The King Who Refused to Die

by Zecharia Sitchin

  “Has it got to do, somehow, with tomorrow’s launching?” Uranshan said. “Or perhaps . . .”

  Utu stared at his comrade. “Come to my chamber,” he said.

  “What’s on your mind, Uranshan?” Utu asked when they were alone.

  “The black skyships,” Uranshan said, “in a group of three were flying. They could not have come from the small landing pad in Borsippa. They had to come from a larger airbase.”

  “Such as Marduk’s in the Shagaz lands?”

  “Precisely . . . and if so, why would Marduk bother with a mortal’s journey and put forth his son, Nabu, to challenge you with his message?”

  “There’s been talk among the great gods, Uranshan, that Marduk is pressing to change the terms of his banishment. He claims that he has been punished enough for the accidental death of Dumuzi. Now he insists on the right to pay periodic visits to the town of Babylon. I wonder whether that has to do with this accusation of trespass.”

  “Our command ship has the right to fly freely in this zone,” Uranshan said.

  “Indeed so . . . but not to thrust the paralyzing rays at the crew of the Mardukite skyships. Nabu’s demand for an explanation must be met, Uranshan . . . but not yet. Let’s wait till the Lady Ishtar arrives. I have a feeling that a clue to the puzzles may be found in Erech.”

  * * *

  It was daylight when the comrades awoke. They found themselves in a field strewn with rocks, in a hilly country. The Euphrates River and the sand dunes that flanked its bank were nowhere to be seen.

  “Have we walked all night?” Gilgamesh asked, “escaping from the black skyship?”

  Enkidu laughed. “You remember nothing?”

  “Remember what?”

  “Our rescuers,” Enkidu said. “They shone a ray into our eyes to make us forget all that we had seen and heard aboard their airship, but mine is not a mortal’s memory.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gilgamesh said. “All I remember is that awful skyship coming to get us on the river’s bank. We must be some distance away from the river now.”

  “Indeed so. We are in the hill country, dropped off here by Utu’s Eagles.”

  “I would remember some of it, exhausted as I was, if there were truth to your teasing,” Gilgamesh said.

  Look at your feet, then,” Enkidu told him.

  Gilgamesh did. Instead of his own sandals, he was wearing odd-shaped boots. The soles of the boots were flat only in front, unlike most other boots whose entire soles were usually flat for ease of walking. At the heel these boots were bulkier and the upper part, instead of featuring the usual leather strips, was solid and covered not just the foot, but also the lower part of the leg. From the boot’s top there extended flaps, like the ears of an ass but shorter.

  Gilgamesh bent and touched the silvery material of the boots. Though it looked metallic, it was soft and pliable, but it was neither leather nor cloth. He stared at Enkidu; he was wearing the same kind of boots.

  “In god’s name,” Gilgamesh said, “what kind of footwear is this?”

  “Jump!” Enkidu replied.

  Gilgamesh, puzzled, followed his comrade’s suggestion. Taking a few quick strides, he jumped, aiming to land a few cubits away. But unexpectedly he soared high, higher than he had ever jumped before, and landed hard many cubits farther. Disbelieving his own feat, he jumped again. Again he soared high and far, again landing hard then tumbling on his back.

  Enkidu was roaring with laughter. With one big jump he was by his comrade’s side, helping him up.

  “These boots have magic,” he said. “A gift of the Anunnaki of the Boat of Heaven.”

  “I know not what you’re talking about,” Gilgamesh said, annoyed.

  “So be it,” Enkidu said. “You were meant to forget all and you did. What I can say is that the Lord Utu intervened, having heard our call for help. We were brought to the vicinity of the Cedar Mountain and given these magical boots to help us reach your destination.”

  “My destination, as you put it, is the Landing Place. Now which way is it?”

  “It lies to the west, of this I am certain. But whether we should make our way there, certain I am not,” Enkidu told him. “It is hidden in the Cedar Forest, which extends for ten thousand leagues. Who is there to point out the entrance? And the entrance, my friend, by awesome Huwawa is guarded.”

  “Huwawa?”

  “A monster! As a terror to mortals the Lord Enlil appointed him. His roaring is like the storm-flood, his mouth throws fire, his breath is a seizing death! Woe is there to him who challenges Huwawa. An unequal struggle it shall be, a certain death!”

  Gilgamesh stood silently, casting his gaze upon the surrounding hills. He sighed and there were tears in his eyes. His right hand jerked awkwardly. “What is it?” Enkidu inquired.

  “A reminder of sorts,” Gilgamesh replied. He wiped his tears and turned to face Enkidu. “Oh, my friend,” he said, “shall I fear Huwawa when numbered are my days? Whatever I had achieved is but a wisp of wind . . .”

  “I’ve spoken to caution, not to stop you,” Enkidu told him.

  “Say not words of fear to me, Enkidu,” Gilgamesh said, putting his hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “Instead, let your mouth call to me: ‘Advance, Gilgamesh, fear not!’ For should I fail to attain my target, I will still make my name for all time remembered. ‘Gilgamesh,’ they will say in days to come, ‘against the fierce Huwawa had fallen. Of all men, he alone scaled the Cedar Mountain.’ This, my friend, of Gilgamesh shall be said, long after I have fallen. But if I gain the upper hand, the Heavens I will surely scale!”

  Enkidu raised his right hand and the two locked arms.

  “Let’s go, then,” Enkidu said, “and may Utu continue to watch over us.”

  At first the two comrades had real fun walking with the magic boots. It was exhilarating to be able to make one small step but hop the distance of five, or take a giant stride and soar in an arc, landing fifty lengths away. Like two young boys—nay, like small children learning to walk—Gilgamesh and Enkidu tried and tested their acquired ability, taking different strides, aiming where to land, trying not to land too hard. But try as they might, they did fall and tumble many times, and when at last they decided to rest, Enkidu guessed that they had traversed some ten leagues.

  “I’m hungry,” Gilgamesh said.

  “And I am thirsty,” Enkidu replied.

  They rested, then resumed their advance westward. The terrain was becoming hillier and bushes were giving way to trees. It was becoming increasingly difficult to take the giant strides without coming down hard against a tree. Having had his fill of pain and bruises, Gilgamesh took off the boots.

  “I’d rather walk barefoot with less haste than keep falling and breaking my bones,” he said.

  For a while Enkidu kept making the great strides, stopping each time to let Gilgamesh catch up with him. But he too was slowing down for lack of water, and at twenty leagues they both stopped to rest. Enkidu also took off his boots.

  “The gifts of the gods,” he said, “are like a flower that hides its thorn. Within the blessing a curse is concealed.”

  “Indeed so,” Gilgamesh said. “Having come to our rescue, why didn’t Lord Utu put us down at the Cedar Forest, not myriad leagues away?”

  “My maker, the great Lord Enki, taught me this,” Enkidu said. “‘Even when the gods take man under their wing, they leave enough challenge for man to strive and gain or surrender and fail.’ The gods, my friend, help those who help themselves.”

  “I’m tired and hungry and thirsty,” Gilgamesh told him.

  “And I am running low on my fluids,” Enkidu said. “We shall dig a well.”

  “I see no stream, no source of water,” Gilgamesh said.

  “In the vale, where the bushes are thick, we will dig a well,” Enkidu replied, pointing to the place he had in mind.

  When they had reached the spot, Enkidu broke a twig off a bush and began to probe the ground
. “When the rains come and the water runs down the hills to form rivulets,” he said, “this softer soil absorbs it. Sometimes, depending on the rocks below the surface, water remains captured. Where bushes cluster, though the surface is dry, there, my friend, water might be found.”

  Finding a suitable spot using his twig, he began to poke deeper into the ground.

  “Here!” he announced to Gilgamesh.

  With a mighty pull he uprooted a large bush. Then he showed Gilgamesh how to help him remove stones and soil from the cavity. Unsatisfied with the progress, Enkidu stripped the bush of its branches and used the bare trunk as a wedge to loosen the rocks and soil, while Gilgamesh deftly removed them to keep deepening the shaft. Thus it was Gilgamesh who was first to feel the moist soil, deep down where the roots had their farthest reach.

  “There is water down there!” he shouted.

  Working with their hands they removed the last barrier of soil and reached the subterranean water. Enkidu wet his hand and touched it to his lips, and Gilgamesh did likewise. They repeatedly wetted their lips, resting in between, and gradually felt their strength being restored. Then, using only his powerful hands, Enkidu deepened the shaft until he could scoop up palmfuls of water. He drank until he had had his fill, and so did Gilgamesh.

  “If only I had some food,” Gilgamesh said, “I would praise the Lord Utu without reservation.”

  “Try the berries that grow on the bushes,” Enkidu replied. “Eat one or two and see how they taste.”

  They tasted good, and Gilgamesh ate more until he had had enough. He looked at Enkidu and smiled. “The gods indeed help those who help themselves,” he said.

  “Well spoken,” Enkidu answered. “Let’s do what the words mean. There’s still daylight left. Let’s put on the magic boots and advance to the Cedar Forest!”

  Invigorated, and now more experienced in handling the boots’ thrusting force, the comrades made good progress. The terrain was changing as they followed the westward sun. Hills were giving way to mountains, bushes to trees. Here and there they encountered forest animals, and more birds were about. Their climb got steeper, and they realized how impossible it would have been without the help of the magic boots.

  And then as they reached the top of one of the peaks, they could see the Cedar Mountains, rising as a wall of green between them and the setting sun.

  They stood breathless for a while, saying not a word. Then Gilgamesh let out a cry—not words, but a cry like a lion’s roar—and jumping and soaring, he ran down the slope toward the next peak. Exhilarated, Enkidu followed suit.

  They rushed up the top of the peak. Green cedar trees were growing on its slope that faced west. Now the comrades stood, casting their gaze about. Wherever they looked they saw the thick, deep green of cedar trees covering peak after peak, covering the whole mountain range. Straight tall trees with luxuriant branches and leaves rose high to the sky, their tops on the farther peaks lost among misty clouds.

  They stood speechless for a long while, just gazing. Then the air’s chill brought them back to their senses and they began to make their way down the slope to a valley below. There they would spend the night before scaling the next mountain on the morrow.

  The chill made them grasp each other as they lay down to rest, and sleep came over them soon after the surge of the night. At midnight, sleep departed Gilgamesh as he was disturbed by a dream. He awakened Enkidu, for the dream put fright into him.

  “My friend,” he said, “in my sleep, a dream I have seen. I saw a mountain with tall trees upon it. Two small reeds were growing among the tall trees. Then there came a storm, so strong that it toppled the mountain. And all was gone but for the two reeds.”

  “It’s a favorable dream,” Enkidu told him. “The tall trees are the trees of the Cedar Forest. The mountain is the Cedar Mountain. The storm is Huwawa, the mighty guardian of the forest. And the two reeds are the two of us. Your dream, Gilgamesh, is a good omen: We shall reach the Cedar Forest, over Huwawa we shall prevail, and when the battle with the monster is done, the two of us shall remain unharmed.”

  Pleased with the dream’s interpretation, Enkidu went back to sleep. Awhile later, Gilgamesh, too, fell asleep. Toward morning he was awakened by a cold shower. Then, to his utter amazement, the drops of water turned white, as though mountain barley was falling from the skies. Fearful of the sight, he put his chin between his knees, hiding his face. But the white grains continued to fall from the skies and soon he and Enkidu and everything around them were covered with soft white feathers. Gilgamesh tried to collect the stuff, but it became water in his hands. Again he awakened Enkidu, who did not feel the white grains upon his body.

  “It’s called snow,” Enkidu said. “The cold of the air makes the raindrops turn white.”

  Gilgamesh looked at him in disbelief. “There’s never been the likes of this in Erech,” he said.

  “It happens only where there are high mountains,” Enkidu replied. He put snow to his mouth and drank it as it melted. Gilgamesh did likewise.

  “Indeed, this snow turns into water,” he said, smiling. “But now I feel hungry.”

  “When daylight comes, we’ll look for berries,” Enkidu told him. “In the meantime, could I have some more sleep, undisturbed?”

  * * *

  “There’s an incoming skyship. Pilot identifies herself as the Lady Ishtar,” the voice on the speaker in Utu’s chamber announced.

  The sun had been up for more than a double-hour already.

  “It’s about time!” Utu said to Uranshan. “Let’s go, I want to meet her on the platform!”

  With other commanders hurrying behind him, the group rushed up to the platform. They arrived just in time to see Ishtar’s silvery globe coming fast toward the landing spot. But to their surprise, it did not slow down to hover before it made landing. Instead it whooshed over their heads, forcing them to drop to the platform.

  “You are breaking the regulations!” the Platform Director shouted into his helmet.

  The skyship performed a tight circle in the sky and whooshed down again toward the group headed by Utu.

  “The Lady Ishtar has a message for my lord,” the Platform Director said to Utu. “‘He who awaits me, let him come and seek.’”

  “Still as playful as a lion’s cub!” Utu exclaimed as the group recovered its breath. “Let me have your helmet!” he shouted to the Platform Director. And once he had it, he quickly climbed into one of the parked skyships and started its engines. Within moments the skyship lifted and hovered in place. Then, with its legs not yet retracted, it took off in a steep ascending angle in the direction that Ishtar had flown.

  Maneuvering his craft higher and higher, Utu searched the skies for Ishtar’s skyship. Frustrated, he shouted into the helmet’s Whispering Stone, “Hail sister! Hail sister! Whereabouts are you, Ishtar?”

  There was no answer, and he went on circling the skies, rising into the clouds, descending to the treetops. Then he heard his sister’s rolling laughter and her silvery globe suddenly whooshed down from some where above his skyship. It circled his and then disappeared into the clouds. For a fleeting moment, as he lifted his eyes in astonishment, he caught sight of his sister’s face showing through the porthole of her craft, and her enchanting laughter rolled again in his ears.

  “Come and get me, Shamash!” she shouted, calling him by his nickname.

  “Bitch!” he retorted, maneuvering his skyship into the clouds after her.

  He caught sight of her silver dot against the backdrop of dark clouds and in a moment his ship was beside hers. “Wing to wing!” he shouted, triumphantly.

  “Come over and get me!” Ishtar shouted back. “There’s hunger in my body!”

  “Come down then,” he said, extending the legs of his skyship as a signal. Ishtar laughed, and in a moment she changed her skyship’s position so that it flew almost suspended between the legs of Utu’s ship.

  “Come with me to our favorite lake,” she said. “Let us fro
lic again, Shamash, as when we were young!”

  “We had no responsibilities then,” he said into his helmet. “Now, a mission we have to accomplish.” And, breaking off contact, he directed his skyship to the landing platform.

  No sooner had he landed than Ishtar did too. He stood by to greet her, and as she stepped out of her skyship he rushed forward and the two embraced and kissed, Ishtar barely containing her passion. “Let me take you down to wash and rest,” Utu said.

  But Ishtar claimed she was not tired at all. “Let us go to your quarters,” she suggested, and he led her there.

  Once alone, the two embraced again, Ishtar without holding back the passion burning within her. “Oh my brother, how I have longed for you, as in the days of our youth!” she whispered as they kissed again and again. But Shamash, she soon realized, did not match her passion. He moved his head back to take a good look at his sister.

  “Beautiful as ever!” he pronounced. And indeed she was, though he could see from this close angle that she had aged since he had seen her last.

  For the first time since they had met that day, Ishtar contemplated her brother—the valiant young god, the commander of the space facilities, the dashing pilot, her playmate since the day they’d been born, her partner in tasting the forbidden fruits of Knowing as together they’d discovered and shared the joys of lovemaking.

  She looked and saw a different Shamash now. Instead of challenging mischief, there was a look of wisdom—a calm wisdom—in his eyes, and there was the long beard that he had let grow ever since he had no more need of wearing the deep-space helmets. Oh, how he has aged! Ishtar thought with a shudder, but said nothing of that. Instead she felt his muscles, and with a light giggle said, “Oh, how strong you still are, my valiant brother!”

  But he had caught her look and noticed how she had phrased her compliment, as if the opposite was true. He took her hand and set her beside him.

  “The curse of our Earthly birth is upon us, my sister,” he said softly. “Though the essence of Nibiru is within us, Earth’s destiny is cutting our life span short.”