As it happened, Enkidu came upon the king as he was about to lay with a woman, but she was not some reluctant bride of another man. On the contrary, what the two were in engaged in was part of a religious observance that even the most prudish of the city fathers would not have objected to, though it was a duty the king relished.
It was the rite of the divine and sacred wedding, Hirros Gamos, in which a priestess played the part of the goddess of love, Ishkara, in sexual congress with the king, during a ceremony dedicated to the fertility of the land.
Gilgamesh noted the unusually large crowd as he arrived at the temple, but thought little enough of it, intent as he was on the pleasurable task in hand. However, as he came to the temple door and tried to enter, from out of the crowd stepped a large man, whom he only saw out of the corner of his eye, who, incredibly, was barring his way.
Thinking it a mistake, that the man had stumbled or had been pushed from behind, he did not take offence. There was in the flash of sight he had of the fellow, something suggestive of the county bumpkin, so perhaps he knew no better. Gilgamesh side-stepped and attempted to brush past, but to his astonishment the man, now beside him and only inches away, shoved him back, and stood his ground, filling the doorway.
Reacting instantly, in a temper and without thought, Gilgamesh half-turned and grabbed the man, and the long-awaited match was on. One was certain he was preventing an immoral abuse of power, the other sure his rights and duties were being violated. Neither had any thought of the recent predictions or presentiments of women.
Bellowing like bulls they threw each other against the door frame and pillars of the building, breaking and cracking them. They heaved, gripped and tumbled one another, neither getting any real advantage until at one point, after turning Gilgamesh on his back and dropping him to the ground, Enkidu saw into the temple for the first time. He saw its furnishings and the bed on which lay the priestess, who was looking daggers at him for causing this unscheduled delay to the ceremony. Holding him entirely culpable, she reached out, picked up a candlestick and tossed it viciously at his head, barely missing.
A split-second later Gilgamesh was on him, getting him in an arm-lock from behind. Enkidu slipped out of it eventually but as he and the king squared off and he looked Gilgamesh in the eye for the first time, he saw the joy and love of life in the man's face. He saw no malice, only wonder and respect. And in truth this was so, for Gilgamesh was not at all a bad man, but surrounded by people who either doted on him or were afraid of him, and would not thwart him in anything. He was like a child, seeking his limitations and, finding none, going farther. To be checked and challenged at last was a revelation and a relief for him. Gilgamesh had also begun, even as they fought, to recognize that Enkidu was the axe, the meteor, the friend in his dream.
As they stood poised for more action while noting the new mirth on the other's face, each now dropped his guard a little. As he saw the other do so, each then eased some of the tension in his muscles and let the wariness in his eyes disappear as he saw it go bit by bit in the other. At last, they smiled and then they began to laugh.
“A drink?” Gilgamesh suggested.
“Why not,” Enkidu nodded. “But don't you have business first?”
“Ah yes,” Gilgamesh wiggled his eyebrows. “If you've no objection?”
“I have to see a lady, too,” Enkidu grinned. “To say farewell, for she has business of her own.”
The whore winked at Gilgamesh and he knew that the worker had been worthy of her hire. Soon he would realize it was the best money he had ever spent. The two heroes duly had that restorative beverage, and so began one of the greatest friendships of all times. Many were the battles they would win together, many the women they would woo, though from the day of their first meeting only the fully willing and single.
When the two heroes became bored with their adventures at home the city fathers encouraged them to undertake travels to other lands. Although the influence of Enkidu on Gilgamesh was very good, the two of them were a handful in peacetime. Eventually, the pair decided to embark upon an adventure of truly extraordinary proportions, an awesome task that would test them to the uttermost and put their lives very much at risk.
It had begun when Enkidu fell into a depression, feeling himself weakened by the good life of the city. To be sure he enjoyed it, but he would always be a little torn between civilization and his old home in the wilderness. When Gilgamesh proposed a scheme to occupy their time in an epic manner, even Enkidu baulked at it.
“The demon Humbaba lives in the forest. Let's go and kill him and relieve the world of all evil.”
“My friend,” Enkidu responded, arching one brow and smiling ruefully at Gilgamesh, “I learned when I was roaming the hills and vast prairies with the animals that the forest extends a distance of ten thousand leagues on every side. Only a madman would dare penetrate it.”
Gilgamesh grinned.
“Look,” Enkidu said, realizing that Gilgamesh was serious, “the Humbaba's roar is a raging torrent. Fire comes out of his mouth and he is literally the very spirit of violent death.”
“I know,” Gilgamesh nodded enthusiastically.
“And yet you wish to take on this monster?”
“I have decided to go to the Cedar Mountains and to enter the forest, the dwelling of Humbaba. I shall take an axe to aid me in the encounter.” Gilgamesh knew his friend and also that he was often in two minds because he had not come from a background of money and comfort. He did not take such advantages for granted. Even if he were as restless as Gilgamesh, Enkidu did not lightly venture out in bad weather or willingly take on arduous trips and tasks, though when he was actually embarked upon them he coped far better. Gilgamesh was always the instigator, Enkidu always the reluctant one who would never let him down.
“It's fine if you wish to stay behind this time. I'll go alone,” he told Enkidu.
Enkidu used various arguments to talk Gilgamesh out of his madcap enterprise.
“And how will we enter the Cedar Forest when its guardian is a warrior that never sleeps?”
“What do you suggest?” Gilgamesh asked, innocently ignoring Enkidu's use of the word ‘we’.
“Whatever we do,” Enkidu concluded gloomily, “we haven't got a chance. The thing was put there by Enlil to protect the Cedar forest and his appearance strikes terror in everybody. Humbaba's roar is like the waves of a flood.”
“It still remains that he is evil and therefore loathsome to Shamash,” Gilgamesh said, ever the optimist in these matters.
“We'll die,” Enkidu spoke with smug certainty, as if being proved right about it would give him some satisfaction. “Yes, we'll die.”
“But who can go up to heaven? The gods alone are the ones who live forever with Shamash. As for humans, their days are numbered and all their deeds are to no avail. They vanish with the wind,” Gilgamesh laughed. “For myself, if I die, then my name will be immortal and they will say of me, ‘Gilgamesh died in combat with the demon Humbaba’.”
“Like a fool, they will add,” Enkidu smiled, shaking his head.
“With these words you sadden my heart,” Gilgamesh laughed, placing his hand on his chest and sighing. Then he nodded. “I shall make an enduring name for myself.”
“Did I say you would not?” asked Enkidu, arching an eyebrow.
“Tomorrow, my friend, I'll give orders to the armourers and they will make the arms in our presence.”
Then they fell to the serious business of discussing the weapons they would need, of what type and heft, the various heads of arrows and kinds of sword blades. Leaving nothing to chance, they did indeed oversee the making of each of them, starting the next morning until the armourers were done.
When Gilgamesh and Enkidu emerged armed with the splendid weapons they'd had made, they drew a crowd. The sheaths of their mighty swords were made of gold and the size and weight of their axes were tremendous. People gathered around to admire them and cheer on their enterprise, but the
elders, seeing the two men were serious, called a meeting at which they attempted to dissuade them from such a hazardous undertaking. Gilgamesh tried to infuse the old men with some of his enthusiasm, implying that, were they to succeed in their mission, it would enhance the reputation of the city among its neighbours.
“I, Gilgamesh,” he told them. “Would see the one the people are talking about, the one whose name has filled the cities with terror. I have resolved to go and overcome him in the Cedar Forest and the world shall hear the tale of the son of Uruk. They shall say; ‘How strong was this descendant of Uruk!’ ”
“Oh, Gilgamesh,” exclaimed the chief of the elders and his most senior adviser, “You are still young, your courage has carried you far, but you do not know what you are embarking upon. We have heard that Humbaba is terrifying and strange. So who, confronted by this, can resist?”
He and his fellows went on to rehearse the same arguments that Enkidu had used, to no greater avail.
“No one has yet stood up to Humbaba,” all the elders cried. “Why would you two chance this?”
“For that reason,” Gilgamesh replied. Turning to Enkidu, who remained silent, he asked if all this sounded familiar, then he laughed. “But how should I answer them, my friend? Shall I say that I am afraid of Humbaba and shall stay at home for the rest of my days?”
In the end, the elders were resigned to their going and gave their blessing.
“May your protecting god grant you victory. May he send you back safely to the harbour of Uruk.”
Then Gilgamesh, feeling his responsibilities as king at last, realized that he must do more to put the minds of the elders at rest. For that reason and his own peace of mind, he bowed down in prayer to the god Shamash.
“Return me to my home and may my soul receive blessings and benediction. Spread your shade over me and cover me with your protection.”
His devotions over with, he and Enkidu went off to a soothsayer, hoping for some more earthly reassurance, but none came. The fortuneteller was no more optimistic about their chances than the elders had been.
When at last they set off, the people came to see them go and small boys begged to be allowed to carry their weapons for a short way. Again the elders expressed concern for the king's safety. They offered much advice and asked Enkidu to walk before him and be his guardian and guide, because he had been much of the way before. The elders then said many prayers to Shamash for the success of the adventure and the safe, speedy return of the two heroes.
“May Shamash enable you to fulfil your desire,” a priestly elder concluded. “And when you have killed Humbaba, as you seek to do, wash your feet. When you camp at night, dig a well and see that your water skin is always filled with pure water. Offer fresh water to Shamash and think of Lugalbanda at all times.”
Gilgamesh himself suggested that they visit the temple of Egalmah, which lay directly on their route.
“Let us go to the presence of Ninsun, the wonderful queen, my mother, the astute knower of all. She will give us an honest start and good advice.”
So Gilgamesh and Enkidu started walking towards Egalmah, where the king hoped they would be able to enlist her aid with the gods.
“Oh, mother,” Gilgamesh said on entering the temple and seeing her, “I have made a decision on a momentous matter. I am to travel far, to the homeland of Humbaba.”
Ninsun blanched and fought to control her emotions. She could see how they were equipped and even before he explained what they intended to do, she imagined the danger they would face.
“Intercede for us with Shamash,” Gilgamesh said in conclusion, after fully appraising her of their plans. “And pray for us.”
Ninsun went into her room and put on a beautiful dress. She adorned herself with ornaments, put a crown on her head and went up to the roof where she burnt incense and held up her hands to Shamash.
“Why did you give my son a restless and anxious heart? Now you have spurred him on and he is resolved to travel far, to the homeland of Humbaba. He will know great struggle and walk a road that is unknown to him. Aid and protect him and his companion in their sacrifice to kill the giant Humbaba and remove from the face of the earth the evil you loathe.”
The queen then extinguished the incense, pronounced an incantation and summoned the priestesses and the sanctified and pious vestal virgins. Next she called Enkidu to her.
“Strong Enkidu, who are not of my womb, I now take you as a son.” She then adorned his neck with a jewelled necklace as a pledge. “I entrust Gilgamesh to you, so return him to me safely.”
Enkidu, the strangely born, having no family but beasts of the wilderness, was deeply touched and swore to watch over his brother, for his own sake and his mother's.
The two heroes were indeed blessed during the first phase of their great task, perhaps because they did not forget to offer up a sacrifice to the god Shamash regularly. On the first day they walked thirty leagues, and on the second morning fifty leagues. In just three days they covered a distance it would have taken most mortals one and a half months to complete. They pressed on until, after many more days of dogged travelling, they reached the entrance to the forest.
The edge of the forest was dense and dark, the mysteries beyond it too frightening to relate. As dwellers of the plains and deserts, the two heroes would have found this an unimaginably disturbing place. No ordinary forest, it was the very home of the spirit of death. The evil enchantment of the place could particularly be sensed around the entrance, which was twenty-four cubits wide and consisted of a trail passing under an arch of twisted vines and overhanging tree branches.
The trail disappeared into the darkness of the shadows, but under the arch, standing sentinel, stood a demon whom Humbaba had appointed to guard it.
From a distant hill Gilgamesh and Enkidu watched the entrance with growing anxiety. If this hideous creature at the gate was only an underling, what must his mighty lord be like?
“You go get him,” Enkidu smiled, “while he is still armed and dangerous, for there's more honour in that.”
Gilgamesh appreciated his friend's humour, but only just. “Do you have any constructive ideas?”
“I'm serious,” Enkidu replied, a plan suddenly hitting him. “You approach him, slowly and openly. I will move by stealth round the back of him, then, on a signal, we'll attack together.”
Both agreed to the plan but neither of them was too keen to be the first to begin the attack. After further prevarication, Enkidu moved off to take up position.
When he was in place, Gilgamesh showed himself and began his leisurely approach, intently watched by the guardian of the forest entrance. Acutely aware of the demon's interest, Gilgamesh would pause to pick a stone out of his boot, to test the edge of his axe or to scratch his backside, all the while hoping that the unseen Enkidu, still in spirit an animal of the wild, was also inching closer.
The nearer they got to the beast the more palpable was its rage, the more overwhelming the suffocating smell emanating from it. Gilgamesh stopped a few yards short of where the beast was standing. He postured a moment, howled his name, beat his chest, and then, elaborately, he charged. This was the signal for Enkidu, who was crouched only feet from the demon's rear, to spring up and join Gilgamesh in the attack. Darting forward with lightning speed, they came together and struck at the demon, who was startled to find himself assailed on two sides.
Swinging their axes with great ferocity the heroes hacked at the demon. Gilgamesh's first blow was blocked as Enkidu's, delivered almost simultaneously, landed on the monster's enormous shoulder. Gilgamesh then aimed a blow at its belly as the demon half turned to confront Enkidu. It screamed and slashed with its claws and snapped with its teeth, even as it bled from its deep wounds, while the heroes darted in to cleave chunks out of its massively thick hide. At last it weakened and fell to the ground, whereupon, knowing they must not hesitate, Gilgamesh and Enkidu leaped upon it and began chopping at its neck in turns until the demon's head rolled free.
They collapsed to the ground where they lay for several minutes to catch their breath.
After a brief rest Gilgamesh began to examine their dead enemy, hoping to gain some insight into what Humbaba might be like. Enkidu, meanwhile, walked over to the entrance to the forest. Standing beneath the arch he suddenly groaned and looked back at his friend in disbelief. An invisible wall of pain and fear seemed to bar his way. The wicked enchantment had stopped him from going further and at the same time prevented him from going back.
“Do not come closer,” he shouted to Gilgamesh. “It is horrible and it will not release me.”
“Fight it, Enkidu, defeat it.”
“It is too much to bear, we cannot go through.”
“We can and must,” Gilgamesh said with determination, stepping up beside Enkidu. He too was gripped by terror and held fast by the force of the magic doorway. “We have not come this far to be thwarted now,” Gilgamesh groaned, gritting his teeth and straining against the power pressing against him from all sides. “Not after all the difficulties we've faced, the battles we've fought. Be brave and stand by me.”
“We can beat it,” Enkidu screamed at last. “We will protect one another.”
“And if we fall in combat, we'll leave behind an everlasting name.”
“We are not going to die yet,”’ Enkidu snarled against the pain and strain. Together they summoned all their willpower and physical strength.
“On the count of three, we break through,” Gilgamesh hissed. “Put everything into it, my friend.”
Enkidu nodded, barely able even to move his head.
“One, two, three …”
With a mighty howl the two suddenly hit what held them with a burst of energy and angry resistance that broke its power. Finding themselves racing forward head long, they could not stop and fell, tumbling to the forest floor, rolling in the dust and pine needles. Hooting and shouting for joy and relief, they climbed to their feet, slapped each other's backs and danced about, laughing and congratulating one another.
Looking around they felt a menacing closeness, an eery silence. They had done something all right. But, what, exactly?
Myths and Legends from Around the World Page 7
