Gilgamesh Immortal

by Brian Godawa

  He got up, trying to avoid the appearance of his knowledge of the intruder, and sought out a tree branch large enough to wield as a pike or spear and small enough to break from its roots. He had no weapon, since he left his dirk and everything but his loincloth at the cave of the Scorpion couple. In the excitement of his discovery of the oasis, the thought of protection had escaped his mind.

  How did I ignore such obvious shortsightedness? He thought. Was I enchanted? Am I under a spell?

  Maybe this garden was not a paradise of delight after all but a trap of illusionary peace intended to distract the victims with sensory pleasure, which would blind their instinct of self-preservation, making them ripe for the picking.

  The loud snapping crunch of the branch breaking off in his hands echoed throughout the garden.

  Whatever you are, come and get it, thought Gilgamesh.

  He may be a half-naked half—human made of flesh, but he was a Gibbor, a mighty warrior and hunter and he could kill with skilled ferocity. He was the Wild Bull on the Rampage.

  Come and get it.

  But when he marched back to the pond in fighting posture, he realized it was gone. Fled.

  The coward, he mused to himself. Of course it was not necessarily a coward, but such was the kind of thinking that poured through the mind of a warrior when all his senses became flooded with preparation for battle. It was like he became a different person, from prey to predator, from victim to victor.

  He bellowed with a mighty warrior cry, “I AM GILGAMESH, MIGHTY SCION OF URUK!”

  It was the shout of an alpha male claiming his superiority and ownership of territory. It was an instinctual reaction.

  And it could very well cost him his life.

  The one thing he had over whatever it was that was hunting him was his anonymity. The thing did not know his identity or his experience triumphing over giants and monsters. It did not know that Gilgamesh was half man and half god. If this thing was sentient with human or godlike intelligence, Gilgamesh had just given away his secret. He had spilled the porridge like an adolescent boy.

  Son of Ishtar, he cursed to himself. Why did I not just tell it how to defeat me while I was at it? Oh, and you can find me sleeping naked without my guardian Ninurta between the hours of midnight and dawn.

  He hit himself in the head and muttered, “Moron.”

  He had to move on. And he had leave now. He took the time to rub the tree branch on a rough rock to scrape a point into both ends of his newly acquired javelin.

  While I am at it, he thought, I might as well make two.

  So he made two sharply pointed javelins. No more surrendering to the blindness of pleasure and the ignorance of illusory security. He would go nowhere anymore without some form of defense.

  He left the garden refreshed and renewed on his quest to find Noah the Distant and Faraway.

  • • • • •

  He did not know where he was. The surroundings were not familiar. He had travelled many lands and seas, but he did not remember anything like where he was at this moment. The Path of the Sun seemed to play with his sense of spatial location. Maybe he was in a magical land not on any of the maps of his map makers.

  What he did know was that the sound he heard was an ocean in the near distance. He tread a path toward it. No matter where one was in the world, a coastline could help pinpoint one’s location.

  But the sea that spread out before him was foreign to him as well. He wondered if this was the Southern Sea. It appeared as if the Path of the Sun may have gone under the sea and emptied him out somewhere on the Arabian coast. He could not put it all together. He thought maybe reality was as contradictory as the mythology of it was.

  His attention was taken by the appearance of a large dwelling just south of his position on the beach.

  He knew his next destination.

  Chapter 41

  By the time he arrived at the structure he had surmised that it was a tavern. Of all the luck in the world! Gilgamesh had not had a good barley beer in ages. He hoped that they were heavily stocked with dark bitter beer, his favorite. He was salivating just thinking about it.

  But the door was barred shut. The tavern was locked down and boarded as if it was under siege. Where was the tavern keeper? Was it abandoned? Had he stumbled upon the equivalent of an illusory oasis in the desert only to die from a thirst for beer?

  “Ho, hurrah!” He shouted. “Is anyone home?”

  Funny, he thought, how much of Enkidu I have absorbed into my own soul.

  “I say again, is there anyone there?”

  “Go away!” came a voice from above on the roof.

  He looked up and saw a woman’s veiled face peering down at him.

  “And who might you be, my lady?” said Gilgamesh.

  “I know who you are, Gilgamesh the hunter,” she shouted back. “Slayer of wild bulls you are!”

  Gilgamesh was taken aback. “How do you know my name?” he asked.

  She ignored his question. “You made straight for my gate,” she yelled.

  And then it hit him. His eyes lit up with recognition and a slight smile even pursed his lips.

  “Was that you in the garden?” he asked her. “Were you the one spying on me?”

  “I am Shiduri the ale-wife of this tavern, and I do not countenance troublemakers!”

  “Well, Shiduri, the ale-wife, you did not answer my question,” he said with a lighthearted amusement. “Are you a peeping ale-wife, getting your jollies watching kings swim in the nude?” His words were more of a tease than an accusation.

  “You are a king?” she asked. Now, she was the one confused.

  “King Gilgamesh in all his naked glory,” he sported. “Would you like me to take off my loincloth so you can know for sure, since you are evidently familiar with my most intimate of body parts.”

  “I was not peeping on you,” she complained, trying to defend herself.

  “Did you like what you saw?” he said. “I take it you are a respectable woman, due to the veil, or is that a disguise you wear when peeping?”

  It was true. Women who frequented taverns and ale houses were usually prostitutes and slaves and they were forbidden the veil in such places. Only virtuous women wore them.

  “I was not peeping!” she shouted back indignantly. She then showed her own bow with arrow drawn and aimed at him. “And for your information, I could have killed you where you lay. I am not afraid to defend myself and have done so on occasion.”

  Gilgamesh laughed with genuine amusement. He threw his spears aside and opened his hands wide as a gesture of diplomacy. He could dodge any standard hunting arrow launched by a woman.

  He said slyly, “I have no doubt of your training in the art of self-defense, considering the patrons of such establishments. But I am getting weary of this exchange. Now, either you come down here and unbar your door with traditional kindness to a stranger, or I will kick it in and take my fill. It is your choice.”

  He listened for her response. But he could not see her little head poking out from the rooftop anymore. She was hiding.

  “Shiduri?” he shouted. “My patience is…”

  His shout was interrupted by the sound of the door being unbarred from within. He sighed with eager anticipation of his long overdue imbibing of lager.

  The door creaked open and Shiduri stood timidly in the crack of an opening.

  “Forgive my impertinence, King Gilgamesh,” she offered. “Surely you respect my caution.”

  “Impertinence forgiven,” said Gilgamesh. “You have nothing to fear from me, Shiduri. All I really want from you is your list of brews available for consumption.”

  After he had an assortment of spirits dark and light sloshing in his belly, Gilgamesh began to feel a little more carefree and light-headed.

  Shiduri stood across from him at the bar refilling when needed and probing his heart like the woman she was.

  “My friend Enkidu once drank a keg without nary an effect on him. He even o
utdid the goddess Ishtar in a drinking contest of sorts. Although I suspect she was feigning a bit. He knows how to hold his drink, that Wild Born.”

  Gilgamesh’s eyes were tearing with the memory of his loyal Right Hand and friend. But he was talking as if Enkidu was still alive. The alcohol had loosened him up and he was imbibing in the past as if it were the present.

  “You two are close,” she said.

  “Closer than a wife,” he said quickly. “I do not mean in that way,” he qualified to her smile.

  “He has a wife to die for. And he almost did when he challenged me at his wedding to her. Ah, Shamhat. Harlot turned queen. You remind me of her a little bit.”

  Shiduri’s eyes went wide with surprised offense.

  “The second queenly part, I mean,” he corrected himself. “Although Shamhat would never peep in on my nakedness.”

  She slapped him playfully.

  He grinned and boasted, “Together we cut off the head of Humbaba the Terrible, Guardian of the Great Cedar Forest. We survived the presence of the assembly of the gods. We slaughtered the Bull of Heaven and defied the goddess Ishtar, that treacherous vile snake.”

  Shiduri’s eyes watered with empathy for him. She said softly, “Why is there sorrow in your heart, mighty Gilgamesh? Your face is sunken, your cheeks are hollow, your mood wretched and wasted like one who has travelled a distant road.”

  Gilgamesh stared out into oblivion. “Because my friend Enkidu, whom I love has turned to clay.”

  She put her hand on his with sympathy for his loss.

  “I am so sorry,” she said.

  He continued, “I did not give him up for burial. For six days and seven nights, I wept over him. I reminisced with his corpse until a maggot fell out of his nose. It was too much for me to bear. So I went mad and roamed the wild. But not because of my mourning for him. It was mourning for me. Because I shall too soon be like him. I will also lie down, never to rise again through all eternity.”

  In that moment, it all came clear to Shiduri. His following of the Path of the Sun, his crisis of meaning and confrontation with death. His craving for immortality.

  “You are searching for Noah ben Lamech.” she said.

  He glanced up at her through his bleary eyes. He half whispered as if in the presence of the holy, “Ale wife, do you know the road to Noah ben Lamech?”

  She said nothing. She searched his eyes.

  He was impatient. “What is the landmark? Do you know the landmark? Give it to me, please, Shiduri. I will cross the ocean if need be. I will face death itself.”

  Shiduri spoke with wisdom, “You will cross the ocean if you seek Noah ben Lamech. But since days of old, none has ever done so. The crossing is perilous.”

  Gilgamesh was all ears now. He had reverted to the kind of listening he had engaged in when traveling the Path of the Sun through the Underworld of Sheol.

  “And then there are the Waters of Death,” she said ominously.

  He did not care about any danger. He had already faced death a hundred times.

  He looked deep into her eyes and said, “I have nothing else to live for.”

  Without ceremony, she said simply, “Down the shore, you will find Urshanabi the boatman of Noah ben Lamech. He will take you to him across the waters.”

  Gilgamesh continued staring into her eyes.

  She added, “But beware the Stone Ones.”

  Stone Ones? He thought. But the moment was too holy to ruin with a stupid question like ‘who are the Stone Ones?’ So he chose instead to embrace the sacredness.

  “Are you a goddess?” he asked. He remembered how he had sensed her presence in the garden and was sure it was not human. Was this a goddess of wisdom who graced his presence?

  But she did not answer him.

  Instead, she slowly moved around the bar to stand above his stooped over seated figure. She pulled his face up to meet hers.

  She whispered to him, “Death is your destination, Gilgamesh. Play the day, dance the evening. Enjoy your family. That is all you can have.”

  She kissed him.

  Passionately.

  Deeply.

  They drank each other in.

  Chapter 42

  Gilgamesh hid in the forest watching Urshanabi cutting lumber, no doubt for the building of a new boat for his shoreline pier out on the water. It was a simple pier, made for the purpose of a sole black boat tethered to its posts.

  Memories of the previous evening intruded on his thoughts. The ale wife Shiduri would not tell Gilgamesh what she was, goddess or other, but one thing was sure, she was beyond human.

  Gilgamesh doubted her claims to virtue based on her performance with him that provided the most intense and memorable sensual experience he had ever had with a woman. He did not know one could achieve such climactic heights of carnal knowledge. It was as if she gave to him what Ishtar had only promised but no doubt lied about in order to ensnare him in her talons.

  But he was hiding now because of what she had said. Beware the Stone Ones. A warning meant danger, and all he had for his protection were his two crude spears and a dagger that Shiduri had given him, along with some new clothes.

  There were four of them. Apparently they were called Stone Ones because they were made out of stone.

  They were taller than him, maybe ten feet high, and without his weakness of flesh and bone. He had heard of these in the past. They were creatures that had come out of the western Levant and were called golemim in the plural, and golem in the singular. They were soulless bodies made from mud or rock, much like the original Man was made from the earth. But unlike the original Man, a golem did not have the breath of God in it, but rather was invested with animation through magical incantation that was written on a parchment and stuffed in their mouths. Since they were mute and did not breathe, the parchment would not fall out. But take the parchment out and they “died,” or rather, ceased to move. Since they had no soul, they could not really die. And since they had no flesh, they could not feel pain either. They were like animated yet lifeless statues made of earth. They were perfect for the slave labor they were engaged in. Gilgamesh thought it would be of great use to have an army of these things if he could only get his hands on the incantation that created them.

  The golem Stone Ones chopped trees. They were so powerful, they could fell timber in a couple of strokes with their huge axes. How could he fight these moving blocks of stone if provoked? His spears would be of no use against them. They were larger than he was, stronger than he was, could not feel pain, and did not have a breath to extinguish. These walking boulders were intimidating even to Gilgamesh.

  Urshanabi stood by the log pile supervising his work crew. He was a gangly man, who looked like death itself, tall and gaunt but with a round little pot belly that stuck out from his skeletal figure. Gilgamesh thought he must have frequently patronized the tavern of Shiduri for her fine variety of beers.

  Urshanabi was impatient with his Stone Ones as a cruel master would be with disobedient dogs. He yelled at them, cursed, and paced back and forth irritated. He even kicked one in anger, only to hop around in pain, nursing his stubbed toes.

  Despite this unstable scenario, Gilgamesh decided he would avoid a fight to pursue his interest through the fine art of negotiation. As king, he may have had a past of being oppressive to his people, but he changed when he saw the injustice of it, and when it came to royal diplomacy with other city-states, he was quite proud of his ability to inspire compromise. The incident with King Agga was one example of avoiding a very bloody and very costly battle and getting what he wanted. Gilgamesh was not merely a master warrior, he was a master negotiator.

  So he set his javelins in the brush, stood up with his hands open in surrender, and approached Urshanabi with a deferring posture.

  He called out, “Urshanabi! I come with the blessing of Shiduri the ale wife! My name is Gilgamesh!”

  Urshanabi looked at Gilgamesh at first with surprise, then with confusion. He point
ed at him, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “STONE ONES! KILL!”

  Gilgamesh was shocked. No consideration, no thought, just the command to kill. Who would do such a thing to an unarmed surrendering man?

  There was no time to think, the Stone Ones were upon him.

  The first one swung its mighty axe. Gilgamesh ducked and it buried itself in the tree behind him. The blade sank deep into the wood from the tremendous force of the blow, and wedged tight. The Stone One struggled to pull it loose.

  But just as it yanked it free, another Stone One collided with it in full force and the two of them crashed to the ground in a pile of rubble. The thought flashed through Gilgamesh’s mind that he was watching a moving earthquake. It was like monumental boulders crashing into each other.

  This surprised Gilgamesh even more. The charging Stone One did not have quick enough faculties to slow down or steer clear of its comrade in time. Evidently, its lack of soul meant a corresponding lack of brains.

  These things were stupid.

  And once they fell apart, they were useless. It was like chopping off the head of a shade.

  He got an idea. He found the axe in the rubble and lifted it. The other two Stone Ones approached him with their axes and backed him up against a tree.

  Gilgamesh was experienced with a battle axe. Very experienced.

  But the Stone Ones were not as stupid as Gilgamesh had thought. They began to attack with synchronized swings of their axes. They worked in tandem. The first one took the top of the tree off right where Gilgamesh’s head was. The second one swung low to lop off his legs. Instinctively Gilgamesh leapt off the ground and did a backward somersault over the newly made tree stump behind him.

  But they kept coming like unstoppable automatons. They did not tire like Gilgamesh did. And he was now breathing hard dodging and jumping backward. He did not know how much longer he could keep this up. They were wearing him down with sheer relentlessness.