Mesopotamia - The Redeemer

by Yehuda Israely

  Rukha's father had been captured in the Land of Cedars, and was repeatedly sold until he was brought down the Euphrates where he was purchased for a bargain by a Sumerian landowner. Rukha's mother was captured in the east and sold as a spoil of war by a Sumerian officer. Rukha was born in the captivity of the master of his parents.

  A slave who failed to meet his harvest quota was lashed. Sometimes the whip spurred on his efforts and served as the impetus to meet his quota, but at other times, when a slave had already been pushed beyond his physical limits, the whip only served to further exhaust him to the point of death. Rukha had been whipped many times, and had found himself on the brink of death more than once. Rukha's soul was bound together with his friend's soul: without his help, Rukha would have been whipped to death. Ever since the grueling labor had claimed the lives of Rukha's parents, his friend had been like family to him.

  The golden ears of barley filled the spaces between the fruit trees until they met carpets of white narcissus flowers and rows of cypress trees that marked the border of the plot of land. Beyond the cypresses lay the lands of other masters, and beyond that, on the western horizon, the sun had already begun to cloak himself in crimson robes in preparation for his descent into the netherworld.

  The moment the sun God kissed the horizon, the men, waged laborers and slaves alike halted their labor. They knew that they must abandon the field before the gates of the netherworld opened to receive him. The demons of the netherworlds took advantage of the setting sun to furtively eat the barley left in the fields. Those who remained in the fields during these twilight hours, before the moon God rose to protect the people, were in danger of madness and possession by demons and strange spirits. When the sun passed the horizon into the netherworlds, Rukha finally found respite from his daily toil. Thus was established the balance between the Gods and the humans. When the sun God rested in the sky, Rukha and his fellow slaves worked the fields, and when Shamash engaged in his nocturnal work in the netherworlds, Rukha rested.

  Despite the danger, these were the hours that his friend utilized to plan his escape to freedom. He understood that he had been tempting the demons of the night but had found no other recourse. Only during those hours could he work in the light without being caught. While his friend soaked reeds to be used for thatching, or conducted experiments with canes to be used for breathing, Rukha sat in their hut reciting protective verses that would conceal his friend from the eyes of both demons and taskmasters alike.

  CHAPTER 1

  The taskmaster was fond of Rukha and seized the opportunity to exchange a few words with him. “You have been working better lately,” he complimented him.

  Rukha appreciated the taskmaster's good intentions. His relationship with his taskmasters and master were his only hope for improving his situation. He had forbidden himself from allowing dreams of freedom to occupy his thoughts. Instead, he focused his hope on the sole ambition of being sold into lighter labor. He tried to be content with the lot that he had been dealt which had been decreed and written on the tablet of destiny by the God Enlil. If he were a free man, he would free his thoughts and invent ways to improve the efficiency of the field labor to double its value. But Rukha knew his place and did not allow himself to be drawn into temptation. Some of his wise advice had been accepted in the past but they could just as well anger his masters.

  “Yes, Master.” Rukha responded with a bow while thinking to himself that as long as the taskmaster's attention is focused on him, he won't notice his friend Timin's evasive glances.

  “The master understands your value. Even though you are skinny, you have been endowed with wisdom. He has set your price at four donkey loads of seed barley and field water rations for the months of Tashritu and Arahsamnu. This comes to the sum of at least two hundred zuzim.”

  “Thank you, Taskmaster,” replied Rukha.

  The respectable free men habitually came and observed the slaves who were displayed to be sold as they worked. The master tried not to separate spouses or children from their parents, yet the fourteen year old Rukha was an orphan and was deemed mature enough to be sold. If Enlil leaned in his favor, he would be sold to a craftsman as an apprentice, and then he could acquire for himself the profession of a freeman. Yet it was also possible that he could be sold to yet another master who would be even harder on him. It was likely that he would not be permitted to take a maidservant as a wife. Slaves were not permitted to raise such matters with the revered elders at the city's gates.

  Before his parents died, Rukha feared that he would be sold and forcibly separated from them. Three years had passed since his mother had left this world and two years had gone by since his father had followed in her footsteps. 'If I am sold,' he thought to himself, 'I won't miss my mother any more that I already do. I won't miss the embrace of her hands, dry from quarrying clay for the potters, smiths and scribes. I won't miss the grits with onions, garlic and spinach that she cooked for me in the cauldron set atop coals.'

  His father used to sit with him on the banks of the irrigation channels and tell him stories about kernels of wheat as fat as olives and as sweet as crab apples, and about the snowy mountains of the northwest. When he thought that no one was watching, he would lay a lump of mud in his palm and Rukha would knead it until it was sufficiently dry. Then he would secretly teach him the great wonder of the Ugaritic language -- script of sounds. He meticulously drew the symbols: a bull's head for aleph, a hut dwelling for bet, and so on. Rukha invented new symbols for the sounds: symbols made of lines and wedges like the script of his Sumerian masters, pressed into the clay with a reed stylus. He felt a recurring thrill as he recalled the trust his father felt in him when they shared this dangerous and illegal activity.

  “Shamash is particularly red today,” Rukha remarked in hopes of diverting the taskmaster's attention from Timin, who was running to their hut.

  “Shamash is especially glorious this evening. This is a sign that the Netherworlds are bustling with activity. It's best if we don't stick our noses out too much tonight, Rukha.”

  “What activity, my master?” inquired Rukha, feigning ignorance.

  “The Gods of the netherworlds are conducting a ceremony tonight and require human blood to flavor their wine,” the taskmaster replied smugly. He had fallen into Rukha's trap of flattery and was eager to show off his knowledge.

  “If that's the case, my master, then we must make haste.”

  With affected urgency, Rukha opened and then retied his daily ration, a modest sack of barley and a jug of liquor. Only after the taskmaster rushed out of the plot of land did Rukha follow Timin into their mud hut.

  Since the time when Utnapishtim, son of Lamech son of Methuselah, returned and rebuilt the kingdom of Uruk after the Great Flood which had washed away everything one hundred and seventy four years before then, and certainly since the ascent of Meskiagasher, King of Uruk, almighty on his throne, twenty years ago, not even one order had been written endorsing the freeing of a slave. Stories about fugitive slaves almost always ended in death by torture by the hands of soldiers, who conducted slave hunts during periods of peace. Rukha's attempts at dissuading Timin from escaping were futile. When he understood that he could not stop him, Rukha offered to help, but Timin refused.

  According to the original plan, Timin intended to wait until the beginning of the third watch and to run with his body hunched for the remainder of the night, making his way through the reeds along the banks of the irrigation canals. He planned on hiding in the reeds for the duration of the day and then continuing to run the following night until he was out of the range of immediate danger, the land belonging to master Savsesser. Timin continued to execute his plans in secret and would most certainly have been caught in the fangs of the soldier's hounds or become prey to the swamp wolves, were it not for Rukha's involvement.

  Rukha noticed the changes in Timin's behavior. He decided to speak candidly with him about it; this was a number of months beforehand.

&nbs
p; “Are you mad at me? Did I unwittingly insult you?”

  “Heaven forefend, Rukha my brother.”

  “Have I imposed on you with the harvest quotas that you completed on my behalf?”

  “No, Rukha,” answered Timin, upset that his secret had led to a misunderstanding, “You do not mistreat me. I easily complete the rest of your quota, keeping the whip at bay without detracting from my own quota.”

  “If so,” inquired his friend, “how come you no longer enjoy my companionship? Why have you stopped drinking liquor with me toward evening, as we used to do? Why do you disappear with the demons during the evening hours and leave me all alone in the hut?..”

  Rukha's hurt feelings convinced Timin to finally cave in. After making him swear in the name of a host of Gods and a slew of curses, he divulged his secret. As expected, Rukha objected. Though he was concerned that Timin would leave him alone without a kindred spirit in the world, Rukha was more frightened that Timin would be caught and tortured to death. He was unable to understand the extent to which freedom was worth risking life, for Timin and for the other slaves who had been born as free men.

  Timin tried to explain the concept of freedom to Rukha. “There is no harvest quota, no whip, and no taskmaster overseeing your labor. You choose when to get up and when to sleep, when to eat and when to drink. You can earn money and purchase a plot of land, buy a wife from her parents or purchase a work animal to lighten your load. You don't have to lower your gaze in submission before other men and the elders who sit at the city gates are attentive to your plight and will protect you from injustice. You are free to sow, harvest, ferment, filter and drink liquor to your heart's content without rationing. You are free to move about as you please throughout the kingdom and even ride a donkey if you can afford one.”

  Even though he was surrounded by hired laborers who were freemen, Rukha regarded these stories as sorts of legends and drank up every minute detail of this magical world. With shining eyes he asked:

  “Do you sleep upon down quilts? And dip your bread in fat? And are your offerings accepted in the temple? And do your sons and daughters grow up with you and your wife? And can the talented ones among them learn to write?” And so on and so forth. His words painted an image of the wonders of freedom until jealousy seared his soul. Then he came back down to earth and comforted himself by thinking about the dangers of escaping. He was content with his lot: things could always be worse.

  Rukha avoided thinking about the possibility of escaping together. Why should he be a burden on Timin and force him to turn him down, or worse, impose unnecessary risks by escaping together? Timin did not invite Rukha to come along with him in order to protect him from danger. Because Rukha succeeded in meeting his harvest quota by himself now, he could survive. After having a taste of freedom in his imagination, Rukha understood that it was his duty to free Timin, but he conditioned this on aiding him escape.

  Timin refused. He knew that the sentence of a slave collaborator was the same as that of a runaway slave. Only after Rukha conceived an escape plan that was far better than Timin's, cultivated its every detail and covered any potentially incriminating holes in the plan did Timin agree to listen to him.

  “According to your plan, Timin, I might as well start mourning you now,” he teased. “By the third watch, you won't have gone any farther than the boundaries of Master Savsesser's property. During the course of the day, the masters' hounds or the swamp wolves will have picked up your scent, and if you survive their teeth, remember that upon Shamash's rising, green leaves shall be scattered on sizzling coals, and white smoke shall announce your bounty price. If you have resolved yourself to carry out your plan for freedom, at least give me a chance to suggest a safer way to escape.”

  Timin recognized that Rukha's sharp mind compensated for his frail body. It was no coincidence that through Rukha's guile the two were able to fool the taskmasters and raise harvest sheaves to his credit. Rukha's wit also earned the attention of his masters following his suggestion to irrigate the fields at night during the dry season in order to maximize the meager water ration. Timin only agreed to listen to Rukha's advice after repeating his demands several times and after Rukha promised not to run away with him.

  Rukha shook himself awake from his memories. He was alone now in the hut; he spread out the palm frond mat in preparation for bed. One hour prior, he had hugged Timin for the last time before joining the other slaves for the evening bath in the laundry pool. Rukha was the first one to return from the bath. He felt a sense of terror only when the last bather returned from the pool. Timin remained inside the water.

  Timin waited patiently until the last bather left the area. He scrubbed himself with aromatic sage leaves, as was the custom of bathers who could not afford essential oils, in order to mask his scent from the swamp wolves. As he cast a final glance toward the barley fields, the slave huts and the washing stones on the banks of the river, he thought about his parents. Were they still alive? He thought about his brothers and sisters in Elam, who certainly believed him to be dead by now. He waited: only when he could see the blaze of the bonfire between the taskmasters' huts blinding their eyes did he dare venture to dive through the watery mud.

  Rukha peeked between the rushes of the hut's walls and watched the taskmasters' fire being kindled. This was the sign to begin counting the time. He stretched out on his back at the entrance of the tent and tried to relax, to regulate his shortness of breath, to overcome the trembling in his hands and wipe the cold sweat from his skin. He raised his eyes to the stars while forcing himself to hum the harvest song. At the end of the first verse, he said to himself, 'Now he is breathing through the reed.'

  Rukha's small lungs did not allow him to hold his breath for the duration of more than half a verse, but Timin had practiced for months and finally succeeded in holding his breath for an entire verse plus the chorus. This was the amount of time needed to take out the curved hollow reed he had hidden in linen fabric near his loins. While still submerged, and while grasping the roots of the reeds on the pool's floor with one hand, he placed upon his head with his other hand the loops of fresh, supple sheep's artery. Timin threaded the reed between the sheep's artery and his temple, placed the tip of it in his mouth, sealed his nose with a clip he had made out of a split piece of wood and began to breathe freely through the reed.

  Rukha silently hummed the second verse to himself and thought, 'Now he is removing the stones from the inflated cow stomachs on the floor of the pool.' Timin spent hours working on the cow stomachs that he stole from the offal left by the wolves. He rolled them back, scraped and cleaned out the stomachs inside and out and dried them in the sun. He then softened them with urine and inserted stiff and hollow plant stems inside the intestinal duct to prevent it from closing, sticking to itself or shrinking. Using a fish bone needle, he delicately stitched all of the stomachs together in a chain. At the end, he coated the stitches with a layer of bitumen sealing.

  Timin breathed heavily through the narrow reed as he fastened the inflated stomachs to his body with a harness made of wickers. The cow stomachs and the stone weights connected to them were impeccably designed and tested by Rukha so that, when Timin fastened them to his body, he was suspended in the thin mud at a suitable height above the floor of the pool yet below the surface of the water.

  Rukha hummed the third verse and thought to himself, 'Now he is fastening his sandals.' Rukha had prepared long-soled sandals made from strips of reeds woven with sturdy green palm fronds. He figured that these sandals, like the tail fin of a fish, would enable Timin to double his swimming speed. Without them, he doubted if Timin would be able to travel the distance needed to reach the river tonight.

  Suddenly, he noticed a movement. Rukha sat up at the entrance of his hut and saw the silhouettes of two taskmasters advancing toward the laundry pool. 'What are they doing?' A terrifying thought crossed his mind as his breath became short. Did one of the maids fail to bring them all of their laundry? Perhaps t
hey were checking that no slaves remained in the pool, or maybe they were looking for a maid for the night. Could it be that their liquor jugs were empty and they were thirsty for water? He decided to divert their attention.

  Timin was groping the walls of the pool when, all of a sudden, he heard footsteps on the riverbank. Their voices indicated that they were merely several cubits away from him, though under the water he could not make out their words. With his blood frozen in his veins, he calmly thought that as long as he remained still, didn't make a sound and continued to breathe through the reed, they would not detect him. He settled into a mindset of serenity, much like the calmness that hovers at the threshold of sleep, and anticipated the moment when they would leave. Had it been daylight, a keen eye would have noticed the unnatural phenomenon of a reed floating vertically. Reeds either grow vertically or float horizontally; but in the darkness of night, no one noticed. To his relief, someone called out to them. Rukha was contorted with stomach pain. Timin silently hummed to himself the harvest song from beginning to end before daring to continue groping toward the narrow and muddy opening of the irrigation channel. With a slight push of his feet, he set out on his journey to freedom.

  Despite his exhaustion, Rukha did not sleep. He imagined that every dog's bark or jackal howl would awaken an uproar that would storm on Timin. Rukha trusted Namu, Goddess of water, not to betray his scent. With the first light, the slaves came out of their huts to kindle their fires and put water on to boil for the morning barley porridge. Shamash would reach a height of four fingers above the eastern horizon before the taskmasters would notice Timin's absence. By then, though, he would have already passed the opening between the narrow channel and the broad channel and would have found shelter like a nutria under an island of raspberry thickets. During the course of the day, he would doze with his head above the water and the reed in his mouth, always ready to noiselessly retreat back into the water should the need arise.