind a blood–drenched patch of dirt. Now the reason for so many still–empty graves and reed mats and piles of bowls and jars was clear. They were for the servants, though it appeared several would have to share each grave. Mats would cover their bodies and the goods would be distributed among them.
Senebi brought the next girl to Rawer, a sweet–voiced singer who’d entertained Aboo every evening. She was older than the first girl and wasn’t quite drunk enough. When she spotted her friend’s body and the bloody ground and the dripping knife in Rawer’s hand she started kicking and screaming and trying to jerk free of Senebi. Some in the crowd turned away. I couldn’t, drawn to the scene despite its horror. Senebi pinned her arms behind her back and forced her to kneel. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Rawer executed her. Guards dragged her body away and placed it next to the first girl. And so it went for nearly an hour, a few of the victims crying and screaming and struggling, guards manhandling them, most of the victims standing drunkenly and docilely, Rawer slaying them with brutal efficiency. The vast majority of those sacrificed were girls and young women, with a bare handful of young boys. Occasionally the mother of a victim screamed in agony from the midst of the crowd. More than one father or brother had to be restrained.
Never had Dedi, in all the stories he’d told me, mentioned a ritual like this anywhere in the valley. It was clearly Rawer’s invention, his unmistakable way of demonstrating to anyone with the temerity to challenge his right to be Nekhen’s ruler he was willing to do whatever was necessary to gain and keep that position. His ruthlessness this day would make anyone who might attempt to challenge him in the future think twice before doing so. Wehemka’s and Pipi’s faces indicated the message had been received and taken to heart. They’d fall in line to serve Rawer.
But at least one person wouldn’t. Abar stood beside Amenia throughout the slaughter, occasionally grasping her ha
nd. She was grim, her face determined. As was Amenia. They, at least, were prepared now more than ever to keep Rawer from exercising this type of control over our settlement.
When Rawer finally finished executing the servants it was late afternoon and the sun was beginning to descend in the west. Rawer faced the crowd. His hair was soaking wet and plastered to his head. His arms and chest and legs and clothing were absolutely drenched with blood. He was a fearsome sight.
“A feast awaits you beside the oval court,” he cried grandly. “All of Aboo’s livestock that did not accompany him to the grave has been slain and awaits you there.”
There were scattered cries of appreciation.
The procession reformed. After a brief and heated discussion with Rawer, Amenia angrily pushed past him and strode to where the children he’d executed lay in a long bloody row. She fell to her knees beside the youngest girl, removed the talisman from around her neck, blessed her, moved to the next body and repeated the ritual, tears streaming down her cheeks. Rawer turned his back on her and moved to the front of the procession next to an ashen Abar and led us down the wadi path to the field beside the court. There we feasted until late at night. At least, those who had the stomach to eat did. I was not among them.
***
The next morning Nekhenians and visitors gathered in the oval court for what Rawer and everyone else expected would be his confirmation as ruler. I’d spent a sleepless night at the boatyard, knowing it wouldn’t be, not wasting any time reasserting my control over what Rawer had yielded to me.
Everyone who could was packed inside the oval court when Rawer entered, attended by the elite men and servants carrying emblems atop poles. He was flanked by Senebi’s guards. That was unexpected and troubling; Aboo had never felt the need for protectors inside this sacred space, and their presence would make Amenia denying Rawer the position he claimed was his more dangerous. It was also an additional sign Rawer, if confirmed, would exercise the position of ruler differently than his predecessors had.
I was in the procession too, right behind Rawer, again holding the leashes of the lion cubs. Abar walked at Rawer’s side. If she was nervous it didn’t show. Both were dressed in their finest clothing and jewelry. Rawer wore the lioness’ tail attached to the back of his belt. They approached the dais where Amenia waited, standing on the top step. The two of them halted in front of it, facing her. The elites moved to one side of the platform and I moved to the opposite with the cubs. The servants carrying emblems set them into the holes in the curve behind the platform.
Amenia addressed the crowd in a loud clear voice. “Five hundred years ago my ancestress, Tiaa, was called to Nekhen by the falcon god. She was charged with selecting and confirming a man to rule our settlement. Ever since then, the person who has borne the talisman given to my family by the falcon god himself in a time beyond reckoning has confirmed Nekhen’s ruler. I bear the talisman, the one hundred–twelfth to do so. Today I shall confirm our next ruler. My confirmation cannot be contested or denied, for it represents the will of our god.”
Amenia had set the stage. Abar tensed, as did I. This was the moment she’d worked towards for nearly seven years, the moment we’d pay Rawer back for all the evil he’d done, set Nekhen on course towards a bright future, make what he’d done yesterday no more than a one–time horrible memory. There’d be an immediate uproar, I was certain. Elites would rise to protest that a woman had been picked. Those would be countered by several dozen of the leading men from the surrounding hamlets, and a few elites from Nekhen itself. They’d all pledged me their support for Abar months ago. Or, maybe there wouldn’t be a protest at all. After what Rawer had done yesterday, who’d willingly submit to him if there was a reasonable alternative? Or even an unreasonable one?
“Rawer, ascend the steps,” Amenia said calmly.
Had I heard correctly? Amenia was supposed to call Abar forward. What was happening?
Rawer climbed the steps and stood facing Amenia.
We’d failed. Amenia was going to confirm Rawer. She’d switched sides! She’d betrayed Abar and me. Abar had mentioned an offer of a bribe – Rawer had apparently bought Amenia. I’d thought Amenia stronger than that. I guess I hadn’t really known her. Or, maybe being joined to Sanakht had changed her and she wasn’t the woman I’d loved anymore. Had she revealed our plot to Rawer and extracted something for herself in return? Was his first act as ruler going to be to execute me and Abar for plotting against him?
Abar was trying hard to keep from showing her emotions. She had to be thinking the same things I was. If she was going to die, no doubt she’d do it with strength and dignity. Rawer couldn’t take those away from her, at least.
Seni ascended the platform, carrying a pear–shaped mace he’d personally carved from limestone and decorated. Was it going to be the instrument of my death?
“Take this mace,” Amenia said. “With it, defend your people from Nekhen’s enemies.”
Salitis took Seni’s place.
“The crook and flail are ancient symbols,” Amenia intoned, “carried by the first patriarchs who herded cattle on the vast savannahs flanking this valley. As those patriarchs cared for their beasts, so too shall you, Rawer, care for your people.”
A string of elites climbed the steps to Rawer, presenting him with fish–tailed knives, bows and arrows, lances, tools, jars and bowls, even a greywacke amulet of a cow’s head with horns. He received necklaces made of carnelian and quartz and amethyst and gold and ostrich egg beads, and amulets made of copper and various types of stone, and containers of ointments and minerals, and fine linen. Abar presented the final gift, a lion–shaped greywacke grinding palette, in honor of the lioness he had supposedly slain.
When everything had been given to Rawer, Amenia spoke one last time. “Rawer, as the priestess of the falcon god, I confirm you as Nekhen’s ruler.”
She bound tall white plumes to his brow, then descended to the foot of the dais and stepped into the midst of the elites, leaving him alone to face the assembled crowd. Cheers echoed against the far plateaus. Those cheers were far more muted than the ones always given to Aboo, though I doubted Rawer noticed.
After some time Rawer raised his arms to command silence. “You all know me,” he cried. “I grew up among you. At the very hour of Aboo’s death I was in the desert, eliminating the chaos that had stalked our valley since he became ill.” He pointed to the lion cubs I was controlling. “As I eliminated that chaos, so will I control it in the future. I will keep these cubs captive, and raise them, and I will replenish the wild herd I slew yesterday to accompany Aboo to the next life.”
The crowd stirred as one of Senebi’s men carried the hide of the lioness I’d killed two days ago into the oval court. There was no reason to mention that now; it wouldn’t change what Amenia had done and would only provoke Rawer’s wrath. That was something I’d need to avoid from now on, provoking him, on the unlikely chance I survived this day. The beast had been hurriedly skinned after our return in time for this ceremony. The guard stopped at the foot of the platform, bowed, ascended, moved behind Rawer. Rawer removed his plumes. The guard draped the hide over Rawer’s shoulders, arranged the lioness’ paws so they dangled down his chest, rested its head atop Rawer’s.
Rawer moved from under the canopy. The crowd’s stirring became a loud roar, for Rawer was an impressive sight. After some time he raised his arms for silence again.
“Just as Aboo took the name and power of the elephant he captured at the start of his rule,” he cried, “so today I take the name and power of this lioness I slew to keep you all from harm. From this day my name shall be Ma–ee – Lion – and by that name I shall rule Nekhen.”
“Ma–ee! Ma–ee!” everyone began to chant.
Ma–ee raised his arms in acknowledgment.
One of Senebi’s thugs entered the oval court, bearing a slender pole topped with the image of a lion, newly carved from acacia. He walked through the center of the crowd, to the foot of the plat
form, bowed to Ma–ee. Then he set the pole into the hole that had been occupied by Aboo’s elephant standard for so many years.
The crowd began to chant once more. Ma–ee nodded. Tentopet carried his infant son, Shery, to Abar. Abar took him in her arms. She ascended the dais and stood next to Ma–ee, facing the crowd, expressionless. Everyone cheered even louder. I couldn’t help pity Abar – Amenia should have confirmed her. Even now, Rawer should be slinking away in disgrace. But Abar’s plan had fallen apart. Now she’d never be more than the woman of a ruler who’d never ask for her advice and ignore it if given. A ruler who’d waste her life and talents. A ruler who’d diminish Nekhen.
When everyone finally quieted Ma–ee continued.
“My woman has given me a son, Shery, the grandson of Aboo. Someday – many years from now – he shall succeed me as Nekhen’s ruler.”
That remark was aimed directly at Wehemka. Should something happen to Ma–ee, he’d have no standing to take his place.
Servants brought two leather chairs. Ma–ee and Abar sat, Shery still in her arms. One by one the elite men of Nekhen and the leading men of the hamlets who were now beholden to Ma–ee knelt atop the bottom step of the dais and pledged fealty to him – Wehemka and Pipi and others who’d harbored dreams of ruling our settlement in clipped voices, the rest more heartily. Ma–ee acknowledged each of his new vassals with a smile and comment. When it was my turn I repeated the words of obeisance as had everyone else. But Ma–ee’s smile was forced and there was an undercurrent of uneasiness between him and me. I’d gained my new elite status through a bargain I’d forced upon him, and I was part of a secret that could undermine his credibility – that he hadn’t slain the lioness. I’d never be able to trust him, ever. He was a vindictive man, and recent events, and those of earlier years, were wounds that would fester in him and put us at odds, whether soon or years from now I did not know. But today I didn’t much care about that. It appeared Ma–ee wasn’t going to execute me or Abar – Amenia hadn’t given us up, apparently – and the fleet was now mine.
The Women and the Boatman Page 57