Like a frenzied man, Gilgamesh touched the walls and the floor. He tried to reach the ceiling. “Oh Utu!” he cried out, “have I come all this way in vain? Is this my fate? To perish in the bowels of the Earth?”
His scream had a magical effect, he knew not how. Suddenly he could feel a cool breeze coming from the direction ahead of him where there had been a solid rock wall just a moment before!
The fresh air revived him and the miracle of the opened wall encouraged him. Walking forward with renewed vigor, he reached a place where he could hear water dropping. He felt the walls until he found the place where droplets were trickling down from the ceiling. He licked the wet wall; it was water, sweeter than any he had ever tasted. He cupped his hands and began to catch the falling droplets, and drank and drank until he had had his fill. Then he lay down to rest and soon fell asleep.
When he finally awoke he drank some more of the water and continued on his way. The tunnel now began to slope down as it curved, and he slid and slipped a few times. But the fresh air that was coming toward him indicated that he was going the right way, and this gave him the strength and the will to continue. Finally, the light breeze turned to a rush of fresh cool air and there was a brightness ahead. When he reached the spot he could see that there was a shaft in the tunnel’s ceiling.
Looking up, he could see the sky!
The shaft had rough edges, as though purposely providing footholds. Slowly Gilgamesh climbed up, and when he reached the top he heaved himself out. He was on a mountainside. Below he could see a small valley, completely encircled by mountains with rounded peaks. The sky was bright and the sun was shining. He had journeyed a day and a night, twelve double-hours!
Down in the valley Gilgamesh saw a stone house surrounded by a garden, and he quickly set his steps toward it. As he neared the place, he could also see various domestic animals, but their skins had odd colors. When he reached the garden, he stopped, amazed. It had the most beautiful trees and bushes and vines, but it was not real: the foliage was carved out of lapis lazuli, the luscious fruits out of carnelian. As he rushed from tree to tree and from bush to vine, he realized that all were made of precious stones. He looked at the animals, and they too were immobile and carved of stones. He touched them in disbelief.
“The gods have made this garden and village scene for me,” Gilgamesh suddenly heard a voice say behind him.
Gilgamesh turned to see the speaker. He saw a tall, broad-shouldered man, attired in a long white robe that was held in place by a blue girdle. His hair was all white and so was his long beard. The skin of his face and his arms was taut and brown. His forehead was high, his eyes big though sunken. Gilgamesh eyed him as he eyed Gilgamesh.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the man asked him.
‘‘I seek Ziusudra, he of the Deluge,” Gilgamesh said.
“I am Ziusudra,” the man said, “but it is myriad years since I was called by my name. The gods call me Napishtim, meaning ‘He Who Lives,’ for I live and live and live . . .”
“And I am Gilgamesh, king of Erech.”
“Erech? I know of no such place.”
“It’s a great city, with walls and quays and marketplaces, and a palace and a Sacred Precinct with sky-high temples. In the land of the Edin it is situated, near the Euphrates River.”
“Of that land I myself was a king, but of a city by name of Erech I have never known,” Ziusudra said. He looked at Gilgamesh with doubting eyes. “Are you a mere apparition, a passing vision?”
“Old man,” Gilgamesh said annoyed, “a city by the name of Erech does exist and I am its king! But it came into being after the Deluge and not in your days. In honor of Anu, the Lord of Lords, its Sacred Precinct was established, and now the Lady Ishtar is its mistress.”
“So, a servant of that mischievous goddess you are?” Ziusudra asked in a friendlier tone.
“And an offspring of her brother! The Lord Utu is my godfather!” Gilgamesh announced proudly.
“So am I,” Ziusudra said. “My father Ubartutu, who was king of Shuruppak before me, was by the Lord Utu fathered.”
“So have I heard it from my mother, the Lady Ninsun. That is why I’ve sought you, for like you, I am partly divine.” He held out his hands to Ziusudra, showing him the telltale scars.
Ziusudra looked at the outstretched hands of Gilgamesh. Then, finding his own similar scars despite his browned and taut skin, he touched them to those of Gilgamesh. He turned toward the house and called out, “Amzara! An offspring of the Lord Utu, a king from the faraway land, has come to visit us!”
A woman came forward to greet them. She was wearing a long white robe. She was as tall as Ziusudra, but much slimmer. Her skin was also taut and brown, her hair also pure white. Her eyes were large and deep as were Ziusudra’s, but her face, though sunken, retained a youthful beauty.
“This is the wife of mine, Amzara is her name,” Ziusudra said to Gilgamesh. “He is a king of a new city by the name of Erech, and his name is Gilgamesh,” Ziusudra told his wife. “How or why he has come hither, I know not at all.”
“I’ve sought you, Ziusudra, for I am seeking Everlife,” Gilgamesh told him.
“Of what you call Everlife I have had my fill,” Ziusudra said in disdain. “Now come into the house and refresh yourself, then tell us your tale.”
Once inside, they seated Gilgamesh on a mat and gave him a cushion for support. The wife served him thin wheat wafers and fresh water, and he ate and drank. “Now tell us,” Ziusudra said, “the tale of your journey and your purpose.”
“I left my home by ship,” Gilgamesh began, “but she was wrecked by an unseen hand. I continued on foot, traversing the wilderness, climbing mountains, crossing valleys. I ate berries and lizards, I drank dewdrops and hidden water. I slew a bear and two lions—a skin of them I wrapped about me as a coat. Thus I came to the place of the ale-woman. She led me to Urshanabi, the boatman. He took me across the Sea of Death and told me what path to take. The guardians of the region struck me with their beams, but I was not affected. Realizing I was two-thirds divine, they opened for me the gateway to the bowels of the Earth. . . . I walked in the circling tunnel for twelve double-hours, in total darkness. Then I uttered a shout and the exit opened up, bringing me to your valley.”
“A likely story!” Amzara said.
“By my life, it is the truth!” Gilgamesh exclaimed.
“And why have you come all this way, enduring all those hardships?” Ziusudra asked.
“On account of the omen from the Lord Anu, the father of the gods,” Gilgamesh said. He took the Tablet of Destinies out of his robe. “This is a Tablet of Destinies. It was sent to me from the Heavens, the handiwork of the Lord Anu.”
They took the tablet and examined it. “I have never seen the likes of it before,” Ziusudra said.
“The handiwork of Anu, scorched and damaged?” Amzara said, doubt in her voice.
Gilgamesh grimaced in annoyance. “The tablet that has come from the Heavens by my mother Ninsun is hidden—it is too sacred to be touched. This is a likeness thereof, and its writing has been made visible in our language. A craftsman of my mother’s mother, the great Lady Ninharsag, the great Healer, fashioned it. It is scorched because one of the guardians tested it with his beam.”
His hand jerked as he retrieved the tablet, and he caught their stare.
“When I took the heavenly tablet out of Anu’s handiwork that came down from the skies, by a malady I was afflicted. It’s within my bones, consuming my innards. . . . It’s on account of it that I must attain Everlife before death overtakes me.”
Ziusudra and his wife exchanged glances.
“If that is what you seek . . .” Ziusudra began.
“Tell us more of your people, your city, the land,” Amzara interjected. “The last time we saw the land, it was swept over by an avalanche of water.”
Though tiredness was overwhelming him, Gilgamesh told them of Erech and the other cities of the Land Between the
Rivers, of the people and the temples and the gods that dwelled therein. The more he told them, the more they wanted to know. “It has been such a long time,” they kept saying. “There has been no one to tell us all this,” they kept repeating.
“No one?” Gilgamesh wondered.
“No mortal can ever come this way,” Ziusudra said. “The Eagles bring us provisions every new moon, but they speak little to us, if at all.”
“How terrible!” Gilgamesh replied. “Can you leave and go where others dwell?”
“No, to this place we are confined, for between the contending Enlil and Enki we were in the midst . . .”
“I must hear of that!” Gilgamesh exclaimed.
Ziusudra looked at his wife; she nodded. He took a sip of water, then leaned on a cushion as he made himself comfortable.
“A hidden matter I will reveal to you, Gilgamesh, a secret of the gods,” he began. “When I was king in Shuruppak, Anu, the father of the gods, ruled in Heaven. On Earth, Enlil and Enki, though brothers, were jealous of each other. Shuruppak was dedicated to their sister Sud, the one you called Ninharsag. But the people were divided: some swore by Enlil, others by Enki. Of him, of the Lord Enki, who mankind with Sud had created, I myself was a worshipper . . .”
He stopped, enwrapped in memories. Gilgamesh was silent, his eyes closed.
“Behold the hero who seeks Everlife,” Amzara said. “Sleep has fanned him like a mist! Wake him up, that he may return through the gate by which he came!”
“No, let him sleep,” Ziusudra said. He took his wife’s hand in his. “The gods sent him to us, with news of the past. It must be an omen of our future!”
She looked into his eyes and nodded. They laid Gilgamesh out on the mat and put the cushion under his head.
“He is in build and appearance not unlike you,” Amzara told her husband.
“Myriad years, and we look alike, speak alike, offspring of the same seed!” Ziusudra said. “Mankind flourishes again, olden cities have been rebuilt and new ones established. Our three sons have done well. . . . Is it not time, my dear spouse?”
Amzara said not a word, just nodded her head.
* * *
Gilgamesh awoke with a startle. He looked about him and recalled where he was. “I fell asleep, I was so tired. Why did you awaken me no sooner than I had closed my eyes?”
“By yourself you have awakened, and you have slept seven days and seven nights!” Ziusudra answered him. “Each day my wife baked a fresh wheat cake for you—count them! Seven they are in number!”
“Forgive me then for my hasty words,” Gilgamesh said, embarrassed. “It is as though but a moment has passed since you began your tale. . . . A secret of the gods you were about to tell me?”
“Eat your cake and drink some water, and for my tale you will have patience,” Ziusudra replied. He glanced at his wife who was seated nearby then, after Gilgamesh had eaten his meal, he began to speak slowly.
“At that time, the land extended and mankind multiplied. The Anunnaki, those who to Earth from the Heavens came, were mostly male, and after a while took a liking to the daughters of Man. Even the great ones like Utu had children by Earthling women. Enki, the creator of mankind, was pleased that the gods and his creatures could intermingle and have offspring. Sud was pleased, and in her city, Shuruppak, a demigod was anointed as a king. But the great Enlil was angry. The distractions were keeping the Anunnaki away from their mission, he complained. They of Nibiru should not become involved in the affairs of the Earthlings, he insisted. It was all not to his liking!”
Ziusudra paused to take a sip of water. “Then when the time of Nibiru’s crossing was approaching, Enlil called a council of the gods. ‘The passage of Nibiru in Earth’s vicinity,’ he reported, ‘could cause a tidal wave that would sweep over the Earth. The Lord Anu ordered that all the Anunnaki leave the face of the Earth in their spacecraft.’ ‘And what about mankind?’ Enki asked. ‘Let mankind perish!’ Enlil said, and he made all of them swear to keep the nearing calamity a secret from mankind.”
“The end of all flesh on Earth!” Gilgamesh exclaimed.
“That was Enlil’s wish. But the Lord Enki, though bound by an oath, called me to his temple. Addressing a screen, he made sure I could hear his words. ‘A killing flood is coming,’ he said, ‘wiping all off the face of the Earth. The Anunnaki will escape in their skyships. Enlil made us swear to secrecy, so that mankind should perish. But Sud and I have chosen you to preserve the seed of mankind, the seed of all that lives on Earth. . . . Build a boat,’ he said. He gave me its dimensions, its plan so that it could survive below the waves, its caulking so that it would float though sunken. Then he implored me to hurry, and when the construction was finished, to watch for a signal. ‘When Utu shall order a trembling at dusk, and you will see a rain of eruptions,’ he said, ‘you are to board the ship with all of your offspring, all of your family and kin, and the craftsmen who helped with the building, and a navigator that the Lord Enki will send you, and all the beasts of the field, and all manner of other creatures, that you may all survive the coming Deluge.’”
It was getting hot inside the house, and Ziusudra wiped away his perspiration. Amzara sat silently, nodding her head from time to time. Gilgamesh sat enthralled. “On the stated day, a memorable day, with the first glow of dawn, a black cloud arose in the southern skies. A storm began to thunder, moving over hills and plains. At their stations the Anunnaki took to their skyships, setting the land ablaze with their glare, shaking the land as a pot. We hurried into the boat and battened the hatches. Cowering like dogs we crouched against the boat’s walls. For six days and six nights the storm swept over the land. Then the sea grew quiet; the tempest was still. The boat rose to float upon the water. I opened a hatch and looked out. Where land had been, there was now water. All was covered with water, as level as a flat roof, and all that had been was swept away. All life perished and mankind was turned into clay!”
The memories brought tears to Ziusudra’s eyes and his voice quivered as he continued. “Wherever I looked, I saw only water. I sent out birds to seek land, but there was none. We sat and mourned for many days. . . . But then the waters began to recede, and one day the dove I had sent out did not return, and we knew that there was land somewhere. Whereupon Puzuramurri, the navigator appointed by Enki, directed the boat to the twin-peaked Mount Nisir, as the Lord Enki had instructed. There, at night, the boat shuddered and stopped. We had struck dry land!”
“The Deluge was over!” Gilgamesh exclaimed.
“The tidal wave, yes, but not the calamity. I let all that were in the ship out and offered a burnt sacrifice. As the full majesty of the two peaks came into view, we could see the skyships landing, one after another. They smelled the savory burnt meat and came over, like flies attracted by a honey pot. One by one they landed, until the Lords Enki and Enlil came too. Enlil saw us and was furious. ‘Who broke the oath and to an Earthling the secret revealed?’ he shouted. . . . The wise Sud soothed his anger and brought up the matter of my divine seed. The others spoke too, asking for leniency. At last Enki spoke up, admitting that he might have revealed to me the secret of the gods. ‘Valiant Enlil, my brother,’ he said, ‘to till the land and tend the orchards and shepherd the sheep and mine the gold, the Earthlings are needed. Without mankind, the gods cannot remain. If on Earth the Anunnaki are to stay, with mankind they must share it!’”
“And Enlil was swayed?” Gilgamesh asked.
Ziusudra raised a hand, indicating that he was not to be interrupted. “He took counsel of the wise words, but was not forgiving. ‘Let the offspring of Ziusudra multiply and spread, but with sickness and death be afflicted. Let mankind share the Earth with the Anunnaki, but be split up and divided into regions. Let some worship my house and some that of my half-brother, Enki, but the two shall not mingle. . . . And as for Ziusudra and his wife, who were merely following Enki’s disclosures, let them come and live among the gods!’ He took us each by the hand, and led us to his
skyship. ‘You will reside in a region of the gods,’ he said, ‘until the next nearing of Nibiru, when the rocketships shall rise to meet the ships that sail between the planets.’”
His voice trailed off and he fell silent. Amzara was also silent.
“That calamity, the awesome Deluge, how long ago was it?” Gilgamesh asked.
“Nibiru has already come and gone twice since then,” Ziusudra answered.
“But Enlil said . . .” Gilgamesh began and did not complete his sentence.
“There were wars, wars among the gods,” Ziusudra said. “Awesome battles, right here in the skies of the forbidden zone, at the time of the first crossing. . . . Then, on the second one, there was no room for us. You see, Gilgamesh, this is the real secret of the gods: even they grow old and die, except that their years are of a different count than ours. . . . Yes, Gilgamesh of the faraway—for everything and everyone there is an appointed time, on Earth as in the Heavens. A time to be born is a companion to a time to die!”
“But you have lived all that time; as gods you have become!” Gilgamesh insisted. “It is this secret that I’ve come to unravel, Ziusudra!”
“It is the water of our well that keeps us forever rejuvenated,” Ziusudra told him.
“It is a plant, the fruit of the Tree of Life, my mother said!” Gilgamesh protested.
“It is the water,” Ziusudra said emphatically. “There is indeed a plant, and its fruit is the Fruit of Life. But were we to consume it, it would not grow again. Therefore the gods planted it at the bottom of the well, there never wilting. We drink the water and bathe in it, for it is by the fruit’s force the Water of Life.”
“Where is the well?”
“In the handiworked garden. The Anunnaki dug it. Its water is the purest, from two rivers that flow beneath the Earth. And the plant itself, from Nibiru was it brought.”
The King Who Refused to Die Page 24
