Daughter of the Falcon God Page 7

  “Life here is better than anywhere else we’ve ever been,” Aya said hurriedly. “There’s plenty of land and resources for many bands to share. Even if we doubled or tripled the number of people in the lake country overnight we could grow emmer enough to support everyone.”

  “And what if these other bands try to take what’s ours, make us subservient to them, girl?” Kakhent queried. “Have you considered that?”

  “If the women and men of the different bands are joined, so that we’re all mixed, that would tie us together,” Aya said. “Why would they then try to be anything but our equals?”

  “Because some men would rather take what others have built than build for themselves,” Kakhent replied sharply.

  “You may be right, Brother,” Bek said. “But Aya’s idea is a good one. I believe the falcon god in fact sent her a dream, revealing a future where many different bands inhabit the shores of this lake. So, if the opportunity arises to invite one to settle here, whether this year or sometime in the future, we must. No doubt there will be negative consequences – we’ll deal with them when they happen. Frankly, I’d welcome such problems. Truth be told, as you said, the odds of our finding another band are small. Even if we do, the chances of convincing hunters and gatherers to abandon the life they know and migrate to our lake are even smaller. We learned that from Bebi and Amenemope. But if we find another band, we must try. We all have to have faith in the future the falcon god has revealed to Aya.” Bek put his hands on his knees, pushed himself to a standing position. “As for tomorrow… Kakhent, see to the hunters. Aya, get the women organized.”

  “Yes, Grandfather,” Aya replied.

  5453 BC: The River

  Aya stood with Kakhent atop the western rim of the ridge that separated the lake from the river valley. “This is what I’ve been telling you about,” she said. It was an hour before sunset. The whole lake country was spread out before them, the distant terraces and ridges and hills turning gold in the slanting light, the hollows and depressions shadowed in blue. To Aya’s left the delta opened into the lake like a fan, the narrow part emanating from the mouth of the channel that disgorged into it. The water coursing through the channel had fully receded within its banks since Aya’s first visit. The channel was now so winding and twisting that Aya thought one would have to walk three miles beside it to actually progress forward only two. The delta itself was a mass of tall reeds and sedges, rippling in the breeze that swept unhindered across the wave–clad lake, alive with birds and waterfowl. Off on its western edge Aya saw great masses of crocodiles sunning themselves. That was fortunate, for at the base of the ridge below her feet were the cattle and sheep and goats of her band, arrived here today after a one–week journey from the ridge camp. The herdsmen were just now watering them. A column of smoke rose from the campfire that the women had built on a flat section halfway up the ridge and beside which they were preparing dinner.

  “Quite a collection of cobbles,” Kakhent noted, bending to pick up several from the base of the flint outcrop near the crest of the ridge. “I’ve never seen so many in one place.”

  “They’re in a variety of sizes,” Aya said. “We can use them to make every type of tool and weapon we need. We can pack them in pouches and strap them onto our animals’ backs when we return home from the river two months from now. And in years to come.”

  “You expect this movement to the valley to become a regular occurrence?” Kakhent asked.

  “I do,” Aya said. “As our herds grow larger, and the size of our emmer fields increases, it’ll be harder for our herdsmen to keep the animals out of them. Plus, the grasses on the savannah are mostly dead now. The rains that started soon after we finished planting will renew them by the time we return from the river.”

  “That is true,” Kakhent admitted.

  “So the solution will be to move the herds to the river from the time the grain begins to grow until its ready to harvest. The grasses on the savannah will have a chance to grow, and our animals will be safe from predators around the lakeshore too.”

  “Something for Bek and I to consider,” Kakhent said.

  Aya had long ago learned that Kakhent was too proud a man to ever accept an idea directly from a girl. She assumed he’d eventually agree with her proposal, and probably even claim it as his own when he spoke to Bek. “Over there’s the track made by wild game,” she said, pointing. Even from a distance Aya could see that the ground was hard packed and marked by countless hooves. “Three miles from here to the river valley. I’ve walked it.”

  “We’ll head east at first light,” Kakhent said.

  ***

  Aya carried dinner to her brother Iuput that evening at the edge of the lake, where he was standing the first watch over the animals. In fact, he was in charge of them on this trip. Bek had decided that Hannu would remain in the lake camp and not travel with the herd. He’d given responsibility for its oversight to Iuput, who’d gladly embraced it. He’d built a large fire this night, one that cast enough light to see any predators that might be approaching and perhaps even scare them away. The cattle and sheep and goats were already bedded down between that fire and the camp. Iuput’s crook and flail and the was stick he used to control the animals lay on the ground beside him. His uncle Siese and cousin Harwa were already rolled in skins close by, sleeping. They’d take the later watches during the night. Iuput appeared to be shaping some of the cobbles Aya had brought down from the ridge a few hours earlier.

  “You’ve made progress?” she asked. For some weeks she’d been thinking about how few people there were in the band to harvest what promised to be large crops of emmer and barley. In the past, women and girls had simply pulled the grain they’d planted and the savannah’s wild grasses up by the roots at harvest time. Based on the size of the fields at the lake, though, it would take them weeks to do so this year. Aya had figured out a way to speed up the process, using a special tool she was calling a sickle. She’d sketched it for Iuput in the dirt a few days ago.

  Iuput held up a slightly curved length of wood, perhaps four feet long. “I found this yesterday. It’s the perfect shape. I think if I cut a shallow groove inside the curved portion, and affix blades there with resin – tree sap or some such – it’ll work.” He held the flat base of a small triangular piece of flint he’d just chipped flush against the wood. “Four or five of these blades in a row should do the trick, as long as the edges are sharp enough.” He set down the flint, stood up, swung the wood in a long arc to demonstrate.

  “You men can use the sickles to cut many stalks at a time,” Aya said. “We women can simply follow after and collect and tie them in bundles.”

  “Bek will be impressed,” Iuput said.

  “Particularly if he thinks it’s your idea. That’s how we should present it. Less likely to be rejected.” Kakhent wasn’t the only elder who discounted the ideas of girls. “Anyway, I’ve brought you dinner.”

  “You don’t have to every night,” Iuput told her. “I can go to the main campfire to eat once Siese relieves me.”

  “That’ll be many hours from now,” Aya replied. “I don’t mind. I needed to get away from the others for a while anyway.”

  “You mean you needed to get away from Pimay,” Iuput chuckled.

  Aya plopped down beside him. “He won’t let me alone!” she exclaimed. “He walks close beside me on the march – every step. Whenever he catches me alone he grabs me, tries to kiss me. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told him I’m not interested, but he doesn’t pay attention. Tabiry accuses me of trying to steal him from her – well, I don’t want him, but apparently he doesn’t want her. She refuses to accept that, makes me out to be the problem.”

  “Lucky for you she’s back in the lake camp,” Iuput said.

  “I decided she’d remain there – before I knew Kakhent was bringing Pimay with us.”

  “And leaving Hunefer behind?”

  Aya colored. “He’s as bad as his brother.”

>   “Let me ask you something,” Iuput said. “If you had to choose one of them to join with, which would it be?”

  “Neither.”

  “You know that’s not realistic, Aya. There are two unjoined girls and two unjoined boys in our band. There’s no one besides Hunefer and Pimay for you to join with.”

  Aya sighed deeply. “Hunefer. The best of a bad lot.”

  “Then, if it was me,” Iuput counseled, “I wouldn’t be so quick to reject Pimay’s advances. In fact, I’d encourage him, and I’d do it in front of Kakhent. He just might join you to Hunefer out of spite if he thinks you prefer Pimay. We both know he’s like that – vindictive.”

  “Are you really only ten?” Aya asked, tousling Iuput’s hair. “How did you get to be so devious?”

  “I’ve learned from my cousins.”

  “Well, I’m not going to take your advice,” Aya said. “Kakhent warned me to stay away from his sons, and I will. With any luck at all we’ll find another band when we’re in the valley and talk them into coming back to the lake with us. Then I’ll have someone else to join with. I have no intention of settling for either of my cousins.”

  ***

  They spent the next two months in the valley. It was an almost idyllic time. They set up a new camp every four or five days, let the animals graze the nearby plains until they were cropped short, then moved farther south. Aya expected that by the time they turned back in the direction of home the sections they’d already grazed would have regrown and would be usable again, for Iuput was careful not to exhaust any individual stretch of the plain.

  Aya and the other women foraged daily, and fed the men well. She’d never seen such a variety of tubers and grains and seeds and fruits and vegetables in such close proximity to each other. Because Kakhent relocated their camp so often Aya never came close to exhausting any patch of foodstuffs, and there were always more wherever they moved. On top of that, the marshes that lined the river were alive with waterfowl and birds and small animals easily snared, and the river was full of fish. No one went hungry during the sojourn in the valley. The valley was even richer than the lake, Aya concluded. If it didn’t entirely flood for several months each year it would in fact be a better place to live. But because her band could stay in the same camp year–round at the lake, the lake had a decided advantage over the valley.

  Aya never tired of bathing in the river at night or laying beside it in the heat of the day. She’d quickly learned not to stray far from shore when she waded into it; never had she experienced water’s power as she did when in the river. She could easily be swept away if she wasn’t careful. Occasionally Aya wondered if what grew on the western bank of the river also grew on the eastern, and if the land that lay atop the eastern plateau was like that on the west, but with no way to cross she could only speculate.

  It was a bit sadly as her time in the valley ended that Aya scanned the river one last time from atop the ridge and turned her steps for home, trailing Kakhent and the animals and the rest of the band. She knew she’d miss the evenings, when shadows spread across the valley from east to west, and the mornings, when dawn’s light climbed the face of the western plateau, turning it to gold. And she knew she’d miss the river, moving restlessly and relentlessly north, to lands and places she’d never see. But she wouldn’t miss the closed in, restricted feeling she had in the valley. She liked the endless view in every direction that she had in the lake country. It always made her feel as if she was part of something magnificent, and completely free.

  5453 BC: Ta–she – Shemu (Harvest)

  Upon returning to the lake camp, Aya learned that several hippos had trampled and entirely consumed one of the emmer fields two nights earlier.

  “It was bound to happen,” Bek told Kakhent as they surveyed the damage along with Aya. “There weren’t enough men to fight off the beasts in the dark.”

  “Hannu was in charge?” Kakhent asked.

  Bek nodded.

  “I’m surprised they didn’t trample two fields,” Kakhent said, disgusted.

  Bek sighed. “Despite this disaster, the emmer that remains is our best crop ever. As long as no pests strike before we harvest, and we have no more hippo attacks, we’ll have enough grain to last us for many months.”

  “We need to kill every hippo on the north shore of the lake, then,” Kakhent said decisively. “Eliminate the threat. And keep the North hippo–free thereafter.”

  “Do you really think it’s possible?” Bek asked.

  “I think if we’re to bend this lake country to our will it will have to be,” Kakhent answered.

  “Do it,” Bek ordered. “Kakhent, tomorrow morning take every man we can spare and wipe out the hippos. Aya, go with them, as healer and to invoke the falcon god’s blessing on the hunters and the hunt. In addition, you’re responsible for preserving as much meat as possible from the kills.”

  “I’ll need almost every woman, then, to gather wood for smoking the meat and for butchering the carcasses,” Aya said. “A single hippo yields five times the meat of an aurochs. It took two days to preserve the one Kakhent killed in the wadi.”

  “I trust you to arrange it,” Bek said. “And if there’s too much meat to preserve, let the bodies rot on the shore. Maybe the predators that go after our cattle and sheep and goats will strip them clean instead and leave our animals alone.”

  “Looks like my sons will get another chance to impress you with their hunting prowess,” Kakhent told Aya facetiously.

  She rolled her eyes but did not reply.

  ***

  Aya stood on the lakeshore, facing the inlet that lay between the ridge camp and the arm of the peninsula. She was wearing her finest loincloth, and had woven fresh flowers into her hair. As always, the falcon talisman dangled around her neck. She was flanked by Siese and Paser holding flaming torches, for night had fallen an hour earlier. The full moon was high overhead and the moon path shimmered white upon the lake. A gentle wind rustled the reeds in the nearby patches, and palm fronds clacked rhythmically on the far side of the inlet. The people of her band were gathered in a semi–circle behind her, with Kakhent standing close by. He held a tall wooden crook in one hand; it had belonged to Bek. Bek had told everyone he’d adopted it as the symbol of his authority as patriarch, though Aya thought he’d simply needed it to support himself whenever he stood for long periods and didn’t want to appear weak by admitting it. But Bek had died two weeks ago, while Kakhent was exterminating the hippos. He’d been buried near a jumble of rocks on the plain north of the ridge camp. Kakhent was now the band’s patriarch, as he’d always desired.

  Aya bent and reached into an earthenware bowl and filled her hand with grains of emmer. She straightened, scattered the handful on the surface of the inlet. “We thank you, o falcon god,” she intoned. “We thank you for the bounty of our crop. We thank you for the country you have given us. We thank you for our very lives.”

  The harvest had been exceptional, the best since Bek had taken up farming. Had it not been for the field lost to the hippos’ rampage it would have been even better. Those beasts, in fact, had been completely eliminated from the lake’s north shore by Kakhent and his hunters and would no longer pose a threat to any crop that Aya’s people planted. More than a dozen had been slain in less than a week, the hunters receiving only a handful of minor injuries that Aya had easily treated. After the harvest, which went swiftly thanks to Iuput’s new sickles, Kakhent had constructed a circular storage bin of clay partially embedded in the crest of the ridge at the east end of camp to hold the threshed grain. He’d commissioned Aya to make a reed basket to line the inside of the bin; it was large enough that she herself could fit inside. Kakhent had decided that the band’s senior female, Bek’s woman Nubwenet, would dole out a ration of grain to each family every morning from now on, as a means of controlling its use. Kakhent was currently constructing a second bin to hold the seed that Aya had set aside to plant next year. She’d finished weaving a basket to line it th
is very morning.

  Bintanath stepped forward and handed Aya a jar brimming with milk, and she took it and emptied it into the water. Tabiry handed her another full of blood, and Aya dumped it as well.

  “We thank you that our herds have prospered, and provide their milk and blood for us each day.” Aya turned around and faced Kakhent.

  He raised his crook. “And now that we’ve honored the gods, we feast!” he cried.

  Aya trailed the rest of her people up the ridge to camp, where hippo and aurochs meat and fish and tubers had been bubbling in pots all day. Bowls had already been set out filled with dates and pieces of melon, along with platters heavy with freshly baked bread. There was even honey to spread on it. Never had anyone in the band seen such a feast. The savannah had not been anywhere near as bountiful as the lake country.

  Aya seated herself cross–legged beside a cluster of bowls that Iuput and Takhat were already eating from.

  Pimay appeared at her elbow. “Wonderful ceremony, Aya. How about if I eat with you?” Without waiting for her reply he started to sit.

  “How about if you don’t.” Hunefer loomed next to him. “Aya doesn’t want anything to do with you. Isn’t that right, Aya?”

  “Please,” Aya hissed, glancing around to see if any of the elders were watching, in particular Kakhent. That would be a disaster.

  Takhat’s eyes were large as she stared at the two belligerent boys.

  “Are you so sure of that?” Pimay retorted, addressing his brother. “After all the time Aya and I spent together at the river these past months? Didn’t she tell you about the things we did?”

  “You mean all the times you put your hands on me when I told you not to?” Aya snapped.