Bakist’s vision. “Don’t forget about docks for my fleet,” I said.
“And a boatyard, with many boats under construction,” Amenia averred. “When Maadi’s leading men see the success of this farm they’ll start their own. Your fleet will serve all of them. You’ll recreate Nekhen’s transportation network. You’ll supply the other farms with supplies and tools. You’ll carry the products of the farms to Maadi and other towns in the delta. You’ll trade up and down the valley, and beyond, even up the coast of the Wadjet Wer. Someday you, or your descendants, will rule this area.”
“Can you see the future?” I asked. I glanced at her talisman. “Has your falcon god given you a dream?”
“He has, actually,” Amenia said lightly.
“Well, I’ll leave ruling to Abar,” I said, shaking my head. “That was always her dream, not mine. As long as I can be a boatman the rest of my days I’ll be happy. That’s all I ever wanted to be.” I glanced towards the settlers gathered around their fires. “We’re quite a mix, aren’t we? Men and women and children from Nekhen and Nubt and Tjeni and the middle valley, founders of a Southern colony in the far North. We’re going to create right here the union Dedi envisioned and I promised to pursue.” I kissed Little Bakist’s head. “In my lifetime we’re going to infuse Maadi and Farkha and the other settlements in the delta with Nekhen’s culture. Someday, one of my daughter’s descendants will travel south to meet one of Abar’s coming north and together they’ll unify this entire valley.”
“Now who’s dreaming?” Abar asked.
I laughed.
“Nykara, do you remember the house you once sketched for me?” Amenia asked shyly.
The one that was to have been ours, but now never would be. “Of course.”
She pointed to a small hillock rising a few yards beyond this one, closer to the river. “Wouldn’t that be a perfect spot for it?”
“It would. I promise I’ll build it for you and your girls, just as soon as we’ve got our settlement well underway. I’m going to erect a hut for me and Little Bakist over by my boatyard, at the other end of the farm.” I couldn’t build one on this spot now, with Bakist gone. It would be too painful a reminder of what I’d lost. “That way I can stay out of your way as much as possible.”
Amenia drew her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, tilted her head, looked sideways at me. “This can’t go on, Nykara!” she said adamantly. “We need to come to an understanding. We can’t continue on as we have been ever since we left Nekhen, keeping each other at arm’s length. This farm is too small. We can’t avoid each other.”
So the issue that stood like a wall between us was finally going to be aired out. About time. “You’re right, Amenia. We can’t. So I’ll tell you now what I should have told you a long time ago. I’m sorry, more sorry than you’ll ever know. I don’t expect you’ll ever forgive me. But maybe you can stop hating me some day.”
“Hate you?” She sounded perplexed.
“I killed Sanakht, Amenia. I’ve never forgotten what you said that night, that you wished I hadn’t. I took your girls’ father from them. I cost you your home and way of life. I took pottery–making away from you. Because of me you were sentenced to Yuny’s farm, trapped in a life of drudgery and practically a slave. Then I didn’t stand up for you in the oval court and confess to Ma–ee I was the one who’d murdered Sanakht.” I shook my head, disgusted at myself. My sins sounded even more awful confessed out loud. “You were beaten because of me. You were almost executed because of me. You had to flee Nekhen because of me.”
Amenia put her hand on my shoulder. “I never blamed you for any of that, Nykara,” she said.
For the first time in years her eyes fully met mine. Startled, I saw truth in them, not hatred. And something else. Love.
“Ma–ee almost killed me because of Uncle, not you. He was doing it to eliminate a rival who threatened his rule. As for Sanakht, he got what he deserved. He chose to run and fight when we gave him the chance to talk. He was a grave–robber – he was a horrible man. When I said I wished you hadn’t killed him you misunderstood my meaning. I wished he’d lived so we could have taken him to Ma–ee. Ma–ee would have executed him. Then we could have been together.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Ever since that night in the cemetery I thought you hated me, Nykara. You killed Sanakht because of me. I put you in that position. I thought you blamed me for making you into someone you didn’t want to be.”
“I didn’t lose a single night’s sleep over killing Sanakht,” I assured her.
Amenia half–laughed. “Then the gods have kept us apart all these years for no reason, Nykara. I thought you hated me. You thought I hated you. Well, I’ve never stopped loving you – never!” She brushed tears from her cheeks with her fingertips. They were flowing freely now. “I owe you my life, Nykara, and my girls’ lives. When I close my eyes I still see Keminub drifting down the river. And when we were imprisoned in that hut in Nekhen, I thought I was dead. I thought my girls were dead. You risked your life for us. When I heard your voice…”
“When you crawled through that hole, Amenia…” I put my free arm around her shoulders, the one I wasn’t using to hold Little Bakist, pulled her close. Tears were springing to my eyes too and I didn’t trust myself to say more. She lay her head against my shoulder and began to sob. It was the first time she’d broken down since we’d left Nekhen. The first time she hadn’t had to be brave for everyone. I held her for a long time, until her tears stopped. I’d wanted to hold her this way for years. I relished it, took comfort in it. After everything I’d lost, I’d just regained something important. Amenia didn’t hate me. The wall that had been raised between us had crumbled to dust and blown away.
“Maybe it was the gods’ doing all along, to separate us and forge us anew in sorrow and pain and then bring us back together again now, stronger than before,” Amenia said pensively. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have loved Bakist and wouldn’t have Little Bakist to love. And I wouldn’t have Peksater to go along with Keminub. Our lives would have been so much poorer, even with each other.”
Little Bakist stirred, cried out in her sleep, settled back down.
“Would you like to know what I dreamed the first night I wore the talisman after Great–grandmother died?” Amenia asked.
“Of course.”
“I saw the two of us, sitting at this very spot, watching the sun set, you with an infant cradled in your arms. I always thought the child was ours.”
“And now she will be,” I whispered.
I knew I’d grieve for Bakist for a very long time. I’d never get over her death. I’d always love her. And I knew when I was finally ready to rejoin the world Amenia would be patiently waiting for me. Little Bakist would indeed grow up with sisters, and perhaps even a few brothers. Keminub and Peksater would have a father. I drew Amenia close again and kissed my daughter’s head just as the sun dipped below the horizon. As it died, so did the lives Amenia and I had known. When it was born again in the morning our new lives would begin.
Additional Publications
Predynastic Egypt
Daughter of the Falcon God
The Potter
The Women and the Boatman
Ancient Egypt
The Beadnet Dress
Beauty of Re
The Four Lakes Saga
Wingra
Madison, Wisconsin History
Forest Hill Cemetery
A Biographical Guide to the Women and Men Who Shaped Madison, Wisconsin, and the World
Bishops to Bootleggers
A Biographical Guide to Resurrection Cemetery: the Women and Men Who Shaped Madison, Wisconsin, and the World
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The Women and the Boatman Page 82