“I know of no such agreement,” Hannu replied haughtily.
You weren’t paying attention, then, Aya thought. You were there – the night Meru slew the lion. Or are you feigning ignorance for some reason?
“Aya heard Kakhent and me make it. Ask her,” Meru insisted testily. He didn’t appreciate his word being questioned by a man who hadn’t kept his.
“For all I know, you’ve already taken Aya as your lover,” Hannu said dismissively. “I assume she’ll say whatever you tell her to. How can I trust anything she says?”
Aya felt her face flush, as much from anger as embarrassment. But she dared not contradict Hannu, get in an argument with him. Meru would certainly take the opportunity to boast about what he’d already done to her on multiple occasions. Being taken by Meru against her will was a far cry from being his lover. But she knew her father would not make the distinction.
Meru leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees, staring at Hannu intently. His color was rising too. Aya saw he was fighting to control his anger. “Give me Aya. Tonight.”
Hannu crossed his arms across his chest. “Like I said, acknowledge me as your patriarch and you can have her.”
“I’ve told you I won’t. We’re at an impasse.”
Hannu rose. “Tell you what – I’ll give you until the inundation festival to see reason and change your mind. Agree to bow to me then and you can have Aya. Otherwise, take your band back to the East. I won’t allow any joinings at all.”
Meru rose as well. “I will have Aya – one way or another,” he said, his voice eerily calm. With that he spun on his heel and stalked off towards his own camp.
Hannu immediately disappeared inside his hut.
Aya stood beside the fire, alone, rooted to the spot. She could hardly believe what had just happened. Days ago, on the peninsula, she’d vowed to keep from becoming Meru’s woman. Now, for the moment at least, it appeared that she wouldn’t. It appeared none of her people would have to join with Meru’s either. She marveled at the sudden development of a backbone by her father. She’d never seen him stand up to anyone the way he had tonight. Maybe becoming patriarch had changed him. Or maybe his greed was blinding him to reality. Meru was a dangerous man, and Hannu was treating him as if he wasn’t. Aya assumed he’d pay a price for that before long. At any rate, Aya was free, at least as long as neither Hannu nor Meru gave in to the other. She scarcely dared revel in that possibility. Hannu was weak and vulnerable, despite his resistance just now, and Meru was strong. She couldn’t imagine that Meru would let her father deny him what he claimed to want most in the world – her. But for now she chose to believe he would.
***
Two weeks after Hannu rejected Meru’s request, Aya and Iuput strolled towards the western end of the peninsula and an extensive patch of reeds that lined its southern side. Aya had tucked a sharp flint knife into a leather sheath attached to her loincloth. She carried a few supplies and some bread and fruit and smoked fish for the midday meal in a leather pouch slung over a shoulder.
Aya was going to spend the day making reed baskets and Iuput was going to help her harvest reeds for that purpose. Every extra basket in camp had been called into service at the end of the latest harvest to store the bounty, and so Aya was going to construct enough to carry her band’s supplies when next they journeyed to the river after the planting. Assuming, of course, that she was still part of Hannu’s band and not joined to Meru then.
Meru had not visited Hannu’s camp nor spoken to Aya since the confrontation with her father. In the immediate aftermath of the meeting, and the days that followed, Meru had laid low. That concerned Aya far more than if he’d been openly working against Hannu. She couldn’t imagine he’d given her up so easily. Hannu was extremely nervous, never leaving the camp on the ridge unaccompanied, constantly looking over his shoulder, certain that Meru would act against him. Perhaps, Aya thought, driving Hannu crazy through uncertainty is Meru’s plan.
Then, a week ago, Aya had spotted Qen, from a distance, in earnest conversation with Paser. She’d seen them together several times since in the most unusual places, where they were unlikely to be observed. The two had no good reason to be talking to each other; it was clear to Aya that Qen was conspiring with Paser on Meru’s behalf. Without any doubt, the two were planning the best way to remove Hannu as patriarch and replace him with Paser. Paser, of course, would give Aya to Meru without a second thought to thank him for his assistance. Knowing how much Meru and Qen despised each other, that Qen was working on Meru’s behalf was significant. Meru had no doubt had to promise his half–brother something of great value for Qen to agree to act as his ambassador. Aya concluded that Qen’s reward would be Ahaneith. Qen needed a woman, and Ahaneith, as Kakhent’s oldest daughter, was the logical choice. So, as a result of Qen and Paser’s conspiracy, Aya would become Meru’s woman. As far as Aya was concerned, Qen was going to be directly responsible for taking away her freedom. However much she’d despised him before, it wasn’t even close to the hatred she felt for him now.
What convinced Aya she was correct about Meru’s plot was the fact that since the night of his confrontation with Hannu there’d been no talk of the rest of the joinings not taking place. Fortunately, only Meru and Aya and Hannu knew of the demand Hannu had made that night, and Meru’s refusal. Because of that, neither Hannu nor Meru had had to make any public pronouncements before their respective bands to save face. Aya assumed Meru had purposefully kept quiet about what had happened so that Hannu wouldn’t feel he’d been backed into a corner. Her father was too proud and stubborn to publicly change his mind, and Meru knew that, for he had the same trait. As for Hannu, he continued to insist, when he discussed the situation with Aya, that Meru would eventually accept his terms and all the other joinings would take place as scheduled. Aya thought it far more likely that Hannu would eventually give in to Meru, in light of the plot he knew nothing about yet, and agree to join her to the other patriarch. If Hannu didn’t change his mind, all Meru had to do was execute his alliance with Paser, making Hannu irrelevant. By this point, Aya reflected, it was probably too late for Hannu to retain his position as patriarch anyway. Now that Paser had embarked on the road to removing his cousin there was no reason for him to stop.
Aya spotted Qen in the shade of dom palms on a slight rise overlooking the reed patch that was her destination about the time he looked up and spotted her and Iuput. Qen’s two youngest nieces and three nephews were clustered around him.
“Let’s go somewhere else,” Aya whispered to Iuput. She had no desire to be anywhere near Qen. His deception and the conspiracy he was engaged in turned her stomach. She hadn’t talked with him at all since Kakhent’s burial because he’d no longer had any reason to visit her camp. That had been fine with her. Her daughters missed him, but that couldn’t be helped.
“Nonsense,” Iuput admonished. “This is the best patch of reeds on the lake, and the closest to our camp. It’s plenty big for all of us.”
Then Aya spotted Hemetre emerging from the water onto the wide sandy beach with an armload of reeds and she understood why her brother had decided this was a good day to help her.
Reluctantly, Aya followed Iuput towards Qen. It was cool beneath the palms, the ground fairly flat, covered with grass and fallen palm fronds. The foliage swayed high up, the fronds clacking lightly in the gentle morning breeze. Shadows cast by the trees, some standing straight, some leaning, were interlaced with sunlit patches.
Iuput called a greeting. Hemetre responded gaily, joining him beneath the palms, laying her freshly–cut reeds in a pile near Qen. The nieces immediately began sorting them and adding them to smaller piles based on their size. Hemetre’s wet loincloth was plastered to her dripping legs and her wet skin glistened. She was, Aya thought, a most attractive girl. Meanwhile, Qen was continuing to tie some of the reeds Hemetre had harvested earlier into a bundle as thick around as his arm, securing its ends and middle with ropes made of twisted grass, assist
ed by his nephews. Aya noted dozens of similar bundles piled near Qen in the shade, some as much as eight feet long.
“Your boat seems to be coming along nicely,” Iuput told Qen.
Qen set down the bundle he was working on and rolled his shoulders and stretched. “We’ve been at it since yesterday morning. My nieces have been harvesting reeds. I’ve been teaching my nephews how to assemble them into a vessel. Hemetre insisted on helping today.” He glanced knowingly at Iuput. “Once my boat’s done, the men in my band will be able to fish in the deep water. I’m next to useless hunting, but I’m my band’s best boat builder. Though I’ve never made one so large before.”
“Aya’s making baskets,” Iuput volunteered. “I’m here to cut reeds for her.”
Aya did not acknowledge Qen She set her pouch down some distance from him and headed towards the shore. The beach sand was hot on her bare feet and so she crossed it quickly with mincing steps to the cooling water, wading out to where it was knee deep. The reeds to her left were tall, reaching well over her head. Aya noted that Hemetre had cut quite an indentation into one end of the patch. Those stalks remaining swayed in the breeze. Birds clung to some of the shafts, their songs and trilling drifting over the water. The lake beyond the reeds shimmered, too bright to look at. Aya studied the reeds closely, took hold of several, felt them between her fingers. They were thick, supple, green. They’d work nicely for the baskets she planned to create. Hannu had assigned her the task because she was the band’s best basket maker, and had been from a young age. She waded deeper into the water, stopping when it was thigh–high, leaving her close enough to the beach that she could toss reeds easily onto the sand. Her linen loincloth, soaked, clung to her. She seized her knife and began to cut the nearest reed just below the waterline.
Iuput seemed in no hurry to begin helping her. He sat down next to Qen, in the shade. Hemetre sat cross–legged beside him. “How many more reeds will you need?” Iuput asked, indicating the already–assembled bundles.
“A day’s worth of cutting, at least,” Qen replied. He too seemed inclined to take a rest. “Tell me, Iuput – what’s the fishing like here on the lake?”
“Clariid catfish, tilapia and cyprinid dwell in the shallows among the submerged plants that line the long sandy beaches,” Iuput said. “Bagrid catfish, synodontis catfish, and perch dwell in the deep water. Catfish have more flesh and are more nutritious than perch, though neither matches crocodile. But they’re obviously much less dangerous to catch. Anyway, fish in the deep water can be huge, based on the few I’ve seen washed up on shore over the years. We never go after them, since we don’t make vessels like yours; we only fish in the shallows, where we can wade, or in the marshes where fish are trapped.”
“You fish year–round?”
“There are two primary seasons. The first is at the start of the inundation, when the lake level starts to rise. Catfish rush to the shallows to spawn in great numbers, and stay for a month or so until the floodwater starts to recede. We wade a few feet out from the shore and catch them by hand or spear them with bidents – even the women and children help. When the water recedes, many of the hatchlings remain behind, trapped in pools in the marshes and in the basins and in the low–lying areas along the shore. They’re easy prey then too.”
“The fishing sounds almost too easy.”
“It is,” Iuput concurred. “In the second season as well. That starts when the lake falls to its lowest level, just before the inundation. Once again, catfish come in to shore to feed on smaller fish that spawn at that time.” He glanced at the lake. “Tell me – how do your people catch fish on the river? Bidents?”
“Sometimes,” Qen replied. “But usually we make a net and attach its top edge to short lengths of wood that act as floats. We weight the bottom edge with heavy drilled stones. We man two rafts and pole them side by side upriver the net’s length apart from each other – a couple of men on each vessel hold the net’s ends. Once the net is full, we move the rafts next to each other and dump the fish on board.”
“Do you think that would work on the lake, in the deep water?” Iuput asked.
“It would,” Qen replied. “All we’d need for the second vessel is a raft big enough to hold a man or two, to drag the other end of a net. The fish could all be dumped on the boat I’m constructing.”
“Why don’t we do that?” Iuput suggested. “You and I could fish together and divide the catch.”
“Makes sense to me. I can get my nephews to act as crew.”
“And I can round up a few men,” Iuput said.
Suspicion reared its head. Aya couldn’t help inserting herself into the conversation from the water. “Careful! Qen’s trying to take advantage of us, Brother,” she called to Iuput.
“You divide the catch, Aya,” Qen snapped. “I’m sure you’ll make it fair.”
She saw that for the first time ever she’d made him angry. Good. He’d thrown away what little respect she’d once had for him after she’d caught him conspiring with Paser on Meru’s behalf.
“Sorry about Aya,” Iuput said, rolling his eyes.
“She’s just looking out for your people,” Qen said. His anger had seemingly passed as quickly as it had come. “I’d probably say the same in her position.”
“Yet you didn’t,” Iuput reminded him. “And, after all, it was my idea to share the catch, not yours.” He stared at Aya.
She glared back, angry that he’d taken the barbarian’s part.
Iuput turned away from Aya. “Your boat will be like the model you made for Pageti and Betrest?”
“Yes. Only far bigger, of course.” Qen smiled. “You create elegant and beautiful arrowheads. I create elegant and beautiful boats.”
“And each teaches the other,” Iuput said. “You’ll let me help with the two boats?”
“Of course.”
“Time to cut reeds then.” Iuput got to his feet and walked to the beach and hurried across the sand and waded into the water.
Hemetre followed and waded in after him.
Aya was surprised to hear talk about beauty from Qen. From what she’d seen of the barbarians’ huts and baskets and hide containers and rough pottery, utility was what his band prized. First the arrowheads, now the boat… maybe Iuput had been right. Maybe Qen really wasn’t as focused on practicality as the rest of his people. Maybe he was a bit different. Or maybe it was an act, designed to lower her and Iuput’s defenses. After all, Qen was working with Meru to take away her freedom, after claiming for months that Meru was his enemy. She sighed, deeply frustrated. Every time Qen seemed to do something positive, he soon did something equally negative. Aya had become conditioned to expect the worst from him.
They all worked steadily throughout the morning. Iuput and Hemetre plunged into the middle of the patch where the tallest, thickest reeds grew, out of Aya’s sight. Occasionally a peal of laughter rose from their direction. Every so often they emerged to toss armloads of reeds onto shore, then disappeared again. Each time they did Qen’s nieces hurried to the beach and dragged the reeds to where he was working. Aya remained at the patch’s fringe, harvesting the newer, smaller growth. She’d long ago given up on Iuput helping her. The day was glorious. Occasionally she broke into song, her voice high and sweet. She never worked without singing. Even Qen’s presence wasn’t enough to dampen her spirit. From time to time, as she tossed reeds onto her pile, Aya glanced at Qen. He had finished making his small bundles and was now assembling them into larger components, securing them together with thicker ropes of woven grass with his nephews’ assistance. It appeared the flat part of his boat would be more than twenty feet long – even longer when the ends were added. She’d never seen any object that large. She wondered if it would really float.
The day grew hot. Occasionally Aya plunged beneath the lake’s surface to cool off, rose, floated on her back for awhile, then stood, tipped her head back and let the water cascade musically from her hair. She loved being immersed in water, espe
cially at the lake. Whenever she wanted to think she sought it. Except for when Ta–she was roiled by an occasional storm or high wind it was calm and peaceful, a place of contentment. It was so different from the river, she reflected, passive, changing little from season to season. The river, on the other hand, was powerful, a mighty channel that flowed all the way to the sea, wide and deep and strong. It had so many moods – slow and sweet in the months just before the harvest, turbid and sour and low in the summer, high and quickly flowing at summer’s end when it buried the entire valley under a blanket of mud and swept away anything man–made standing in its path. The river was life – in a valley untouched by rain it supplied water for drinking and cooking and bathing, provided fish and waterfowl and larger water animals and land animals who came to drink of it to fill her band’s bellies. It was a highway, a road to both north and south. Aya spent much time on the river in the months her band wandered the valley, swimming, spearing small fish near the banks. But she was never as happy there as she was at her beloved lake.
After several hours Aya judged she had enough reeds. She waded from the water, hauled several dozen armloads of reeds to a spot under the palms some distance from where Qen and his helpers sat. Her linen loincloth was opaque against her thighs. She wrung it out as best she could, then sat down in the grass below a slightly–leaning dom palm, her legs soaked. It was much cooler in the shade than it had been in the water. Aya first sorted her reeds, setting those of lighter color to one side. She’d use them to weave designs into the baskets. Then she set to work, first twisting and tying the remaining reeds into long coils, then using the coils to build the first basket from the bottom up. Most of the women in her band, including her daughters, could make reed baskets, but none were as elegant and beautiful as hers. And she alone had the skill to make ones massive enough to line the insides of the grain storage bins on the crest of the ridge. Today Aya worked quickly and surely; she’d been making baskets since she was three years old and could practically assemble them in her sleep. Occasionally she wove in the lighter–colored reeds, creating straight and wavy bands that circled the basket. She reflected that she was a bit like her brother and Qen in that regard at least – even though the basket would be utilitarian was no reason that it couldn’t be beautiful. She saw that Qen’s nieces were watching her with interest from afar and she motioned them over. Since they’d likely be coming to live in her camp when their mother, Semat, was joined with someone in her band, she might as well expose them to a skill they’d have to learn once they resided permanently with her people.
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