“Sorry to bother you,” Qen said in greeting, stopping a dozen paces from the bower. “If I shouldn’t be here, tell me, Aya. I don’t want to violate any of your band’s rituals.”
“Your band too, now. You’re not violating anything. What happened?” Aya asked, setting aside her basket.
“Meru. He took a shot at me. He must have seen me depart with the women this morning, traveled west along the lakeshore until he stumbled across where my boat was tied, crawled close. I suspect he screened himself from view in a patch of reeds. I’d just pushed the boat into the lake after the women finished gleaning and was trying to climb on board when I stumbled over a rock hidden below the surface and lost my balance. Good thing, too. At that instant I felt a sharp pain atop my shoulder at the same time an arrow thudded into the side of my boat. If I hadn’t fallen it would have buried itself in my neck instead of glancing off me. I think my clumsiness saved my life.”
“Come. Sit,” Aya said, motioning Qen inside the bower. He settled cross–legged in front of her, facing the inlet as she was.
Pageti hurriedly brought a jar of water to Aya. Aya soaked the linen on Qen’s shoulder to loosen it from the dried blood, gently pulled it away. Blood began welling. Aya saw a deep gash slicing through the muscle atop Qen’s left shoulder, only inches from his spine. Aya shuddered. A finger’s length to the right and he would have been dead. A considerable amount of blood had flowed down his back and dried there.
“Betrest, more water from the lake,” Aya commanded. “Pageti, heat it when she returns. While you’re waiting, prepare the herbs we use to stop bleeding, and honey, and lay out strips of fresh linen. And find my needle and thread – I’m going to have to sew the wound.” In the years since first stitching together Hunefer’s leg, Aya had repaired enough similar injuries to perfect her technique.
“Your daughter’s beautiful,” Qen said admiringly, glancing towards the nearby pallet. “Kakhent would have been proud.”
Ta–she was fast asleep, sucking on a tiny fist.
“Kakhent would have been disappointed, as always,” Aya said matter–of–factly. “He wanted sons, not daughters.”
“How could a man be disappointed by any of your girls?” Qen asked, shaking his head. “I’d give anything to have daughters like them.”
Once her supplies were ready, Aya gently cleaned Qen’s wound and washed away the dried blood with warm water. Qen flinched but did not cry out. Then again, he’d had his leg half bitten off by a crocodile once. Aya imagined the pain from today’s wound was hardly comparable. She packed it with the herbs Pageti had mixed into a paste. Then, assisted by Pageti, Aya began to sew it up. She’d learned long ago that keeping the patient occupied during the procedure was always helpful, so she engaged Qen in conversation. Secondarily, she’d felt a little out of touch with what had been going on in camp ever since she’d taken up residence in the birth bower. Neither Iuput nor Qen had visited her there to make their usual reports. In fact, only women had been allowed to see her until now.
“How are the crops coming along?” Aya asked.
Because of her pregnancy, she hadn’t participated in the planting two months ago, for the first time since her arrival at the lake. Qen had acted as her go–between during that effort, ensuring everyone carried out her orders. She’d overseen everything from atop the ridge, but he’d been down in the fields, directing the men as they sowed, the women as they chased away the birds, Iuput as his animals trampled the seed into the mud. Along with their usual fields between Meru’s basin and the ridge camp, they’d planted two more farther west, both close to the shore and stretching some distance parallel to it, to compensate for the sections of their usual fields farther from the lake that had not been covered with new soil. This year’s inundation had not been as extensive as in years past.
“I’ve checked daily for weeds, and I’ve made sure the girls pulled them. The emmer and barley are coming up nicely in every one of the fields, anywhere from ankle–high to mid–calf. So far, there have been no sign of pests. Iuput has kept the animals far away, and no hippos have come near. I’ve patrolled the shore by boat to make sure none have come north. Meru’s people have stayed away too – we’ve moved a couple of the dogs from guarding the animals to patrolling the fields to make sure. With luck, we’ll have as good a crop as last year, despite the smaller inundation.”
“I can hardly wait to see for myself,” Aya said.
Qen nodded, smiled, cringed as she drew the needle through his skin.
Any other man in her band, Aya knew, would have taken her last comment as a sign that she was second–guessing him, and would have been angered. But she’d learned these past months after working with Qen so closely that he truly cared as much about farming as she did, and she knew he’d interpreted her words exactly as she’d intended – that she simply couldn’t wait to get back among growing things once more. It was a luxury having Qen to rely on, one she’d never had before.
“Have you given any thought to your trip to the river valley?” Aya asked. “Move your fingers a bit, Pageti.”
Her daughter was pressing the edges of the wound together. She was participating in the operation with great interest.
“I’ll leave within the next two months. I’ve gathered enough reeds to construct a small boat beforehand. I want one light enough that I can carry it around any boulders that might block the channel – with the water so low this year I’m not sure how passable it will be. Anyway, it’ll be light enough for me to pole by myself along the lakeshore and then next to the riverbank.”
“You’ll go by water all the way down the channel to its intersection with the river?”
“I’ve always wanted to. Who knows what might lie along its banks that could be of use to us.”
“And when you get to the river?”
“I plan to drift north with the current. With any luck, I’ll find a band between the intersection and the trail you usually take between the valley and the lake. If not, I’ll keep going north, all the way to the sea if necessary. If I’m unsuccessful in that direction, I’ll go back south as far as I must.”
“You’ll find a band,” Aya said confidently.
“Because you’ve seen it in your dream?”
“I told you there was a part that convinced me bands would settle around the lake in my lifetime.”
“A part you said was for you alone.”
“I’ll share it with you now, Qen.”
“You’re not afraid of angering the falcon god?”
“Hardly – since it continues to come true. I saw myself, Qen, with four daughters gathered around me. In my arms I was holding my newborn son.”
“I see. Ta–she is the fourth daughter,” Qen said, tilting his head towards the sleeping infant. “Now all you need is the son. And a man to give him to you.”
Aya nodded. “There. Your shoulder’s sewn together. Now, Pageti, smear the wound thickly with honey. After that, place a linen pad across it and tie it in place with strips passing under Qen’s arm.”
Pageti dipped her fingers into a honey pot and gently spread it’s contents over the stitches.
“She does well,” Qen commented.
“She’ll succeed me as healer someday,” Aya said. “She’s the only one in my band with the talent.” Aya sat back on her haunches, flexed her shoulders. “When we first encountered your band, Qen, I thought my dream was coming true right then. I thought your people would become farmers and make the land bloom. I thought Kakhent would give me another daughter, and then the son I’d seen.”
“But now you believe you needed the fourth daughter before the right band settled here?”
Aya nodded.
Pageti began bandaging the wound.
“So I guess its up to me to find you your man, and make your dreams come true,” Qen said lightly. “Perhaps your falcon god has had a mission for me all along.”
***
“They’re gone, Aya!”
Takhat st
ood just inside the entrance to Aya’s hut, breathless, smiling.
“Who’s gone?”
“Meru and all of his people!”
“You’re sure?”
Iuput entered the hut, closely followed by Paser and Hunefer and Isu.
“We were fishing the deep water with Qen,” Paser said. “We saw dust rising along the shore half a dozen miles east of here and we went in close to investigate. It was Meru and his people, traveling light.”
“They’re going back to the river,” Hunefer exclaimed. “We’re rid of them!”
“Why would they leave now?” Aya asked, suspicious.
“We’d normally have split our band by now and headed to the valley with our animals,” Iuput reminded her. “It’ll be months before the wild grasses are ready to harvest here. The savannah’s dried out and all the game has headed towards the valley and water. It makes sense that hunters would follow the herds.”
“They may only be gone temporarily then,” Aya cautioned. “They may return to the lake in time for the harvest. Or they may simply be moving their camp farther east.” She heard considerable commotion in the open area outside her hut. The news had obviously spread and everyone was gathering, no doubt to hear from her. “Where’s Qen?” she asked.
“He went back out in his small boat as soon as we landed,” Iuput said. “He’s going to shadow Meru’s band from out in the lake until they reach the delta and actually take the trail to the river. I think he’s as skeptical about Meru’s intentions as you are, so he’s going to make sure they don’t double back or simply establish a new camp.”
A sensible precaution. Exactly what I would have ordered him to do. Her eyes swept everyone inside her hut. “Spread the word – tomorrow will be a day of feasting in thanksgiving to the gods for delivering us from Meru,” Aya declared. “We might as well assume the best until we learn differently.” She touched the talisman dangling around her neck. “Please let them be gone for good,” she whispered.
In the middle of the afternoon the day after the feast, Aya and Ahaneith made their way towards Meru’s camp. Qen had returned two hours ago and reported that Meru had personally led his people over the ridge into the valley. The only question that remained unanswered, as far as Aya was concerned, was whether the barbarians’ disappearance was permanent or temporary. She hoped to find answers in Meru’s huts.
She and Ahaneith proceeded along the west side of Meru’s basin. For the first time since the barbarians had arrived at the lake, Aya felt an overwhelming sense of freedom, of no longer being trapped or constrained by Meru’s presence. Henceforth, she’d be able to wander the country by herself whenever she wanted, without looking over her shoulder. The prison Meru had put her in the night he’d first confronted her at the delta was gone. Only now, with that burden removed, did she truly understand how heavy it had been.
The two rounded the basin’s northern end, scaled the ridge to where Meru’s band had camped.
Aya had never visited the barbarian camp before. She noted that it’s huts were obviously temporary, far less robust and orderly than those in her camp, clearly built by hunters and gatherers who expected to live in them only briefly before moving on. To Aya, the huts were evidence that Meru had never intended to settle permanently at the lake, despite his claims to the contrary. Otherwise, he would have copied her band’s building techniques. She paused, gazed across the basin to the ridge where her camp stood. Even from so far away she saw its orderliness, the line of storage bins, the fires spiraling into the sky, the neatly arranged storage containers and drying racks and grinding stones. The scene there spoke of permanence, that here of transience.
Aya continued to investigate. The ground around and between Meru’s huts was littered with countless sherds of broken pottery, rough, porous, ugly. She kicked a piece with her foot, sent it flying. “They’ve smashed their pottery,” Aya told Ahaneith excitedly. “If they’d planned to return they would’ve cached it so they could dig it up and use it later. This is a sign they’ve truly gone for good.” Aya’s heart sang. Meru’s era at the lake was over. And good riddance.
“I wish everything had turned out differently,” Ahaneith said sadly.
Aya knew her daughter had not yet gotten over Menna, despite her joining to Isu. The broken pottery had no doubt dashed the last of her hopes. Aya hadn’t had the heart to tell Ahaneith what had transpired between Menna and Meru that night in the marsh. It was better, she thought, to let Ahaneith’s childish dreams of Menna fade away rather than crush her daughter’s spirit – even though Ahaneith blamed her personally for the sundering of the bands. Aya hoped that given enough time Ahaneith would let that slip away too. “I know,” Aya said. “It could have, if not for Meru’s greed.” She took one last look around. “Let’s go down to the marsh. I want to see if they had the decency to leave the foodstuffs there alone, or if they destroyed them. If they’re whole, we can go back to gleaning where we used to. We won’t have to travel on Qen’s boat anymore.” Aya kicked another sherd. “But based on how they destroyed their pottery, I’m not optimistic.”
They were about halfway between the ridge and the lake, deep in the marsh near where the honey tree stood, when Menna and Khay suddenly rose from hiding places in the tall grass, blocking their path, arrows fitted to bows.
Ahaneith screamed.
The fact that Meru had led his people away from the lake and left Menna and Khay behind was a very bad sign. Aya wondered why Qen hadn’t reported it, that Meru’s sons hadn’t been traveling with his band. She stepped in front of Ahaneith protectively, instinctively reached for the knife she always carried in her girdle. Except, today it wasn’t there. She’d unaccountably left it in her hut. Though unarmed, she wasn’t about to show any fear. She was a patriarch, after all. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Father left us behind specifically to capture you, Aya,” Menna chortled. “We’re going to take you to him.”
“Ahaneith’s a bonus,” Khay added.
She had to protect her daughter. “You can have me,” Aya said calmly. “Let Ahaneith go.”
“And let her raise the alarm? I don’t think so,” Khay said sharply.
“I want to go with you, Menna!” Ahaneith exclaimed. “I want to leave the lake. I can’t stand being apart from you.” She pushed past Aya to Menna’s side.
He smiled, put his arrow back in his quiver, slung his bow over a shoulder, put an arm around her waist.
“You’re making a terrible mistake,” Aya told Ahaneith.
“Mistake?” Ahaneith snapped. “Isu’s the mistake! I never wanted him. You should know what that’s like, Mother, having a man forced on you. I love Menna.”
Her daughter’s anger was palpable. Aya’s heart sank. She hadn’t guessed at the depth of that anger. “I am guilty of doing to you what I hated having done to me,” Aya admitted. “But you don’t know what Menna’s really like.”
“Oh, and you do?”
“I know what he was prepared to do to you because Meru ordered it.”
“I’m sure you’ll say anything to turn me against him!” Ahaneith cried. “So whatever lie you’re going to tell doesn’t matter. Don’t waste your breath, Mother.”
Aya had lost her daughter. Her only chance of getting her back now was by force. The men of her band were going to have to rescue Ahaneith from these barbarians, drag her back to the lake against her will. But for that to happen, Aya was going to have to escape Menna and Khay, marshal her men, launch the pursuit. There was no time to lose. She had to get away right now. She gazed at Ahaneith for what she feared might be the last time, blinked away sudden tears. “I love you so much,” Aya said. Then she twirled and began to run.
After years of gleaning the marsh Aya knew every path, every bit of dry ground, every rise, every low swampy place, every winding turn of the stream at its heart, every section made impassable by open water or clusters of shrubs or exposed tree roots. She led her two pursuers on a twisting route throug
h the reeds and grass, weaving back and forth wherever footing was the firmest, gradually putting distance between them and her. She ran for all she was worth, gasping for air, sweating, pumping arms and legs, desperate. Aya knew she had to make it through the marsh and far enough across the emmer field to attract the attention of her men in the ridge camp. Once they saw her she’d be safe. Menna and Khay wouldn’t dare pursue her across open ground, risk a fight while outnumbered. She heard them crashing through the undergrowth behind her, cursing, calling to each other, trying to head her off. She didn’t dare look back for fear they might be gaining. All too soon Aya felt herself begin to tire, her legs to grow heavy. She knew it was because of her recent pregnancy. She’d lost so much strength and stamina and agility. She tried to leap a section of the stream that she normally cleared with no difficulty. But she fell short of the lip of the far bank, tripped, landed hard on her shoulder, rolled, scraped her right side and thigh on the hard ground, banged her left knee against an exposed tree root. By the time she scrambled to her feet again Menna and Khay were upon her.
Unceremoniously, they dragged Aya back across the marsh to where they’d left Ahaneith, each gripping one of her arms. Both were drenched with sweat and muddied and breathing hard and furious with her. Khay twisted her long hair in his free hand and yanked it over and over to keep her moving. Aya did not give him the satisfaction of crying out.
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