The King Who Refused to Die

by Zecharia Sitchin

  “The day is short—hurry, hurry!” she kept yelling at the girls. “We must dress in our festive clothes and get early to the Sacred Precinct!”

  It took awhile for the commotion to die down. Straw mats were spread on the ground near the oven, from which two young women were deftly extracting the thin round cakes and piling them upon a large clay plate. At the well in the center of the courtyard two other young women filled a large jug with cool water. Another young woman brought a basketful of dried dates and figs out of the house.

  “Where is Tiranna?” Salgigti shouted.

  “She is still in the room with that Westerner,” one of the others said.

  “I’ll be cursed!” Salgigti shouted. “Wake them up! That sailor knows no fill!”

  “No need to,” a man’s voice was heard coming from the second floor. “I am up and leaving, thanks to all the commotion and shouting!”

  “It’s about time you left, Adadel,” Salgigti shouted back, “an ungrateful one that you are!”

  He came down and into the courtyard, girdling his leather garment. “Why can’t a man have some peace and quiet hereabouts?” he asked, protesting.

  “It’s the eleventh day, the Day of Anointment,” Salgigti said. “The day the king would regain the kingship that had been stripped away . . . if he survived the night.” She giggled and the other women burst into laughter.

  “Did he?” Adadel asked as he fished inside his garment for the coin pouch.

  “He certainly practiced much,” Salgigti said, roaring with laughter.

  “I still can’t make out your New Year customs,” Adadel said. “In the Cedar Land that is beholden to Shamash, whose celestial emblem is the sun, the festival is over when the sun rises on the eleventh day. Here, your rites continue with a Sacred Marriage between the goddess and the king who is no longer a king. Then you spend another day restoring him to the throne.”

  He handed Salgigti a silver coin. She kept it in her open hand, still held out. “Tiranna has been good to you,” she told him. “Have I not been a good hostess?”

  He looked at her and smiled. “Here,” he said, giving her another coin. “When does this endless festival end?”

  “We are in the domain of Sin, whose heavenly counterpart is the moon,” Salgigti replied. “Our days begin at sundown only. After the king is reinvested and the sun goes down, the twelfth day shall begin. It’s the time of the Fixing of the Destinies. An oracle shall be pronounced by the High Priest, delivering the word of Anu, determining the king’s and the people’s fate for the coming year . . .”

  “And then the gates shall be opened?”

  “On the morrow. The assembled gods shall leave then. The city gates will be opened.”

  “The twelfth day,” Adadel said. “The celestial number.”

  “But you, my dear, must depart now!” Salgigti said and walked to the exit door. “Shall we see you tonight?”

  “I doubt it,” Adadel said at the door. “We have been stuck here long enough. I’d better make preparations to sail in the morning.”

  “May the gods be with you,” Salgigti replied as she let Adadel out, locking the door behind him.

  “Now girls,” she said back in the courtyard, “let’s eat and dress and be ahead of the crowds at the temples.”

  * * *

  The closing ceremonies of the New Year festival were due to start in the late afternoon, one hour before sundown. However, as Salgigti and her girls made their way there, the Avenue of Processions—which flowed into the Sacred Precinct’s Great Gate—and the streets leading to it, were already abuzz with people. Clearly, many others were eager not only to position themselves as close as possible to the site of the ceremonies but also to be there when the various participants arrived.

  The closer the female group got to the temple area the denser the crowd was, for the populace was held back at the gate until all the participants had arrived. Soldiers as well as guard-priests at the boundary of the sacred area kept pushing the crowd to maintain a path for the dignitaries and the king. By the time Salgigti and her companions advanced to within sight of the Avenue of Processions, they could progress no more.

  The first to begin arriving for the proceedings were the Elders—sixty of them—all of noble birth, many of them retired palace or temple functionaries. They all were bearded, as befitted the elderly, but could and did wear garb of their choosing and individual tastes, including their headgear. As they reached the gate and were identified, they were directed to the courtyard of the Great Temple, there to assemble until it was time for them to begin the Holy Procession.

  Next to arrive was the king and his royal entourage of high court officials and a bodyguard of chosen heroes, also sixty in all. The king wore his royal robes and the crown, but his scepter and mace were carried on a golden tray by the chamberlain, Niglugal, marching in front of the king. The priests showed this royal group to the side of the great courtyard that faced the Elders.

  And then, precisely one hour before sunset, when the twelfth day would begin, horns were sounded and drums were beaten, and the Divine Procession arrived in the courtyard from the direction of the Eanna. It was led by the High Priest, a wooden staff in his hand. He was wearing a skull cap and a toga of crimson color, and the sacred breastplate of magical stones. He was followed by the other eleven chief priests, their ankle-length white wraps trimmed with crimson fringes.

  “The Queen of Heaven is come among you!” the High Priest proclaimed as the group began to enter the great courtyard. “The Twelve Gods are come among you!”

  And as the Elders and the royal group and all the priests who were in attendance, as well as the crowd outside who heard the proclamation, bowed and fell to their knees, bearer-priests carrying the Twelve Gods on litters—Ishtar and Ninsun among them—marched into the center of the courtyard.

  They remained bowing until the High Priest announced in a loud voice: “Let the rites of the Fixing of the Fates begin!” And with that as a cue, the crowds were let in through the Great Gate. The people rushed up to the barriers designed to hold them off from the ceremonial great courtyard, so that they could begin to witness the proceedings.

  Seven times did the High Priest proclaim the prescribed formulas for starting the rites and assuring their auspicious outcome, and seven times there came shouts of hurrahs from the crowd in response. Then the Holy Procession began the slow march, to drumbeats, toward the White Temple of Anu.

  Leading the procession were incense-dispensing priests, their heads shaven and their togas the color of pomegranates. They were followed by the Elders. Slowly they mounted the monumental stairway, and when they reached the platform atop the mound, they stood at its edge, facing the podium. Representing the citizenry of Erech, they were later each to sign as witnesses the tablet on which the afternoon’s events would be inscribed.

  They were followed closely up the stairway by the royal segment of the Holy Procession. And no sooner had that second group arranged itself on the platform, on the side facing the White Temple, than the divine group, led by the High Priest and the twelve other priests, began its ascent.

  Atop the mound the gods alighted from the litters and mounted the stairs to the podium, where Ishtar sat down on her lion-shaped throne. A smaller, less decorated throne next to hers remained unoccupied. Other seats for the eleven other deities were set in a semicircle. The gods took these seats in an order that had been prearranged.

  There was a hush as all eyes were on Ishtar. Then she raised her right hand. “Let the rites begin,” she said in a commanding voice.

  Niglugal, the chamberlain, stepped forward to face the podium, and holding up the golden tray, said: “Oh great Queen of Heaven, Queen of Earth! The king, thy bridegroom of the Sacred Marriage, is among us.” He stepped forward and put the tray at Ishtar’s feet, then stepped backward.

  “Let he who is called Gilgamesh come forward,” Ishtar commanded.

  Gilgamesh stepped forward and, reaching the podium, bowed.
“I am Gilgamesh, the king,” he said, “I lay my kingship at thy feet, oh Queen of Heaven, Queen of Earth!” And he put the crown that was on his head at her feet.

  “Thou hast espoused me on the night of this day,” the goddess said, “in accordance with all the rules and to perfection.” She grinned as she said the last words. “Divine Dumuzi had been both spouse and royal shepherd, my beloved consort he was. No mortal can be both, except on this one day. . . . Let Gilgamesh be anointed!” From where she sat her voice was heard not only upon the platform but also in the courtyards all over the Sacred Precinct.

  “High Priest proceed!” Ishtar commanded, and all eyes turned toward the White Temple and the group of priests standing along its wall. They now parted to reveal the entrance to the temple, and the unusual tree growing in front of it. It was a date palm that grew out of a sapling planted by Anu himself when he had visited the place. It drew its water from cisterns hidden below the platform’s paved floor, where the rainfall was captured during the rainy winter season. There was also a sealed cistern atop the temple, hidden from view, where the rainwater falling on the temple’s roof was stored. On this day, the one and only day of the year, the sluices of that cistern were opened so that a water fountain threw up its liquid arches on both sides of the tree.

  All those atop the platform watched reverently as two priests emerged from the temple’s doorway, one wearing the skin of a large fish and the other an eagle’s wings and its beaked head as a face mask.

  “Let him be witness who like the Lord Enki is,” the High Priest proclaimed, “he who had come to Earth in the waters, the first to set foot, lord of wisdom, creator!”

  The priest costumed as a fish stepped forward and stood to the right of the tree.

  “Let him be witness who like the Lord Enlil is, lord of the Anunnaki, by whose word the Eagles pilot the Boats of Heaven, father of mankind!” the High Priest announced.

  The priest costumed as an eagle stepped forward and stood to the left of the tree. Like the fish-man priest, he carried a pail. On a signal from the High Priest, the two filled their pails from the cascading waters.

  “Let this be the Water of Life!” they proclaimed in unison. Then they each plucked a cone of the date palm seeds.

  “Let this be the Fruit of Life!” they said in unison.

  All who were present, gods and men alike, cried out, “May it so be!”

  For a few moments the two costumed priests remained standing, facing each other as they flanked the tree, holding up the date palm cones in one hand and holding out the water-filled pails in the other. The dignitaries atop the platform and the great crowd below stood still and silent, awed by the appearance of the priests representing the two great gods and by the presentation of the Waters of Life and the Fruit of Life that endowed mortals with long life and gods with immortality, with Everlife.

  “Let Gilgamesh be anointed!” Ishtar commanded.

  The two costumed priests advanced to the podium, bowing to Ishtar as they reached it. Then they stood, flanking the kneeling Gilgamesh.

  Ishtar stood up and stepped to the edge of the podium. The fish-priest raised his water-filled pail. Ishtar dipped her hand in it, then sprinkled the water upon the crownless head of Gilgamesh.

  “Be blessed in the name of Lord Enki!” she proclaimed seven times, sprinkling the water upon Gilgamesh each time. “May life be thy water!”

  The eagle-priest then raised the date palm cone, and Ishtar took it.

  “Be blessed in the name of Lord Enlil,” she proclaimed seven times, touching Gilgamesh with the cone each time. “May fruitfulness be thy daily bread!”

  Then she held up the crown for all who were assembled to see, and put it on the head of Gilgamesh. “In the name of the Lord Enlil who commands Earth, I grant thee kingship!” she proclaimed.

  She extended her hand to Gilgamesh, and he stood up.

  “As Mistress of Erech, I grant thee thy royal powers!” she announced, handing Gilgamesh the king’s scepter and the sacred mace. “Now,” she told him, “thou art both consort and king. Come and share the throne beside me until the Destinies are determined!”

  She returned and sat on her throne. Gilgamesh mounted the stairs to the podium, catching his mother’s glance as he passed by her; the glance spoke myriad words of encouragement and affection. Then he sat down beside the goddess, on the smaller throne, for a while to be divine among the divines, a god among the gods.

  “The gods have spoken!” Niglugal cried out. “Gilgamesh is king again!”

  He looked in the direction of the Elders, but they remained silent.

  “Watcher upon the ramparts,” the High Priest shouted in the direction of priests standing at the platform’s edge. “Has the disc of Shamash touched the edge of the skies?”

  In the west, beyond the shimmering strip of the Euphrates River, the sun was a red disc on the horizon. All were silent atop the platform and in the crowds below. Then, with a suddenness that startled, although it was expected, the priest’s cry came, “The sun has touched the edge of the sky!”

  Along the edges of the platform, priests lit torches.

  “High Priest, let the Fixing of the Destinies begin!” Ishtar announced.

  The High Priest stepped in front of Ishtar and bowed. “By the command of the great Lady Ishtar, by the will of the twelve assembled gods, I shall enter the Holy of Holies,” he said. “What Anu shall speak, I shall repeat.” He straightened and with both his hands pulled forward the breastplate of stones.

  Ishtar touched it with her staff. “The stones of Nibiru are thy protection,” she said. “Enter where no mortal can enter, hear what no mortal can hear!”

  The sun’s disc disappeared below the horizon, and at that precise moment the High Priest entered the temple, alone. A light wind was playing with the torches’ flames.

  The group of major priests began to chant melodies from times ago—handed down from the time Anu himself had stood there, some said.

  Suddenly a voice was heard from inside the temple. “Anu hath spoken!”

  The chanting stopped abruptly. All eyes were on the temple’s doorway. Then the High Priest emerged. “Anu hath spoken!” he announced again.

  He moved slowly to stand before the sacred tree, flanked by the two costumed priests. “Let him be witness he who like the Lord Enki is, let him be witness he who like the Lord Enlil is,” the High Priest intoned, and stopped.

  In the total, unbearable silence, the words of Ishtar suddenly boomed, “High Priest, pronounce the words of Anu, Lord of Lords!”

  Enkullab approached the podium, bowing. “Great lady, heavenly queen,” he said, his voice now also booming like thunder, “I have purified myself, put on pure linen. I uttered the incantations. I lifted the veil. I asked for the word of the Lord of all Lords.”

  He remained bowed, his words ended.

  The gathered dignitaries looked at each other in puzzlement. Gilgamesh and his mother exchanged glances.

  “High Priest, pronounce the words of Anu!” Ishtar said impatiently.

  “My benevolent lady at whose feet I am but a stool,” the High Priest said, “there has been a destiny for the city, but none for the king.” The High Priest Enkullab, Gilgamesh’s half-brother then prostrated himself before Ishtar to indicate his complete humility and his subservience to her.

  There was stunned silence at first, then a murmuring among the Elders and a buzz of amazement and protest in the royal group. Gilgamesh started to arise from his throne, pointing his hand menacingly at the High Priest, when Ishtar herself stood up.

  “Hush!” she shouted, and all fell silent. “High Priest,” she said angrily, “if Anu hath spoken, give us his words!”

  “So be it,” the High Priest said, arising. He glanced about him, his glance shifting from one assembled group to the other. Then his gaze rested on Gilgamesh, their eyes meeting. “These are the words of Anu, the Lord of Lords,” Enkullab said.

  “My words are inscribed,

&nb
sp; My message is aloft.

  The gates shall be open.

  Who comes shall have Life.

  The Land shall not be forgotten,

  The people shall not be abandoned.”

  Again there arose a din among those gathered on the platform, and also from the crowds below. Gilgamesh sat stunned, uncomprehending. Even the gods on the podium looked at each other, and Ninsun glanced at her son, bewildered too.

  “As I have said, my lady, all great gods,” the High Priest took the opportunity to speak up, bowing toward Ishtar and the other deities. “There is a destiny for the land and the people but not for the king.”

  “This has gone too far!” Gilgamesh shouted as he jumped up. Standing in front of the royal group, Niglugal drew his sword.

  “Silence!” Ishtar shouted, raising the wand in her hand. Instantly, a beam—bright as lightning—shot up from the wand, and the accompanying boom thundered far and wide. A hush fell on the platform and in the courtyards below.

  “The omen is for one and all,” she said. “The message is aloft, for it comes from lofty Anu, from the highest Heavens. The words are inscribed, for they are written in the Book of Life. The gates shall be open for all who are righteous. Who comes through these gates, the faithful followers of Anu and the House of Enlil, of Nannar, and of Ishtar, shall have Life. Thereby, the Land shall not be forgotten, the people shall not be abandoned. There shall be peace and prosperity and joy for all!”

  There were murmurs of approval. Ishtar looked straight at the High Priest, responding to his puzzled look with a stern gaze.

  “This is the meaning of the oracle,” she said. “These are the fates fixed for the land, for the people, for the king. Anu has decreed abundance!”

  And then, no sooner than she had spoken the divine words, there came out of the barely clouded skies a flash of lightning, followed by an ominous rumbling thunder.

  “Anu hath spoken!” shouted one of the priests, and he fell to his knees. And as the others looked at him and at the darkening skies, there was another flash of lightning that sliced the Heavens asunder. Thunder boomed—as though a drum as large as the Heavens had been struck by a drumstick as massive as the tallest tree.