Daughter of the Falcon God

by Mark Gajewski

  “I’m so sorry, Mother,” Ahaneith said over and over, her cheeks wet with tears.

  Aya stroked Ahaneith’s hair, pulled her close, kissed her brow. “Love makes everyone do crazy things,” she said.

  “Even you, Mother?”

  Aya closed her eyes, pictured Qen blocking the trail, fire in his eyes, balanced on his one good leg, confronting his nephews all by himself, defeating them. He’d risked his life to save hers. In that saving he’d transformed her, prompted feelings she’d never had before. “Even me, Ahaneith.” Aya took a deep breath. Tomorrow, she knew, she was indeed going to have to do something crazy in the name of love. She was going to have to confess hers to Qen – even though she knew he’d surely reject her. If he felt about her as she now felt about him, he would have told her before leaving with the prisoners. She wouldn’t blame him for his rejection, after the way she’d treated him since their first meeting. But she owed it to him to tell him how she felt, to give him the satisfaction of laughing in her face, of paying her back for what she’d done to him. And then, her heart torn by both hope and fear, Aya fell asleep.

  When she awakened the sun was well up. She’d never slept so late her entire life. She started to stretch lazily, immediately stopped. Just moving made her wounds throb. She lay for a moment, collected herself, rubbed her swollen wrists, listened to laughter and conversation from those gathered around the nearby campfire. She rose cautiously and slowly from her pallet and limped down the slope towards the fire. Below her the lake sparkled in the sunlight, stretching north and west nearly to the horizon. The far plains and plateaus glowed golden. Birdsong sounded from every direction. Aya reached the fire. Everyone was lounging there. Ahaneith was pressed close to Isu, one hand linked in his, smiling radiantly. Everyone greeted Aya cheerfully.

  “We saved you some food,” Iuput said, pointing to a collection of nearly empty bowls and platters.

  Aya recognized them as ones the band cached here and used whenever they came to collect cobbles. She gingerly squeezed in between Paser and Siese, slowly lowered herself to the ground, sat cross–legged, grabbed a piece of fruit, bit into it. She was starving. She ate greedily, emptying the nearest bowl and dipping into several more, barely pausing between bites.

  “Slow down,” Iuput laughed. “It’s not going to run away.”

  Aya swallowed a mouthful, threw a bit of melon rind at her brother. She felt a sharp pain in her wrist.

  Iuput dodged the rind, laughed again.

  It felt good to hear laughter after yesterday. “How did you find us?” Aya asked.

  “Pageti got suspicious when you didn’t return to feed Ta–she,” Iuput replied. “She asked around and no one remembered seeing either you or Ahaneith for a while. So people went looking for some sign of the two of you, in every direction, without luck.”

  “Qen and I and a few others returned from fishing at sunset,” Paser said. “When he heard you were gone he immediately assumed it was Meru’s work. He assumed Meru had kidnapped the two of you and was taking you to the river. He also assumed that Meru had given the task to Khay and Menna, since he’d seen Meru leading his band east and hadn’t seen either of them. He thought they were off hunting as the band traveled.”

  “Qen assumed Khay and Menna would make for this crossing from the lake to the valley,” Iuput continued. “He said it’s the only one they were familiar with. We knew we’d never catch you traveling overland, so we all climbed onto Qen’s boat. Because you all had such a big head start, Qen said we had no choice but to travel directly across the lake and try to head you off. We rowed all night. Qen navigated by the stars. Frankly, I was scared to death the wind would come up and capsize us and we’d sink in the deeps. I’ve never prayed so hard to the falcon god my entire life. I was never so glad to see the sun reborn again either. Anyway, it took us until almost midday to reach the delta. Some of us wanted to immediately continue to the river, but Qen convinced us to set up an ambush here. He was certain you would have found a way to delay your kidnappers during the night, that they hadn’t reached the delta yet.”

  “Qen hid his boat a little way up the channel so Menna and Khay wouldn’t see it when you got here,” Paser added. “I stationed myself on the heights a little to the north. I saw you coming when you were still several miles away. I came back and warned everyone. We spread out along the ridge, positioned ourselves. You know the rest.”

  “Why did Qen face Menna and Khay alone?” Aya asked.

  “He insisted,” Iuput replied. “Qen said his nephews were his responsibility. He said he’d rather that he be injured trying to stop them than any of our people. The rest of us were the failsafe in case he didn’t.” Iuput laughed. “It seems we could have all stayed at home and let Qen rescue you.”

  “I’m glad all of you came,” Aya said appreciatively. She knew now with a certainty that they’d fully accepted her as the band’s patriarch. If not, Paser could have simply left her to her fate and taken over. She turned to him. “You took Menna and Khay all the way to the river?”

  “To the very head of the trail that led down the side of the plateau to the valley,” he replied. “We watched them descend.”

  “A great deal of it by rolling,” Siese chuckled. “It’s not so easy to keep your balance on a steep sandy trail with your hands tied behind you.”

  “I wish I’d seen it,” Ahaneith said fervently.

  “Meru’s band was camped on the east bank of the river,” Hunefer added. “We watched until he sent a small raft across to pick up Menna and Khay. Once they were across we came back here.”

  “Thanks to you all,” Aya said sincerely. “I don’t have to tell you what would be happening to Ahaneith and me right now if you hadn’t saved us.” She swept her eyes over everyone. “Where’s Qen?” she asked. She hadn’t missed him before, caught up in her need for food and the story. The two of them needed to talk. She had much to tell him. She hoped he would have much to tell her in return. She had an uncontrollable urge to feel his arms around her. She felt her face flush.

  “Qen left before first light,” Iuput replied. “He towed his small boat behind the big one when we came yesterday, in case Menna and Khay had arrived first and headed up the channel. He wanted a more maneuverable craft. This morning Qen said he might as well go looking for other bands along the river as the two of you had discussed, as long as he was already here.”

  “I wish I’d had a chance to thank him,” Aya said. She was disappointed that he’d hurried off. Well, that would make their eventual reunion that much sweeter.

  “He knows you’re grateful,” Iuput said. “Did you really expect Qen would wait around for accolades? That’s not him.”

  “No, its not,” Aya agreed. Then she whispered a prayer of thanks to the falcon god, that Qen had been on the ridge yesterday to save her.

  5439 BC: Ta–she – Shemu (Harvest)

  Aya was nursing Ta–she in the shade of her hut atop the ridge. Two months had passed since her rescue at the delta. The entire band had returned to the routine established in the years before the barbarians’ arrival. Aya sent the women out to glean daily where they had ever since her people had settled at the lake, in the sections reclaimed from Meru. Just last week they’d taken hundreds of fish from the pools in the marsh south of the adjoining basin and had smoked most of them and sealed them in earthenware containers for future use. Currently women and girls were bustling around camp, some grinding grain, some brewing beer, others beginning preparations for the evening meal. The lake shimmered in the distance, its blue deepening as the afternoon advanced. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. To the left and right of the ridge and at its base, on the plains, emmer and barley rippled in the breeze. The waist–high grain would be ready to harvest in less than a week, Aya calculated. The yield would be better than normal. She’d already set Paser and Hannu and Siese to constructing additional storage bins on the ridge.

  Aya caught sight of Harwa sprinting up the ridge from the lakeshore. H
e was eighteen, her nephew, Siese’s son, joined now to Qen’s niece Khensa. She’d bear their first child within a couple of months. Harwa headed directly to Aya. “Qen’s back!” he cried. He bent over, hands on knees, caught his breath. “He’s got around a hundred people with him!”

  “You saw them?” Aya queried. If true, Harwa had brought good news indeed.

  “With my own eyes. I was hunting. They’re two miles away, maybe less. I counted them.”

  The news was already spreading. Aya spotted women and girls heading towards the open space in front of her hut.

  Qen had apparently succeeded in his mission. Aya had feared he would not. He’d been gone for two long months already. During the past two weeks her uncertainty about him had increasingly grown. She’d suspected he’d either stumble on a band right away after he reached the valley, or not at all. And if not, she knew he wouldn’t return to the lake until he did, possibly for years. That possibility had started to drive her crazy. During Qen’s extended absence she’d discovered just how much she missed being with him on a daily basis. She’d come to rely on his counsel since she’d taken leadership of her band. He was the one person she could always talk to, always run ideas past, always count on to carry out her orders. She was exceedingly glad he’d returned, and not just because he’d apparently brought people with him. She wanted to thank him for saving her and Ahaneith from Menna and Khay. She wanted – no, needed – to reveal her new–found love for him. That too had grown in his absence.

  “Go tell Iuput,” Aya told Harwa. “He’s with the herd, in the valley past the second ridge to the north.”

  Harwa nodded, sprinted away, though slower than before.

  “Tabiry, Ladice – go assemble the rest of the women and girls. There’s work to be done.”

  Half an hour later Aya set out down the ridge to the lakeshore, ostrich feathers bound on her brow, the crook that symbolized her authority in her hand, her talisman around her neck. Behind her, in camp, enough food was being prepared to feed one hundred hungry strangers. The men too had learned of Qen’s return and were milling about near the water a little east of the peninsula. Aya joined them. Paser pointed east. Aya squinted, saw a mass of heavily burdened people moving slowly in her direction. She picked out Qen, hobbling along between two men that she took to be patriarchs from their dress. Had Qen found two separate bands? That was even better news.

  Soon the entire area where the peninsula met the lakeshore was alive with weary dusty men and women and children lugging pouches and baskets and various containers. At Qen’s command they stopped, set down what they were carrying, sat themselves. Qen led two men to where Aya and the family heads waited. One was elderly, perhaps in his late fifties. The other was in his early thirties.

  “This is Inkaef, patriarch of a band with seventy members,” Qen said, introducing the older man. “And this is Nebet, a patriarch of thirty.” Qen tilted his head respectively. “This is Aya, leader of our band, healer, chosen of the falcon god.”

  “Welcome to my country,” Aya said formally. Then she introduced Kakhent’s sons and her father and uncle.

  “Qen has told the two of us much about you, Aya,” Inkaef said, bowing. “Never in all my days have I encountered a woman in charge of so much.” He gazed at the fields, at the ridge and camp. “Of anything, actually.” He laughed. “We are honored by your welcome.”

  Nebet boldly swept his eyes over Aya. “But Qen did not tell us everything – he failed to describe your great beauty.”

  Aya avoided rolling her eyes. Nebet’s single glance had revealed much, for she had learned to read men’s glances long ago. He was much like Meru, she could tell. If Qen had told him about her, then Nebet surely knew she was not joined to any man. So he was already making calculations, plotting future moves. He was a patriarch of thirty now, but joined to her he’d be the leader of a much mightier host in control of much country. Then, once joined, he’d push her aside, diminish her as Kakhent had and Meru would have. Be gracious, Aya reminded herself. He’s a patriarch and a man. He can’t help himself. “I’m glad you and your people have come to my country,” she told the patriarchs. “As you can see, its a vast land, with room for many hundreds of people to live together in peace and prosperity.” She pointed to the ridge. “My camp lies there. My women are preparing food for your people. They’ll bring it to them when its ready.”

  “That is most kind of you,” Inkaef said. “We’ve traveled many miles today and in the past weeks.”

  “Come then. Sit and rest,” Aya said, indicating a number of leather stools that had been set up on the peninsula in a grove of palm trees. She motioned to Iuput, who was just arriving from the distant savannah. “Join us. You too, Qen.”

  Just as everyone settled into their seats Betrest and Pageti appeared with jars of beer and many cups.

  “Two of my daughters, with refreshments,” Aya said.

  Nebet took a brimming cup from Pageti. “You have more children, Aya?” he asked, taking a sip.

  “Another daughter, thirteen. And a newborn, just a few months old.”

  “This beer is exceptional,” Nebet said, smacking his lips. “I’ve never tasted any like it before.”

  “It’s brewed from barley, a different grain than grows in the valley,” Aya said. She pointed to the closest field. “That’s emmer, the other grain we grow. We use it for bread and porridge, mostly.”

  “An unexpected delight.”

  “One of many you’ll find in this land,” Aya said. “The falcon god himself led me to it half a lifetime ago.”

  “Is that the talisman he sent to earth in a fireball?” Inkaef asked.

  Qen did tell them much, Aya thought. No doubt he did everything he could to persuade them to come to the lake. Aya took it from her neck, handed it to Inkaef.

  He studied it, passed it to Nebet. Nebet took it gingerly, quickly returned it to her.

  Nebet fears the gods, Aya concluded. One difference from Meru, at least. “The talisman did come to me directly from the god,” she said. “But he gave me even more. He gave me a dream the night I found it. In my dream I saw many bands settled on the shores of this lake. I saw prosperous, happy people.” She paused. “Today, with your arrival, I believe the falcon god’s dream is fulfilled.”

  “It is a powerful thing, to have one’s arrival foretold,” Inkaef noted. “And to be part of such a dream.”

  Aya turned to her left. “Forgive me. I haven’t introduced my brother yet. This is Iuput. He’s in charge of my animals.”

  “Tell me about them,” Inkaef insisted.

  “We have many hundreds of cattle, goats and sheep,” Iuput replied. “There’s rich grazing for them on the savannah north of the ridge where our camp is, and, of course, limitless water in the lake. We usually take our animals to the river for a few months every year when our crops are ripening. We prefer them to eat the wild grasses there, not the grain in our fields.”

  “Qen said you rarely eat your beasts.”

  “Usually just during feasts, when we make offerings to the gods. We milk our cattle daily, blood them less frequently. They’re a portable source of food we can take with us whenever we journey from the lake.”

  “We’d like to separate each type of animal into multiple herds and graze them apart from each other,” Qen interjected. “That would minimize the risk of disease wiping out all of our animals at once. But, up until now, we haven’t had enough herdsmen to do that.”

  “Which is where you come in,” Aya said. She assumed Qen had described for these strangers exactly how her people lived. She wanted to know right now if they intended to fit in or stubbornly hold on to their current lifestyles, as Meru had. She wasn’t about to play games the way Kakhent had with Meru. “Supply us with boys to help watch our animals, and we’ll share them with you.”

  “A very generous offer,” Nebet said. “And your grain? I doubted Qen’s description of your crop, but I can see for myself he was overly modest about that too.”
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  “Help us harvest, and we’ll share this year’s emmer and barley with you,” Aya replied. “We’ll give you seed that you yourselves can plant next year, teach you how. After that, you’ll be self–sufficient.”

  “It seems there’s much to learn here at the lake,” Inkaef said. “Much we’re not used to.”

  “Lessons we’re willing to teach,” Aya replied forcefully. “Once you’re settled, I’ll show your women where they can glean most productively, where your men can hunt and fish. I assure you, there are more than enough foodstuffs in this country for all of us to share.”

  Nebet pointed to the inlet. “Speaking of fish, I’ve never seen a vessel like that before. We’ve often made rafts to fish in the river, but they’re nowhere near as large, and certainly not as elegant.”

  “I built it,” Qen said proudly. “We use it in the deep waters. Some of the fish we catch there weigh upwards of fifty pounds.”

  Inkaef let out a low whistle.

  “Tell us, Qen. How did you find these bands?” Paser asked.

  “I followed the channel from the delta all the way to the river. The channel itself is quite winding, shallow and rocky in places. I’d hate to take a boat through it during the inundation. Too many eddies and swirls and looming boulders. Anyway, once at the river I drifted south. The current was strong enough that all I had to do was steer. Three days later I encountered Nebet’s band. He and I talked for many hours over several days. I finally persuaded him to come to the lake.”

  “That his band had done the very same thing a year earlier was a powerful selling point,” Nebet said.

  “I abandoned my boat then, walked north with Nebet’s people. Three days later we encountered Inkaef’s band. He was camped half a day south of the trail over the ridge to the delta.”

  “The inundation was low this year,” Inkaef said. “The grasses throughout the valley were sparser than usual. We’d already moved camp twice as many times as normal, for we quickly exhausted whatever grass there was wherever we stopped. When Qen described the fertility of your lake, even in times of a low flood, I was skeptical. But those of us who have spent so much of our lives in the valley know how changeable it can be from year to year. I decided that even if only half of what Qen claimed was true that the lake would still be a good place for my people to be. And now, I discover that the lake is everything Qen promised it would be, and more.”