Daughter of the Falcon God Page 11

  “Those stories didn’t seem real to me before today,” Ahaneith said.

  “That’s how my great–grandmother and grandmother on your father’s side lived most of their lives, until we encountered what was left of my mother’s band. I’m the first woman born into our family after our band took up farming and herding, the first who hasn’t had to exist solely by hunting and gathering.”

  “When do barbarian women find time to weave, or make baskets, or pottery?” Ahaneith queried.

  “They apparently don’t weave at all,” Aya replied. “You saw yesterday what Qen was wearing – they clothe themselves with animal skins and grasses. They likely make rude pottery that they throw away when they leave a campsite – they simply shape clay and harden it in their campfire for a while. And the baskets they make from reeds and rushes are probably much more primitive than the ones you made when you were first learning.”

  “I don’t think I want to live that way,” Ahaneith said. “But I heard Grandfather tell Wetka at breakfast that I’m going to be joined with one of the newcomers.”

  Aya sighed. “Yes. Hannu and Wetka believe these barbarians were sent by the gods so that you can have a partner and bear children, and so that our boys can.”

  “I’ve got my heart set on Menna,” Ahaneith confided.

  “I know you have, Ahaneith” Aya said. She stroked her daughter’s hair lovingly. “I remember how it feels to be attracted to a boy. But you’ve just met Menna and know nothing about him. He may not be everything you’re building him up to be. You might be best–matched to someone else in the other band. So try not to get your hopes too high. Especially since your grandfather will make the decision about who you’ll be joined to, not you.”

  “Surely he’ll take my desires into account,” Ahaneith pouted. “He’s my grandfather, after all.”

  He ignored mine, sold me to Kakhent, Aya thought. “Perhaps,” she told Ahaneith. “Just don’t count on it.”

  “In any case, I love my cousins, but I certainly don’t want to join with one of them,” Ahaneith said.

  Aya put an arm around her daughter and pulled her close. She doubted that she’d ever be with her like this again. Tears welled into her eyes. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “Miss me?” Ahaneith asked, her voice suddenly tremulous.

  “After the joinings I’ll never see you ever again. I’ll go back to Ta–she and you’ll stay here with your new band for a while, then head off to the eastern sea.”

  That the bands would go their separate ways had clearly not occurred to Ahaneith.

  “Grandfather wouldn’t let that happen!” Ahaneith protested. “He’d never send me away!”

  “He will,” Aya said sadly. “Your grandfather will do what he believes will best ensure the survival of our band. In this case, its obtaining partners for your male cousins and himself from Iry’s band, so that they can father children and make our band grow. He’ll send you away without a second thought as part of the bargain. What we women want is of no concern to him. Whatever he decides, we’ll have to obey. We have no choice.” She fought to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  Ahaneith was crying now. Aya held her close, mingled her tears with her daughter’s. She couldn’t stand what was about to happen. She knew there was very little chance that the barbarians would agree to so much as visit the lake. Bebi and Amenemope had taught her that much. That the two bands would part was inevitable. Aya knew there was no way to stop the joinings, no way to keep from losing the daughter she loved. She knew she was being selfish, putting her desires above the survival of her band. But she couldn’t help it.

  She wished she’d never encountered these barbarians. They were about to ruin her life.

  ***

  Aya glanced at the rim of the far plateau. She noted figures, small and quite indistinct at this distance, standing at the head of the path. “There’s Iry’s band,” she announced.

  It was late in the afternoon. Qen was sitting beside Hannu in front of his hut. They’d been discussing the animals for hours, along with Iuput. Aya had spent the day preparing for the arrival of the newcomers, overseeing the setting up of temporary reed huts, the stockpiling of dung and branches for campfires, the filling of large earthenware jars with water and beer. The barbarians wouldn’t use them today, of course, but depending on how the discussion between Hannu and Iry went, Aya expected that Iry’s people would be ferried across the river on Qen’s raft tomorrow and the day after. She assumed, from Qen’s description, that the raft was so small that many trips would be necessary. Aya’s daughters were currently preparing a feast so that Hannu could properly welcome the barbarian family heads to the valley. The girls were bustling about the campfire a few paces away even now. Aya had just finished her own chores and had barely sat down to rest.

  Hannu looked upward, stared for a moment. “Go greet them on my behalf, Aya. Invite them to feast with me. I wish to talk with them and their patriarch. Take Qen with you.”

  Aya waited for Qen to rise, then walked a few paces ahead of him towards the section of the riverbank where Menna would land the raft after the crossing. The stems of the wild grasses they passed through barely reached her ankles; Iuput’s animals had cropped it short in the week they’d spent here. She and Qen found a fallen dom palm on the riverbank and perched on its trunk to wait. Across the river the leading group of barbarians was already halfway down the steep sharply–twisting path from the lip of the plateau, the rest strung out behind them single–file in a long line. The sun still lit the top third of the path, but everything below that on the face of the escarpment was in shadow. The river had already taken on the colors of sunset, muted by the shadows on the floor of the valley. Aya saw that her brother was moving the cattle and sheep and goats back from the water, bunching them at the base of the western plateau for the night to keep them safe from predators.

  It took nearly half an hour for the strangers to reach the eastern riverbank some distance upstream from where Aya and Qen were sitting, at the spot where the bow of Qen’s ten–foot long reed raft was pulled onto the shore. The river was wide here, too wide to clearly make out the faces of the approaching barbarians, though it was much diminished in size from the weeks immediately after the inundation had subsided. Eventually three men detached themselves from the rest of the band and boarded the raft. Menna and another boy took up long poles and pushed the craft into the current. It began drifting north towards her, at the same time angling westerly with the two boatmen’s assistance. Once it reached deep water, Menna moved to the rear of the raft and took up what she remembered Qen calling a steering oar. The other boy lay his pole on the raft and sat down.

  Aya studied the raft. It really was a simple vessel. She realized she could have easily made one herself and crossed the river.

  Qen noted her interest. “Menna had to launch far upstream in order to land near us. The river is trying to force him straight north. The steering pole helps him angle the raft somewhat.”

  Aya nodded and continued watching. After a few minutes she turned to Qen. “Can you really calculate just by looking how much grain can be harvested from a specific field?”

  “Yes.”

  “How? And why?”

  “As to how, years of very careful observation. As to why…” Qen shrugged. “Look at me, Aya. I can’t do what other men do. I had to figure out something no one else did to make myself useful to my people.”

  “Well, I’d have to see it before I believed it,” Aya said.

  “Pity I’ll never get the chance to demonstrate my skill for you,” Qen replied. “You’re going back to your lake and I’m staying here.”

  Aya looked deep into Qen’s eyes, searched them. “What you said yesterday, about looking after my daughter when she leaves here with you – did you mean it?” If Qen noticed the catch in her throat he didn’t let on.

  “I was speaking with my father’s authority,” Qen assured her. “My commitment was his commitment. And
I promise you, Aya, I’ll look after Ahaneith as if she’s part of my own family. Especially since I’ll have none left.”

  “Thank you,” Aya said sincerely. Perhaps Qen was not as barbaric as she’d first assumed. She glanced back at the river. The raft was much closer. She saw that the strangers were dressed more poorly than her people, wearing loincloths of ragged animal skins or penis sheaths. All were decorated with necklaces made of shells or bits of copper or colorful stones strung on strings made of twisted grass. “Who are they? Except Menna, of course.”

  Qen pointed to the man in the bow. He carried a long staff in his right hand and wore a plume of ostrich feathers. A lion skin was draped over his shoulders and tied around his neck. The lion’s paws lay on his chest. “That’s my half–brother, Meru. I don’t see Father. Strange that Meru’s wearing his things.”

  Meru appeared to be in his late twenties. He was tall, muscular, long–haired. It was obvious to Aya where Menna got his looks. She’d never seen a man as handsome. She studied him with interest. He was nothing at all like Qen.

  “The boy who was poling at first along with Menna is his younger brother, Khay,” Qen said. “Their mother’s dead. Meru’s hard on his women. He’s gone through three already. Don’t be surprised if he makes Ahaneith his fourth.”

  That was a sobering thought. The only consolation was that Ahaneith would be the woman of a family head. That should make it a bit easier for her in Iry’s band. Plus, Qen had promised to look out for her.

  “The other two are Meru’s younger brothers, Buneb and Djau, my half–brothers,” Qen added.

  The raft drew near to shore and Menna and Khay both began poling again. When a few feet from the riverbank, they jumped over opposites side and splashed through the water and pulled the bow onto land. The older men disembarked. Aya and Qen rose and moved towards them. Meru stopped a few paces in front of his companions and waited. An aura of power seemed to emanate from him; Aya would have recognized him as a man of importance even if he hadn’t carried and worn symbols of authority. Suddenly two dogs came bounding from the direction of the herd, barking fiercely. Aya quieted them with a command and brought them to heel. They positioned themselves close behind her, protectively, eyes locked on the visitors.

  “Brother, this is Aya, the woman of the patriarch Kakhent,” Qen said. “Aya, this is my half–brother, Meru.”

  Meru gazed at Aya appraisingly, scanned her from head to toe with dark glittering eyes. She could tell he liked what he saw. She’d seen the same look in many men’s eyes – the desire, the hunger, the possessiveness. As pretty as Ahaneith was now, Aya had been far prettier at the same age, and the years had only enhanced her form and beauty. She considered Meru’s stare beyond inappropriate, given her status as a patriarch’s woman. At least Qen hadn’t eyed her in that fashion – not at their first meeting, and not since.

  “Where’s Father?” Qen asked Meru.

  “He died a month ago, two days after you set out for the river,” Meru replied matter–of–factly. “Scorpion sting. I’m patriarch now.”

  Qen visibly stiffened. Shock crossed his face. Almost in spite of herself, Aya’s heart went out to him, having to learn in such an abrupt unfeeling way of his father’s death, to not have been able to tell him goodbye or see him buried. At the same time, she felt duped. Qen had obviously exaggerated his importance within his band to Hannu. He’d portrayed himself as his father’s ambassador and successor, as speaking on his behalf, when it was clearly Meru who was Iry’s most important son. Otherwise, why would he be leading the newcomers? Aya berated herself for not guessing – who in their right mind would let a cripple serve as their patriarch anyway? Her unease grew. Since Meru was the barbarians’ patriarch now, whatever Qen had negotiated with Hannu no longer mattered. The commitment Qen had just made to her to look after Ahaneith meant nothing. Her daughter’s future was more in doubt than ever.

  Aya suppressed her emotions. She’d have to figure out the ramifications of Qen’s deception later. Right now Hannu was counting on her to make a good first impression for her people. She addressed Meru. “Welcome to our camp, Patriarch,” she said formally, bowing.

  “So its true, as Menna tells me, that your people claim this section of the river, here, where I’ve camped every year of my life, and my father’s, and his before him, and countless of our ancestors.”

  Aya colored at Meru’s unexpected attack. The encounter was off to a bad start. “I didn’t mean to imply we’ve settled here permanently, Patriarch, nor that we’ve claimed this place for ourselves,” she said diplomatically. “We’ve merely had the use of it for a few days. We’re moving on in a week, maybe less.”

  “Hmph.”

  “My patriarch is in our main camp. My father, Hannu, is in charge of this temporary camp. He invites you and your family heads to talk and feast with him tonight,” Aya told Meru, trying to mollify him. “In addition, I’ve prepared a camping place for your people over there, assuming you’ll ferry them across the river to this side tomorrow.” She pointed to the newly–erected huts. “You’ll find piles of wood and dung for fires, and jars freshly filled with water and beer. When your people have settled in my daughters and I will bring fish and bread and meat to them.”

  Meru visibly relaxed. “That is unexpected, and quite kind of you,” he said. He smiled for the first time. His teeth were white and even. “We’ve had a long and dusty journey.” He turned to Khay. “Go stay with the raft. Make sure it doesn’t drift away in the night.”

  Khay nodded, obviously disappointed that he was not to share in the feast. “Yes, Father,” he said dully.

  “I’ll have one of my girls bring you food and drink,” Aya told him.

  Khay brightened somewhat.

  “Might I have a moment?” Qen asked Meru, stepping to his side. “I need to tell you about my discussions with Hannu these past two days before you meet with him.”

  So Hannu’s strategy hadn’t worked. Qen would tell Meru everything he’d learned about her people before Meru met with her father, giving the barbarian an advantage in their upcoming negotiation. Had Qen really just been a spy, claiming to be more prominent than he actually was so that Hannu would talk to him more freely?

  “Whatever the two of you talked about doesn’t matter,” Meru said dismissively. “I’m in charge now, Brother. You don’t speak for me. I’m not bound by any agreements you reached.”

  Qen stared at him for a moment, nonplussed. “I made no agreements.”

  “Good. I won’t have to undo anything then.”

  Qen did exaggerate his importance, Aya thought. Maybe he was hoping to gain some kind of influence within his band. Clearly Meru isn’t going to let that happen. Serves Qen right.

  Meru turned to Aya. “And now, take me to your patriarch,” he said pleasantly.

  Aya turned on her heel and strode towards camp, Meru at her side. She moved quickly, for Meru’s strides were long. He seemed to have boundless energy, an energy that matched her own. The two dogs fell in to Aya’s right, still suspicious and protective. Meru’s brothers followed after, plus Menna, all at a half–run to keep up. Aya assumed Meru was letting Menna come to the feast because he’d been the first to make contact with her band. She expected that Ahaneith would be pleased to see the boy again.

  “Tell me about your patriarch,” Meru said. “Why isn’t he here?”

  “Traveling is hard on him these days,” Aya replied. “He’s somewhat frail.”

  “Frail?”

  “Kakhent is my grandfather’s brother.”

  Meru was surprised. “Did he have other women before you?”

  “Just one. I was joined to Kakhent long after she died. I’ve given him three daughters so far. And two sons who died shortly after birth.” One daughter and one living son short of what she’d seen gathered around her in the falcon god’s dream.

  “How old are your daughters?”

  “Twelve, nine and five. And your children? I’ve met your son Menna, of
course. And Qen pointed out Khay.”

  “I have a third, Nebre. He’s thirteen. And a five year–old daughter.”

  “Your woman is dead, I understand?”

  “Yes. My third.”

  At the margin of the camp Aya glanced over her shoulder and saw that Qen had fallen well behind the group because of his mangled leg. He was awkwardly trying to catch up. You deserve to struggle, she thought. As they reached the two huts Aya sensed excitement. All the herdsmen except for Iuput were in camp tonight. None of her people had ever encountered anyone from another band before yesterday and they were all staring at the newcomers, curious, interested. Meru looked from side to side, smiling, greeting everyone, seemingly as curious about her people as they were about him. Then Aya caught a glimpse of his eyes and saw they were hard, calculating, like those of a hunter sizing up his prey. In that instant she realized Meru was much more of a danger to her people than even Qen now appeared to be.

  Sparks shot heavenward from the fire blazing before Hannu’s hut. The sky was still light above the western plateau, but dusk had enveloped the valley and Aya knew it would soon be completely dark. Hannu stood in the open space behind the fire, hunched over a bit, waiting expectantly, his shadow dancing on the front of his hut. Wetka waited a few paces behind him, dressed in his finery, also casting a shadow. Ahaneith was to their right. The girl had caught sight of Menna; she was beaming. So was he.

  “This is my father, Hannu,” Aya announced to the strangers when the two groups had taken positions facing each other. “And this is Meru, patriarch of the newcomers,” she told Hannu. “His father, Iry, their old patriarch, passed on a month ago.”

  Hannu stepped forward. “I am sorry for your loss, Patriarch,” he said solemnly. “You are most welcome here, as are all your people, on both sides of the river.”