He groaned a muted groan. His eyes shifted toward a corner of the room where a chest stood.
Ninsun went over and opened it. It was filled with household objects, clay tablets, and clothing. She threw them all on the floor as she searched the chest. At its bottom her hands felt a tightly wrapped package. She brought it out and unwrapped it.
“Great gods!” she exclaimed. She was holding the Tablet of Destinies! Incredulous, she turned the tablet over in her hands, looked carefully at it, and touched its surfaces. There could be no doubt. It was the Tablet of Destinies that had been hidden in her altar.
She returned to Anubani and held the tablet in front of his eyes, but he closed them in response.
“Look at me!” she commanded. “It is this tablet that you’ve stolen, that your profane hands have touched!”
He opened his eyes but did not move them.
“You stole it from my house, from inside the sacred altar!”
His eyes opened wider, and he groaned.
“I will make you well enough to talk,” Ninsun said as she wrapped the tablet back in the cloth.
She went to the doorway, where the other priests were huddled. “I need water,” she said. “Bring me three full pitchers and clean cloth . . . and send word at once to the palace to have some soldiers come over to carry this man to the House of Resuscitation.”
When the pitchers and cloth were brought, she placed a pitcher on each side of the bed and immersed Anubani’s hands in them. She dipped the cloth in the water of the third pitcher and sponged Anubani’s body. The treatments seemed to have a soothing effect on the priest, for he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Ninsun used the respite to look about the somber room. Its walls were bare, lacking any decoration. A small altar was set up in one corner, and there was the chest. Ninsun bent down to collect the items she had hastily thrown to the floor and began to put them back in the chest. She picked up a clay tablet with writing upon it, and was about to throw it into the chest too when she noticed that its seal impression seemed familiar. She took a closer look. It depicted a priest standing at an offering table before a seated goddess. The inscription read, “Enkullab, High Priest, servant of divine Ishtar.”
Ninsun wondered what such a tablet was doing in the possession of a priest but went on putting the priest’s belongings into the chest. In a moment she picked up a terra-cotta plaque. It bore the images of the emblems of Marduk and Nabu, and Ninsun was aghast!
Horrified she looked at Anubani. His eyes were still closed. Frantically Ninsun sought the inscribed tablet and, finding it again, took it to where the light was better. Her hands began to tremble as she read the inscribed text.
“Summon the Lady Ishtar!” she shouted toward the priests gathered at the doorway. “Let her come here at once!”
There was no immediate reaction to Ninsun’s command, then there were sounds of commotion and whispering. The High Priest appeared at the doorway.
“This is highly unusual,” he said. “And you have not told us, great Healer, whether Anubani shall live or die.”
“It being highly unusual did not stop you from summoning me!” Ninsun said angrily. “The malady is very grave. If you don’t want the plague to spread, summon the Lady Ishtar at once!”
“So be it,” Enkullab said. He stepped back and ordered a priest to convey Ninsun’s wish to the goddess Ishtar.
It was some time before Ishtar appeared at the doorway. She was attired in her pilot’s garb, her ray-emitting baton in her hand. “Why have I been disturbed? Why have I been summoned to this dreary place? You’d better have a good explanation, Ninsun!” Ishtar said offensively as she entered the room.
She stopped short as she saw the immobile priest on his bed, his body covered with red spots, his hands soaking in the pitchers.
“Have you called me here so that I will contract the plague?” she demanded.
“It’s nothing that can harm you,” Ninsun calmly replied. She picked up the Tablet of Destinies for Ishtar to behold. “He was struck down having touched the handiwork of Anu.”
“Let me see this!” Ishtar said. She took the tablet and examined it. “It is indeed a Tablet of Destinies,” she said. “How did this priest come by it?”
“He didn’t say but I think I know,” Ninsun told her. “It was inside the handiwork of Anu that came down from the sky when the New Year festival ended.”
“Why would a priest of mine take such a sacred tablet into his possession?”
“Whether he is a priest of the Lady Ishtar is not certain,” Ninsun said. “I’ve found this among his belongings, in that chest.”
She handed Ishtar the terra-cotta plaque.
“The emblems of Marduk and Nabu!” Ishtar cried out. “My sworn enemies!”
Ninsun nodded. “A traitor, a spy within the Sacred Precinct.”
“Betraying his own goddess, his High Priest!”
“Of that too one cannot be certain,” Ninsun answered. “I’ve also found this hidden in the chest . . .” She handed Ishtar the inscribed tablet. “Better read it before you utter another word.”
Ishtar recognized at once the High Priest’s seal. Her hands began to shake with anger as she read the inscription. She glanced at Ninsun, who nodded her head toward the doorway, then she handed the three objects back to her.
“Let Enkullab come in, at once!” Ishtar commanded.
In a moment, the High Priest stepped hesitatingly into the room. He fell to his knees and bowed to Ishtar, then bowed his head toward Ninsun.
“Great lady, Mistress of Erech,” he said. “A plague has struck within the Sacred Precinct. There must be transgression about. . . . It will be atoned.”
“Who is this priest and how did he contract the plague?” Ishtar demanded, without motioning to the High Priest to get up.
“Anubani is his name, his task is handling supplies. An unimportant priest, little known to me personally,” Enkullab said. “His malady to me is a mystery, great lady. If the Lady Ninsun has a cure, surely he himself could tell us more?”
“He will be well enough to tell us more,” Ninsun said, looking at Ishtar.
“Until then,” Ishtar said, “perhaps you can explain this?” She reached for the plaque that Ninsun was holding and held it before Enkullab’s face.
“Sacrilege!” Enkullab shouted and covered his eyes with his hands.
“Indeed,” Ishtar replied. “How did this filth come to contaminate my own Sacred Precinct?”
“I should have known better,” Enkullab said quickly. “Word was brought to me that Anubani’s comings and goings were not common. But he was ordained into the priesthood at the seminary in Nippur and thus was considered beyond suspicion.”
“Indeed,” Ishtar said. “And what about this, then?” She took and held up the inscribed tablet. “This is your seal, isn’t it?”
Instinctively he touched the seal that hung from the leather string around his neck. “It is my seal,” he affirmed.
“And the message on the tablet, is it your message?”
She thrust the tablet into his hand. He shifted as though he would stand up, but Ishtar pressed her baton on his shoulder. “On your knees!” she ordered.
Staying on his knees, he began to read the tablet. After reading the first lines, his hands began to tremble and perspiration covered his forehead.
“It is not what it seems,” he said in a shaky voice. “He wrote it. Ask him!”
“Did he forge the seal, your signet?” Ishtar asked angrily.
“It’s all a mistake!” Enkullab pleaded. “It was he who sent word about Gilgamesh. . . . The intercepting was his idea!”
On his bed Anubani let out a muffled groan. They turned to look at him, in time to see his hands jerk so violently that one of the pitchers overturned, breaking into pieces, its water spilling on the floor. Ninsun bent over him, then stood up.
“He’ll never speak again,” she told them.
“It’s an omen!” Enkullab shou
ted. “The evil one was struck down! I have not betrayed you, my lady. Let the great Lord Anu be my witness!”
There was a commotion in the doorway. It was caused by a palace captain with several soldiers.
“We’ve been summoned to move a sick priest . . .” he began to say, then he saw the goddesses and fell to his knees. “Forgive me, I had not known . . .”
“The sick priest is dead,” Ishtar said. “Now get up and seize this one here.” She pointed her baton at Enkullab. “He is to be tried for treachery and treason.”
“No, it’s not so!” Enkullab cried, stretching out his trembling hands. “I am your most faithful servant. . . . It was Gilgamesh who was the sinner, not I!”
“Take him away before I turn him to vapor!” Ishtar shouted. “Take him to the White Temple and summon the priests and the Elders. Let them witness the judgment of the great Lord Anu!”
Jumping to his feet, the captain put his hand on Enkullab’s shoulder. “Get up and come with us,” he said.
But instead of getting up, Enkullab prostrated himself on the floor.
“Get up!” the captain shouted. But Enkullab remained stretched out on the floor.
Ninsun bent over the High Priest. She touched him, then looked up at Ishtar.
“The Lord Anu’s judgment was swift,” she said. “The High Priest is dead.”
Ishtar looked at the dead Enkullab in disbelief. She turned her gaze to the lifeless body of Anubani. Then she stared at Ninsun, the captain, and the scattered objects on the wet floor.
“Why are you staring at me? Why are you all here?” she suddenly said loudly. “And what are all these filthy objects?”
She grabbed the plaque with the emblems of Marduk and Nabu on it and threw it to the floor, crushing it with her foot. “Get out, leave!” she yelled at them.
Ninsun hurried out, followed by the captain. Ishtar threw the inscribed tablet against the wall, smashing it to pieces.
“Traitors!” she shouted in rage. “Evildoers, filth!”
She stepped back toward the doorway and let a brilliant ray burst out of her baton. There was a thudding sound followed by a blaze. In a moment the whole room was on fire. Ishtar took a step backward, watching the flames engulf the body of Anubani, then that of Enkullab. Suddenly feeling the heat of the flames on her face, she turned and strode out of the building.
The priests and soldiers who had been inside were now outside, huddled in groups. They were soon joined by other priests who had begun to run out of the building. All could see smoke rising through the latticework of the ceiling of Anubani’s room, then flames.
“Let the fire cleanse this place of evil!” Ishtar shouted. “Let this place be burnt to the ground!”
The priests and the soldiers bowed low at these words.
Ishtar looked around the large courtyard. She saw Ninsun and strode over to face her. In her left hand Ishtar held the Tablet of Destinies, and she raised it for Ninsun to see. Her right hand held the Weapon of Brilliance and she pointed it at Ninsun.
“Now tell me about the Tablet of Destinies,” she said.
“Gilgamesh found it inside the handiwork of Anu, on the night of the falling stars,” Ninsun said. She spoke calmly, measuring her words. “He thought it was an omen from Anu meant for him. Being two-thirds divine, he was entitled . . .”
“Was it an omen for him?” Ishtar interjected.
“No . . . it was a message meant for you. I was going to give it to you once Gilgamesh was safely on his journey.”
“I can’t believe my own ears!” Ishtar said angrily. “First your son snatched a divine object not intended for him, then you dared keep from me Anu’s message?”
“It was all for the sake of Gilgamesh,” Ninsun said, bowing her head.
“Damn you and damn your son!” Ishtar shouted, pointing the baton at Ninsun.
“Punish me, but let Gilgamesh live,” Ninsun implored, raising her eyes to face Ishtar.
Ishtar hesitated, then lowered her weapon. “This shall be the punishment,” she said. “Doomed to remain on Earth, you shall see Gilgamesh forever seeking life and never finding it!”
And having spoken thus, she turned and walked away.
13
It was about the time that Enkullab, the High Priest, was struck down by the unseen hand of the Lord of Heaven that a peculiar sight appeared to those aboard the king’s ship.
Until then the sailing had been uneventful—except for the thrill and novelty of finding oneself upon the surface of seemingly endless waters, with no land to be seen on either side. This was an experience and a sight never before encountered by Gilgamesh or Enkidu or the fifty heroes that accompanied them. The latter had burst into song as the ship left the marshes of Eridu and entered the Lower Sea proper, and Gilgamesh, recalling his own youthful days, joined in. Then, as the winds died down from time to time and the heroes had to lend the sailors a hand and help with the rowing, a routine of sorts settled upon the passengers and the crew. To relieve it, Gilgamesh organized weapons exercises, and Enkidu, though generally subdued and unparticipating, obliged by giving wrestling lessons.
And so, as night followed day and day followed night, the ship made good progress southward.
The ship’s former owner, Lugulbal by name, who had been retained to continue as the ship’s captain and navigator, occasionally sailed the ship closer to the right-hand shore to get his bearings. He explained that they were going to follow the contours of the Land of the Shagaz, first in the Lower Sea until they had reached the spot where its lips came together, then parallel to the coastline until the Sea of the Ancients was reached. Then, he said, they would sail with the rising sun, not on their left as in the beginning, but on their right. At the tip of the Sea of the Ancients, he said, lay Magan. Toward the end of the voyage, on their right, they would sail by Tilmun. There, he warned, one should not linger at all, and if Enkidu must be let off, it should be done right after sunrise, when the spirits of the dead and the demons of the condemned gods take their rest.
It was on one of these approaches to the coastline—at about the time the fateful events were taking place in Erech—that the skies were suddenly filled with heavy clouds, which cast dark shadows upon the ship. Usually such clouds, the captain explained, augured the approach of a storm. But this time, even the breezes that filled the ship’s sails died down, and an eerie silence settled upon the sea.
“By the great lords!” Lugulbal said, “I’ve never seen such a contrary sight. . . . Storm clouds in the sky, a death stillness upon the waters.” He ordered the crew and heroes to take to the oars. “Let’s move closer to land. We might be safer there.”
But as they began to row their fear grew, for as the ship moved closer to the shore the heavy clouds seemed to move likewise, so that the dark shadows continued to engulf the ship. A distance away, in all directions, they could see the sun’s bright rays playing upon the waters. However, the ship, even as it moved, was under the darkness. The sound of the rowing was also peculiar, for the oars, as they entered and left the water, made hardly a splashing sound.
“By the great lords!” Lugulbal said. “A demon is swallowing the sounds!”
“Take us back into the midst of the sea,” Enkidu, who had spoken little until then, suddenly said.
“We are almost near the beach, let us anchor and be near the safety of land,” Lugulbal said, pointing with his hand. And indeed they were near the flat coast.
“I see a man!” the lookout, who had climbed up one of the masts, shouted.
They looked in the direction indicated by him. Up ahead to their left a promontory arose from the flatness of the coastline, and upon it they could see the silhouette of a man. He was tall and broad, his immense body covered with a black wrap. The closer they came, the larger the man looked. He wore an odd-shaped helmet, the likes of which none of them had seen before; it covered most of his face.
“It’s a giant!” one of the heroes cried out.
“It’s a de
mon!” shouted one of the sailors.
“It’s a god, not a man,” Enkidu said.
“Stop the rowing! Don’t come closer to the coast!” Lugulbul ordered.
Abandoning the oars, everyone crowded the deck, straining to view the strange apparition. The stillness was still all around them; the sea was calm, the sails hung limp—with not even a breeze to fill them. The man, or whosoever he was, stood atop the promontory, as still as a statue.
The gods’ fear in them, some of the sailors fell to their knees and began to pray for their lives. “We are doomed! We are doomed!” they began to shout, ignoring the captain’s commands to stop hollering. The heroes, filled with apprehension, looked at Gilgamesh, seeking his reassurance, his leadership.
“By the life of Ninsun, my mother who gave birth to me!” Gilgamesh said loudly for all to hear, “have I become as a child who sits bewildered at his mother’s knee? By the life of my forefather Lugalbanda, hero of heroes! Give me my weapon and I will fight this man, if a man he be, or this god, if a god he is!”
But even before Gilgamesh’s armor and weapons could be fetched for him, the lookout cried out again: “Look! Look! He . . . the man . . .” He was lost for words, but his cry alerted them to set their eyes on the promontory. There, the being threw off his mantle, revealing a pair of wings. In each of his hands he held a circular object by its handle. His upper body was bare; its lower part was covered with a tight-fitting garment.
As they all stood dumbfounded on the deck, the Winged Being turned the object in his right hand. They could see a brightness rushing out of it, and in an instant the ship was awash in a sunlike glare. Then the brightness dimmed, and the Winged Being turned the object in his left hand. A brightness similar to the first one engulfed the ship. Then as it dimmed, the initial light flared up once more. Again and again the two brightnesses replaced each other, and as they did, the ship began to turn slowly, then faster and faster, until it was in a dizzying spin.
As the ropes and gear and bags and jars began to churn about, all who were on board had to hold on to something lest they be thrown about. There were shouts of fear and helplessness as sailors and heroes fell and hurt themselves. Holding on to each other and to the ship’s masts, Gilgamesh and Enkidu tried to stand steady, even as the ship spun faster and faster, drawn ever closer to the shore as it did so.
The King Who Refused to Die Page 21
