by Jon Saboe
Where was Buan anyway?
He hadn’t been able to find him since the visitor quarters were cleared for his guests. After they were settled, he had finished his accounting for the day, tallied all of the floor activities, and (of course) extrapolated his profit margins for the month.
It was now dark outside as he rushed through his courtyard, then hurried along his central corridor which was covered with alternating sheets of cedar and polished bronze paneling. He nodded slightly in appreciation as his form flickered, capturing his movement as he passed each mirrored section.
He paused briefly at the curtains before the guest chambers, where the statuette of Anu rested on a short sculpted pillar in the right alcove. A stone tablet was mounted to the pillar, containing a lithograph about Anu and his heavenly origins.
The plaque told how Anu’s father was Anshar, offspring of the two serpents, Lakhmu and Lakhamu, and when Anshar mated with his sister, Kishar, they produced Anu, first of the great demigods. He was the overlord of all subsequent deities, but had little interest in the affairs of man. Yet his energy was available for those who meditated on him; and all who did were assured of success and profit—as long as their motives were for the betterment of all humanity. Anu was said to fight against higher powers who sought to bring misery and poverty into the universe.
He looked at the smiling statue which gazed beatifically towards the ceiling, with its horned head tipped slightly upwards. Reu certainly didn’t believe such stories, and he knew few people who did, but he had to admit that business success depended a great deal on such attitudes, and he did have one philosophy which he held with great conviction.
The creation of wealth is the highest form of spirituality.
Only through wealth could one help his fellow man. Only through wealth could the burdens of life be lessened. And Reu’s business model was both modest and noble in its simplicity. His radical ideas had completely changed the way in which business was conducted in Uruk because it utilized a concept which, for most men, was despised. That concept was servitude. Reu devoted his time and energy to serving and helping others become wealthy. For a small percentage, Reu would help anyone turn his or her resources and talents into a profitable venture. Through investments, commodities trading, and the occasional lottery, Reu had more net worth than the city itself! And that meant he could help even more people.
The poorest of the poor could excel only when someone with more means reached out to aid them. And if that someone could benefit in the process, then nothing could create more fulfillment. A poor man could not gain employment from another poor man, and the wealthy could not remain wealthy if the common man had no money to spend.
Reu despised those cultures, mostly far to the east, who seemed to venerate poverty, as if it were something honorable and praiseworthy. Poverty was a blight, and he, for one, was determined to overthrow it (cure it, if you will) at every opportunity.
He looked at Anu again, and smiled with amusement at how the sculptor had chosen to give the statuette the likeness of Gilgamesh, the founder of Uruk. He was famous for having slain an attacking ušemšutum with his bare hands by jumping onto its back and ripping off one of its short, stubby forelegs, causing it to bleed to death. Their tiny front legs were extremely out of proportion with the animal’s gigantic size, and they were basically useless except for holding fruit, or swatting in intimidation.
Gilgamesh had returned to the city with its head on a cart, and was instantly a hero, about whom many songs and exaggerated stories had been written.
Anu. A great symbol for all commerce to embrace.
He turned away and pushed through the curtains to the sound of men laughing. He put on his best businessman’s smile and turned into the first guest doorway on the right to find two men on the floor, laughing and collecting pebbles from the floor in what appeared to be a juvenile game. He glanced to his left and was startled by the presence of another, slender, man who was dressed in the crudest of animal skins. Reu was sure he had ordered proper attire for these men, and if the suits had not been delivered or fitted properly, someone would pay dearly.
The slender man called out in alarm, and the two men on the floor looked up hastily. Reu’s focus was drawn immediately to the piercing indigo eyes belonging to the dark man in the avocado colored suit.
Any thoughts that Buan was mistaken evaporated instantly. There was no mistaking the face of the man with whom he had spent the first seventeen years of his life. He noticed that the man’s nose, ears, and forehead were larger, which was the usual indication that someone had aged. But as he looked closer, (in the flickering lamp-light) he saw slight wrinkles in the face and streaks of gray winding through the thick black hair, which (for the briefest of moments) frightened him.
But the similarities with his own feature were unmistakable, and it was easy to see why Buan had been so adamant.
“Father?”
Although it was a question, it was said with mounting confidence. Reu reached down to help his father, who had just finished replacing the remaining stones into a nearby bag.
Peleg was thankful that Reu could not see him blushing beneath his dark skin. This was not the way he had envisioned his reunion with his first-born, but he smiled as Reu reached out his arm and pulled him up.
He winced slightly at the twinge in his knees, but soon he was standing before his son. There was a brief moment as they looked awkwardly into each other’s eyes—seventy years is a long time—but soon they both arrived at a simultaneous decision and dutifully embraced one another.
Eventually they separated, and Reu was the first to speak.
“I could not believe it was truly you,” he began, using the language he had been raised with. “How is it possible that you have arrived here in Uruk?”
Peleg shook his head.
“It is a very long tale,” he said. “The short story is: The Great Discovery brought us to the Western mouth of the Great Sea.”
He grimaced slightly and looked towards Shem.
“What is astonishing, Reu, is this: We survived our twelve year voyage, successfully traveling the world, only to be destroyed on the way home in known waters.”
A flush of anger against Shem passed quickly through him.
“You were aboard the Urbat, as I recall,” said Reu. “How was it destroyed?”
“As far as I know, I am the only survivor,” said Peleg, avoiding the question. For some reason, he didn’t feel the need to go into details in front of Shem. He could have switched to the language of Uruk, but that would probably cause additional problems later.
He pointed to Shem and Bernifal.
“This is Shem,” he said, “and Bernifal. I acquired these traveling companions from the mountains far to the west,” he said.
Reu strode towards the two men with a smile and called them both by name, grasping each by the forearm in greeting.
He looked back to Peleg.
“I see that you received the clothing I sent,” he said. “I trust that everything fits satisfactorily?” For some reason, Reu was deliberately ignoring the fact the Bernifal was not wearing his suit.
“Yes,” said Peleg. “I’ve never had clothing this fine before.”
Shem moved closer to Reu and spoke.
“I, too, thank you for your gifts of food and clothing,” he said, “and also for allowing us to remain here this night.”
He paused and looked at Reu with what only could be admiration.
“I am most honored to meet you,” Shem continued. “You see, I am your great-great-great-grandfather, and I am interested in tracing our lineage as far as is possible.”
Reu’s smile suddenly disappeared and was replaced by a confused scowl. He turned quickly to Peleg for an explanation.
Peleg shrugged.
“Shem is over three hundred years old,” he said without further explanation.
Reu looked back to Shem and stared up into his face for a moment, and then slowly began laughing.
>
He reached up and grasped Shem by the forearm to assure him that he was not the object of his mirth.
“If that is true,” he said, smiling, “then it would appear that many people throughout the world are your great-great-great-grandchildren! What is so special about our family?” He gestured to include his father.
“Apparently Shem is interested in my descendants,” said Peleg.
Shem opened his mouth to speak again, but Peleg quickly interrupted. He was sure that Shem was about to make his speech about the coming Zeh-ra, and Peleg was not ready for that—at least not yet.
“Thanks again for the clothing and hospitality,” Peleg said hurriedly. “It is most gracious of you.”
“You are most welcome,” said Reu.
He turned towards Bernifal, apparently unable to ignore his dress any further.
“Is something wrong with your suit?” he asked, with apparent concern.
Before Bernifal could try and answer, Peleg spoke.
“Bernifal is just learning our language,” he said to Reu, switching to the language of Uruk. “In fact, neither Shem nor Bernifal know this tongue. I’m sure he appreciates the gift, but he is certainly not used to such clothing.”
Reu nodded, and then turned to Shem.
“Shem, can you please inform young Bernifal that I would prefer he wear the clothing I provided for him? Tell him that it is for his safety.”
Shem looked perplexed for a moment, then turned to Bernifal and spoke quietly to him. A murmured exchange took place, and eventually Shem turned back to Reu.
“Bernifal says he is exceedingly thankful and appreciative of your gifts, but, unless you insist, he would prefer wearing the clothing to which he is accustomed.”
Shem looked down at Reu with a look pleading for understanding.
Reu stared back for a second, and then nodded.
“What did you mean by ‘safety’?” asked Peleg.
Reu turned to Peleg, but did not answer. Eventually, he stepped back slightly, and raised his arms.
“I would like to invite you to my library,” he said, speaking to all three. “We can continue our visit there, and we have much to discuss.”
He looked into Peleg’s eyes.
“And I’m sure you have much to share with me,” he said to Peleg.
“Follow me.”
Reu led them out into the hallway where they turned right and continued past more mosaics, sculptures, and more polished bronze mirrors. Bernifal walked with them in his animal skin covering (somewhat obstinately, in Peleg’s opinion).
Peleg pulled up to walk beside Reu, intending to ask about the ‘safety’ comment. But before he could speak, Reu presented his own question.
“How is my mother?” he asked.
Peleg was somewhat startled, but immediately thought of Talah-Barsuu, Reu’s mother. Although Reu was his first-born, she had not been his first wife but his second. His first wife, Saret-Tarshe, had not produced any children, but had died when a section of the Citadel (which was under construction at the time) had collapsed, trapping her along with seven other people. They had been married only eight months, and the child who would have been his first-born had died with her.
He quickly replaced the pain of that memory with memories of Reu’s mother—suddenly realizing he had not answered his son’s question.
He shook his head slightly.
“You probably know more about your mother—and my household in Ur—than I do, since I have been away with no contact for almost thirteen years.”
Reu nodded slightly, realizing he had forgotten his father’s long absence.
“That is true,” he acknowledged. “I suppose I should be telling you the latest news from home.”
They turned left into a small passageway, and Reu continued.
“Of course I heard that you had been selected for the Great Discovery, but I assumed you had been lost, since only two ships ever returned—neither of them the Urbat.”
“Only two?” Peleg was astonished, and also somewhat saddened.
“Yes,” replied Reu. “Only the Parsu and the Tabannusi returned. The Tabannusi returned on schedule, but with a great deal of storm damage. However, the Parsu arrived almost two years early. The crew was dying of starvation, and they barely managed to float into port. Apparently their ship had narrowly escaped a volcanic explosion in the south polar regions, and they had circled, lost for months until they stumbled on the correct longitude to bring them home.”
Peleg nodded somberly, flashing back to his own fears during his time in the šeg-covered land. He pushed the unknown fate of the Kibrat Erbettim from his mind.
“Unfortunately,” Reu continued, “the entire crew of both ships was immediately quarantined, and no one—not even their families—has ever met with any of them since.”
Peleg was dumbfounded. The returning travelers of the Great Discovery should have been met with awards and celebrations—not silence.
“How could this happen?” Peleg asked. “Surely there must be some demand or protest to see the crews.”
Reu shrugged.
“Not really,” he said. “The entire Great Discovery is a largely forgotten part of history.” He stopped and looked Peleg in the eye.
“A great deal has happened in the last thirteen years.”
A cold shudder went through Peleg’s back. Reu’s words were eerily reminiscent of Shem’s earlier admonition.
“Are you saying that no one cares about the Great Discovery Expedition?”
“No, of course not,” said Reu as they resumed walking. “One reason I maintained an interest was because my father—I mean, you—were aboard one of the vessels. And another reason was…”
He paused as a sheepish grin played out over his face.
“Well,” he began, “I maintained a lottery in honor of the Great Discovery. Investors purchased certificates which bore a ship’s name and the date which they believed it would return. I did enjoy rewarding one large payout when the Tabannusi returned, but unfortunately, no one placed bets on the unexpected early homecoming of the Parsu. Naturally, since none of the other vessels ever arrived, the remaining investments have, sadly, remained safe with me.”
Peleg was stunned. The most ambitious and scientifically significant adventure of his lifetime had been reduced to a gambling game by his son.
He didn’t have much time to remain offended, however. Reu’s next comment was cause for even greater concern.
“Of course, if you were to return to Ur, there are those who might feel they deserve a small disbursement.”
Peleg looked sharply at Reu, who seemed not to notice. Apparently he was speaking to himself.
The four men passed through a large archway on their left and then, after two more rights, they entered into a large room which could only be a library.
Numerous pillars, which rose halfway to the ceiling, were placed throughout the room, and small tongues of fire flickered from their tops, lighting the area. Two large stone tables sat near the far wall, and shelves containing scrolls and various artifacts rose above them.
The remaining walls displayed artwork, along with some charts and a few maps. One map (obviously Phoenician) outlined the Great Western Sea—which elicited an angry memory as Peleg could approximate the location where the Urbat had been destroyed.
Reu motioned for them to be seated in four large carved-wood chairs just inside the doorway. Peleg sat across from Reu, with Shem on his right, and Bernifal on his left.
A steward mysteriously appeared with a carafe of wine and four flagons, and offered drinks to the men. They all accepted except Shem, who wordlessly declined.
Reu spoke first, with a slight smile in Shem’s direction.
“So father,” he began. “Since your friend is so interested in our family, perhaps I can start by telling you about my children.” He shifted to address all three.
“I have three sons, the oldest of whom is Serug, and seven daughters, one of whom runs my so
uthern office.”
He turned back to Peleg.
“You will be pleased to know that Serug excels in linguistics much as you did. He is currently employed in Babylon constructing a new language from a combination of all the Shinar tongues. Sargon has employed him to craft this language to facilitate commerce. It is a mixture of Chaldean, Sumerian, Akkadian, and Babylonian, designed to remove the barriers brought about by the Great Awakening.”
Peleg suppressed a response. He had never once considered that the Great Awakening was something that should be reversed. He also noticed Shem react briefly to the mention of Sargon, and suddenly realized that Shem probably felt that he was deep within enemy territory.
But Reu was now speaking as if he were addressing a classroom.
“Anything that promotes commerce and develops wealth is to be encouraged. That is what we do. I help people create business and provide them with investments and commodities. I can either help you establish your own enterprise, or I can help you direct your funds towards the best possible returns. I have discovered one of the most powerful mathematical concepts ever. I call it compound interest. Let me ask you this: Are you aware of the significance of the number ‘seventy-two’?”
Without waiting for an answer, he hurried on, oblivious to his audience. He was obviously in the middle of a lecture which he gave often.
Peleg was somewhat mortified that the beautiful science of math was being denigrated in such a fashion. But he knew Reu had left home to study finance, and given the city he had traveled to, this was to be expected.
Reu continued on speaking about returns, doubling, and “deviations above twenty percent”. He also presented scenarios where an investor could reap inconceivable amounts of money in as little as one hundred years simply by building upon the initial outlay.