The Days of Peleg

by Jon Saboe

  Peleg looked at the figurine more carefully. It was crudely painted, as if mass-produced, but he was startled to see a slight resemblance to Inanna. She would never participate in such nonsense, he thought angrily. He turned and walked away, ignoring any further calls from the girl.

  As he scanned the sea of street merchants selling their junk, his eyes finally noticed a lady who was offering a more refined product—one that was more appropriate for the Ur he remembered.

  He approached her kiosk and began to admire the finely detailed parchments depicting various stars charts and their accompanying constellations.

  “These are very well done,” he said, admiring the accuracy.

  “Thank you, sir,” she responded with a slight bow and gentle smile. “My father and I work on them together.”

  Peleg nodded and began looking at the details along the lower margins. He noticed a strange seven-column matrix that was delicately painted with planetary symbols heading the top of each file. They were in a strange order, but he was pleased to see that Nibiru was not among them.

  He ran his fingers across the characters with a quizzical look on his face, contemplating their arrangement: Utu, Suen, Nergal, Nabû, Enki, Inana, Ninurta.

  “What is the significance of these symbols?” he asked. “Why are they displayed in this order?”

  “Those represent the wanderers,” she answered, patiently, seemingly surprised at the ignorance of this well-dressed traveler.

  “I know that,” Peleg responded with far less patience. “I mean, what do the planets have to do with this matrix?”

  She giggled softly.

  “Those are the days of the week, sir.”

  Peleg took a moment to comprehend her words. The days of the week had always been ‘named’ Day One, Day Two, Day Three and so forth. No one knew where the seven-day standard came from, but everyone always looked forward to Day Seven which typically was reserved for leisure, entertaining, or parties.

  It suddenly occurred to him that, according to Shem’s Amar, the Creator had rested on Day Seven, after announcing that his creation was complete.

  “When did we start using planet names for the days of the week?” he asked.

  She laughed lightly again.

  “You must be from far away, sir,” she said, “The unifiers brought much knowledge with them. As the stars and planets pass overhead, they affect our lives, bringing success or sadness, love or loss. Those who have accurate charts, such as these, can use them to foretell which influences are to come. We honor the wanderers and their unique attributes by giving them a special day each week. If you know under which sign a child is born, you can chart future events for their entire life.”

  Peleg stared at her incredulously, desperately looking for some indication that she was joking. But she continued to look sweetly up at him; never for a moment suspecting the turmoil she was creating.

  Finally Peleg choked, “Unifiers?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “Great sages accompanied the warriors from Babylon. They brought much useful knowledge about the heavens. My father was trained by some of their best.”

  Peleg just stood there, dumbstruck, for several seconds. Finally he turned away quickly and walked off, leaving her stunned and surprised, and most certainly wondering how this wealthy traveler could be so unaware.

  Peleg scanned the crowd, trying to find Shem and Bernifal. Eventually he discovered Shem speaking with another vendor, and as he approached, Shem saw him and waved.

  “Over here,” Shem shouted. “This man sells armbands for Nahor!”

  Peleg was shocked to have found a contact for Nahor so quickly, but he was also not very excited. He wanted to press towards the Citadel, and he had hoped to get there before Shem had found Reu’s grandson.

  The vendor waved vigorously at Peleg, urging him to come closer.

  “See the twin circles of silver and bronze,” he said, presenting a simple armband consisting of two metal rings held together by a simple tin braid. “The spirits of Lahmu and Lahamu are captured within this fine arm amulet. The ‘rim of heaven’ in the silver band rests upon the ‘horizon of the earth’ in the bronze band. As Anshar and Kishar meet, special power and protection are given to the wearer as the unity and peace of the cosmos descend whenever these two metals are sealed together.”

  Peleg was stunned as if betrayed. He knew the fable. During one of the violent earthquakes of the Great Calamity, the pure waters (Apsu) from under the Earth had disturbed the salt waters upon the Earth (Tiamat), creating a powerful mixture of slime and mud (Lahmu and Lahamu) from which all life emerged. To create a home for this life, the heavens and earth had been separated, creating the horizon—which this charlatan was attempting to represent with his armbands. It was the same thinking that Tizkar, their tonga driver had displayed so many years ago: the idea that all life had originated from the turbulent seas of the Great Calamity just over two centuries ago.

  But what offended him more than someone exploiting and profiting from such nonsense was the implicit suggestion that the sky was simply an inverted bowl resting upon a flat earth. It was inconceivable that someone could promote such idiocy—especially here in Ur; and it was all the more incredulous since his own travels had been proof that such thinking was idiocy.

  Only a few seconds had passed since the man had halted his sales pitch. A blind rage overcame Peleg, and he rushed at the man, stopping just before their faces collided, glaring venomously.

  “How can you truly believe such excrement?” he hissed. “Do you truly believe that the horizon is a circle around the earth?”

  The man peered into Peleg’s eyes with absolutely no reaction, his face locked in a dispassionate stare, refusing to dignify Peleg’s scatological outburst. The silent impasse lasted for several seconds, all the while Peleg’s fury continued to grow. Finally, without taking his eyes off of Peleg, the man gave a barely perceptible shrug of his shoulders as if to say, “What difference does it make?”

  Something inside of Peleg snapped and he slapped the armband out of the man’s hand. The man winced and backed up slightly, then bent to retrieve his merchandise. When he straightened, he wore a hurt expression; yet he was not completely cowed.

  Before Peleg could do any more damage, Shem intervened.

  “May I examine it?” he asked gently.

  The man handed it to Shem, greatly preferring the kind and inquisitive Mentor.

  Shem looked on the inside of the bracelet and showed it to Peleg.

  A small etching identical to the sun symbol of Reu could be seen on the inside rim. Peleg suddenly realized he had seen the same marking drawn in miniature at the bottom of the girl’s star charts.

  “You work for Nahor?” asked Shem.

  The man had almost recovered and took a breath.

  “No,” he said slowly. “I work for myself. Master Nahor provided me with funds so that I could start this business.” He smiled proudly at his cart. “I have easily repaid his investment, and now he earns a small percentage from my tithes.”

  “Do you know where we can find him?” asked Shem.

  The man shook his head.

  “He could be anywhere,” he said. “He always finds me once a month for his tithe.”

  He lowered his voice slightly.

  “Although Master Nahor is very young, he is also very brilliant. He helped me develop my product line and my business strategy. In fact …” his timbre disappeared to a whisper, “I used to be a simple beggar, but now …” his voice returned to full strength. “I have a home and three wives!”

  Suddenly, from nowhere, a sweet melody sounded, and they turned to see Bernifal wandering up to them, playing on a cheap reed flute—the kind that might be used by children for practice. Simultaneously, they all noticed that he was also barefoot.

  “How did you acquire that flute?” asked Shem, refusing to acknowledge the bare feet.

  “My shoes, I sell for flute,” he answered simply, unaware or uncaring that his fi
ne leather footwear had been easily worth thirty times the value of the simple carved flute. He returned the flute to his lips and began a new song.

  Peleg nodded with approval, recognizing the tune from when he lived across from Bernifal.

  “I’m glad you found a replacement,” he said, relaxing from his prior confrontations.

  The armband salesman noticed Peleg’s return to calm, and with renewed confidence, tried one more time.

  “And you could experience the same success as I have found,” he said optimistically, trying to develop new momentum. “And my armbands can help! They can focus your creative energies and assist you in developing your own product line.”

  Peleg spun away in disgust, leaving the man talking to the air. He walked angrily into the city, forcing Shem and Bernifal to follow him.

  After traveling a few blocks, the crowd of vendors thinned. Peleg began to realize that these street merchants congregated around the port-gate, apparently to ambush travelers as they entered the city. He thought about the time he had walked through these same gates after his initial meeting with other Great Discovery Masters, prior to their launch.

  He wanted to get to the Citadel, but he had discarded his earlier plan of losing Shem and making a run for it. He wanted Shem with him, because he might be useful in whatever meeting he had with Inanna. Peleg could present her with a living pre-Calamitite! He would remind her that she had a special interest in such studies, and perhaps it would cull some favor with her.

  But he couldn’t just go straight there. The Citadel could be seen looming to the north, and Shem would certainly know where Peleg was heading. But these were the streets where he had been raised—and some he had even helped to build. Shem wanted to find more leads to Nahor, so Peleg led them in a casual, back-and-forth route, pretending to help. They looked for Reu’s symbol on doorways and business banners, and (probably because of their attire) they received a good deal of polite assistance. They asked about Nahor from fellow pedestrians, who invariably knew of him, but only offered memories about when they had last seen him, or suggestions on where he might be found. Somehow, however, the resulting information kept them moving in the same general direction—and with a continually growing impression that they were closing in on him.

  Finally, a man who was carrying a stack of small writing tablets said he had just seen Nahor leaving a nearby relic shop, and pointed out the directions.

  When they arrived, Peleg remembered that, at one time, this had been a store where one could find high-quality astrolabes, compasses, and other measuring and navigation equipment. But it was obvious that such merchandise no longer was available here. Strange words, utilizing characters from multiple languages, were etched or painted haphazardly around the doorway, and paintings of astronomical symbols covered the marble steps leading up to the front.

  They entered the shop through thick blue tapestries which draped over the doorway and waited for their eyes to adjust in the dim lighting inside. The thick smell of incense struck their nostrils as they passed into the room. Inside, they found an unbelievable assortment of statuettes, depicting distorted—and sometimes incredulous—animal caricatures, surrounded by symbols representing planets and constellations, and resting on pedestals which displayed interpretations of natural disasters and cosmic forces.

  A large ceramic bull, resting on thick black clouds and surrounded by finely crafted lighting bolts, caught Peleg’s eye. Golden horns pointed upward, supporting the lighting with thin metal rods, while inset rubies made the beast’s nostrils glow in the faint ambient light.

  Next to the bull was a tall woman with a lovely form which stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding beastly monstrosities. But Peleg was soon disappointed as he noticed the woman was a goat from the waist down—and was giving birth to a boy with a fully bearded eagle’s face.

  A large scorpion with its stinger plunged deep into its pedestal—creating a giant fissure—was generating an earthquake. A double-headed lion was devouring a baby tannyn. The large head of a snarling urbarra was shown emerging from the earth amid bubbling lava and raining fire, and beside it, a warhorse with wings displaying the constellation Ash-Iku, was drinking from a pool of blood.

  Peleg started to turn away in disgust, but as he did, he noticed a small sculpture of a large tortoise lying on its back with its feet supporting a large mountain. The starry band of Margidda was delicately etched along the crest of the mountain, which had a large carved waterfall cascading down the far side and pouring into the turtle’s open mouth. Peleg allowed his anger to be briefly interrupted by the amusing memory of his joke to Serug about “…turtles all the way down”.

  As he looked further into the shop, he saw a number of customers who were looking at other merchandise. There were wall hangings, parchments, small items of jewelry, and even some decorated vases and planters. They were all covered with similar themes of wild animals and natural forces—with constellations and planetary symbols featured prominently. A dark doorway in the back led into an even darker hallway.

  “Greetings, friends!”

  He turned to see a man who could only be the proprietor smiling at him and acknowledging Shem and Bernifal—who seemed to be as dismayed by the store’s offerings as he was. The man appeared to be bald (shaved?) with a small skullcap on his head, and wore huge earrings which seemed to pull painfully at his lobes.

  Peleg looked past the man and pointed to the first table of sculptures.

  “What are those things?” he asked, not bothering to hide his disgust.

  “Those are the Anunnaki,” he said without turning, all the while maintaining his customer-pleasing smile. “Naturally,” he lowered his voice, “they are, of course, representations. But the same energies of the cosmos which fill all of nature and are exemplified by these creatures are channeled through them—and can be used by you for whatever needs or ambitions you may have.”

  His smile turned to Shem and then to Bernifal who had understood little of his pitch. Despite their stoic response, the shopkeeper’s demeanor never wavered.

  Peleg had never heard the word Anunnaki, and tried desperately to discern its meaning. The only possibility that occurred to him was that it was a derivation, or diminutive, of Anu—the small, horned demigod whom his son seemed to admire so greatly. Were these figures supposed to be the progeny, or perhaps underlings of Anu? Suddenly he realized the marketing that was taking place. Young Nahor had taken his grandfather’s philosophies and created an endless product line—and market—by ascribing natural forces and cosmic powers to animals, and then saturating a newly gullible populace with promises of success and enlightenment.

  This was one of the angriest—and most dismal—days of Peleg’s life. Throughout his entire expedition he had expected the unexpected; but always he had been comforted by the thought of returning home to a stable and sane society. Now his visions of returning to such a place were slowly disappearing as if the colors of a treasured painting were being rinsed away by acid.

  All of these thoughts occurred within a few seconds, but before he could respond (angrily) again, Shem spoke.

  “We were told that Nahor had passed this way,” he said calmly. “Can you assist us in finding him?”

  The man kept smiling without answering for a few seconds, and then naively asked, “Which Nahor might you mean?”

  A loud alarm went off in Peleg’s mind. Ever since they had entered the city, everyone had heard of the young entrepreneur and successful franchiser. This shopkeeper’s answer could only mean one thing. He was stalling for time.

  Peleg grabbed a small scroll and pointed to the embroidery along the lacing which encircled it.

  “The Nahor who sells under this mark,” he said angrily.

  “Of course, of course,” the man said, backing up slightly but still smiling. He closed his eyelids repeatedly a few times, and then opened his eyes widely to emphasize his comprehension.

  “I’m quite sure he will be arriving here shortl
y. Please feel free to take your time and look at all we have to offer.” He continued to back up as he smiled, extending his arms to encompass his entire store.

  Peleg’s eyes locked on to Shem’s as their thoughts and concerns suddenly had nothing to do with the surrounding merchandise. As they turned slowly towards the exit they discovered that the other customers had aligned themselves into a barrier, preventing their departure.

  A breeze of fresh air from the back of the shop cut through the incense, and soon they heard footsteps approaching from the darkened hallway. A handheld Iku-fish lamp soon appeared, followed by a well-dressed man and several attendants—armed with spears.

  It was Buan.

  “I find you at last,” he said, smiling, speaking the local language of Ur with a thick accent. He then switched to Akkadian and spoke to Peleg. “You made it somewhat difficult for us when you did not enter through the western gate, but we had alerted all of our merchants to watch for men of your description, and to subtly steer you to this place. It’s amazing what people will do for a temporary reduction in their tithe. The fact that you were searching for Nahor made it all the easier.”

  Shem understood none of this, but recognized the name ‘Nahor’.

  “Is Nahor here?” he asked loudly.

  “No,” said Buan, returning to the local tongue, giving Shem a sneering glare. “He is not even in the city.”

  “What do you want with us?” asked Peleg.

  But Buan had finished talking. The armed men approached them, spreading into the room. Peleg turned towards the front, only to find that the other “customers” had drawn their own short swords and were ready to use them. Bernifal’s lip quivered slightly and Peleg knew he would happily engage all of them, but a quick look from Shem stopped him.

  Buan’s attendants grabbed their arms at the elbows, and quickly pinned them behind their backs. A lanyard was lashed around each elbow and pulled tightly together, forcing their backs to arch painfully. Once secured, they were marched out of the storefront and into the blazing midday sunlight.