by Brian Godawa
Ninurta pulled down his hood and stepped up beside Gilgamesh, remaining chillingly silent, hands ready to draw a weapon.
Ishtar was the most fierce and bloodthirsty of all the gods. She feared no one and was feared by all. But Ninurta was not like the rest of the pantheon. He was the son of Enlil and if anyone could be her match, it was him. He was stronger than the others, and well trained with many weapons and fighting techniques, bow, axe, mace, sword and battle net. The rumors were that he had even mastered the “way of the Karabu,” the secret angelic fighting technique that had been used by generations of giant killers and archangels.
But her connection to this ‘son of Enlil’ was deeper still. Back in the days of Jared, before the Deluge, when she was Inanna, she had been a secondary deity of Enlil’s patron city Nippur. But through her schemes she had managed to usurp Enlil’s authority and draw the devotion of the citizens to her own temple and regency. Enlil was enraged with her treachery but failed to take back his previous glory. But after her failure to win the War on Eden, she was demoted to be an escort of Anu in Uruk so he could keep an eye on her. Enlil had retained Nippur, but in the Deluge, he was bound into the earth by the archangels and another Watcher took his identity. If anyone’s offspring had a vendetta to take down Ishtar, it would be Enlil’s — the very one standing before her now. She wondered just how much he knew of these past events.
Ishtar had to suppress this knowledge and maintain her prowess or he would have weakness to exploit. She stared him down. But then looked at Gilgamesh and back to Ninurta.
“Are you his protector?” she asked with surprised delight.
“Yes,” said Ninurta.
“What of Shamash, his patron?” she said.
Ninurta answered, “King Gilgamesh has a commission of the pantheon behind him and I am to insure his success in carrying out his duty.” He was stone-faced and stoic, her emotional opposite.
“Indeed,” said Ishtar. “And who rules the pantheon now?” she asked. She had guessed that Anu had been bound into the heart of the earth along with Enlil and the other Seven who decreed the Fates. She knew Gabriel the archangel well enough to know that he always gets his man, or in this case, Watcher. Since Semjaza was the leader of the pantheon disguised as Anu the high god, surely, Gabriel would have targeted him first and foremost before hunting down the others.
“Enlil rules,” said Ninurta.
“A new Enlil,” she corrected.
He nodded. Enlil was one of the Seven who had been bound. So some other Watcher took his identity to carry on the program.
“And how many escaped the binding?” she asked.
“Seventy, and various mal’akim.”
“All hiding out in Mount Hermon, I suppose.”
“Yes,” he said.
She circled him verbally like a snake ready to strike.
“You must tell me what this commission is,” she said. “I am excited to hear the good news.”
“I am not authorized to do so,” said Ninurta.
Ishtar’s face turned sour. “You are not authorized to do so?” she mimicked him with bile.
And then she burst out in a shout that resounded throughout the palace, “I AM GODDESS OF WAR! I WILL BE TOLD THE COMMISSION OF THE ASSEMBLY!”
But Ninurta responded with a deep resounding voice like thunder, which surpassed Ishtar’s in tone if not volume, “I AM GOD OF STORM! AND I AM NOT INTIMIDATED BY YOUR LACK OF SELF CONTROL!”
Gilgamesh, Ninsun, and Enkidu were shaken by the ferocity. Two gods with explosive tempers did not bode well for their safety. They were not told before that he was a god of storm. Well, that explained the excessive physique.
Ishtar was impressed. She did not remember this vegetation god being so brawny and formidable before the Flood. He must have trained hard in the intervening years to climb the hierarchy. Still, she was not afraid of him. In fact, she was impressed that there was finally someone with loins of steel to match Semjaza’s lost leadership as Anu. She was titillated by the challenge. She realized that she could not rely on force alone but would need to employ strategy and intellect to master him. This was indeed a titillating challenge that would sharpen her political skills.
Her first stratagem would be to bluff weakness and give him false confidence to draw him in.
Ishtar feigned backing down coupled with a fake attempt at saving face, “Well, mighty ‘calf of the storm,’ I can see intimidation serves neither of our interests. We do not want to reduce this fine city to a pile of rubble because of unyielding brutishness, now do we?”
Ninurta shook his head in agreement. He knew this cunning vixen. He could see right through her acting. She was not backing down at all. She was trying to cow him into a false sense of superiority. He was not going to fall for that. But he would play along for his own schemes.
“Lady of Heaven,” said Ninurta, “this is your city, so I have no desire to contest your authority here. I will stay focused on the purposes of the assembly and will not interfere in your governance.”
And then he threw out the trump card he had been holding for the right moment, “When will you travel to the Mount of Assembly in Hermon? Enlil and the pantheon will surely be inspired to hear of your glorious rebirth.”
The little snake, thought Ishtar. He is threatening to disclose my presence to the pantheon. The gods will be no more inspired to hear of my return than a wildebeest to hear of a lion’s presence. The truth is they would all prefer me to be chained in Tartarus and ineffective.
So she countered with her own faux sincerity, “Well, I certainly have every intention of getting there as soon as possible. I am excited to discover what leadership and plans are in place for the new assembly.”
She would do no such thing. Since the leadership of the assembly was unwilling to let her know their plans even through this dung beetle of an emissary, then to Sheol with them. They were unworthy of her allegiance, the pack of hyenas. She had her own plans.
She completed her excuse, “I will do so just as soon as my temple remodeling is complete. You know contractors. They cut corners and put in mud brick when they should use kiln fired bricks, etcetera, etcetera.”
She would have to keep her distance from the pantheon until she could figure out what this Gilgamesh was all about and try to worm her way into their scheme with hopes of taking it over.
But Ishtar had her own ace up her sleeve, and she pulled it now. “So the assembly is not aware of my return from Sheol yet?”
Ninurta answered, “Shamash had mentioned your name more out of hope or possibility than actual fact, in connection with dreams of some kind.” He was deliberately vague. He did not want to commit to anything that she might use as fuel against him.
She said, “Interesting. Shamash has not been home to Uruk in quite some time.” The cowardly flea, she thought. So they did not know I was freed. Shamash was probably blaming me for his own incompetency. I must use this to my advantage.
She finished, “I suspect Shamash may be the one who is pulling the sheep’s wool over all of our eyes with his own deception.”
Ninurta knew Shamash was a coward. He did not trust him either. But he kept his thoughts to himself behind a face of impenetrable inscrutability.
Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and Ninsun had been completely left out of the discussion. But they had been listening. And they now knew that there was a contest of authority within the divine assembly that threatened to tear it apart. This goddess of war was evidently not very welcome for her incorrigible attention-grabbing egotism and apparent schemes of coup d’état. And she could not control her temper. She was not the goddess of war for nothing.
But more important than all that was the fact that these so-called gods had no idea what was actually going on. Shamash had maneuvered himself politically before the assembly of gods by lying about Ishtar and nobody knew the difference. Shamash knew nothing of Gilgamesh’s dreams or sacrifices to him as patron deity. He had not heard Ninsun’s intercessory prayers t
o him either. And nobody knew about Ishtar’s trip to Sheol, until now.
Enkidu listened with loathing. What kind of gods knew so little and quarreled so much? Were they really worth obeisance, or were they just another petty kingdom of power to fight against for superiority over the land?
Gilgamesh knew that a confrontation between these rival heavenly powers was inevitable, and that Ishtar would no doubt try to deceive him with her wiles to gain his confidence. She wanted to know what the gods were up to and she probably wanted to take it over. He was starting to wonder if he would make it out of this alive, let alone achieve the immortality he sought.
But right now, he just wanted to get out of his filthy garments and have his first bath in weeks.
“My gods,” said Gilgamesh, “I beg your leave. Enkidu and I will retire to our bathhouse now to clean up. It has been a long and grueling journey for us.”
“Certainly,” said Ishtar. “My Gilgamesh is deserving of a celebration of his great and mighty deeds! We must throw a party!”
Chapter 27
During the few hours that Gilgamesh and Enkidu bathed themselves and put on clean garments, Ishtar and Ninsun organized a celebration feast in the palace main hall. Enkidu managed to slip away for a conjugal visit with Shamhat before he was required to meet Gilgamesh at the town square for a triumphal entry through the city streets of Uruk.
As they lay in each other’s arms, Shamhat listened quietly as Enkidu described the events of their journey. As he drew the narrative to its end, she gently probed into her lover’s mind and heart.
“Do you also seek this immortality?” she asked him.
He thought a moment, then answered, “No. But I love my king and I am his loyal follower and devoted friend.”
It was a bond of love between men that even the love of a woman could not attain. To have journeyed together, looked into the Abyss, and cheated death was an experience that Enkidu considered may even be unrivaled by the most intense oneness that he could achieve with Shamhat.
“Well,” she stated, “I will never understand you men and your need for death defying quests and slaying giants. I am just glad you are home, because I love you, my Enkidu.”
“And I love you, my precious songbird,” he replied.
Enkidu joined Gilgamesh in the town square and they rode Gilgamesh’s war chariot pulled by mighty horses through the streets teeming with citizens of Uruk. They sported the rotting head of Humbaba on a pike as a trophy of victory. The masses roared with praise and worship of their demigod king, the Scion of Uruk, and his mighty Right Hand.
Afterward, they retired to the palace main hall to feast. Everyone in the palace court was there in their royal finery. Enkidu sat at the right hand of Gilgamesh as usual. Ishtar sat on his other side, pushing Ninsun away from her rightful seat beside the king. Ishtar degraded her with every opportunity she could get. Shamhat was beside her husband, and Sinleqiunninni was there in his pudgy robe and clay caked fingernails from too much tablet handling. Ninurta stood sentinel behind the king’s chair just out of sight.
Choice lambs and boar’s head were roasted with vegetables and fruits beyond the capacity of the baskets and platters. Wine and beer flowed heavily. Enkidu had gotten into a drinking competition with Ishtar. She may have been a god, but these gods had digestive systems and Enkidu could drink anyone under the table. He decided to see how far he could push her. They kept the empty goblets at the table and received new ones with each refill. The pile before each of them increased steadily like mini-ziggurats as they pretended not to bother noticing the other’s collection.
As usual, Ishtar dominated the party with her loud and boisterous braggadocio.
“Tell me, Gilgamesh,” spouted Ishtar, “However did you manage to wriggle out of the wrath of the gods for slaying their Guardian?”
“Well for one thing,” crowed Gilgamesh, “We discovered that the giant had a digestion problem, which resulted in gigantic flatulence that dwarfed even Enkidu’s gastral magnificence. So the gods actually thanked us for clearing the air!”
Everyone burst out laughing. Even Ishtar was drunk enough to chuckle.
Gilgamesh added through tears of laughter, “Truth be told, Enkidu had a significant hand in the matter.”
Joyful eyes all turned to Enkidu. But he was ready. “They were as impressed with the king’s size of intellect as they were with the size of my loins!”
And the crowd erupted with laughter again.
Enkidu added a hearty, “Ho, hurrah!” to milk the punch line.
Ishtar asked Gilgamesh, “And what was your impression of the assembly of the gods?”
Gilgamesh thought for a second, then said, “Not too bright for governing deities.” He smiled and announced, “Present company excluded, of course.” Some chuckles peppered the crowd.
He continued, “I think I would rather be governed by the first seventy names of plebeians on the Uruk census register than the seventy gods of the divine council.”
More laughter erupted.
Ishtar dropped a wet rag on the joking through slurred lips, “Do you realize that you are only the second human to have ever experienced the privilege and lived?”
Enkidu did not take kindly to the insult of being ignored. She knew full well he was with the king.
“Who else has done so?” asked Gilgamesh.
“A giant killer named Enoch. Now there was a feisty one. Whooshed right up to heaven before we could get our hands on the little bugger.” And then Ishtar realized that she had said too much. She had better stop drinking. She changed the subject.
“Nevertheless, congratulations are in order,” said Ishtar, “to the ‘Wild Bull on the Rampage’ and his trusty dog.”
Now Enkidu was stone faced. Shamhat next to him was both embarrassed for him and ready to jump up and scratch Ishtar’s eyes out. But she knew better.
The festive atmosphere of celebration vanished as everyone in the room fell silent in uncertainty of the direction the confrontation might take. Gilgamesh took the opportunity to turn it onto Ishtar while she was not as guarded. “I have been meaning to inquire of you, Queen of Heaven. I see you have been busy in my absence, planting a massive Huluppu tree in your garden.”
“Indeed,” said Ishtar. “I plucked the tree, a single Huluppu tree, from the river Euphrates, and I brought it to my holy garden. And there it grew with the Anzu in its branches, and a serpent in its roots. Do you like it, Gilgamesh?”
The Anzu bird was a gigantic thunderbird that had the face of a lion and the talons to match. It was a mythically potent avian that inspired awe and fear in most Sumerians. The Huluppu tree was its natural home.
“It is a tad unsightly, though its phallic size does remind me of Enkidu’s loins.”
Everyone broke out in laughter at the humor back into the conversation.
Ishtar was not amused. “It is a link from the great above to the great below. Consider it a throne for the earth goddess and a bed for earthly souls.”
“I take it I am also to congratulate you for filling the clay pits for swimming instead of brick making?” said Gilgamesh with a touch of sarcasm.
Ishtar said, “Oh, that. Well, the workers accidentally hit the water table and ‘bloooosh!’ Instant puddle of the Abyss.” Ishtar laughed. But now she was the only one doing so.
And then to rub salt in the wound, she added, “I hear Dumuzi was a good diver.” She chortled through tight lips trying not to laugh. The frivolity of the feast had been completely deadened by her drunken callousness.
Ninsun could say nothing about the truth that was being hidden from Gilgamesh. She would be instantly killed if she made one peep. So she sat sullen in her chair, longing for her stolen dignity.
But Ninsun did not have to tell Gilgamesh anything. He could figure it out for himself. And he was burning angry.
“Well, I hear that the gods are not very good swimmers themselves,” he growled. “Shall we arrange for lessons, O Queen of Heaven?” He said it wit
h venom staring right at her.
How did he find out about our weakness? Ishtar thought. But she could not think very straight with all the alcohol in her gut. The little maggot is threatening me.
It was true. The divine council were supernatural beings, but they were created beings and every created being has weakness. The gods lost their superhuman power in water, became vulnerable. It was the curse of Elohim on them. She tried to dodge it with the unpredictable: self-deprecation.
“Well, as you can see, we gods are also not too good of drinkers. So I think I shall retire for the evening.”
Ishtar stood to leave. Everyone else stood in obedience. She waved them back down and stumbled out of the room. The fact was, she was exaggerating. She was not that drunk. But any display of pretended weakness that would inspire a traitor to take advantage would actually give her an edge. Even in her current tipsy state, she could slaughter everyone in the room and bath in their blood — excepting Ninurta of course. But that would be for another day.
Enkidu watched Gilgamesh as he looked at Ninsun. Her sad eyes said it all. Enkidu knew there was an unfolding darkness that would only get worse. And he hated Ishtar with all his heart.
Chapter 28
Gilgamesh had retired to his bed chamber after the late night feast. But he could not sleep. He was getting used to Ninurta’s shadowing presence everywhere, but sometimes it still disturbed him knowing this cold blooded creature watched over him like a divine reptile. Unblinking lapis lazuli eyes, frightening twisted muscles of power, emissary of the gods. Trust for these inscrutable and calculating creatures did not come easily.
Gods did not sleep, so Ninurta would find a corner in a dark shadow out of sight to stand sentry through the night over Gilgamesh.
Gilgamesh turned to the dark corner and said, “Ninurta, go do some training in the desert. I want some time alone.”
Ninurta slipped into the light from the fire in the hearth.
Gilgamesh said, “I do not need you every second with me. I can take care of myself you know.”