The Women and the Boatman

by Mark Gajewski

  “It’s not your decision, whether to risk my life or not. It’s mine. And I’ve made it. You’re going to rescue Amenia and her family – how could we live with ourselves if we let Ma–ee kill those innocent women and children? We’re going to take Abar and her boys with us, too. We’re going to run far from this place, Nykara, all of us. I’m going with you. Don’t waste your time arguing with me.”

  She’d been stubborn since the day I met her. I wouldn’t win.

  A shadow loomed. “I’ll help,” Heth said from behind me. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

  I didn’t know why the gods had blessed my life with both Bakist and Heth. I was grateful they had.

  I tilted my face to the hot sun. My eyes were drawn to the copper–clad falcon atop the pole at the far end of the oval court, Nekhen’s god and symbol, the god of Amenia’s family for one hundred twelve generations. It glittered in the light of the descending sun, defiant, alive. I wished I was a falcon. I wished Amenia was a falcon. I wished Bakist and Heth and Abar were falcons. I wished we could all soar together over the valley, feel the wind beneath our wings, fly away from Nekhen and death and never return. But I was no falcon. Wearily, I got to my feet, helped Bakist to hers. I wrapped my arms around her, felt the life growing inside her. The falcon drew my gaze again, almost against my will. Strength seemed to flow from it towards me. I straightened my shoulders. I’m no falcon, but I’m a boatman. I don’t have wings, but I have a vessel. I can’t ride the updrafts, but I can ride the river’s current. I suddenly realized I’d spent my whole life preparing for this very moment. I was a boatman. I had the means and the ability and the skill to save Amenia from death. And the will. I looked a final time at the falcon. By it I vowed I was not going to let Ma–ee kill anyone in the morning. I was going to rescue Amenia and her entire family. I was going to take them away from Nekhen or die myself trying.

  “Load a boat with as much of the food and supplies we’ve set aside for the new estate as it will hold,” I told Heth. I made a quick calculation. “There’ll be about seventeen or so passengers, a few more if I can convince Abar to come, at best five men capable of rowing. We’ll have to use my mid–sized vessel, not the big cargo boat. I’ll join you to help shortly, as soon as I locate the prisoners.”

  I walked with Bakist and Heth to the entrance of the oval court. We parted. They headed towards the boatyard. I paused for a moment. Ma–ee’s house was close by the oval court, on the side facing the river. A wattle–and–daub storage hut was attached to it. There was no more convenient or secure place for Ma–ee to hold Amenia’s family. But I needed to be sure the prisoners were actually there. I exited the court, turned right, passed in front of the row of workshops lining its outer wall, skirted the now–energized crowd noisily feasting there, turned right again towards the river. I paused in the shadow of a nearby hut and casually observed Ma–ee’s house from a distance. A reed mat covered the storage hut’s entrance. Women were crying inside. Two guards were standing before it, spears in hand. The captives were there.

  I continued on to the boatyard to wait for full darkness. I had much to do and little time in which to do it. Luckily, all the boatmen were at the feast and I had the entire yard to myself, except for Heth and Bakist. Heth was already carrying containers of foodstuffs Bakist was pointing out to him and placing them aboard the boat I’d specified. I dashed into my main storage hut, where I kept all my personal supplies. I made numerous trips back and forth between it and my vessel, laden with coils of rope and copper hooks with which to fish and bidents and lances and knives and nets. Taking a drink of water after one trip, I noted the river was rising rapidly and running swiftly, already creeping onto the lowest parts of the shore. My practiced eye told me this inundation was going to be larger than usual, maybe even too large. No doubt everyone would attribute it to Ma–ee’s sacrifices this day. Ironically, even without sacrificing Hemaka’s family his rule would have been secure, at least for another year. But such a massive flood couldn’t have come at a worse time for me – drifting downriver with only Amenia’s extended family as crew under these conditions was going to be extremely dangerous and challenging.

  I hadn’t yet ordered my men to drag my big boats onto the high ground on the west bank beyond the island channel to remove them from the coming flood’s path. They were all still tied up along with those of the festival visitors. Using a copper adze I chopped gaping holes in every hull. As much as it pained me to destroy what I’d designed and built, it was more important to delay Ma–ee’s pursuit. My men would have to repair whatever boat Ma–ee chose to chase us in. I ensured that would take them many hours. Then I chopped holes in the hulls of the smaller vessels and set them adrift so they’d sink far out in the river. So much for Nekhen’s fleet and the visitors’ boats.

  Night was falling, shadow creeping from the western plateau towards the river and the eastern bluff. “I have to go,” I said. I took hold of Bakist’s hands. “If I haven’t brought the captives to the boatyard before the moon’s halfway up the sky it means I’ve been caught. Leave without me. Heth – I charge you with getting Bakist safely to her father if I can’t.”

  “I understand,” Heth said.

  I took Bakist in my arms, kissed her for what I feared might be the last time. “I love you so much,” I whispered.

  “May the gods keep you safe,” she said. “Both yours and mine.”

  I rapidly crossed the fields of stubble and reached the edge of the lower settlement. It was an hour after sunset. On the far side of the oval court torches blazed. Almost everyone from Nekhen and the surrounding hamlets was still there, no doubt gossiping about what had occurred during today’s ceremony, how their lives had just radically changed, what would happen at dawn. Drunken cries and loud laughter and music floated on the breeze.

  I took a roundabout way to Ma–ee’s house so I wouldn’t raise anyone’s suspicion if they’d already left the celebration. The large yard at its rear was surrounded by a fence of reeds tied together with twine and plastered with mud. I carefully poked my head above its jagged top. The storage hut was twenty yards straight ahead of me. I slipped a copper chisel out of my waistband and began digging a hole under the fence, carefully, noiselessly. The somewhat hardened top layer of packed dirt almost immediately gave way to loose sand beneath. In less than five minutes I’d scooped an opening deep enough and wide enough for me to slip under. I figured if I could make it so could everyone else. They were all much smaller than me. So far so good.

  A noise startled me. My worst fear realized. Discovery. Capture. Execution along with the rest of the captives. I spun around, copper chisel held low. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

  “Nykara?” came the whisper.

  Relief swept over me. “Abar?”

  She took a few steps, crouched beside me in the shadow of the fence. “I knew you’d save Amenia.”

  “That’s why you gave me her talisman.”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get it?”

  “I overheard Nekauba spilling his guts to Ma–ee and Senebi about Hemaka’s conspiracy yesterday in the audience hall. It had to be the gods’ doing I was there. Ma–ee promised to give Nekauba Hemaka’s pottery works and Amenia as his reward for turning on his uncle. As soon as Hemaka was gone Ma–ee ordered Senebi to seize Amenia. I ran to Yuny’s farm to warn her. I was bringing her to your boatyard. I knew you’d help her get away. But Senebi caught us. Amenia slipped the talisman to me.”

  “I’ll give it back to her – if my rescue plan works. Bakist and Heth are preparing a boat right now.”

  “You’re lucky you weren’t rounded up too and thrown into that storage hut,” Abar said. “Senebi wanted to execute you. But Ma–ee refused. He wants you to witness Amenia’s death. He wants to force you to cut off her limbs so you’ll be haunted the rest of your life.”

  “He’s the cruelest man I’ve ever known.” I searched Abar’s face, barely distinguishable in the shadow. “You shou
ldn’t be subjected to him any longer, Abar. Come with us – you and your sons. Your sisters too. I’m going to establish an estate in the delta, create that Southern colony in the North Bakist talked about. You and your sons and sisters can thrive there. We can pursue Dedi’s quest together from the North instead of from the South.”

  “I can’t,” Abar said sadly. “Believe me, Nykara, I want to. But I’ve given up too much already honoring my pledge to Grandfather. I’m glad you’ll be establishing a colony. I do recognize its benefits. Bakist’s idea is a good one, and I’m glad you two will carry it out. But I believe true power will come from the South in the end. I think the North will be drawn in too many directions to focus its attention on the southern valley. So I have to stay here.”

  “I may have dealt a death–blow to your plans,” I said. “I destroyed Ma–ee’s entire fleet an hour ago. That’ll have far–reaching consequences Ma–ee will never recognize. He’ll focus entirely on Nekhen the rest of his life, spend his time strengthening the unbridled power he’s just seized. He’ll be happy he’s divested himself of the expense of a long–distance fleet and crews. Without boats Ma–ee won’t be able to send trade expeditions to north and south to obtain the raw materials Nekhenians need. He’ll wait for Tjeni and Nubt to send expeditions to him, but they won’t. Exotic raw materials will dry up, except those that come by caravan from the deserts. Craftsmen will be thrown out of work. Farms will become ever smaller, divided up among too many sons. Eventually, farmers needing more land simply to survive and laborers who can’t feed their families will emigrate northward from Nekhen, seeking new places to live. Then Nubt and Tjeni and Inerty and Hiw will start to grow, maybe even the delta. In a few decades Nekhen will be an afterthought, cut off from the rest of the valley, a shadow of what it is now.”

  “Which is exactly why I have to stay,” Abar said decisively. “I’ve got to make sure Shery succeeds Ma–ee. Through him I’ll be able to undo whatever Ma–ee has done.”

  “Unless Ma–ee blames you for helping Amenia escape and executes you and joins with a more pliable woman and recreates Shery in his image.”

  “It’s a chance I have to take,” Abar said. “I can’t do anything else.”

  The tip of the moon appeared above the rim of the eastern desert plateau.

  “It’s going to be nearly full tonight,” I observed. “It’ll light our way on the river. But it’ll make it easier for us to be discovered during the rescue attempt.”

  Abar glanced to the east. “You need a distraction to draw the attention of Senebi’s guards and everyone celebrating on the festival grounds away from the lower settlement,” she said practically.

  “Yes. But what?”

  “How about if I set Ma–ee’s tomb complex on fire?”

  Farmers had finished a goodly portion of Ma–ee’s tomb structures in the ruler’s cemetery during the last inundation. They’d worked on them the prior three. The complex consisted of three pillared halls, the tomb building itself, a chapel, and an offering pavilion, all surrounded by a reed fence, all clearly visible from the lower settlement. All would burn like torches if set afire.

  “That’s an excellent idea,” I said. “But I can do it myself.”

  “Run there, set the fire, run back, help the captives escape, all without being detected? Too risky,” Abar scoffed.

  “I can pull it off.”

  “You probably can. The point is you don’t have to, Nykara. Let me help you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You’ve spent your whole life helping me. It’s my turn.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, Abar was right. Concentrating on only freeing the captives made the probability of success much higher. “You win,” I conceded. “Thank you.”

  Abar put her hand on my arm. “We’ll never see each other again, will we, Nykara?”

  “Probably not.” My chest tightened. I’d known Abar for so long. She was an important part of my life – a friend, a confidant, a conspirator. A world without her in it was going to be different, diminished, empty.

  “I wish everything had turned out differently for us!” Abar exclaimed. “Imagine what Nekhen would be like today if I was its ruler and you were my man.”

  “I’ll always love you, Abar. You were the first woman I ever cared about.”

  “What a life we could have had together!”

  “You’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known. And I’ve been blessed to know extraordinary women.”

  “Don’t forget me, Nykara,” Abar whispered. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

  “Impossible!”

  Abar put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me to her and softly kissed me. Then, with a choked cry, she rose and turned away and dashed off in the direction of the ruler’s cemetery.

  I whispered a prayer to the falcon god to keep her safe the rest of her days.

  I remained crouched beside the hole under the fence and waited. Every once in a while I risked a peek over the top. Half an hour later a yellow and orange glow suddenly lit the sky in the west. Flames leapt from the structures atop the plateau, as if they were massive torches. Abar had done it. The shouts of revelers carried to me. I saw them hurrying en masse from the ceremonial grounds up the wadi path to see firsthand what was happening, many among them carrying torches to light the way. The guards were talking excitedly on the hut’s far side, speculating about the fire. Hopefully, it would continue to draw their attention until I completed my rescue attempt. Hopefully, they’d still be standing at their posts a few hours from now when they were ordered to convey Hemaka and Amenia and the rest to the oval court to be executed. Hopefully they wouldn’t check on the prisoners before that and spoil everything.

  I slid under the fence, gritty sand scraping my bare back, crept through the garden that occupied much of the yard to the hut, began chipping at a section of the wall. It practically melted away before my chisel. I dug a fist–sized hole all the way through, pressed my mouth close to the opening. “Stay quiet!” I hissed. “I’m getting you out.”

  I listened for a moment to make sure the guards hadn’t heard, then began widening the hole. I paused occasionally. From time to time the guards conversed with each other, but neither suspected anything untoward was happening. Before long the hole was big enough.

  “Come out!” I whispered.

  Hemaka was the first through. I wasn’t surprised he’d value his hide above his own children’s or his woman’s.

  “Nykara!”

  “Shhh!” I pointed to the hole under the fence. It was easily visible in the moonlight. “Crawl under, quietly. I’m taking you all away from Nekhen.” In that moment all the hatred I’d felt for him these past years boiled over. I grabbed hold of his long hair with one hand, pulled his ear close to my lips. “Even you. Even after you broke your word and stole Amenia from me. I ought to leave you behind so Ma–ee can kill you. Everything horrible that’s happened since the day you two conspired against us is your fault. You deserve to die.” I let go of his hair, shoved him hard.

  He scrambled away.

  The next head appeared. Nekauba. Also predictable. Also valuing his life above his woman and child. He didn’t look happy to see me either. Then Itet, Kapes, her four–year old son Neby, Nebet, Peseshet, Aat, Ibi, Nebtint clutching her infant son, Yuny. Finally Amenia’s two young girls, Keminub and Peksater. And then Amenia herself.

  She looked at me for a moment, her eyes glistening. “You came for me,” she said tremulously.

  I handed her the talisman, too overcome with emotion to speak.

  Amenia uttered a little cry, slipped the object over her head. “Yesterday Abar showed up at Yuny’s farm to warn me Senebi was coming for me. We’d almost made it to your boatyard when he caught us.”

  “She told me.”

  “I gave her the talisman so she could bury it with me.” A sob escaped her lips.

  “I’ll make sure you live a long life, so you can pass it on to Keminub when she
’s grown.” I pointed her to the fence, followed her. She limped, stiff, careful. In the moonlight I saw blood crusted over her wounded back and ribs. How I wished I could make Ma–ee pay for doing that to her… Once under the fence I took a moment to push the sand back in the hole. It might take the guards a few extra minutes to figure out the direction we’d taken.

  The fugitives were gathered in a semi–circle outside the fence. “My boat’s waiting. There’s no time to waste.” I swept up Keminub and Peksater in my arms and hurried away from Ma–ee’s house. The glow in the sky was beginning to diminish; the structures of Ma–ee’s tomb complex had probably collapsed and burned mostly to coals by now. I could almost picture his fury when he figured out I’d been responsible. We all half–ran down Nekhen’s dusty lanes, occasionally stumbling, keeping to the shadows close beside houses, moving always towards the river. We proceeded much slower than I wanted, but we had to go slow enough for the women and children to keep up.

  After a final mad dash across the cultivated strip we reached the boatyard and gathered beside my vessel. Heth was at the foot of the gangplank, on guard, armed with a knife and lance. Bakist was already on board, peering down at us.

  Hemaka scrambled up the gangplank. Nekauba followed. Heth helped several panicked women and children ascend after them.

  “Where are we going?” Yuny demanded when it was his turn, blocking the way.

  His woman and children were in line behind him. They tried to push past, terror–stricken. He prevented them.

  “Downriver, to where it’s safe,” I answered.

  “The farther from Ma–ee the better,” Hemaka called from the deck. “And the quicker. Move, Yuny!”