Lukenow: Part 2 of the Late Bronze Age Stories

By Joan H. Parks

In the late Bronze age, Lukenow, a trader and seaman from Minos (Crete), and Sardow, the ceramicist of the clan of artists, traders and warriors, see each other at a young age and enter each others dreams. Sardow is burdened with the far-seeing eye that shows her of the coming destruction of the palace based cultures from Crete along the Levant coast to Egypt. She and Lukenow have a child but Sardow does not long survive. Her clan leaves Ugarit and moves to the east away from the coming destruction.

Lukenow returns to Minos along with his child and Serena, Sardows sister. They found a colony in the west. Serena and Lukenow become aware that the colony is failing and that their family is in danger from those who are gaining in power. They leave to rejoin Serenas family.

The clan holds itself together by passing down stories and holding open meetings where all of the kin are consulted. They protect and cherish their artists from the outside world and have from the times of Thutmose, the artist founder from Egypt. As more artists are born and cherished, how will they survive the dangerous times in which they live?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475993899

Joan H. Parks

Joan H Parks lives in Chicago, IL, and after a career in clinical research refreshed her life by becoming a fiction writer. Her undergraduate degree was from the University of Rochester in Non-Western Civilizations, her MBA from the University of Chicago. She studies poetry, including Yeats and the Canterbury Tales (in Middle English); has an interest in the ancient world which she has gratified by studying at the Oriental Institute of The University of Chicago; is an aficionado of The Tales of Genji, which she rereads every year or so. Her family regards these activities with amusement, for she also listens to Willie Nelson and Dierks Bentley. She can be contacted at joanhparks.com

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Copyright © 2013 by Joan H Parks.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-9388-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-9389-9 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013909962

iUniverse rev. date: 06/05/2013

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Ugarit: Sardow Discovers Her Heart’s Delight

Chapter 2 Lukenow

Chapter 3 Petros Speaks Of Sardow

Chapter 4 Hoval And Arina Worry About Their Child

Chapter 5 Hoval Speaks Of Sardow’s Growing Fame, Although None Know Her Name

Chapter 6 The Bowman In The Chariot

Chapter 7 Sardow And The Images

Chapter 8 Sardow Needs To See The Valley Where Her Grandmother Was Born

Chapter 9 To The Valley

Chapter 10 The Valley Of Hasna And Her Grandfather

Chapter 11 The Chariot

Chapter 12 Return To Ugarit

Chapter 13 Turmoil: Sardow In Peril

Chapter 14 Lukenow Speaks Of Sardow

Chapter 15 Our Time

Chapter 16 Sardow

Chapter 17 Lukenow Thinks About His Life And The Sea

Chapter 18 Lukenow Returns To Ugarit

Chapter 19 Sardow Works

Chapter 20 Lukenow Returns Again From His Island Home

Chapter 21 Lukenow Prepares To Say Farewell

Chapter 22 Serena

Chapter 23 Sardow’s Parents Come To Lukenow

Chapter 24 Lukenow And Sardow Sail On The Great Green Sea

Chapter 25 Serena And Lukenow Sail To His Island Home

Chapter 26 Serena And Lukenow In The Harbor Town Of His Birth

Chapter 27 Troubles Unlooked For

Chapter 28 Report To Lukenow

Chapter 29 Lukenow Thinks About His Mates

Chapter 30 Secrets

Chapter 31 Lukenow Sees The Approaching Danger

Chapter 32 Serena Waits For Lukenow

Chapter 33 Unease

Chapter 34 The Visitor

Chapter 35 Plans Are Made

Chapter 36 Arudara And Diripi Talk

Chapter 37 Little Petros

Chapter 38 We Leave

Chapter 39 Lukenow Has Made His Decision

Chapter 40 Paebel And The Coast Of The Levant, Near Ugarit

Chapter 41 Serena Makes The Decision

Chapter 42 Little Petros And The Last Word

Selected Cast Of Characters, Dead And Alive

Terms Used

Historical Note

CHAPTER 1

Ugarit: Sardow Discovers Her Heart’s Delight

I yearn to go aboard the graceful Minoan ships and sail away, away from the dust, sail away to the moon and the sun, away from everything I know; sail away to where I am close to the water and can enter it at any time and then twist and turn while the water flows around me. The salt taste on my lips at the shore feeds my desire to be on and in the water.

When small, I dreamed of the great green sea before I ever entered it. Instantly I was at home; I welcomed its embrace, turned and twisted joyfully as the salt water surrounded me. I did not yet have the language to tell others of my dreams, so my parents and kin knew not that the sea was home to me. The smell of the rich salt air, the wheeling and cries of the shore birds, the mysterious, beckoning green water, was already familiar. Others splashed and choked and gradually learned to be at home in the salty water, but for me, I knew how to make my way in it almost before I could walk. My mother, Arina, saw my comfort and, after signaling the others to keep an eye on me, did not try to prevent me from cavorting in the water. Some days, the large smiling sea creatures came close into shore, and as I swam with them, it seemed to me that they were relatives. I did not fear them, although the others did.

When first I saw them as a small child, the trading vessels from Minos entranced me, the prow and the stern lifting proudly to the air and wind, the sail to be used when the wind was with them, all the oars ready for when the wind was not with them. The men who sailed in them were brown and lithe, walking with the exquisite balance that survival on those ships demanded. When first I saw the pottery that came from those ships, I had to have it, needed it for my own work, craved it with a passion that did not diminish. Petros, my eldest brother and protector, found a way for me to possess some of it, how I do not know. The images entered my dreams; the ships and the men that sailed them kept me company in the night. I had to have that beauty before me as I worked with the clay to make my own kind of beauty.

Petros, does anyone on the ships know who made these?

Not that I have been able to find, little sister, and I have tried. But if I show too much interest, it may be dangerous for all of us, so I have to be careful.

Why dangerous?

I just know and can’t tell you why. The men of the sea are different from those of us of the land. That I do know. We never let them know where we live and work.

Instead of being frightened, I was the more intrigued. Could the men who transported such beauty be dangerous? Of course they could—all the history of my people shows that the makers of beauty or the purchasers of beauty could and would be dangerous. I could not deny Petros’s instincts, just as I would not go to the port unprotected.

I grew, and my earlier fascination with the ships and those who sailed them did not vanish but, as though a strong and vibrant root, spread throughout me, invading my waking moments as well as my dreams, which became ever more vivid. I collected works from Minos, studied them, and became more and more curious about the land that permitted them to be made. Yet I knew from my family’s stories of my grandfather, Thutmose, and his troubles that talent alone and beauty alone would never protect an artist. I knew that Hoval, Thutmose’s gifted son, remained mysterious to those who coveted the jewelry he made, and in that was as much safety as could be obtained in an uncertain world.

The Minoan ships are long and narrow, with a sail and many oars for when they are becalmed. I see them as they set out from the land, skimming the water, the man at the helm keeping it steady. I have seen some of them returning bedraggled after being caught in a storm, some of those who would be at the oars missing, so I know that there are dangers. I yearn.

We are at the harbor; Petros is off to get us some food. I know he can see me from where he is. Someone is always here to guard me, especially since I grew into my womanly self. I often think about my grandmother and how she survived after her grandfather died. All those years, and then she had Hoval, my father, but was still alone until at the last Thutmose came back to her. I would like to be alone, if only for a short time. I am rarely alone, except when I am making my pieces, but even then I am alone only in my mind, for always there are other people about. Perhaps my family doesn’t think I could survive, as she did. They always seem to be guarding me from a danger that I do not perceive.

A foreign voice speaks to me. Do you find our ships comely? black eyes stare into mine. It is the ships’ master. Over the years, I noticed him. He noticed me.

I find your ships as thrilling as birds in flight.

He draws in his breath, as if surprised. They are dangerous if you don’t know what you are doing, He warns me. Dangerous even if you do.

I have seen ships come in after a storm, so I know. Beauty can be dangerous and can never be controlled.

The men who sail are also dangerous for they are always thinking about being at sea. Their minds are never on shore, only their bodies and only for the feeding of those bodies.

For some who make beauty, it is the same.

As if aware that our time is short and much must be said in a few works, he says, The man who is usually with you?

My brother. He is getting food for us.

I have noted that you are well guarded, but not at this moment. I could carry you off. His steady eyes measure me: he sees that I am not afraid.

But you will not.

No, I will not, but I might want to. His eyes roam over me as they might a robust meal of bread and ale.

I study him, memorize his features, his smell, the way he moves his body. He is already halfway into my dreams. I notice his hands, scarred in the way my father’s hands are scarred, from working with them.

He continues, Your brother and others of your kin collect pottery from my people. I know you are artisans, and I hear that one of yours is a great maker in this art. I have seen some of it. A vase with a sinuous octopus curling, another with one of our trading ships, and others I have heard of but not seen. I have grown curious, for it seems an odd thing. Until recently your people were known only for jewelry.

Feeling shy and exposed, for few know of my working with pottery, I wonder if I can trust this man and let him know that it is I who need the works from his island home.

The pottery from your land is beautiful. It will last forever, or the memory will, I say.

He glances at my hands, then looks at me with sharp surmise—my hands have betrayed me for they are shaping clay, patting clay, shaping the lid with clever fingers as I talk. He sees. He knows. I stand quietly. Few believe that a mere woman could know this art. Or any art.

You. He almost reaches out to touch me. You are the one who makes. Delight shows on his face, swamping out curiosity and perhaps lust. He moves closer, the heat of his body now evident. His smell is familiar to me, though I have never been this close to him before; partly the sun, partly the salt, but mostly his essence. He would like to put his arms around me. Part of me would like that. Part of me hesitates. Should I be afraid? Instinct says no, but inexperience should never be a guide.

Sardow. I turn to Petros who has returned with some bread and cheese and ale. His shoulder touching mine, he looks at the man from the ship ready to protect me.

This is my brother, Petros. I don’t know what you are called.

I am called many names, but the name I use here is Lukenow.

Petros quietly asks, Have you the need for many names? He is filled with suspicion, though unless you know him you would miss it.

Sometimes people find my birth names hard to get around their tongues, so I use this name while here in Ugarit.

Where are you from?

Minos, the land of the ships.

You are a person of the sea then.

Yes, but not one of the ‘sea peoples.’ I do not come to do harm, only to trade.

Petros, he knows that I am the pottery maker.

We must be getting back, Sardow. Petros