The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

Shepseska was standing next to Nykara in the stern, both hands gripping the long steering oar Nykara was unobtrusively guiding with one hand. Shery was flitting from one side of the boat to the other at Nykara’s feet, impatiently awaiting his turn.

  We were drifting north with the current. Six oarsmen were resting on the deck of one of Nykara’s smaller wood boats. They’d rowed us to one of the nearby hamlets that owed allegiance to Ma–ee to deliver leather products from one of the workshops overseen by Nykara; their bodies still glistened with sweat. Bakist and I were seated under the pavilion amidships, in the shade. The sun was beating down from a cloudless blue sky; fortunately there was a strong breeze to cool us a little. Farmers were busily at work in the fields on both sides of the river, sowing emmer and barley. Women and children trailed them, trampling the seed into the mud, waving their arms to keep away the birds that were alighting in droves. Smoke curled from scattered huts, rebuilt in the past month after the waters of the inundation receded.

  “Nykara’s so good with children,” Bakist said. “My sisters swarmed him constantly when we were in Maadi. I want to give him a child so badly. Believe me, it’s not for lack of trying.”

  I glanced at Nykara. He was still, at age 30, robust, youthful looking, handsome, a head taller than anyone else in the settlement. Authority emanated from him. Thanks to him, the fleet was well–ordered now, not something Ma–ee or I ever had to worry about. What a ruler he would have made, I thought for the thousandth time. He looked the part, more than Ma–ee did with his fine clothes and jewels and accoutrements of power. Even the scar that ran whitely from Nykara’s left shoulder and down his heavily–muscled chest almost to his waist lent him an air of gravitas, not disfigurement, as it would have any other man. An accident with a saw while cutting wood, he’d told me. I still sorrowed for him, that Ma–ee had snatched Amenia away. And I sorrowed for myself, because the love I had for Nykara had only grown stronger over the years.

  And I envied Nykara. Despite all he’d lost he was finally happy. That was thanks to Bakist. Her arrival at Nekhen had been absolutely shocking to everyone who knew Nykara. I’d never expected him to join with anyone but Amenia, certainly not an outsider. But in a very short time she’d become my closest friend, as close as Amenia had once been. She’d taken Amenia’s place as the one person I could talk to about anything. She was frank, without guile, trustworthy, and knew how to keep a secret. Bakist was neither shy nor retiring; she’d quickly made her presence felt in our settlement. Nykara had turned over the care of the families that worked for him to her and they’d all come to love her. She never went about in the boatyard or smithy or workshops without a bevy of children tagging along behind her, like ducklings following their mother. She called on the women in her charge daily, knew every one of them personally, attended them during childbirth and sickness, worked beside them as they made linen or reed mats or ground grain.

  This wasn’t the first time Bakist had shared that particular frustration with me, about her lack of a child. I wished I knew where Amenia was. She’d been a wonderful healer, channeling the power of the falcon god. She’d have the right charm or incantation to help Bakist get pregnant. But, then, maybe it was better she wasn’t around. Bakist would know after a single glance Amenia’s oldest daughter, Keminub, was Nykara’s. Funny how women could always see a resemblance in a child and men couldn’t. Nykara didn’t know he had a daughter. But then, he’d only seen Keminub once, for less than an hour. Would Bakist take it in stride, knowing? I thought she would. Bakist had a big heart. She’d told me once she knew all about Amenia’s and Nykara’s relationship, that Nykara still loved Amenia, and that she didn’t begrudge him. I believed her. She’d also told me she knew I loved Nykara. Amazingly, that conversation hadn’t been at all awkward. I still marveled, recalling.

  “How was it, being back at your old home?” I asked Bakist.

  “Mama was ecstatic. So were my sisters. And Papa. It took me days to straighten out his affairs – I had to find a replacement for the man he’d appointed as overseer of his donkeys. He was useless. The men I used to trade with were glad to see me too – until Nykara and I started negotiating with them. Frankly, we made out even better than all the years I was merely helping Nykara. My intensity ratcheted up since I was making deals on my own behalf.”

  “Nykara used to tell me about a trader’s daughter who assisted him at Maadi. He was always very complimentary about your abilities.”

  The island in the channel appeared. We were nearly home. The boys switched places and Nykara “let” Shery steer the boat into the channel between the island and the riverbank, then into the mooring place. A waiting boatman tied the boat to a sturdy post, then the six oarsmen disembarked. Nykara joined Bakist and me under the pavilion. The boys began chasing each other around the deck.

  “We can talk freely now,” Nykara said, his eyes sweeping the shore. “I trust those particular oarsmen, but I can never be certain if Ma–ee or Senebi has turned one of my men into a spy. Especially the way they threaten men’s families.”

  “Heard about any more plots against Ma–ee?” I asked.

  “Same ones, vague, but disconcerting,” Nykara replied. “Though the whispers are getting louder after two substandard inundations in a row.”

  “Some of the potters’ women have told our craftsmen’s women who’ve told me Hemaka’s getting more and more agitated,” Bakist reported. “They say he hasn’t gotten over Senebi having the position as Ma–ee’s counselor he believes he was promised. I’ve observed Hemaka and Senebi during festivals. They hate each other.”

  “I’ve stumbled on Pipi and Wehemka talking with Hemaka several times. They were taking pains not to be observed,” Nykara added.

  “If my cousin’s involved I’m willing to bet the conspirators intend to do away with Ma–ee and install Wehemka as ruler,” I said, concerned. “They’ll resurrect the argument succession should have come through Father, not Grandfather, and that Wehemka has as good a blood claim as Ma–ee.”

  “Not as good as Shery’s,” Nykara noted.

  “True. But he’s too young to rule Nekhen,” I said. “Without Amenia around to put the fear of the falcon god into the conspirators, Ma–ee may have to fight to remain ruler.”

  “Is Wehemka strong enough to challenge Ma–ee?” Bakist asked. “Can he defeat Senebi and his thugs if it comes to that?”

  “Wehemka would be a figurehead, easily controlled,” I replied. “He’s not bloodthirsty and relentless like Ma–ee. Pipi is, though. He’s wanted to rule Nekhen for a long time, as Nykara can attest. If he allies himself with Merenhor, he’ll have a host of hunters at his disposal to take on Senebi.”

  “I see it that way too,” Nykara said.

  “That puts me in the unenviable position of trying to stop the conspiracy in order to keep Ma–ee in power,” I said grimly. “I never pictured myself defending the monster I’m joined to. But as bad as Ma–ee is, if he’s replaced Shery won’t rule after him. Every sacrifice I’ve made in my life will have been in vain.”

  “Right when we’re on the cusp of making your sacrifices worthwhile,” Nykara said. “My joining to Bakist could well be the first link in the chain that’ll lead to unification of the entire valley, not just the southern section. The two of us tie Nekhen and Maadi and Farkha together. Assuming you outlive Ma–ee, you’ll be able to help Shery add links to that chain someday.”

  “I definitely intend to outlive Ma–ee,” I said.

  “It’s hardly for me to question the two of you and your plans,” Bakist said hesitantly, her eyes darting between Nykara and me. “I don’t pretend to fully understand them or your motives or everything you’ve already gone through. Nykara’s told me about your plot to succeed your father, Abar, and how it fell apart. I know about your dream of creating a single entity in the southern valley. But this conspiracy of Wehemka’s or Hemaka’s or whoever’s could create obstacles you might not be able to overcome.”

  “Do you think we
should give up what we’ve worked so long and hard to achieve without a fight?” I asked. I was slightly offended Bakist was questioning Nykara and me. She was, despite her attempts to fit in since her arrival at Nekhen, an outsider.

  “Give up? No. But I have a different perspective about what you’re trying to do because of where I’m from. Have you considered that instead of creating a great union in the South you could do it in the North?”

  “I come from Nekhen’s ruling family,” I reminded her, my voice somewhat more clipped than I’d intended. “I’m from the South.”

  “I know,” Bakist said hastily. “I don’t mean to offend you, Abar. But my vision isn’t clouded by emotion. I think yours is. Yours too, Nykara, as much as it pains me to say it. I think you two haven’t fully come to terms with what’s happened to you. You’re still trying to turn a failed plan into a success. I think it’s beyond redemption, based on what you’ve told me. You had an excellent plan to succeed your father, Abar. All the pieces were in place. But it failed. You were perfectly positioned to be confirmed as Nekhen’s ruler. Then Ma–ee outmaneuvered you at the last minute. He took Amenia’s daughter hostage. He threatened to kill her. He’s ruthless. He’s short–sighted. If he catches wind of this conspiracy he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting down the conspirators and trampling Nekhen’s elites underfoot. He’ll concentrate his attention on Nekhen and nowhere else. Why, if he had his way there wouldn’t be any trade with Maadi. If not for Nykara, Nekhen would be totally isolated from the North right now. I understand your hopes depend on Shery succeeding Ma–ee and setting Nekhen to rights and then pursuing unification with Nubt and Tjeni. But so much could happen in the years it’ll take for that to occur. One of those settlements could rally behind an energetic man of their own and establish trade with Maadi and possibly cut Nekhen out. Then Nekhen would become isolated and eventually wither up and die. Shery and his descendants would rule over nothing except this settlement. They certainly wouldn’t have the influence to unify the entire valley.”

  “Go on,” I said. There was truth in Bakist’s analysis of what Ma–ee had done and might do and its impact on Nekhen. I was big enough to face up to the truth. That Ma–ee couldn’t had always been, to my mind, one of his biggest flaws.

  “Maadi and Farkha are the two largest and most important settlements in the North. They’re as loosely organized as Nekhen was hundreds of years ago, according to what Nykara has told me. No one person rules either place. Someone with ambition could put her stamp on one of those settlements, unite it with the other, establish dominance in the North, build a fleet, take control of trade throughout the region – including the lands along the Wadjet Wer and the eastern and western deserts – then reach south all the way to Nubt and Tjeni and ensnare them in her sphere of influence and block Nekhen and Ma–ee entirely.”

  I looked at Nykara, then Bakist. “Maadi and Farkha would accept a woman like me as their ruler? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Bakist shook her head. “Truthfully, Abar, no. Men in the North don’t value a woman’s abilities any more than men in the South do.” She smiled. “Nykara excepted. I had to work behind the scenes to help my father with his trading without letting him know I was – he wouldn’t have accepted my help outright. Nykara can attest to that.”

  He nodded. “In my experience, a talented woman can only lead subtly, and from behind.”

  “There are men in those settlements you could ally yourself with, Abar, nudge in the right direction to block Ma–ee while at the same time setting the stage for Shery to be installed as the kind of ruler you have at Nekhen. Not right away, but eventually. Papa is influential. So is my brother, in Farkha. Win them over and you’ll win many.”

  “You could even start a settlement of your own,” Nykara added. “The delta’s full of suitable places that’ll support a large population. Of course, you’d have to contend with Maadi and Farkha then.”

  “Just think of it – New Nekhen, the dominant power in the delta,” Bakist said grandly.

  “Dedi originally saw trade as the tool to export Nekhen’s customs and gods and way of living to Tjeni and Nubt,” Nykara said. “Then you had the idea of establishing trading posts in those settlements to convert them to our way of life from within, Abar, subtly and over time. Founding a full–blown Southern colony in the North, inhabited by settlers from Nekhen, would accomplish the same thing in an accelerated fashion. Bakist may be on to something.”

  I stared at her for a long time. Bakist was an intelligent woman, one with vision, one who’d seen and experienced much. “You indeed have a different perspective,” I said at last. “Let me give your idea some thought. It’s a lot to take in all at once. We’ll talk about this some more after I do.”

  “Whenever you want,” Bakist replied. “I just want to help.”

  “And now I’d better get the boys home, before Ma–ee comes looking for them,” I said.

  ***

  Shery and Shepseska skipped ahead of me all the way. Ma–ee’s house – ours – was twice as large as when it had belonged to my father, long, low, wattle–and–daub, with half a dozen additions so far to accommodate the ever–expanding number of Ma–ee’s dependents who lived with us. The two guards standing before the entrance with lances were new, too, since Father’s time. He’d never seen the need. But then, he’d never run roughshod over the people of Nekhen either, and hadn’t any reason to fear them.

  The three of us passed into the large audience hall. More guards were stationed inside. As always, bowls of oil guttered atop small wood stands to supplement the sunlight slanting through a single window. A few ivory statuettes were scattered about on stands of their own. Reed mats covered the packed clay floor. The dais topped with chairs from which Ma–ee presided several times a week dominated the far end of the hall. The fifty posts supporting the roof were all painted with images of plants and animals now. A ten–foot long rectangle of fine white linen hung on the wall to the right of the dais, the fabric painted with a procession of boats drifting on the river and a man, obviously Ma–ee, slaying various animals and, in one corner, executing a bound prisoner. Ma–ee had commissioned it from a craftswoman Nykara had brought to Nekhen from Inerty. It was an obvious imitation of what Amenia had painted on the wall of Grandfather’s tomb, designed to illustrate Ma–ee’s power and intimidate supplicants who entered this room.

  We exited the audience hall, entered the living quarters. Immediately to the left was a large food preparation area, littered with earthenware jars and bowls and platters and knives and spoons and reed containers and crowded with serving girls noisily preparing the evening meal for the dozens of people who resided with us. More girls were bustling in and out of the enclosed yard just outside the house, where several hearths and a large garden and a pen for geese were located and where almost everyone except Ma–ee and his highest ranking friends ate. I glimpsed the distant river beyond the cultivated strip through the exit between house and yard, beginning to flame with sunset color. Directly opposite the cooking area, at my back, was a storage room holding large earthenware jars of wine and beer and water and containers of emmer and barley and fruits and vegetables and olive oil and the other supplies we needed on a daily basis. A few boys were lugging beer jars from that room into the yard, to be consumed at dinner. Just past the food preparation area was a workroom, nearly as large as the audience hall. Most of the day it was crowded to capacity. Just now, in one corner, several serving women were spinning flax into thread and more were weaving linen on a floor loom. All were singing as they worked. A dozen more girls were occupied nearby working on other household crafts – mending garments, weaving mats, making baskets and the like. We moved through the workroom and passed down a long corridor bisecting the rear of the house. On both sides were the sleeping quarters of our hostage–servants. All the boys slept in one room, the majority of the girls in another. Those dormitories were mostly empty right now. Three small adjacent rooms near the right end of the
corridor had once belonged to my half–sisters; Nubemshant still occupied hers, but Ma–ee had joined Nefertkau to a son of Seni’s a year ago to tie his family to ours. She resided elsewhere in Nekhen with her man. Ma–ee had joined Hunur to Senebi two years ago, at his request, on her twelfth birthday; she resided in their room in our house. Senebi kept her isolated, the only way he had to strike at me for my hatred of him. Nubemshant had just turned twelve; I suspected Ma–ee would join her to one of his friends within a few months and then she’d be gone too. My sisters’ formerly empty rooms were now occupied by two young pretty serving girls from nearby hamlets; I was quite aware why they’d been given rooms so close to Ma–ee’s. Just as soon as he tired of them they’d be replaced by girls even younger and prettier.

  A room housing Senebi’s most devoted thugs was located across the corridor from Nubemshant’s. It bothered me to no end I had to share my living quarters with those animals, but Ma–ee had given me no say. The nursery was the last room on the left and mine was the last on the right, opposite each other at the end of the corridor. The nursery was large, having been recently expanded. In addition to housing my boys and Tentopet, the children of Senebi’s men and our servant–hostages were being cared for there by a growing number of wetnurses. Shery was, at age six, the oldest of the children. Most were infants. I doubted Ma–ee had given any thought about what to do with the children of his hangers–on once they were older.

  The corridor ended at the entrance to Ma–ee’s bedroom. It was the most richly appointed room in Nekhen, representing the best of what craftsmen from Maadi and Abu and Nubt and Tjeni and Nekhen had to offer. Except for the morning meal, which Ma–ee insisted on eating there with me and our sons, I entered only when summoned which was, to my relief, hardly ever. Guards flanked the entrance of that room at all times.

  The boys dashed ahead of me into my room. It was richly decorated, as befit my status. I had a fine wood bed frame and a rush mattress covered with linen sheets, a long wood table littered with stone containers of cosmetics and a grinding palette and wood jewelry boxes, and several leather–bottomed chairs. Images of our gods carved from ivory and bone were scattered about, as well as protective charms Amenia had given me long ago. My clothing filled three large wood chests. Nykara had procured nearly every item in the room for me; before my joining to Rawer he’d given me the pick of whatever he’d brought back from the North after every expedition. After my joining, and especially after he took Father’s place, Ma–ee had selected items for me instead. He’d been stingy.