“Badari, Mostagedda, Matmar are the largest,” Sety said. “My ancestress Tiaa was a potter at Badari before she emigrated to Nekhen. Badarians made an exquisite type of pottery – some say the finest ever seen in the valley. Tiaa mastered the style.”
“I still can’t believe I found her kiln at Nekhen, and the image of my ancestress Abar etched on the rock face over it. Our families have been friends for a long time, Sety.”
“And for a long time more, I hope.”
They would have been for sure, if Matia and I had married, and our descendant had married Sety’s. But Matia belonged to Pentu now, and their child wouldn’t have royal blood from both Nubt and Tjeni. Sety had been wrong about the meaning of his dream. And about Matia. But I wasn’t going to remind him.
Four days more brought us to an intersection with a small channel that branched west from the river.
“We’ll be traveling parallel to the channel for the next twelve days, never more than a few miles to its east. Far to the north, almost to the delta, the channel flows into a great lake perhaps fifty miles across. It’s where my ancestress Aya received my talisman from the falcon god, and where her people, under her leadership, first began to farm and herd.”
“You’ve told me that Aya ruled her band as patriarch. Do you believe that story’s true? Do you believe men let themselves be led by a woman?”
“Why not? Who’s to say a woman can’t rule as well as a man?”
I recalled Matia’s claim that she’d be a better successor for her father than Sabu. In the short time I’d known her I’d come to believe it. Now I believed it even more. Matia knew what she wanted and she had mastered deceit and flattery and ruthlessness to get it. What successful ruler didn’t have command of all three?
“I’m the one hundred twenty-third to bear this talisman,” Sety said, fingering the object. “Only five women have – Aya, Nimethap, Tiaa, Ipu and Amenia. All of them lived magnificent lives and changed this valley in significant ways. While only one ruled her band, the rest did more to affect us today than the majority of long-forgotten patriarchs and rulers and kings ever did.”
***
“By nightfall we’ll be at Maadi,” Sety announced as we untied from the riverbank at dawn after nearly two more weeks of drifting north.
Within an hour we reached a small settlement on the west bank.
“Tarkan,” Sety said. “See all those graves on the desert beyond the cultivation? Many of the dead lived on the shores of Aya’s lake. But that was many centuries after her descendants moved on, of course. We could walk to the lake from here in a couple of hours.”
The burial ground was large, attesting to its age.
“That’s Omari, on the east bank,” Sety told us a few hours later.
Perhaps three dozen huts edged a strip of farmland.
“A trail leads from Omari to the eastern sea,” Sety explained. “The Omarians trade mostly with barbarian tribes.” He pointed to the west bank. “Over there’s Ptah’s Settlement.”
“Who’s Ptah?”
“A local god. Patron of craftsmen. It’s not a true settlement in the sense we know it, ruled by one man. It’s a collection of huts and warehouses and workshops abutting a spacious harbor overseen by a group of elites.”
“I remember seeing them at Khab’s coronation. Everyone seemed to be ignoring them.”
“They support their dependents and craftsmen and others by skimming off a share of the cargo of every trader who comes to barter.”
Rude huts and houses were haphazardly scattered on the floodplain, stretching north from our position for more than half a mile. Men and women and children and laden donkeys were bustling through winding narrow lanes amidst the structures. At the southern end of the floodplain, the first section of the settlement we were encountering, a dozen substantial wooden quays thrust into a natural harbor.
“Those large mud-brick buildings a quarter mile north of the harbor are warehouses for storing goods. Granaries lie behind them. They’re all on a low ridge protected by dikes to keep them dry during the inundation. The spirals of smoke between the harbor and the warehouse district mark dozens of workshops of various types.”
Porters and donkeys were conveying bundles and containers between the warehouses and the boats tied up at the quays. One of the vessels was from outside the valley, based on its appearance. Strings of donkeys were being unloaded beside the warehouses as well; the beasts showed signs of desert travel. A caravan from the western desert, maybe even one of the oases, I expected.
“You didn’t mention Ptah’s Settlement when you made your map, Sety.”
“Because it’s disorganized and dependent on the delta and has virtually nothing to do with the rest of the valley. Hundreds of craftsmen live and work here, Iry. They receive raw materials from the North and the Sinai, such as copper and turquoise and flint, and turn them into tools and products the estates and settlements in the delta need. Tools of wood and stone in particular – there’s none of either in the delta. The craftsmen, and the porters and boatmen and potters and bakers and brewers and all who support them, mostly trace their ancestry to Nekhen and Tjeni, though there are also Northerners who came as oarsmen on cargo boats more recently and stayed. The ancestors of some of these people followed my ancestors Nykara and Amenia north, so some families have lived here a very long time.”
“I assume your estate supplies Ptah’s Settlement with foodstuffs and necessities?”
“It does. As you can see, the valley’s very narrow here. The floodplain’s not wide enough to grow near enough food to support the populace. Ptah’s Settlement couldn’t exist without the delta estates.”
“Are any of the boats in the harbor yours, Sety?”
“The wooden one tied to the third quay from the end. Porters are unloading barley, and cooked meat preserved in honey. Herds of my cattle and sheep and goats graze the delta, Iry. I operate a slaughterhouse on my estate, and a leatherworks too.”
“Most of the boats are reed.”
“Because they only need to travel between Ptah’s Settlement and the delta estates and settlements. Rarely, traders from outside the valley come here to barter for the products made in the settlement’s workshops. But for the most part, Northerners trade directly with Pe and Dep and Farkha and Maadi. Those are the distribution points for luxury goods.”
“Are all your boats wooden?”
“Yes. I transport on behalf of several delta estates for a share of the cargo. Saves them the expense of a boat.”
“What’s in the warehouses?”
“Mostly supplies and foodstuffs for Ptah’s Settlement, and goods that’ll be sent to the estates from its workshops. They’re basically transfer points.”
Less than half a day past Ptah’s Settlement we reached Maadi. It was smaller than I’d expected. Its huts topped the crest and spilled down the sides of a long narrow ridge less than half a mile long on the east bank. Smoke spiraled upwards from many fires. Men and women and children crowded its streets. Boats were tied up beside a row of quays thrust into the river. Most of the vessels were from outside the valley, their shapes unfamiliar to me, their crewmen’s dress strange.
“I’ve got mixed feelings about destroying Maadi,” Sety admitted to me when my brothers were at the opposite end of the boat and couldn’t hear. “My family’s been involved here for more than two hundred years. You see, before my ancestor Nykara married Amenia he was married to a Maadian woman named Bakist. Did I ever tell you about her, Iry?”
“Not in detail. Just that she and Nykara were married and she died in childbirth while they were fleeing Nekhen.”
“Bakist was Nabaru’s daughter. He was the leading man in Maadi in those days. He imported wine from Setjet and Retenu, the land of his ancestors. Nabaru and Nykara were business partners for many years. Nabaru had interests in Farkha too. His son oversaw those activities. After Nykara established his estate, he supplied Nabaru’s workers with foodstuffs and supplies both here in
Maadi and in Farkha. Thanks to Nykara, Nabaru was able to expand both his workforce and enterprises. He became extremely wealthy.”
“Is Maadi as important as you said during the council of war?”
“Incalculably,” Sety replied. “No settlement produces better stone vases. It’s the only place in the valley besides Nubt where craftsmen smelt copper, and this is where Nubt’s smelters learned how. Maadi’s craftsmen make the finest objects from copper and stone anywhere. For centuries, Maadi was the place where men from the Far North and men from the upper valley met to exchange their goods. Without Maadi’s traders the elites of the South wouldn’t have had wine or copper or obsidian or lapis lazuli from the North, or leather or skins or spices or oils or dates or grapes from the western desert, carried here by barbarians when they sought pasturage in the delta for their flocks during Shemu. Craftsmen in the valley wouldn’t have decorated their objects with many images that are common today either, for they wouldn’t have known about them. Those images reached the valley first here at Maadi, along with technical skills like smelting. Without Maadi’s influence, craftsmen in the South wouldn’t today be reproducing objects initially created in the Far North – knives with twisted blades, pottery with wavy handles, cylinder seals. But, even more importantly than goods, ideas and culture and technical skills flowed both ways at Maadi. Had Maadi never existed, I expect this valley would today be very different. More primitive.”
We landed at Maadi’s single vacant quay. None of the porters or overseers along the harbor evinced any curiosity about us. They were apparently used to traders. Or maybe used to seeing one of Sety’s boats. Sety and my brothers and I disembarked and headed towards the largest house in the village.
“See those sunscreens at the north and south ends of the settlement?” Sety asked.
Dozens of men were beneath each, small with distance, many gesticulating. I nodded.
“They shade immense clay containers set deep into the ground. That’s where the goods of North and South are stored and where traders make their deals. The northern area holds emmer and barley and cooked mutton, and animal and fish bone, and shellfish and small pots. The southern end holds luxury goods. In a sense, those storage areas are, right now, the heartbeat of the valley.”
“Maadi’s traders hold their goods in common?”
“Unlike in the South, where kings control everything grown and made in their region. The Maadians invest their surplus in metallurgy and transportation and storage, whereas you in the South invest yours in obtaining luxury goods for your elites.”
We headed north on a narrow twisting hard-packed dirt lane climbing the slight rise at the settlement’s center. Oval huts hugged the lane, all made of wattle-and-daub, most with pens attached containing pigs or goats. The lane was thick with people, but no one paid any attention to us.
“Why’s that house partly underground?” I asked.
“Maadi’s founders came from the North. That’s the style there. No other settlement in the valley has such houses.” Sety indicated the eastern hills. “As you can see, Maadi not only dominates the river, but it’s at the mouth of a valley that’s the terminus of a trade route across the eastern desert to the sea and the Sinai. Donkey caravans carry copper ingots here from there.”
I could almost picture a caravan emerging from that valley, beasts dust-covered and exhausted, loaded with copper ingots, dust rolling from their hooves, their steps quickening at the smell of the river.
“We’re going to visit Raherka this evening, Maadi’s most prominent man,” Sety told us. “He’s a descendant of Nabaru’s. I’m very distantly related to him. He and my father were friends. Oh – and I’m married to his oldest granddaughter, Merit.”
A man was waiting for us outside the house. He appeared to be at least sixty, what remained of his hair gray, slightly stooped. His kilt and pectoral spoke of prosperity. A woman, perhaps eighteen or so, stood beside him. Likely a granddaughter. She was extremely pretty, eyes and long hair dark, skin light brown, body willowy. Her white skirt was impeccable. A necklace of gold and turquoise beads graced her neck, matching the girdle around her waist and the bracelets that jangled at her wrists.
“A porter brought word you’d come,” the man said, embracing Sety.
“Raherka, this is Lagus, heir to Scorpion, king of Tjeni, and his younger brothers Mekatre and Iry.”
“Majesties,” Raherka said, bowing deeply to us.
“This is Khensuw, my wife’s younger sister,” Sety continued, introducing the girl.
She too bowed, after boldly eyeing Lagus. “How is Merit, Sety? And my nephew Senebi?”
“Doing well, I hope. I’ve been in the South for months. I can’t wait to get home.”
“You carry a stick now,” Raherka observed.
Sety’s foot-long ebony stick was knobbed at both ends. “I speak for King Scorpion in the North.”
Raherka raised an eyebrow.
“Please, come inside,” Khensuw invited.
We descended a few steps into Raherka’s nearly round house, its packed clay floor three feet underground. A fire occupied the center of the structure. Sleeping pallets were rolled up across from the cooking area. We seated ourselves cross-legged on decorated mats around the fire. Khensuw brought cups and filled them with wine. I sipped. The same wine served in Father’s per’aa. Khensuw served Lagus last then seated herself next to him.
“Maadi seems busy, as usual, Raherka,” Sety said, raising his cup.
“A caravan arrived yesterday, and several boats.” He eyed Sety suspiciously. “What brings you here with King Scorpion’s sons in tow?”
“I’ll be frank, as you deserve. King Scorpion has decided it’s time for Maadi to die.”
Raherka drew in his breath sharply. “Die?”
“Disappear. Fade away. Be abandoned,” Sety said calmly.
“King Scorpion’s decided this, has he?” Raherka stared at each of we three brothers in turn, instantly furious. “What gives Tjeni’s king the right? He has no say here, hundreds of miles from his settlement. Have you come to warn me we’re about to be attacked, for my granddaughter’s sake, Sety? So I can flee his invasion?”
“Not invaded, Raherka.”
“Then what?”
“Denied a reason to exist.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nubt’s king has declared war against Tjeni. King Scorpion can’t risk supplies from the North being cut off while he’s engaged in a fight. We both know Maadi will never pledge King Scorpion fealty. In fact, there’s a good chance Antef of Pe and Dep will reach out to you to form an alliance against Tjeni. So Maadi must fade away.”
“Sabu of Nubt approached me and others along with Antef when we were at Nekhen,” Raherka reported. “I turned him down.”
“You were wise to, but it doesn’t change anything,” Sety said. “You could be replaced by an elite friendly to Antef, Raherka. Who knows what your successor might agree to?”
“How does Scorpion intend to ‘deny us a reason to exist,’ as you claim?” Raherka probed, his anger barely contained.
“He’s going to choke off all trade that currently flows through Maadi.”
“Impossible!”
“Quite possible. Beginning a month from now I’m going to found settlements on every trade route between Maadi and the sea and the desert. Those settlements will route all goods that pass through them to Farkha instead of Maadi. You’ll receive no more raw materials or finished objects.”
“How can you possibly populate so many settlements?”
“King Scorpion’s sending farmers and herdsmen and more from Tjeni.”
“You expect me to sit back and accept an unwarranted and unprovoked attack on Maadi and do nothing, Sety? Just because you’re leading it?” Raherka was incredulous.
“Actually, I expect you to leave Maadi as soon as possible and take everyone who lives here with you.”
Raherka slammed his cup on the floor. Wine sloshed everywhere.
Khensuw jumped and gave a little cry.
Raherka’s voice rose in volume. “Abandon what’s been my family’s home for centuries? Give up trading? And go where, Sety? And do what? Settle in Farkha or some nameless delta hamlet? Sit beside my fire and wait to die?”
“Hardly,” Sety said soothingly. “King Scorpion’s decided to found a settlement in Setjet to intercept Northern goods that are currently transported overland, before they reach the valley. He wants that settlement to be a place from which to distribute the valley’s goods into the Far North as well. He intends thereby to weaken Pe and Dep.”
“The same thing he’s going to do to Maadi.”
“Exactly.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Raherka queried, seething.
“I convinced King Scorpion that you’re the only man experienced enough with Setjetians and Retunians and trade to establish and operate his new settlement. You’ll be one of his officials, Raherka. You’ll carry a stick like me – it’s on my boat. You’ll speak with the king’s authority in the Far North.” Sety leaned towards Raherka. “Lead your Maadians there, Raherka. I’ll supply my boats to transport all of you and your belongings, as many trips as necessary. Your people will be the nucleus of the settlement. King Scorpion will send more men from Tjeni to swell your numbers three months from now. Maadi’s going to die, but you have the chance to create something new to take its place. Something better. Something that will make you wealthier and even more influential than you are now.”
Raherka pondered for a moment. His anger seemed to be dissipating. “An unexpected offer. Life-altering. It’s a lot to consider.”
“I know.”
“Spend the night with me, Sety. You and your companions. We’ll talk more. I’ll think it over. I’ll give you my answer in the morning.”
House of Scorpion Page 18