“And he doesn’t have the same fear?”
“Apparently not.”
“And if we violate his territory?” Iuput asked, fuming.
“He’s threatened to kill anyone who tries to harvest anything there, or merely cross it.”
“You’re sure he’s serious, that he’s not bluffing?”
“His people have already harvested every resource patch on the west side of the basin. They’ve destroyed what they didn’t need. It’s all ruined.”
“What foodstuffs are in Meru’s so–called territory?” Qen asked.
“Patches of melons, tubers, wild grasses. Dom palms heavy with fruit. Honey trees. Even the pools full of trapped fish. And the sections of the lakeshore where most of the large game animals come to drink every day.”
“So what are we going to do about it?” Iuput asked. “Meekly acquiesce? Attack Meru, drive his band from the lake?”
“Meru and his sons are extremely accurate and experienced marksmen,” Qen said pointedly. “They’d be vicious in a fight.”
“We’d be outmatched,” Aya admitted. “I won’t risk lives over this.”
“Meru thinks that by depriving us of fruits and vegetables he’ll make Aya look weak,” Qen said. “He’s gambling that hunger will drive the people in this camp to turn Aya over to him.”
“A foolish gamble,” Aya said. “We’ve barely begun to tap the bounty of the lake country.” She gazed into the darkness. “We’ve always traveled east to harvest foodstuffs. It’s time we looked to the West. With luck that land will be just as rich. Tomorrow morning I’ll head that way, locate whatever resource patches exist.”
“They’ll probably be much farther from camp than our current ones,” Iuput noted.
“No doubt,” Aya replied. “And if they’re not as productive as those nearby that we’re losing we’ll need to find even more than we currently glean.”
“If they’re too far, when we send women to harvest they’ll have to stay overnight,” Iuput remarked. “We’ll need to send enough armed men along to protect them from Meru or wild animals while they’re gleaning and sleeping. That means fewer men to guard our animals and our crops around here.”
“Exactly what Meru wants – to stretch us thin, wear us out, keep us constantly on edge. It’s a way to pressure us to give in to him,” Aya said.
“Gleaning further away from this camp doesn’t necessarily mean more time spent journeying,” Qen interjected.
“How so?” Iuput asked.
“I have a boat,” Qen reminded him. “I can transport women to whatever patches Aya locates, haul what they gather back to this camp the same day. I’ll need a few men to pole the boat. They can guard the women while they work.”
“That ought to frustrate Meru,” Aya noted, nodding at Qen appreciatively. “Your idea is sound.”
“Sound, yes. But hardly a permanent solution to our problem,” Qen replied. “We need more people settled at this lake, working in concert with us. We need more people to watch over our animals. We need more people to care for our crops, to harvest the lake’s bounty. Until that happens, we’ll be constantly at risk of being decimated by disease or…”
“Meru,” Aya interrupted. “I agree. But what are the chances of finding anyone? It was luck that Meru’s band stumbled on us.”
“Bad luck,” Iuput interjected.
“Yes. His band turned out to be unsuitable,” Aya said. She gazed at Qen. “No offense.”
“The valley’s the only place to find more bands,” Qen said.
“Yes. But I don’t intend to send anyone there this year,” Aya told him. “Our animals will have to stay on the savannah instead of going to the river. We can’t afford to split our band like we have in the past. It would be too easy for Meru to do anything he wanted to anyone left behind.”
“In a few months, when the grain is about to ripen in the valley, I could take a boat and travel to the river and go up and down the valley until I find a suitable band,” Qen said. “I’m not needed here, so I could stay as long as it takes.”
“For years?” Aya said. “Meru’s was the first band we encountered in my lifetime.”
“Yes, but I can cover far more ground by boat than anyone Kakhent sent looking in the past.”
“That’s what we’ll do, then,” Aya decided. “As for our current problem, tomorrow morning we should go seek new resource patches to the west, Qen.”
“I’ll be ready to push off at dawn.”
***
By midmorning they were many miles to the west. Qen was poling his small raft a little ways from the shoreline, skirting reed patches and mud flats and shallows. Aya was sitting at the front, silent, watching as the lakeshore steadily if slowly passed by. Occasionally she pointed out a marshy area that appeared rich in particular resources, or sections of bank where turtles or crocodiles were sunning themselves.
“Put ashore here,” she directed at last.
Qen nosed the craft into a small inlet. He dropped over the side when the raft was a few feet from shore and splashed through thigh–deep water and pulled the bow onto land.
Aya slung a quiver of arrows over one shoulder and an empty leather pouch over the other. She grabbed a bow. Qen held out his hand. Aya took it and disembarked.
“Wait for me here,” she said. “I’ve got a lot of ground to cover before mid–afternoon.”
“And I’d slow you down,” Qen said ruefully, unconsciously laying his hand on his leg.
“I won’t need you to protect me, at any rate.” Aya patted the knife tucked in her girdle.
“As I’m fully aware,” Qen said. “Good luck.”
A few minutes later Aya crested a slight ridge overlooking the shore and began to descend its far side and the lake and Qen were lost to her view. She was alone, in her element once again, wandering the savannah, looking for resource patches, reveling in her new–found freedom. Up until the last couple of weeks, ever since she was a young girl she’d always been answerable to someone – Bek, Hannu, Kakhent. Now she was answerable only to herself. She vowed that circumstance would never again change.
Aya wandered for hours, pausing often to rest because of her condition, scaling many low ridges, scanning the savannah and nearby valleys from their crests, seeking likely areas to investigate. The West proved to be just as rich as the East. She located many different types of foodstuffs, some useful now, others that had long since ripened and gone to seed, others that would not be suitable for months to come. She made a mental map of all of them, how to reach them, in what sequence, during what season. By the end of her sojourn she was convinced her people could withstand Meru’s crude attempt to bend them to his will. That gave her a considerable amount of satisfaction.
Aya retraced her steps to the raft in late afternoon. Qen was seated close by the vessel, in the shade of palm trees near the shore, bent over a large wide strip of soft leather spread out on the ground, busily scratching on it with what appeared to be a reed. He was completely unaware of her return.
“What’s that?” she asked from a few steps behind him.
Qen jumped, startled, twisted to look at her. “It’s a map of the lake country.”
Aya moved closer and peered over Qen’s shoulder. He’d drawn an outline of the lake using the end of a reed dipped in berry juice. Aya immediately recognized the peninsula and the ridge camp and the entire shoreline they’d passed by this morning. In various places Qen had sketched fish, or sedges, or wild fowl, or other foodstuffs. There were even pictures of fish in the body of the lake itself. “These are the resource patches we saw, aren’t they,” Aya said, pointing to the picture of a duck.
“I started this map many months ago, to keep track of the best fishing grounds near the north shore,” Qen said. “If you record on it what you found today, you can use this map to pass on to others in the band what you know.” He gazed at her belly. “It won’t be long until you won’t be able to lead the women here yourself. But if you draw the patche
s you’ve discovered, and landmarks to guide the women to them, that shouldn’t matter.”
“A very good idea,” Aya admitted. She remembered the day she’d sketched a similar map in the dirt to convince Bek to lead his band to Ta–she. She found it interesting that Qen had the same ability to map the lake country in his mind that she did. His recording of the lakeshore exactly matched what she remembered having seen. Either her ability wasn’t that unusual, or he was as unique as she was in that regard.
Qen rolled up the map, got to his feet, helped Aya to board the raft. He handed her the map, then pushed the vessel into the water. He pulled himself aboard, his legs soaked, moved to the stern, began to pole.
“You were successful, I assume?” he asked when they were well underway.
“There are plenty of fruits and vegetables. We’ll be inconvenienced from now on, but we’ll be fine.”
“I should construct another boat – small enough for two crewmen to handle yet substantial enough to carry a group of women and the food they glean. My fishing boat’s too big – takes too many men to row.”
“Will it take long?”
“Less than a week, with Iuput’s help, and my nephews’, and a few girls to cut reeds.”
“Do it.”
Qen poled a bit farther into the lake to avoid half a dozen crocodiles sunning themselves on a patch of lakeshore. When they were a considerable distance past the creatures he indicated a low ridge overlooking a wide marsh. “Would you ever consider moving camp to this part of the lake – perhaps even that ridge – to make it easier for the women to harvest?” he queried.
“Never,” Aya said defiantly. “The ridge above the peninsula is my home. My people have invested too much time and effort laying out our fields, establishing our grazing grounds, not to mention all the grain stored in our bins. No, Meru can threaten us and irritate us and inconvenience us, but I won’t let him drive us from our homes.”
Qen poled thoughtfully for some time. “What is it you envision for your people, Aya, now that you’re in charge? I never had any idea what Hannu intended, or Meru for that matter. All they cared about was obtaining and keeping power. They reacted to the world. They didn’t think about ways to shape their people’s futures, make them better. But you’ve been trying to shape the future your entire life. You’re clearly the driving force behind farming. Kakhent and Hannu never cared. Kakhent’s sons still don’t. Iuput cares mostly about herding. If not for you, your people would have reverted to being hunters and gatherers long ago.”
Aya had to admit that Qen was perceptive. “The falcon god sent me a dream the day I discovered this lake,” she replied. “He showed me many bands living along the shore, vast fields of grain, many animals, prosperity, happiness. That’s what I envision.”
“Thus the need for settlers that we discussed last night,” Qen said.
“Yes.”
“How do you know the god didn’t show you a vision of what Ta–she will be like decades from now, long after we and everyone else in your band is dead?” Qen queried.
“Because there was a revelation in my dream that applied only to me. I know this country will be transformed in years, not decades.”
“I envy you, that you’re so close to your falcon god,” Qen said.
Aya was grateful that Qen had enough sense not to ask about her personal revelation. That was none of his business. What the god had shown her was for her alone. “How about you, Qen?” she asked. “What is it you envision for your life, now that you’ve joined my band?”
“It’s already come to pass,” he answered. “All I ever wanted was for my family to be happy and secure. They are. Hemetre couldn’t be more in love. Semat is pleased with Hunefer. My nieces and nephews are enjoying their new lives. Assuming we eventually eliminate the threat posed by Meru, there’s nothing more that I desire.”
“Wouldn’t you like to have children?” Aya asked, unexpectedly finding herself curious.
“Of course. And the love of a good woman.” Qen gazed out over the lake. “But those are impossible for me. I made my peace with my situation years ago. I’m content to live out my life as a farmer and boatman.”
“Well, I won’t be content until my dream has come to pass.”
“Hence, my upcoming visit to the river, to find a band or bands to make that happen.”
5439 BC: Ta–she – Peret (Seed)
Aya beckoned to Betrest. “My time has come. Go tell the others.”
As her daughter dashed off to round up the women, Aya and Pageti headed down the slope from camp, crossed the wide flats to the lakeshore, proceeded onto the peninsula. Aya had set up a birth bower under the palms there halfway to its western end a week earlier and Pageti helped her to it.
The bower was simple – a large rectangular wooden framework roofed with thick layers of palm fronds to provide shade, the roof high enough that the women could stand erect, all four sides open to catch the cooling breeze. Gazing to the south, Aya had a view of the entire lake. To the north she could see the inlet and the ridge topped with her camp and between them green fields ankle–high with emmer and barley. Aya awkwardly and gratefully stretched out on a linen–covered pallet and Pageti hurried the dozen yards to the inlet to fill several large water jars. Everything else that would be needed – protective charms, linen, herbs, food, wood for the campfire – was already present. Aya closed her eyes, heard the clacking of palm fronds overhead, the cries of migratory waterfowl on the inlet nearby, faint conversations and occasional laughter from the distant camp.
As she waited for the women to arrive, Aya reflected on the last three months. The lake had receded after the inundation, the fields had been planted with grain, fish had swum into the marshes to spawn. Normally, her band would have split by now, half gone to the lake with the animals, the rest remaining behind to watch over the crops. But, because of Meru, no one had traveled to the river this year. However, between her and Qen, they had foiled Meru’s attempt to deprive them of food. Qen made four or more trips each week to points west along the shore in his small new boat, delivering women and girls to resource patches, returning to camp that same day with various foodstuffs. The other days he fished in the deep waters. Thanks to those activities, and the grain stored atop the ridge, Aya’s band had continued to eat well.
Semat was the first woman to appear at the bower. She’d settled easily into her life with Hunefer. In fact, she too was pregnant. Having given birth to eight children already, she was more than prepared to take charge this day. Soon Ahaneith and Takhat and Hemetre and Tabiry arrived, all a little out of breath. Hemetre and Takhat were also pregnant. This would not be the first birth any of them had attended.
Takhat removed Aya’s loincloth and covered her with a linen sheet.
“It’s going to be a girl,” Aya said, laying her hand on her distended belly. “I’ve dreamed it.”
Pageti opened the pouch that contained all the protective birth charms and placed one at each corner of the pallet, and then the bower. The objects were designed to invoke the blessings of various gods. A crocodile fetus placated the god of the lake, a scorpion and snake warded off danger. A falcon dangled overhead, hung from the roof of the bower, to watch over everything. It matched the talisman around Aya’s neck. Having given birth five times already, Aya knew what to expect in the coming hours, but did not take for granted that everything would go well. Her own mother and Kakhent’s first woman and several others in her band had died in childbirth; she herself had lost both of her sons within hours of their births.
Aya’s contractions soon intensified, the period between them ever shorter. After each one Ahaneith mopped Aya’s brow with cool water and Betrest and Pageti fanned her with palm fronds and everyone else prayed – Takhat to her band’s gods, Semat and Hemetre to theirs. Unlike what Meru would have done, Aya had encouraged her people to adopt the gods Qen’s family had brought with them to the lake, and Qen’s family had adopted hers in return. From time to time the women san
g the ancient songs that implored the protection of the gods on mother and child. During each contraction Aya squeezed Pageti and Takhat’s hands. Surprisingly, of her three daughters, it was Pageti who had shown the most promise as a healer, though she was only ten years old. Aya was already training her to someday take her place.
Just before sunset the women helped a panting, sweating, grimacing Aya rise to a squatting position, supporting her slippery back and buttocks with their arms. Moments later, Ahaneith caught her baby sister in her hands, accompanied by the joyful cries of the women. An instant later the babe began to squall, loudly. Gently, the women laid Aya back down on her pallet, placed the newborn on her chest. The babe began to suckle greedily.
“Your name is Ta–she, after the lake,” Aya said affectionately, smiling, laughing, stroking the tiny arms and legs and back as the women gathered around. She lifted the talisman from her neck, touched it to Ta–she to impart the god’s blessing and protection. After awhile Semat and Hemetre and Betrest and Pageti took the baby and carried her to the lake to give her a bath. Ahaneith and Takhat remained behind and washed the blood and sweat from Aya’s body. Then they covered her with a clean linen sheet. Exhausted, Aya immediately fell fast asleep.
***
Several afternoons later, still undergoing the week–long purification ritual, Aya sat in the birth bower, her back propped against one of its posts, facing the inlet. Bored by her forced inactivity, she was busily weaving baskets from reeds Takhat had gathered for her. Pageti and Betrest were attending her, though just now both were seated beside their newborn sister on its nearby pallet, watching her sleep. Semat and Hemetre and Tabiry and Bintanath had left at dawn with Qen to glean somewhere to the west. The other women and girls were in camp, doing chores or preparing their families’ evening meals. Aya heard a cry from the water and looked up from her weaving and saw Qen’s small gleaning boat entering the inlet. He was steering as usual. She watched as he nosed the boat towards its usual mooring place next to his large fishing boat and the raft. His two crewmen jumped overboard as it touched land, pulled the bow from the water, secured it to the trunk of a palm tree with a long rope. Then they began helping the women onto land and retrieving baskets and pouches filled with the foodstuffs they’d gathered and piling them on the shore. From the looks of it, they’d had quite a good day. Then Aya noted Qen hobbling directly towards her, working his staff with his right hand. As he came closer she saw a bloodied piece of linen awkwardly fastened atop his left shoulder, affixed by several strips wound under his armpit.
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