The King Who Refused to Die

by Zecharia Sitchin

  She caressed his hand with her free hand, but the prior passion was gone.

  “I’ve noticed that in my own body too,” she admitted. “Our father who on Earth was born looks almost as old as the much older Anunnaki who came from Nibiru. . . . And we, the second generation on Earth born, though the youngest, soon shall look as old as all of them!” She looked into his eyes with sadness. “I hope Project Rejuvenation goes well?”

  He was startled by her mention of the secret project. He put his finger to his lips, then moved his hand in a circle, pointing to the surrounding walls.

  “The secret has not been well kept, my brother,” she said. “All the gods gathered at Erech for the New Year festival, having been born on Earth, were talking about the new project in which grandfather Enlil was engaged. It was said that it involved not only a search for new sources of gold in the new lands beyond the seas but also the construction of a new spaceport . . . a spaceport not just for shipping the gold back to Nibiru but also for sending some of us to Nibiru for rejuvenation!”

  “I’ll be struck!” Utu exclaimed. “Who was it that knew so much of what was meant to be a secret?”

  “Ninsun, Ninharsag’s daughter, seemed to know the most.”

  “The mother of Gilgamesh! No wonder she urged him to seek Everlife by going to the Landing Place!”

  “What has Gilgamesh got to do with our own matters? The affairs of the gods are for the gods alone to consider,” Ishtar said.

  “But not if Nabu and Marduk have become involved!” He looked at her, concerned. “My sister, is anything amiss in Erech?”

  “Treason, perhaps. . . . Ninsun and her son have connived against me.”

  “Tell me all,” he said.

  She told him of the events at the White Temple of Anu during the Fixing of the Destinies, the handiwork of Anu that had fallen to Earth from the skies, the disappearance of Gilgamesh, and her confrontation with Ninsun.

  “Let me tell you what followed,” Utu said in turn. He told her about intercepting Ninsun’s prayer to Anu, the rescue of Gilgamesh and Enkidu after hearing their call for help, and the threatening message from Nabu. “All of which leads to two questions,” he concluded. “How did the Mardukites know the whereabouts of Gilgamesh, and why the brazen attempts to capture him?”

  “They might have known from Ninsun’s appeal, intercepting it as you did.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Establishing a monitoring network paralleling the official one would be part of the emerging pattern. But there was no mention in Ninsun’s appeal of the manner or time of the king’s departure.”

  “True,” Ishtar replied. “She did not know that when I confronted her in the White Temple. It was only later in the day that the High Priest found out that Gilgamesh had left Erech by boat, sailing toward Mari.”

  “The High Priest? What business of his was it?”

  “It seems that a harlot had come to confess her sins in the temple . . .”

  “Spare me the details,” Utu answered, raising his hand to halt his sister’s speech. “Much more intriguing is the second question. Why the Mardukite effort to locate Gilgamesh, to have him seized and taken captive?”

  “You have a theory?”

  “Not yet, my sister. But something is afoot. . . . Let me enumerate a few facts. When Project Earth was begun, it was the scientific genius, the Lord Enki, who led the expedition, set up the gold-mining operations, and planned and erected the settlements, the control center, and the spaceport. When, in the aftermath of the Deluge, all had to be rebuilt, it was again Enki and his sons who planned and built the pyramids, the spaceport, and the mission control center. Now it is Enlil and his foremost son, Ninurta, who are engaged in the new facilities.”

  “They built them and we Enlilites operate and command them,” Ishtar remarked.

  “For how long? That is the question,” Utu continued. “Marduk has developed a mere landing strip in the Shagaz lands into a major base for his skyships. Nabu and his missionaries are enlisting converts among the Westerners. Borsippa is building temples, granaries, walls. Now Marduk wants the right of way at Babylon to make direct inroads into the Edin itself. I tell you, sister, he is up to something big!”

  “Another war? I would have thought his ignominious defeat in the Pyramid Wars had taught him a lesson!”

  “No,” Utu said. “He’d rather slither in, like the serpent he is. The incident with Gilgamesh convinces me of that.”

  “You’ll have to explain,” Ishtar said.

  “Your own thinking has been guided by the assumption that Ninsun and Gilgamesh have been plotting against you. But what if the plotting is not by them but against them—what if the overthrow of Gilgamesh is part of the overall plot?”

  Ishtar stood up, visibly disturbed. “A plot to seize the kingship for a follower of Marduk?”

  “Why not?” Utu said. “The western cities are in ferment. If Nabu succeeds, all the people inhabiting the land between here and the spaceport in the Fourth Region shall convert to the worship of Marduk. If Erech can be taken over, our father’s domain of Ur shall be squeezed between Erech and Eridu. In the north, my city Sippar will be isolated, flanked only by Mardukite’s Borsippa and Babylon and the adversary Kish. If they can get hold of Erech, the whole of Edin shall be defenseless.”

  He fell silent. Ishtar bent her head down, then looked into her brother’s eyes.

  “My hatred of Ninsun blinded me to misjudge Gilgamesh,” she told him.

  “Now, now,” Utu replied, taking her hand into his. “These are not firm conclusions, just an outline of a possible theory that could explain the Mardukite pursuit of Gilgamesh. When you return to Erech, conduct a discreet investigation.”

  “That I shall,” Ishtar said, smiling. “Now, where is this king of mine, he who seeks to become like a god?”

  “On his way here, on the outskirts of the Cedar Forest. I’ve helped him as far as I should, perhaps even more than is permitted by the rules.” He winked at Ishtar. “After all, his goddess must like him somewhat, doesn’t she?”

  Ishtar giggled. “What next?”

  “Gilgamesh is on his own now. If he enters the forest, the struggle to win or lose is up to him. We are not allowed to interfere.”

  “The fool!” Ishtar cried out. “By losing, it’s his life he shall lose, isn’t it?”

  “There are the secret rays, and Huwawa . . . but you must not interfere!”

  She took her brother’s hand. “My beloved brother,” she said softly, “of all the lovers I’ve had since the savage death of my spouse, Dumuzi, there have been none dearer to me than Gilgamesh. Would those who make the rules bear this in mind?”

  Utu looked into his sister’s eyes. They sparkled with sorrow and desire.

  “Indeed,” he said. “You do need a companion, and not just on the night of the Sacred Marriage.” He slipped his hand out of hers. “Meanwhile, I must compose an answer to Nabu and make ready for the rocket’s launching.”

  “What will your answer to him be?”

  “Words for him to puzzle out,” Utu said with a laugh. “Doubletalk, some would call it.”

  10

  When morning came it was again Gilgamesh who awakened Enkidu, but this time it was hunger, not a dream, that had interrupted the king’s sleep.

  Enkidu put snow to his mouth, drinking it as it melted, then rubbed his face and hands in it. Gilgamesh did likewise and felt refreshed.

  “Come,” Enkidu said, “we’ll collect berries for you as we look for the forest’s entrance.”

  The magic boots served no purpose in the dense growth of trees and bushes. Slowly they climbed up the next peak, picking berries until Gilgamesh had had his fill. The view in all directions was breathtaking; the white coloring added an eerie glow to the endless green. Except for the shriek of a large bird, the tranquillity was complete.

  “By the great gods!” Gilgamesh could not help saying, “It is indeed the place where the Earth touches Heaven!”

&n
bsp; Then suddenly there was a rumble—a sound that filled not only the air but also the ground under their feet. The Heavens began to shriek and the Earth to boom! Frightened, the two comrades grasped each other, not knowing what was happening. They looked up and about them. They could hear animals, unseen by them before, beginning to howl in fear. And then from beyond the mountain that lay ahead, a dark cloud began to rise. It spread up and across, and soon its darkness obliterated the sun, making daylight turn to night. Then a lightning flashed, one as the comrades had never seen before—for it flashed not from the skies above, but from the ground upward.

  “The Earth is Heaven, Heaven shall become Earth!” Gilgamesh cried out in terror. His eyes, like his comrade’s, were fixed on the unraveling spectacle.

  Now a flame, like that of a thousand torches lit up all at once, shot up from behind the mountain, piercing the dark cloud like a giant’s spear. The dark cloud, unyielding, swelled, and the flame, rising ever higher, soon was swallowed within it. A moment later the flame disappeared and its red glow vanished, and then the skies began to shower not white grains but black ashes.

  “The gods have spoken against our coming!” Gilgamesh, shivering from cold and fear, cried out. “We have been forewarned!”

  “Becalm yourself,” Enkidu replied. “That was no omen but the sight of your goal. A Boat of Heaven has begun its upward journey. The Landing Place, Gilgamesh, is beyond that mountain. But now that you’ve seen the terror of the place, do you still want to go there?”

  At first Gilgamesh was disbelieving. But as the skies cleared and tranquillity returned, so did his self-confidence.

  “An omen it surely was, but a good one,” he said reassuringly. “A Boat of Heaven ascending with my own eyes I have now seen, a vision of my fate the gods have shown me. . . . To Heaven I shall ascend, my friend, a mortal’s end I shall escape!”

  Enkidu contemplated his comrade. “From now on your fate is in your own hands,” he answered.

  Now that the launching of the rocketship had revealed to them the location of the Landing Place within the vastness of the Cedar Forest, the two comrades resumed their advance with extra vigor. They walked, slid, crawled, and walked again in the dense forest whose ground was made slippery by the fallen snow. Crossing the mountaintop, they began descending into the valley; beyond lay the peak behind which the Landing Place was situated. They slid and slipped and muddied themselves descending, but the misery of their course was offset by the sight of gazelles dashing among the trees—brown-skinned animals whose horns curved ever so artfully.

  As the comrades reached the valley between the two mountains they realized the reason for the proliferation of animals, for there flowed a stream of the purest water. The comrades washed themselves and drank the savory water. Berries grew all around. Some of unusually large size grew on short trees, their golden skins thicker than normal and their insides filled with juice.

  “A divine taste!” Gilgamesh declared. “I’ve never had anything like this before.”

  Once he had eaten his fill he looked about for Enkidu. He saw his comrade among the gazelles. They were totally unafraid of him. Some were licking his hands and face, and he embraced them by their necks.

  “Enkidu!” Gilgamesh shouted to him, but Enkidu ignored the call. “Enkidu!” Gilgamesh shouted again, running toward his comrade.

  Enkidu looked up. “My friends and playmates,” he said somewhat apologetically. ‘‘Their likes is all I had in my days of wildness . . .”

  “Those days are over,” Gilgamesh told him. Picking up a twig, he used it to move the gazelles along.

  One of the animals rubbed her head against Enkidu’s face. The one he was holding by the neck wiggled out of his grasp. Enkidu looked at Gilgamesh, then turned his head away.

  Gilgamesh threw away the twig and embraced Enkidu silently. “Come, let’s advance,” he finally said.

  Their course now took them up the slope of the final mountain. But here the scenery changed. Carcasses of dead gazelles were strewn about, and farther up the side of the mountain some trees appeared to have been damaged by fire.

  “It’s like a slaughterhouse,” Gilgamesh commented as they stopped to look around. Enkidu bent down to examine one of the dead animals, then another. Impatient, Gilgamesh resumed the ascent. “Let’s go!” he shouted to Enkidu. “Stop wasting time!”

  “Don’t go forward!” Enkidu shouted back. “There is death hereabouts!”

  Gilgamesh looked back at Enkidu, uncomprehending.

  “Look!” Enkidu said, pointing at two gazelles that had broken off from their herd and were playfully chasing each other up the slope. Then, as one ran ahead of the other, there was a sudden bolt of fire issuing among the trees, hitting the animal and the trees behind it. In a moment the air was filled with the smell of burnt wood and burnt flesh, as in a sacrificial offering on an altar, and the playful gazelle, badly burnt, lay dead.

  “Great Anu!” Gilgamesh exclaimed. “What was that?”

  “A killing ray,” Enkidu said. “A weapon of terror, hidden among the trees.”

  “Like Ishtar’s weapon that shoots bolts?”

  “Like it, yes, but one that shoots by itself when the target comes within sight.”

  “By itself, or by an unseen god?”

  “Who knows?” Enkidu said. “It is clear though that we cannot advance here. We must circle the mountain along the valley and search for a gateway.”

  “How can there be a gate when there’s no wall, no fence to be seen?”

  “The wall,” Enkidu said, “is mightier than one of stones, and the fence, though unseen, is impenetrable. The gateway, though not of stone or mortar, does exist. The Lord Enki, my creator, had once spoken to me of that. There is one place hereabouts at which the depth of the forest can be penetrated.”

  “How shall we find it?” Gilgamesh wondered.

  Enkidu smiled. “By the absence of burnt trees and scorched animals,” he said, and pulled Gilgamesh by the hand to return to the valley.

  Gilgamesh did not move. He stood eying the dead animal. “It is burnt meat, freshly killed.”

  It took Enkidu a moment to comprehend. “It’s too risky,” he replied. “You’ll be burnt to death trying to reach the animal.”

  “I must have real food,” Gilgamesh told him.

  Enkidu eyed his comrade and then the dead animal. “In the wild,” he said, “one beast eats the other. Why the gods taught man to do the same, I shall never understand. . . . One moment the gazelle is my playmate, the next it’s your food!”

  “To offer animal sacrifices is indeed man’s duty to his gods,” Gilgamesh said. “To eat and not starve is man’s duty to himself!”

  Leaving his comrade, he began to crawl toward the scorched animal, hiding behind trees for protection. Once he raised his head slightly to get his bearings, then lay down on his belly quickly enough to be missed by a bolt of fire that shot—from among the trees—to where his head had been but a moment before. Hugging the ground even more tightly, he crawled on until he reached the dead animal. Grabbing it by its hind legs, he pulled the carcass down to safety.

  Enkidu watched Gilgamesh devour pieces of the burnt flesh, eating until he could eat no more.

  “Take some with you for tomorrow,” Enkidu suggested. He got up and tore off some tree branches, bending them together to form a crude basket. “Here, carry some of the meat in this,” he added.

  When they resumed their march, they circled the mountain looking for the gateway. It was past noon when they came upon a stretch of forest where no animal carcasses were lying about. They moved on; a short distance away there were again dead animals on the ground.

  “That was the gateway, we’ve found it!” Enkidu cried out.

  “How can we be certain of that?” Gilgamesh wondered.

  “I’m sure of it,” Enkidu told him. He stepped forward. Nothing happened. He took another step, then another. There was no bolt of fire to annihilate him. He went on, then turned to wa
ve at Gilgamesh.

  “Come on,” he shouted, “we’ve penetrated the Cedar Forest!”

  First hesitant, then exhilarated, Gilgamesh followed him. He jumped of joy among the trees, clapping his hands. Then, stopping to catch his breath, he asked, “Which way now?”

  Enkidu did not know. “Let’s search the place; perchance we’ll find a clue,” he replied.

  They looked about for a while, uncertain what to look for. The height and the thin air began to have their effect on Gilgamesh.

  “There’s a sharpness to the air here that makes me lightheaded,” he said. “Let’s rest awhile.” He sat down, tiredness spreading in his body. Within moments he had dozed off.

  Leaving his friend, Enkidu moved about to survey the place by himself. Moving hither and thither he noticed an outcropping of rocks rising among the trees. Getting closer, he circled the rocks and saw what appeared to be a cavelike opening in them. He bent down for a closer look. There were sounds coming from inside.

  “I’ve found the secret tunnel!” he shouted to Gilgamesh. “Come here, hurry!”

  Gilgamesh did not answer. Instead Enkidu heard a rumbling sound that filled the air, making it difficult to judge its source. Alarmed, Enkidu stood motionless, listening. Then the sound became clearer, like that of an oncoming storm, accompanied by the sound of someone crashing through undergrowth. Someone was coming at him!

  With as little noise as possible, Enkidu found his way back to where Gilgamesh was asleep. He touched the king and shook him awake. “Listen!” he whispered.

  The ominous sound was coming closer, striking terror in the comrades.

  “What is it?” Gilgamesh asked, whispering.

  “It must be Huwawa, the forest’s guardian,” Enkidu whispered back.

  Now the roaring, like the onrush of a mighty river falling in the mountains, grew louder, and the comrades, hiding among the thick cedar trees, could glimpse the monstrous guardian of the gateway. He was mighty in stature, his face fierce like that of a lion. His eyes were as large as the moon at its fullness, emitting two brilliant beams that scanned hither and thither as the monster moved its head. His mouth breathed out a deathly fire; his teeth, glowing as burning coals in an oven, were that of a dragon. His midriff was like a round potbelly, radiant on and off; for shoulders he had sockets like giant doors. In his right hand he held a weapon, like a huge sword with teeth of its own, and in his left hand he held a round mirror with which he could direct a ray that devoured all that it was pointed at. His feet moved as though they were fitted with tiny chariots advancing on their wheels, and as he stopped to scan the forest his head turned about its neck like a wheel about its hub!