When the sun was directly overhead Hemetre and Iuput waded ashore together. Iuput called to Aya that it was time for them to eat. Qen’s nieces scurried back to him. Iuput settled beside Aya in the shade under her palm tree. She spread out bread and dates and fish and poured beer from a small earthenware container. Not far away, Hemetre did the same for Qen and her young brothers and sisters. That done, she joined Iuput, carrying her own platter of food, sitting cross–legged between him and Aya.
As they ate Iuput and Hemetre kept up a non–stop conversation, occasionally bending close and whispering to each other, arms and legs touching. Aya ate in silence, studiously avoiding staring at them. She envied Iuput and Hemetre, that they were so obviously in love. That was a cup from which she never had and never would drink – she’d no more than cared for Kakhent, and actually despised Meru. She wondered what she’d done to anger the gods, that they’d never sent her a man to love and cherish, one who reciprocated what she felt. Her dream had shown her such a relationship, but that had been a long time ago and she was starting to believe she’d imagined it. Anyway, too late for that now, with her likely joining to Meru approaching. Because of Qen and Paser, that seemed inevitable again. Occasional peals of laughter sounded from where Qen was eating; apparently he was telling his nieces and nephews stories. It was obvious to Aya that they at least loved Qen, unlike the rest of his band. He clearly doted on them and they on him, just as her two youngest daughters did. She supposed they were a comfort to him. She wondered if he’d have as much time for them once he was joined to Ahaneith. She shivered involuntarily. The thought of Qen taking her daughter to his hut was unbearable.
Aya was nearly finished eating when the wind suddenly began to blow hard from the south, drowning out almost all other sound, coloring the sky with dust enough to dim the sunlight, bending the grasses on the flats nearly horizontal, roiling the lake, making the palms and reeds sway. A few fronds fluttered to the ground around them; the rest began clacking together loudly. High white clouds appeared, racing across the sky. Moments later waves started crashing onto the beach.
“Windstorm,” Iuput announced, eyeing the whitecaps. “There won’t be any more reed cutting today.”
He and Qen and the children hurriedly dragged the bundles and loose reeds to a higher section of the peninsula so they wouldn’t be swept away by waves. As they did Aya moved her baskets to safety, weighing them down with fistfuls of sand so they wouldn’t blow away, then packed what was left of her and Iuput’s meals into a leather pouch. When Aya finished she saw that she and Qen were alone on the peninsula. Hemetre and Iuput and the children had all disappeared.
“I should get back to work,” Qen announced, eyeing his bundles of reeds, speaking loud enough to be heard over the wind.
“Me too,” Aya agreed.
Qen scanned the lake. “These waves are nothing compared to those at the sea.”
She thought he was trying to make polite conversation. “You’ve gone often?” she asked. She wasn’t about to be ruder than the barbarian.
“Every year since I was born,” Qen replied. “Though I suppose I won’t anymore, since my people are going to settle here.”
For the first time Aya wondered if Meru’s people felt as strongly about the river and eastern savannah and sea as she did about the lake. Would it be as hard for their girls to adjust to her band’s lifestyle as it would be for her daughter and sister and herself to adjust to theirs? “What’s the sea like?” she asked. She moved close to him so neither of them would have to shout.
“Much like this great lake, only unimaginably vast,” Qen answered, his voice taking on a dream–like quality. “Sometimes its green, sometimes blue, sometimes turquoise, sometimes a combination of colors. Sometimes its impossible to tell where the sky stops and the sea begins. You can see forever, Aya, all the way to the horizon. It’s so unlike the river, with the plateaus hemming it in and vision so restricted. There are clouds – magnificent clouds – billowing white, towering high in the sky, golden at dawn, taking on the colors of sunset at night. When it storms you can see rain slanting gray miles away. The sea is edged with white sand – blisteringly hot by day, too bright to even look at. Every morning its littered with shells tossed ashore during the night, in many different shapes, brilliantly colored, beautiful. White birds wheel overhead, crying incessantly. There’s salt in the air – you taste it on your lips when you swim, collect it in your hair and on your skin just walking next to the water. The waves are powerful, strong enough to knock you over, rhythmically and noisily crashing onto shore.”
“I wish I could see it,” Aya said fervently.
“I like it best at night,” Qen said. “I usually sit in a grove of trees at the edge of a long wide sandy beach. The pounding of the surf drowns out all other sounds. I feel like I’m alone in the world. When the moon’s full the sea shimmers silver. Long lines of white waves break on the shore, again and again, relentless, no doubt as they have since the beginning of time. That sound lulls you to sleep at night. It’s comforting.”
“Have you ever taken a boat out on the sea?” Aya asked.
Qen shook his head. “Frankly, I’ve imagined it. I’ve dreamed of setting out from land and drifting with the current, just to see where I’d end up. But there are no reeds to build a vessel with where we camp. And no one to be my crew. No one in my band shares my sense of adventure.”
“Your boat will be beautiful,” Aya felt compelled to admit.
“It would be better if it was plain, and I built it faster,” Qen confided.
“Oh?”
“The chief way I provide for my sister and nieces and nephews whenever we’re near water is by using a boat to carry those who want to fish in exchange for meat.”
“And the faster you construct your boat the faster you can launch, and the better your family will eat?”
Qen nodded. “But still, I can’t keep myself from taking a little extra time to add beauty to functionality. Otherwise, it feels like something’s missing, like my boats are substandard.”
“I understand,” Aya said. She shared his feeling. “It’s almost like… if they’re not beautiful, the gods won’t notice.”
“Exactly!” Qen exclaimed. “Your baskets are very beautiful too, Aya,” he said, indicating one of the dozen she’d already completed. “Such wonderful patterns. The gods surely approve. The ones our women make are plain and not very sturdy, I’m afraid.”
“I make them better than anyone,” Aya told him proudly. “And pottery. And linen.”
“That’s the material your loincloth is made of?” Qen asked.
“It starts as flax,” Aya said. She pointed to a nearby patch of tall grass topped with blue flowers, just now blown nearly flat by the wind. “I’ll harvest some of the youngest plants very soon. I won’t cut them – I’ll pull them out by the roots. Then I’ll soak them for several days to loosen their hard outer layers, let them dry in the sun, then beat them to shreds. After that I’ll tear the tops off the stem by holding a large wooden comb on the ground with one foot while pulling bundles of flax through the teeth with both hands. The fibers are thin this early in the growing season. I’ll use them to make fine thread.”
“How do you do that?”
Aya made a few marks in the dirt with a finger. “This is a spindle, a short thin wooden rod with a disc–shaped weight, called a whorl, on its top.” She made a few more marks. “My whorl is made of clay. I attach the top ends of several fibers to indentations in the whorl. I pull the bottom ends through an eyelet in a spinning bowl set on the ground. That keeps the fibers taut. As I rotate the spindle, the fibers twirl together into thread. Once I’ve made my thread, I spin multiple strands together to create a single strand of yarn. Then I weave my strands of yarn to create a large rectangle of linen. I cut and sew that into clothing.”
“What about the rest of the flax?”
“I harvest it later. The longer it grows, the thicker and tougher its fibers become, suitabl
e for making rope.”
“You enjoy making linen, don’t you,” Qen said. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“I do.”
“It’s a shame Meru won’t let you anymore, after the two of you are joined,” Qen said matter–of–factly.
Aya tensed. For all practical purposes, Qen had just confessed to conspiring with Paser to replace her father as patriarch. He’d confirmed her belief that Paser would give her to Meru in return for his support. Her worst fears were going to be realized.
“Meru believes a woman’s role is to keep him fed and make babies,” Qen continued. “His sons have the same expectations. So do my half–brothers and their sons. All the things you take pride in doing? Meru and the rest consider them frivolous and unnecessary.”
“You too, Qen?” Aya probed. “Is the life you describe the one Ahaneith has to look forward to?”
“I’m afraid so. Menna’s just like his father.”
“I’m not talking about Menna. I’m talking about you,” Aya snapped.
“What say do I have in Ahaneith’s future?” Qen asked, confused.
“She’s going to be your reward for helping Paser and Meru overthrow my father as patriarch, isn’t she?”
“Overthrow your father? Where did you get that idea? Ahaneith is promised to Menna,” Qen protested.
“Maybe once, but not now. Admit it! I know the truth!” Aya snarled. “My daughter deserves better than a liar.” She shook her head. “At least you didn’t deny you’re been skulking around with Paser.”
“If I’d been skulking with anyone, you wouldn’t have seen us,” Qen answered calmly.
Aya laughed. “You’re right! I just realized that being seen openly with Paser is part of your plan, and it’s brilliant! You’ve been telling everyone since the day our bands met that Meru has no use for you, that the two of you hate each other. We’re all convinced of that now. But it isn’t true. You’re working closely with Meru. But because of the illusion you’ve created, my father will never suspect you of being the go–between for Meru and Paser.”
“Go–between for what?” Qen asked.
“Please,” Aya said, shaking her head. “Don’t pretend to be ignorant. You’ve just told me what my life will be like after Meru and I are joined. I’m sure Meru’s told you my father turned him down when he asked for me because Meru wouldn’t pledge him fealty. So the only way I’ll be joined to Meru is if Paser replaces my father as patriarch of my band. You’re obviously helping Meru and Paser get what each of them wants, and in turn they’ll give you what you want.”
“Your daughter. I see.”
Aya’s eyes flashed. All of the uncertainty that had been pressing upon her these past months, all of her suspicions of Qen, her dislike of him, her mistrust of him, suddenly overwhelmed her. Once she’d thought him amenable to her lifestyle. Once she’d considered him a possible ally to convince Meru to live as her people did. But she realized now he was a lost cause. He was actively working to take her freedom away. And he wasn’t man enough to admit he was doing it, or how he would be rewarded. Might as well confront him. Might as well get some things off her chest. Her words rushed out in a torrent. “You never really wanted to come to this lake in the first place. You were just protecting yourself, getting me to suggest it. Then you lied to Kakhent about wanting to live as we live. And now you’re going to ruin my daughter’s life.”
“I don’t have to justify my actions to you,” Qen said, his voice clipped.
“You’re such a coward,” Aya said disgustedly.
“What is it you want from me, Aya?” Qen asked sharply.
“Stop helping Meru.”
“Why?”
“Are you so dense you can’t figure it out?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Aya was angry now. There was no reason not to be blunt. She didn’t have to be circumspect with Qen, as she did with Meru. There were no consequences to being forthright with Qen, for he was nothing. “As long as my father remains patriarch of my band, I won’t have to join with any man. He backed out of his agreement with Meru. So I’ll be able to live the rest of my life as I choose – free. And Father will probably not join my daughter and sister to Menna and Khay either. His pride won’t let him give them away to Meru. They won’t have to give up everything they love doing, give up our gods. They won’t have to be miserable for the rest of their lives.”
“Look, Aya, I know you believe the worst of me,” Qen said. “I’ve told you to. And I’ve done nothing to convince you otherwise. But you have to believe me – I don’t know anything about an agreement between Hannu and Meru or a plot between Meru and Paser.”
“Then why have you and Paser been talking so often these past weeks?”
“Paser’s son Intef is interested in my niece, Khenut,” Qen replied. “Actually, interest isn’t a strong enough word. They’re desperately in love. We’ve been trying to figure out a way to convince our patriarchs to join the two of them at the inundation festival. As you’re well aware, making a suggestion to Hannu or Meru is a delicate proposition. Hannu mistrusts Paser, and Meru in fact has no use for me. Meru’s likely to do the exact opposite of anything I suggest, out of spite. Neither Paser nor I want Intef and Khenut to end up with other partners because of something we say or do to irritate our patriarchs.”
Aya had to admit that Qen’s words had the ring of truth. Hannu and Meru were particularly contrary individuals. “So Ahaneith really hasn’t been promised to you?”
“I told you before – I’d never be with a woman who didn’t love me. And I’m twenty years older than your daughter. I’m not a monster.”
An even greater age difference hadn’t stopped Kakhent from joining with me. “If I’m wrong about what you’ve been doing, I apologize,” Aya said.
“Tell me about your father refusing you to Meru,” Qen said. “Meru doesn’t confide in me. He truly does hate me. What happened?”
“The price my father set for having me is Meru acknowledging Hannu as his patriarch.”
Qen let out a low whistle. “Which Meru will never do. Thus, your assumption that he’ll try to replace Hannu with Paser, and that Paser will then give you to Meru to reward him for his assistance.”
“Yes.”
“Given that, seeing me with Paser so often, in your place I’d think the worst and hate me too.” Qen shook his head. “This isn’t the first time you’ve misinterpreted my actions, Aya, without giving me a chance to explain. On top of this so–called conspiracy, you’ve also accused me of not wanting to come to the lake in the first place. I did want to, and not so I could protect myself from Meru’s wrath, as you claim.”
“But you and Meru were at each other’s throats when our bands first met.”
“My father died when I was on my mission to the valley, Aya. I was his oldest son. He’d groomed me my whole life to succeed him. Tradition called for me to succeed him. But Meru seized the patriarchy in my absence. He took what was mine.”
The reason for the mutual hatred between Meru and Qen was now crystal clear. “You truly expected to be patriarch?” Aya queried. “Your people would never have accepted you in that role, even if you’d been present when your father died,” she scoffed.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. And so do you, Qen, deep down. Admit it. It’s because of your leg. What band of hunters and gathers would accept as leader a man who can’t hunt? You know I’m right. Otherwise you would have challenged Meru as soon as you found out about your father.”
“And risk fracturing my band at the very moment we found yours, a band with women for our men to join with, the thing my father wanted most when he sent Menna and me to the valley?” Qen protested. “I’m no fool, Aya. The survival of my band is more important to me than my pride or position. I wasn’t about to alienate Hannu and deprive my band’s children of the chance to join with yours that first day. And you’re right – by then no one in my band would have supported me against Meru
. The moment Hannu and Meru discussed the possibility of exchanging women my fate was sealed. Meru had your women to dole out to his nephews in order to reward his brothers for their support. I had only tradition on my side.”
“Tradition that the oldest son succeeds the father as patriarch.”
Qen nodded. “Meru broke our most fundamental law when he pushed me aside.” Qen looked deep into Aya’s eyes. “That law–breaking and Meru’s patriarchy were made possible by the scorpion that killed my father. Just as Meru’s joining to you has been made possible by the scorpion that killed Kakhent.”
Aya was shocked. It took her a moment to process what Qen had just said. “You honestly think such an awful coincidence is proof that Meru murdered both your father and Kakhent?” She was appalled. “Based on what? Scorpions kill people all the time.”
“Yet the reason that Meru is positioned to join with you in a few days is because Kakhent died before the inundation festival,” Qen replied. “Meru would have had to wait for who knows how long if Kakhent was still alive. Is it coincidence that my father died when Meru knew I was going to be gone for a month and wouldn’t be around to keep him from seizing my band’s patriarchy? The timing in both cases seems awfully convenient.”
Qen’s accusation was powerful. Much of what had happened these past months was suddenly clear to Aya – if he was correct. But Qen was speculating, not providing proof. Did she dare believe him? “So you really wanted your people to come to the lake, Qen, and not because you were trying to avoid Meru’s wrath? Why?”
Daughter of the Falcon God Page 24