1 mušen: bird (muš, 'reptile', + an, 'sky') [MUŠEN archaic frequency: 178]. máš-ñi6, maš-ñi6: *night-time vision, dream; omen ('goat/extispicy' + 'black/night'). 1*gíg, ñíg, gi6, ge6, ñi6, ñe6, mi, mé, ku10; gi25 *n., night (sounds represent the throat chamber or the mouth as an enclosed dark chamber) [GI6 archaic frequency: 105].* v., to be black or dark (ku10: reduplication class). 2 en-nu(-un/ùña)...dù/ak: to watch; to guard against. * lúdab5-ba: hired man ('to hire' + nominative). 3 uru-šà-ga: the interior city (contrasts to uru-bar-ra)('city' + 'inside' + nominative). 4 zag-uru: outskirts of the city ('edge, limit' + 'city'). 5 da-ri: driver (of animals) ('to protect' + rig; ri,'to bring, tend'). 6 ká-mè: wings of a temple door ('gate' + 'battle'). sañ (an-šè)...íl: to lift the head (towards heaven); to raise up ('head' ( + 'unto heaven') + 'to liftSpeaking Past
Eanatum had not exaggerated, Damuzi reflected, watching the youth move among the guests. Hair black as midnight fell in a loosely gathered, silky rope down his back to nearly cover the sweet curve of buttocks beneath the filmy tunic. Eanatum had gone to some expense to show off his newest prize. The fabric, still plain as befitted a slave, was nonetheless finely woven, clinging to hips and chest like a second skin. Where it gapped at sides and throat, pale skin flashed against the darker cloth, and occasionally gave glimpses of dusky rose nipples. He wore bronze at his upper arms and his wrists, his collar hammered thin to lay across his throat like molten metal.
Damuzi watched him before advancing; noting the turn of his leg, of his ankle, where leather laces held sandals that revealed narrow, well-kept feet. Lips that were red without rouge murmured offerings of delicacies to the guests and dark lashes ghosted over cheeks that held a hint of red. When the lashes lifted Damuzi felt his breath catch at the blueness of the eyes. Dark as the seas he had so recently crossed.
Eanatum's slave was not quite a child but not much past it either; he had all the grace of a dancer and the aplomb of a courtesan -- something Eanatum had trained him to, no doubt. None at all.
"I spoke the truth," Eanatum said, smugly satisfied by the way Damuzi could not tear his eyes from the boy. He managed to come upon Damuzi unawares and the sound of his voice snapped Damuzi from his observation as little else would have.
"For once," Damuzi murmured, showing none of his surprise, his voice coolly dismissive. Still... "You must be desperate for the money to consider selling such a treasure. Surely he would bring you more over time."
"Likely," Eanatum agreed. "But time is not something I have much of -- pressing debts," Eanatum said with a curious lack of bartering intent and Damuzi looked at him. Eanatum looked perturbed, possibly even distraught. Not emotions Damuzi usually assigned to the portly provider of exquisite flesh.
"The citizen there," Eanatum said, his gaze providing Damuzi with a direction to look. “Enudaba.”
Damuzi's own line of sight settled on the richly clad figure, a voting citizen and known to him. Known to most in recent years as his ambitions brought attention to his endeavors. Otherwise, he and Enudaba occupied by conversation with another patron and the idle attention lavished on another of Eanatum's slaves, might have passed for brothers. Or kinsmen, which they were by a vague and removed set of matriarchal bloodlines. Dark hair was close cropped and carefully curled and oiled. The skin was bronzed though not so weather tanned as Damuzi's own. Enudaba was younger by some years, sporting a full beard to obscure the fact while Damuzi's own vanity demanded he keep his jaw and cheeks scraped clean. And despite the ease at which his kinsman lay on the low cushioned couch, he looked out of place in such soft environs.
"He has managed to garner any number of debts of mine and has called them all due. I must settle or lose all, including Musen-ni."[1]Eanatum's voice tightened at that, and Damuzi pulled his own gaze back lest Enudaba catch him staring and take it for a challenge.
Blackbird. An apt name for the creature. "Drawn to bright and pretty things, is he?"
Eanatum chuckled. "Not so much -- he's no thief. He is a bright and pretty thing though."
"Why not put him up for auction?"
"There is no way to guarantee the price I need."
"It's an outrageous sum."
Eanatum nodded and wiped at his reddened nose. "I don't disagree entirely -- but, make good my debts and you will have him as well as what services my house may provide. Once Enudaba[3] is settled." He caught the eye of his house master and indicated he should bring Musen-ni to them.
"I know Enudaba," Damuzi said and nodded at the subject of their conversation. Ambitious and dangerous -- a landowner and soldier with much influence in the council --- nearly as much influence as Damuzi himself wielded. Usually in opposition. He studied the other man speculatively. A man of appetites but not usually so rash as to gamble so much for a slave. There was more to this tale.
Enudaba acknowledged the exchange with a darkened gaze as Musen-ni passed his tray to Sutumu and approached his master, dropping gracefully to one knee on the step below them. "Head up, Musen," Eanatum said. "Let En-nir Damuzi see your face."
Not that Damuzi needed to again, but he was caught again by the delicate beauty of the boy's face. Black eyebrows arched like wings across his eyes which were no less startlingly blue up close as they had been at a distance. Not a single freckle nor mole marred the boy's face, the throat was long and pale enough to make him the envy of half the ladies present.
"There is more," Eanatum said and gestured for Musen-ni to rise. "More reason for my offer to you, my lord," he said and gestured for Damuzi to accompany him.
Curious, Damuzi agreed, glancing back once to see Enudaba watching them, gaze gone from dark to stormy. He hid his smile as he followed his host.
It was a small chamber but comfortable, meant for meetings, not assignations. Eanatum gestured for Damuzi to sit on one of the cushioned lounges. Tapestries following the planting and harvesting and trading seasons graced the solid four walls, obscuring the stone with their woven and dyed pastorals. There were nods to half a dozen gods and goddesses mounted on plaques along the walls. Eanatum was ever one to curry favor from as many points as he could. Through the open doorway there was still the murmur of sound and music but it was clotted and indistinct.
Eanatum himself served Damuzi the too sweet wine and then murmured in Musen-ni’s ear. Hardly an expression had crossed the boy's face but he nodded and undid the fastenings of his tunic.
Damuzi had no doubt the boy would be as exquisite unclothed as he was clothed, nor was he disappointed. The width of his shoulders hid some of his slenderness but not all and he was slim from waist to hips, long legged, despite his lack of serious height. A gesture from Eanatum and the band of cloth covering his genitals was dropped as well, revealing bare flesh without a trace of pubic hair, the skin smooth which spoke of a natural condition rather than artifice. His genitals were shapely and compact at rest, the same dusky rose hue as his nipples and lips.
Then he turned, sweeping the long mane of hair aside and Damuzi sat forward, eyes narrowed. He had not seen the markings on the boy's body. The subtle design covering nearly his entire back from shoulders to the swell of buttocks, the pattern beguiling and breathtaking and familiar to one of Damuzi’s interests.
"The pattern is true. One such as Enudaba would know what it is; could use it as it was not meant to be," Eanatum murmured, watching Damuzi carefully.
Damuzi rose, Musen-ni remaining still and unflinching as Damuzi’s hands were laid along his back. The boy was warm, almost feverish, but the skin was supple and smooth. He traced a single pattern and felt the muscles beneath the skin react to his touch. "What say you?" he asked, hardly a whisper, his hands carefully laid along the patterns.
"This house will fall, en-nir," Musen-ni said, a voice softer and deeper than Damuzi expected as the boy stretched greedily under his touch, words spilling from his lips under the compulsion of the Seer's pattern on his back. "Save I be allowed to fulfill the secrets in my soul. I told as much to En-nir Eanatum a fortnight ago."
Eanatum confirmed it with a nod. "They came to me -- the priestesses -- as I passed Sanká-mè, to take him as he was, to bring his path to Mes-lal. He knew his art and his skill and has served thus for the past turning of the year. Enudaba had him but once and the boy spoke."
"I'm not meant for him," Musen-ni said, half twisting to look up at Damuzi, fully aroused at just his touch, the dark wispy strands of his hair caressing the flushed and full penis as it reached upward. "But he will have me if I am not taken by another."
"And of those I know, only you would have the price and the understanding," Eanatum said. "I am unlikely as you to be destiny's tool, but that I am."
Damuzi let his finger trace a second pattern and watched the boy arch under his touch. "There will be a ship soon. It will take you to the place of many ships, where the mountains burned." Musen-ni spoke with assurance, but it was not his words that gave passion to his body. Damuzi caught Musen-ni’s chin, looking sharply at the boy. "So it is. I sail in a week's time, for Vesivius."
"Then he is meant to be your guide," Eanatum said and for once his anxiety showed. "He has seen my house fall, but only if I remain. Pay my debt, Damuzi. Take the boy, take what is left of my house and I will serve you as I serve myself."
"Of that, I have no doubt," Damuzi said with a dry chuckle. He needed to think and yet, he did not. Not for the immediate decision. "Send a servant to my house and summon Agarin here. I'll make your price, Eanatum."
Eanatum gave a sigh, his relief obvious. "As you will, my lord. I will leave you here, my own guards at the door. Enudaba is not a fool."
"No," Damuzi agreed as Eanatum passed them and left. His gaze returned to the beguiling creature at his feet. "Seer's child. You and your kin are rumors to many."
"But real to a choice few, en-nir," Musen-ni said and rubbed his cheek against Damuzi’s hand. "You have but to know me to know your own future."
"You so easily give to your fate, child. Have you no resentment for being painted into your destiny so? To have no thought of children of your own?"
There was a soft laugh and Musen-ni twisted further, a sinuous movement that made Damuzi’s heart pound. "I think the priestesses knew such desires were not mine before they bound me so, en-nir. I am what I am meant to be."
Beguiling and seductive, Damuzi thought with some humor, dropping his fingers across the pale chest to stroke one nipple. Half creature of legend, half child of fate. The goddesses and gods were wiser than he, surely? He pinched gently and was rewarded by a soft moan of pleasure. Not his yet, but he bent his head to capture the moist, waiting lips. Eanatum was not the only tool of destiny.
Sweet with a hint of honey in the wax that kept his lips so moist. Passive, but Damuzi was no neophyte to the ways of a trained whore, and Musen-ni had been well trained. There was hunger there too, carefully checked. Not so passive a tool of fate, then. The thought pleased him and he caught the boy by the shoulders, drawing him upward. Warm arms wrapped around him knowingly. "So eager, blackbird? I do not own you yet."
"I think you do, en-nir," Musen-ni whispered against his mouth. Enudaba would have desired this even without the knowledge of the Seer's mark on the pale back. Another pattern traced and Musen-ni shuddered, body taut under the compulsion. The most sacred of prostitutes for those that believed in the old ways.
"What did you tell Enudaba?" Damuzi asked, letting his fingers slide over the warm rise of flesh.
"What I must, that he could be Lugal of Mes-lal with me at his side. That he could take the Islands and further."
Truth would be part of the spell, once it was invoked, as Damuzi had yet to do. It would take more to rid the boy of the goddess' voice for a time. No blame to be laid at Musen-ni’s feet for his gift -- his curse. The goddess had written the path to the future in his flesh, a touch rousing her caress on his soul. Her voice speaking through the voice of a boy.
"Odd that the priestesses would give you to a seller of flesh." Odder still that Nintu would lay her gift of prophecy in the body of a man at all. Sons of her flesh they may be, but she favored women -- mothers.
"I could not travel alone, en-nir," Musen-ni said, quivering at the touch between his legs. "The goddess speaks through who she will."
"In the flesh of a man. I can't but wonder if she is playing a huge joke on we poor addled men folk." Damuzi could speak and think and watch -- juggling desire with desire. He wondered what answers he might find within the walls of Sanká-mè. "But it is so with those women who speak in her voice. The touch of a man will silence her." Or so the temples claimed to keep their priestesses virgins.
"Then what she sees, what she wants done, must be done by a man," Musen-ni said. "By you."
Damuzi smiled at that, grim but intrigued. He pulled Musen-ni to the low couch and had him lay upon it. "Enough for now, blackbird. This fate of yours has already robbed me of a large fortune." He braced his hands on either side of the supine body, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. "I know less of your kind than rumor." His finger traced the line from throat to pelvis, smiling as the slim body arched to his touch. Yes, she would demand the seed of a man to be the price of her Truths. "Enudaba may well have been the destiny she meant for you, child."
"She is goddess of life, and all that I saw in his future was death," Musen-ni said, shivering and not from Damuzi’s touch. Enudaba frightened him, as well he might. The patterns on his back laid out the paths he spoke of, but she who knew of the pain of childbirth would not hesitate to let her paths be trod in pain as well as pleasure.
"Your own?"
"No, en-nir," Musen-ni spoke, eyes intent on Damuzi’s face. "Yours," he whispered.
~~~~
They were not disturbed -- Enudaba would not make so bold a move even if he suspected the reason Damuzi had accepted Eanatum's invitation. Their rivalry was neither public nor obvious, nor was it really personal. Ideologies were the one thing they did not share. But Enudaba was in no way pleased when Eanatum delivered the price of his debts and Damuzi emerged with Musen-ni on his arm, the boy once more clothed and quiet.
So, it had not been personal, and Damuzi finally gave some thought to how deep a chasm destiny had opened before him. Somehow he and Enudaba had been fated to be at odds over some prize Damuzi had been unaware of -- and still did not understand.
And Eanatum was a damnably good tactician. His tale alone might have convinced Damuzi to make good his debts, but it had not hurt for his potential savior to have a glimpse at his prize first. Even without the Seer's mark upon him, Damuzi might have been tempted, as Eanatum had known. And would have known the truth by the marks alone.
He had set Damuzi against Enudaba as an adversary and Damuzi was unclear why. Eanatum, for his vows of service, plead innocence, and Damuzi was half inclined to believe him. Perhaps the goddess had more a hand in this than chance. Driving them both toward something.
Toward Sanká-mè at the very least. Two days to the temple city and back and time to make his ship. He spent little enough time in Mes-lal as it was, and now less.
And his house in upheaval to ready their master for the journey.
Agarin received Musen-ni’s arrival with stoic acceptance, some of his edges softening when Musen-ni proved to be as adept at serving the needs of the house as he would be expected to serve his new master -- if Damuzi found time to explore the rights of ownership. It would have to wait. They would set out at first light and he bade Musen-ni to sleep at the foot of his bed, once Agarin had seen to provisioning the slave.
There was no protest from the blackbird, seeking sleep as easily as he had sought Damuzi’s caresses, and Damuzi found himself studying his acquisition long after the lamps had burned low. He paid no special heed to any god or goddess, honored them all with equal diffidence and attention. It was disconcerting to be the focused attention of one above others.
He was a man who loved mysteries, but only for the time it took to unravel them and his pretty blackbird was an interesting puzzle. That a male should have been within Nintu's temple at Ilades at all was unheard of. Enlil and Adad were known to give the gift of prophecy to some but Nintu, the mother of them all, her gifts were usually reserved for the women --mysteries of birth and death, of past and future. Mysteries known only to women.
Musen-ni was not the first man to be the recipient of Nintu's favors -- only the first Damuzi had met. They were rare and rarer still to be temple trained. Most of the tales he had heard spoke of madmen roaming the hills, overtaken by Nintu's presence, able to speak in prophecy but understanding none of it, bodies marked by the patterns of the future as Musen-ni's was -- but he was neither mad nor raving as far Damuzi could tell.
Which didn't mean Musen-ni was sane.
He rose and his blackbird stirred and lifted his head, watching Damuzi with solemn eyes. He was sleepy still but alert enough.
"Go back to sleep. We leave early enough in the morning," Damuzi said coming forward to stroke the silken hair lightly.
"To Ilades." Impertinent, but enough real curiosity to make Damuzi smile.
"To the temple there, yes. You grew up there?"
Musen-ni nodded and pushed himself up to half sitting, bare legs tucked under him. "Since I was an infant. I was brought to them. My mother died in childbirth -- with me. She who found me, took me there to the temple thinking they would know who might need a child or could nurse one. She had her own babe to suckle. But she saved me."
"For this," Damuzi said and sat on the edge of the bed. His own memories stirred but they were cloudy and vague. A road and a cart, his mother and younger sister. "The priestesses told you this?"
"When I was old enough to ask. They raised me instead. Suckled me on the milk of goats. Taught me their dances." He pulled the dark hair over his shoulder. "Would not let me cut this until they knew and by then I already did," he offered a small smile and stretched out again, the patterns on his back bright and ever shifting across his back, sworls of red and indigo, black linings and ochred dots. It made Damuzi's head spin and when he opened his eyes again the patterns were only black once more on pale skin.
He traced a single line and Musen-ni shuddered, lifting his head, eyes half closed. "The waters will rise early this year. Your ship...it must be well at sea before then."
"It will be," Damuzi murmured and traced the skin again but left the pattern alone. His own reluctance to take what belonged to him now was a mystery as well. Eanatum had known the boy would appeal to Damuzi, physically, if nothing else. Add temple training to that and he was a prize, add the patterns on his skin and he was priceless.
And dangerous, which only added to Damuzi's interest. No other slave was currently favored in his bed -- nor any free man or woman for that matter. He had been gone too long and was leaving again nearly immediately. "Have you ever been on a boat, Musen-ni?" Silken skin warmed under his fingers and Musen-ni moved but asked for nothing.
He shook his head. "I can swim," he offered.
"A good skill to have." Damuzi nodded and lifted his hand away. "Go back to sleep, blackbird." He spread a cloth over the youth and blew out the lamps before removing his own garments and climbing onto the bed. Musen-ni moved toward him then hesitated and lay back down, Damuzi wondering if there was confusion on the fine features.
If so, he wasn't alone in his confusion. His own flesh argued with the decision he had made and yet not made. Aside from all else, the boy was his slave, his property. He had been trained to offer pleasure and companionship. A courtesan of surpassing skill, Damuzi thought with a wry smile, or would be, would have been, had not Fate intervened.
He slept finally, not surprised by memory tainted dreams. Rising columns of stone and wood greeted him from a doorway he could not enter. In the darkness beyond, shapes moved, voices murmured and he fidgeted and finally sat, peering with some anxiety into the darkness, drawing patterns with the edge of his sandal in the dust on the stone he sat upon.
A brush of air on his cheek and he looked up then stood, his mother's face blurring before him but he knew it was her. Her travel cloak was stained and dusty, darker markings spattered here and there, smudges that were already turning from red to brown. In her arms she held a babe, his sister, and not the babe he was looking for. She took his hand and led him away, down the steps to the cart and the servants and his father. Once more settled in the back he kept his eyes on the temple long after his memories faded.
He woke to movement, feeling rested but still clear headed enough to know he had taken on something likely to show little profit but great interest. Agarin prepared the tray but it was Musen-ni who brought it to his bed while his steward went to fetch food.
Museni-ni was dressed once more, in the undyed and untrimmed cloth of a slave, his hair bound back and braided. Water for washing and he held up a cloth for Damuzi to dry his hands and face with before offering oils for his master's hair. A nod and his hands were as sure and skilled as the rest of him. Taking the tray away, Musen-ni picked up the clothing laid out for Damuzi and dressed him. He held out tunic, drape, a kirtle of metal and wood, then knelt to lace up Damuzi's sandals.
Through it all Damuzi watched him. He could see no pattern beneath the cloth and hair covering Musen-ni's back, and little showed in the boy's face save attention to the services he performed.
Agarin and another slave returned with food, Damuzi taking the bread and dried fish and fruit and telling Musen-ni to eat what he wanted of the rest.
He had little time to think on his strange acquisition despite the sudden alteration in his plans being on Musen-ni's behalf, or at least prompted by his presence. A week's time and he would, had, to put to sea, to catch the rising waters of the river to the coast. Agarin would see to household, his Ship's master would see to the provisioning.
And now, he had committed himself to implore a goddess who was not known for her willing dialogue with males to gain answers to questions he wasn't sure he knew how to ask.
He could only pray Nintu would find him more amusing than presumptuous.
~~~~
They were on the road within a wick-mark, Damuzi once more ignoring the full trappings of a nobleman at travel, much to Agarin's dismay. His place in Damuzi's household was sense of pride, but what use his pride when his master had little pride in his own place in the scheme of things?
Damuzi did allow the wagon, rather than make the journey afoot. He had little time to spare and his last runner confirmed that his Shipmaster was on schedule with seeing to supplies and cargo. Another wick mark and the carefully tended gardens and orchards3 gave way to low scrubby evergreens and grasses, kept roads to wagon ruts and the dust rose like a storm as they passed the poorer outskirts of Mes-lal[4]. Casting coins he gave to the da-ri to toss among the beggars, slivers of metal and stone, superstition keeping him on the wary sides of the gods of poverty lest they want his attention. It was enough to keep them back, scrabbling among the dirt and squabbling with each other. He looked at none of them and a glance to where Musen-ni perched on the back of the low cart, showed the dark eyes cast to the road as well.
He walked some of the way, the cart harder on his bones than the ground on his feet when the hit rough patches and laden, the cart was no faster. When he climbed down, Musen-ni followed, pacing his steps behind him, ignoring the dust even without a cloth to cover his face as Damuzi wore. The fine coating turned the black hair to grey and the bronzed skin to ash.
Past midday they stopped at a well, Damuzi watching with some amusement as Musen-ni doused himself head to foot, leaving streaks of clay and dust on otherwise fresh washed skin. The boy would test his patience and his restraint yet, wondering if Musen-ni were sulking and being deliberately provocative with his tunic clinging to him and almost transparent.
His black bird was subdued though, the eyes rarely cast up toward his face and he did not seem inclined to speak to either the da-ri[5] nor Nevim, whose old bones preferred the cart even over the roughest terrain. Still, the boy accepted his handful of dates and a swallow from the sackard Nevim kept, washing down his meal with an economy of motion and a lack of interest. By the time their meal was done, he was dry again, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"What do you see, Musen-ni?" Damuzi asked him, looking ahead as the da-ri watered the ox.
"Nothing for myself, en-nir, save my own past. Will you leave me there?"
It was an impertinent question, but it explained some of the silence. "It is not my intention, but I am not the seer."
"Nor I, en-nir, only the mouth of She who sees."
Damuzi sat on the low stone wall surrounding the well, studying his slave until he saw the boy's lips tighten. He was too well trained to speak. Damuzi could slay him here and none to interfere save call him a fool for paying so much for an empty sacrifice. He reached out and tugged the long braid. "You have not the answers I need just yet."
"I could have," and there was a definite pout in the rosy lips. It was all Damuzi could do not to laugh at the boy and then at himself for being so worried for Musen-ni's feelings.
"I can buy cheaper whores, black bird. Maybe not so pleasing, but before you reveal my fate, I should like to know if I want to know. Can you tell me that?"
Musen-ni glanced quickly at him and then dropped his gaze. "No, en-nir. Nor understand half of what I see. Save you are tied to the other some way. That the river will rise."
"Which I need no seer to tell me," Damuzi pointed out, and shielded his eyes to look to along the rise where wild dates and licorice tangled the rocks and grasses. A bit of shrub snagged his clothes as he rose and he snapped it off, offering a piece of the stick to Musen-ni to chew as he chewed his own. Then just as swiftly caught the long hair again to kiss the licorice flavored mouth. "Bide patience, black bird. Let us see what your goddess can tell me."
Damuzi wondered at his own desire to comfort a slave -- even so gifted and valuable a slave -- for the rest of the journey. But it was worth it for the humor to be restored to the boy's eyes and somewhat flattering to know his slave was as besotted as he himself was. Or that there had been a difference. Maybe it was but the absence of the fear Musen-ni felt toward Enudaba. Or maybe his emotions were as fickle as his visions.
By nightfall they had reached the outer walls of the zag-uru, not so poor as those around Mes-lal, since they served the temple as the other zag-uru served their cities. Beyond the cruder homes he could see the rise of ground that led to Sanká-mè, the well-tended path visible even from here. He sent Nevim and the da-ri ahead to find lodging for themselves and the goats, Musen-ni shouldering his master’s small bag of personal items and Damuzi himself carrying the offerings of bronze and copper, the two young goat kids plodding along beside their elders.
The path was familiar and not. It had seemed larger and longer in his dreams, frightening to his memories. Yet it had not changed. Not that he could see. Women came and went from the shadowed doorways, carrying offerings, emerging with tokens and cures for ailments of body or spirit. The kámè priestesses at the entryways were armed. What few men accompanied their women, lingered beyond the broad swath of stone and greenery, daring step no further into the realm of the goddess than was necessary. Nintu was not much worshipped but she was feared. Further south they called her Nin-Khursag. Further north she had other names – always spoken carefully.
Yet, Musen-ni did not hesitate to step on the path, already several paces away before Damuzi could call him back, and yet the boy approached unchallenged. Damuzi was aware that once he had come to the very edge of the temple before being turned away, the reason known to him once but lost now.
“Musen-ni,” his voice was sharp and carried, enough to catch the attention of the warrior-priestesses. He brought more attention to his presence than he might have wished but stood his ground, breath held as one of the black kirtled women came forward. She passed by Musen-ni without even acknowledging him.
Under the unrevealing stare, Damuzi could offer no words, inclining his head in deference to the grounds he courted.
“You have no woman to speak for you?” The priestess asked, glancing around for a female companion or servant and Damuzi shook his head. He had planned to beg the favor of some local woman to carry his message.
“None, kámè-anšè[6]. Yet I come at Her bidding I think,” he said and beckoned Musen-ni to return. “She has claimed my servant and I am here to discover her will.”
The woman’s eyes lingered only briefly on Musen-ni, sliding off his countenance with a blankness that disturbed Damuzi. She studied Damuzi though for a long moment before looking elsewhere, eyes lighting on a woman approaching the temple with an armful of cloth. “Sister-mother,” she called, and the woman stopped, looking upon the trio.
And seeing all of them, Damuzi noted, reassuring himself that his slave had not suddenly become a wraith only he could see.
"Will you take the message of the..." the kámè glanced at Damuzi again and sniffed. "The message of the En-nir to one of the níñ-áña. As a courtesy, nin-ama?"
The woman gave Damuzi a slightly more respectful look, alert as the kámè was not, of the difference between her station and the Damuzi's. "As a courtesy, kámè." She shrugged and Damuzi collected himself enough to offer a coin.
"For your courtesy, Ama," he said with a bow. She was as old as his mother and she took it, heading back to the temple steps.
The kámè sniffed and leaned on her staff, studying Damuzi with more occupation than interest. "For your courtesy, kámè?" he said and offered yet another coin, also taken, but her gaze did not drop nor her vigilance wane. Musen-ni stared at her openly and curiously but either she did not notice or was very practiced at appearing to notice nothing.
Or perhaps that was what she saw.
If she had been here long, surely she would have known of Musen-ni. It had been but a year, Eanatum had said, since the boy was given up.
It felt awkward to Damuzi, used to as he was to the customs of negotiating and bargaining, to be stared upon by the kámè and yet it would be rude to return her gaze as directly and disrespectful to try and engage her in idle chatter while they waited.
She, for her part, looked bored, but she stood up to her full height as the nin-ama returned, walking silently beside a priestess of some rank. On discharging her errand, the nin-ama hurried away.
Damuzi bowed, and managed to assess the priestess even as he did so. She was no warrior, no kámè, although he had no doubt she could defend her honor -- but it was not her honor he intended to challenge. And she at least, did not fail to notice Musen-ni, reassuring Damuzi that his idle fancy of having purchased a wraith, was not truth.
The priestess gave him only a moment of her attention. "Take him, and his kíñ, to the west path. Remain with him, until Avas-un arrives," she said to the kámè and then gave Damuzi a hard look before holding out a length of braided leather, looped at both ends. "Your wrist, en-nir," she commanded, but addressed him with some respect and he held out his right hand allowing her to slip the loop over his hand. "?iš-kar," she said less harshly and took Musen-ni's left hand slipping the other loop over the delicate wrist. "En-nir, do not lose your kíñ while within," she said, the only instruction she offered and Damuzin found himself amused and intrigued and unable to ask, as the priestess turned on her heel and left them. The kámè, moved as well, leading them outside the grounds and back along the path they had come.
She had touched Musen-ni yet had steadfastly and carefully been sure not to touch Damuzi. He fingered the braid as they walked, Musen-ni matching his stride, still carrying his master's bags and looked as content as Damuzi had seen him yet.
It was not far; the path angling sharply upward for a short distance to a stone path leading to the rear of the temple. There was no carefully tended profusion of growth here, the stones cleared of even the lichen that was so abundant. The approach had no shade, and the archway the faced when they stopped was guarded by wooden bars. The kámè set herself before the gate, blocking Damuzi's gaze. Only when the gate opened did she move, to glance once and bow before heading back down the path.
Avas-un was the oldest of the priestesses he had seen thus far, white hair carefully bound back in triplet of bands: the style in which Musen-ni most often bound his own hair. Her lined face was dark from the sun, her eyes, pale grey to be almost colorless.
She smiled, showing even teeth that were unyellowed by age. "Musen-ni," she said softly and Damuzi set to memory the fact that he had never seen his slave smile before, although Musen-ni smiled often. But not like this, not in such a way as to make the sun seem dull in comparison. There was tug a Damuzi's wrist before Musen-ni remembered his place. Curious, Damuzi nodded to the boy and took a step closer, not startled when his permission granted Musen-ni the right to be enfolded into the priestesses arms.
She held him for long moments before releasing him and turned her gaze to Damuzi. "Be welcome, en-nir, but do not lose that which binds you to your kin. He is your shield here, as you will be his beyond these walls."
++++
Later scene: the gifting of immortality
There was no place to go. Every entrance was blocked by the priestesses, by their novitiates, by servants. And Nintu still held Musen-ni's limp form before her as if he were nothing but a child's cloth doll.
Which in so many ways he was, or would be.
"You are a traveler, Damuzi. You seek the wide world, beyond that mountain, or that sea. But your life here is limited -- I offer you all the horizons to come. I ask but one thing, that you protect me as I am, as I will be until the world is ready to hear my voice again."
And why would she ask? She was the mother of all, the womb of the world. The headwater for all life. She could command him. "Command me."
"I cannot. Enlil, Enki, Sin, Inanna -- Their powers will fade too. Their presence. But An alone can make life, An and I. We can birth, we have that power. To command is to coerce. Already the new gods bring their own powers to the children of this place, to serve, or choose to serve. I can command no man to serve me. Not even this one," she said, cradling Musen-ni as if he were a babe. "I came to him and whispered to him and he answered. It was not my voice that asked you, but his own."
There was no reason for it, for Musen-ni to ask or not, save Nintu had made it possible.
"Your mother saved the life of an infant. You carried him to this temple when you were but a child yourself. And you stood at the doorway, unable to enter but still desiring to protect an infant that was no blood to you and unknown. He is mine and has been since the day you gave him unto me. I give him back."
It was not Nintu who made Musen-ni's skin burn with fever, or his body twisted beneath the agony lancing his flesh. She would not so submit to male. But without her presence, Musen-ni was as of the wild men, the mad men of the forests who saw visions and raved nonsense.
And Nintu would lay her madness on him as well, bind him to Musen-ni, protector and guide, or did she seek more?
But she could not, had not commanded him. He could leave this place, leave the boy, this slave to his fate. He could continue his life, seek a wife, leave children behind to sing his name to the gods on feast days.
Or he could submit to Nintu and be promised a life unimagined.
Musen-ni made a whimper of sound, his body taut then wrenched by spasms he could not control. He reached for the boy, pulling him into an embrace as Nintu had, like a babe. As a much younger version of himself had. But it was no babe's face nor body he recalled now.
He was all too aware of the eyes upon them, despite the darkness of the chamber. Aware too, as the slim body writhed and spasmed in his arms that what Nintu demanded, he had never done. Yet, had she come to him as a man he would have lain down for her as women did. But there was no goddess in this body now, only a slave, afflicted by he knew not what ailment. And if not he and Musen-ni then she might seek another until her will was answered, or she might fade from the memory of men altogether.
He had the power to destroy a goddess in his arms. He had only to do what the males of his kind already did: turn his attention and his worship to the gods of wind and sea, of war and conquest, of power and position.
He need only become as his own father, or his kinsman, Enudaba.
He could leave Musen-ni to his fate. Nintu would not be inclined to spare him; his usefulness to was only as a vessel. A conduit. She could be as callous as her husband.
And if Musen-ni lived to fulfill her prophecy?
"What fate, mother? When you leave us, what fate?" he called out, holding Musen-ni and knowing the tremors would not pass. He could almost feel the pain laid upon the boy. He felt damp with sweat under Damuzi's hands, his muscles twitched and flexed, he tried to cling to Damuzi's hands and arms but his fingers lacked control or strength. "What fate if you leave us? If the time you see never comes to pass?"
"What fate would you have, child of my daughter?"
How could he answer? After a hundred lifetimes or a thousand what would he desire or hope for? Would he be ready to let the world slip away? Would he desire to own it? Destroy it? Could he be as mad as Musen-ni now was?
"The right to choose, then," he called out. "What fate is mine, to be chosen when you once more walk the earth in your own flesh."
"So be it. Tied to his. Your fates will ever be intertwined, what you ask, you must both agree to."
"Has he no voice?" Damuzi asked, feeling anger war with wariness. She had agreed too easily.
Nintu's laughter was not a pleasant thing and Damuzi winced even as Musen-ni gasped and shook harder. "He is a slave. He is yours. He needs no will of his own. Or voice," she said on a hiss of sound, that continued long after she stopped speaking.
And had Musen-ni a will, would she have been able to so use him? She could not command Damuzi, but she could command the slave that bore her marks.
"Then let him agree now," Damuzi said and felt the air grow heavy: Nintu's anger. It was too heavy to breathe in, closing around him first like an embrace, then like a vise, robbing him of thought, sending flares of panic through him. Nintu could bring death as easily as life.
He could no longer feel Musen-ni, and the darkness of his vision came not from the lack of light. He had challenged a goddess, the mother of all. Wisdom was the domain of women.
Then the pressure upon his mind and lungs was gone. He sucked in a great breath, and coughed it out again, folding over himself, in weakness. He could only fall so far; Musen-ni's body caught between his own and the floor of the chamber. The boy's dark hair was spread across the stone like reeds, tangled and damp form sweat, his body still at last, the skin pale and cool.
He could see this and he blinked. The chamber was lit, no longer shrouded in darkness and before him crouched the Ama-sañéd, her face unveiled, her dark eyes watching him with something akin to amusement or warmth. In her hands she held a wooden bowl, which she offered to Damuzi first, to sip, the beer bitter but cool. Her hand supplanted his beneath Musen-ni's neck, to lift him and allow him to drink. He did and coughed a little then drank more and greedily, eyes opening, first to rest on her face, then on Damuzi's.
"You heard, black bird," she said. "Your voice is your own for now. What choice make you?"
"What choice can I make?" he asked, softly and gripped Damuzi's arm to pull himself upright, his arms trembling. "If I do not serve her, then who?"
"Yourself, Musen-ni," Damuzi said, the words coming to him as if prompted, and yet he could not feel Nintu. "And you do serve her, and me. But this...you know what it is she asks. That you will be the vessel in which she resides. She will leave you someday."
"And I am to choose what happens then?" Musen-ni asked, struggling to understand and it was a struggle, his own choices more theory than practice.
"So I have asked."
"You will not leave me here?" Musen-ni asked, in the same tone he had asked -- could it have only been a day ago?
"She wills it that you make this journey together," the Ama-sañéd said.
"She asks," Damuzi said, flatly, eliciting a narrowed gaze from the priestess. He ignored her, pointedly. "And if he says no, what will be his fate?" he asked the Ama.
"Nintu is not here, dun-lú. You asked for his voice, not hers," she rose to her feet and cast the beer on the floor. "He is your slave. Yet you are here, inside her temple, where no man has been. She has opened doors for you and like a man, you have asked more." The Ama-sañéd was not angry but she was near the end of her patience. "She has offered you the right to walk this earth as a god, and asked no more than a wife deserves of a husband. She gives you that which you desire and gives that," she spat the word at Musen-ni and for the first time the slave flinched, "the honor of speaking with her voice and asks only that it be not as a man to woman until she is ready to be reborn. What would be his fate had he remained yours and only yours? Would he grow old in your service? Would you cast him aside when he no longer pleased you? Or send him to idle his days in the tasks of slave who live past their usefulness?"
"You would be Musen-ni," Damuzi said quietly.
"In this world of men, I would be what Nintu wills me be," she said softly. "But I serve her. I choose. You think this cruel."
"I think this..." Damuzi paused and looked down at Musen-ni. Confusion clouded the dark eyes and yet it was Damuzi the boy looked to for guidance, for explanation. To choose.
His head ached with the warring thoughts in his brain. It was no longer a matter of what Nintu demanded to finish this course, it was but a matter of flesh and desire, and the latter at least, he could not deny. Even now. Nintu had laid her trap well and her reasons fit the world she saw in paths not yet traveled.
His fingers traveled down Musen-ni's back and the boy merely blinked, no vision over took him, nor the force of Nintu's presence. He was as he might have been, yet without the convulsions that had assaulted him. Musen-ni had not the knowledge to choose. He needed a protector, a guide, a teacher, among other things.
It made no difference what Musen-ni chose, really. He might not understand the choice he made for years to come.
"You will live out your life as long as he lives out his," Nintu said. "He will give you life as I have given all humans life. He will feed you the source of immortality as I give it to him. In his blood, in his flesh, his seed. His piss or his shit if you prefer," she said with a laugh that was at once both cruel and full of humor. "Once in a moon at least, more will not harm, less will set the hands of time upon you again. Within your own life time, you would live out your allotted years, beyond that, I do not know how quickly time will claim you."
She moved forward to crouch once more, the steady sinuous movement of a snake. "You can be killed, Damuzi. Both of your bodies can be damaged beyond my abilities to repair them. By fire, if there is no flesh left to resurrect. If your body is torn or cleaved into pieces. I cannot return lost limbs to you -- to build upon bone that no longer exists.
"Why must he have a guide, a protector, Ama?"
"Because he will need to move among the worlds of men. To live among them, be a part of him. And among the spawn of my kind as well. Among the demons and the shrifts and the wraiths and plagues of your world. And they will know him for what he is. They will know him. As they will know you to be human, they will know he is not."
"Not?" Damuzi said, glancing quickly at Musen-ni. "But he is born of woman."
Nintu nodded. "He was. But I cannot move so within him, release myself of him as he was. He is mine, Damuzi. Make no mistake. He has no soul. I have taken it from him, and until I find my place again, I will keep it."
"En-nir?" Musen-ni sounded hesitant, unsure, not understanding half of what had happened, what was being asked of him. To please Damuzi, yes. He had been trained for this, understood this. But the rest?
But to see the world as time passed over it. To travel and have no fear of getting too old before he saw all he wished to see. To have this man child at his side, a companion who might yet come to understand him more than any ever had.
Or grow tired of him. Musen-ni could learn and would. He might have been content to remain a slave for his lifetime. But forever? Should Musen-ni leave him, he would wither and die, unable to renew his own flesh. And Musen-ni would...what?
Nintu had laid her bribery too well, and even as Damuzi found himself ready to agree, he knew the real choice had been but illusion. Musen-ni still looked confused, distraught had his features not been so controlled.
"Is there a price for deceit, old woman?" Damuzi asked, expecting her anger, less than reassured by her laughter.
"Yours or mine, Damuzi?" The room grew darker again, Nintu drawing what light there was into herself and the watching eyes faded into mere flickers of reflected light. In his arms, Musen-ni's skin grew warm, the whimpering cry swallowed up in a shudder for breath, and a sudden stiffening of his limbs. "There is your choice, son of my daughter."
The entryway, thus far blocked and obscured, stood open, light spilled across the floor and no guard barred his path. Beyond he could see the edge of a sky so blue it made his eyes ache, feel the brush of air on his cheek and scent the dust and eucalyptus beyond the temple walls.
He was tempted. She knew he would be, his mouth opened to speak as he felt life return to Musen-ni's limbs -- or at least some control. The boy rolled to his side, then to his knees, pulling himself up as one who had lain still for too long, or was unaccustomed to the feel of flesh.
And so it was. At least to the feel of this flesh, that of a male. The yes that turned to look upon him were no longer the blue of the see and sky, but were green and burning, eyes of green and growing things. Eyes that echoed the edge of the flames that sometimes erupted from the earth.
"Speak or go, Damuzi." The voice was not Nintu's, nor Musen-ni's but some of both and nothing of either.
The glimpse of sky and earth faded from his view as he turned to look at her, at him, at them. Seeing Musen-ni, and more, for it was the boy with all his grace and Nintu with all her power.
And he was very afraid. What sound he could summon would be denial, and yet he found himself unable to deny and instead only rose to his own knees and undid the clasp of his tunic.
Dark, fiery eyes narrowed, and Damuzi found himself attacked, pushed back so that his bare shoulders felt the ice of the stone, and his back felt the rub of rough cloth. The strength in the fine boned hands was not that of a boy's or even of a man's…his will faltered as quickly as his flesh, and yet he could not turn away, nor fight back, even were it truly an assault of violence rather than of triumph.
He expected pain, and felt it, but not so much that his voice found cause to let loose the scream building in his lungs. Where Musen-ni's hair brushed over his skin -- and that was everywhere -- was like to feeling a lash upon his flesh. The skin the hands on his arms, on his thighs, was hot like a brand and yet left no mark. The pain within was shocking and brief, and his own breath echoed the grunts of effort Nintu offered in the taking.
Until she filled him and it was the ice that soaked his veins, froze his gut, stilled his heart in shock and disbelief, even as one hot hand dragged up from his guts what would be demanded of so holy and unholy a union. His own seed burned and tore at him on release, smearing his skin and her hands with white blood.
She licked it clean even as Damuzi arched away, feeling her pierce him yet again, deep and savagely. "Thus does woman give birth to man," she whispered in his ear and laid a kiss upon his bloodless lips.
Like a babe torn from it's mother's womb too soon, Damuzi was ripped and torn from the life he knew and cast into darkness.
+++++
"En-nir, you must drink." The voice had no form, nor the hand that lifted his head any substance, but the drink was cool and sweet, easing the ache in his raw throat that he did not feel until the liquid slid across the tortured tissues. Again, and he could feel the hand at the back of his neck this time.
The Ama-sañéd, for it could be only she to appear to him unveiled, to touch him without cloth between her hand and his flesh. It confused him for a long moment, that and the deep aching void he felt inside.
Or soon would. Ancient she might be, but the Ama-sañéd could move quickly enough and the basin was in her hand before the first offerings of bile and sweet wine left Damuzi's belly. Or perhaps only the latest offering. The bottom of the basin was already wet. She eased him back: he had not the strength to do it himself.
"Nañ, en-nir," she bade him and he could not refuse, even though the sweet drink threatened to once more turn his stomach inside out.
It remained and after a moment, Damuzi dared to look, without moving his head, which felt not entirely attached to the rest of him. He wasn't sure that was necessarily a bad thing.
The room was light, though filtered -- no glaring of sunlight or lamplight pierced eyes that watered too frequently. It was small and modest: A keeper's hut, a šudug, he thought for the walls were not of stone but of clay and straw. The cot on which he lay was equally padded with straw, but the cloth beneath him was thick and soft, only the rustling when he moved indicating what padded his aching muscles and bones.
Deep aches and he clenched his teeth as memory prompted pain, deep and tearing to his belly and lower. He felt as though he'd been ripped apart and sewn together again. The Ama-sañéd, murmured something, chanted, laid her hand along his hip and side without touching him. She laid damp warm cloths along his belly and back side, pressed them between his legs and warned him with a glance when he would have drawn away. "She was not gentle. Be still," she warned and after a moment the heat helped, eased the cramps. There was coldness still within.
He did not think it would pass soon.
"Where is Musen-ni?" he asked when wine and the heat eased his discomfort some.
She only rolled him slightly so he could see.
The boy was on the floor, although he lay on a thick pad not unlike the mat Damuzi lay upon. He was paler than he had been, the black of his hair making it seem more so, body curled in on himself as if he too, felt pain in gut and groin. It may well have been so, for Damuzi could see blood on the saffron cloth laying lightly across the boy.
"The moon is dark tonight, en-nir," the Ama-sañéd said. "Before it darkens again, remember the terms of your gift."
Gift or curse. He still could not decide.
+++++
There was an anxious look to his ship-master's face, one that only eased once he recognized Damuzi. He took in the ascertaining stare, the set of his master's face and set men to loading the master's things, eyes barely flickering to Damuzi's companion.
"There's no need to wait for me," Damuzi said, startling them both by the low gravelly sound of his own voice. "Sail at will." He pulled Musen-ni forward, letting the men move and flow about them and turned Musen-ni's back to the ship's master, a low command and the boy dropped his tunic and lifted his hair away form his back.
Men slowed, pasued to see what their master had borught on board, a few making a ward or sign at the marks and patterns. The Ship's master's eyes narrowed.
"He serves only me," Damuzi said, as much for the all even though his eyes never left the ship master's face. "Be sure they all know."
There was a terse nod and the master's eyes moved over the crew, making eye contact with all he could, seeing both understanding and fear and envy in some faces. The last deserved the scowl they got.
They would understand. They would obey.
Pressure on the back of Musen-ni's head had him moving again, walking the length of the boat so none could mistake him -- not that they would -- but he let the tunic slip and gathered it up, eyes cast down, hair all but obscuring his face. Stopping when he was near the broad expanse of wood that led below and Damuzi's hand was upon his shoulder. Flushing at the touch that knew how to command, as he felt the stirring of the goddess upon his flesh and set her whisper in his ear, again. His hands braced at the doorway, and all eyes fell upon him, feasted on him, bewitched flesh or not.
"Your lives and your deaths are written here," Damuzi said, turning to look over his crew. "For me to read. Remember it."
There was a murmur, voices caught up in prayer or acknowledgement for the spirit moving among them. A good omen to some, to have the favor of Nintu upon the waters where women so rarely ventured.
The flat of his hand caressed the soft, firm buttocks, then clawed and spread upward, raking passage over Musen-ni's flesh and he shuddered, was turned to cast his seed upon the decks, gasping for air as Damuzi left him and went below, moving only to settle on his knees as a brave few came forward to touch the scattered seed to tunic or amulet.
"Get below, boy," the ship's master finally said, and Musen-ni went, descending intothe dim light as he felt the water spatter across the back of his legs from a bucket of the sea set to clean the planks.
There were not many places Damuzi could be and Musen-ni found him, found the blankets of his pallet and gathered himself to set his master's things to right in the small cabin. Damuzi could not stand fully save just inside the door. His slave had more room, but the quarters were small and even Damuzi's cot would not allow him to stretch full out. Beneath the planking went what gear and clothing they had, including the pallet for Musen-ni. The room was for sleeping and little else.
A cry from above and Musen-ni paled slightly as the boat rocked and shifted, swaying into the swell of the current, but he continued his work. "Do not tempt them," Damuzi said quietly, feeling the boy's eyes upon him.
"No, en-nir," Musen-ni whispered.
"Meals are prepared above decks. You will serve me there and curry no scraps from the cook. From my plate, only, black bird."
"Aya, en-nir," Musen-ni said, then braced his hand to the wall as the ship lurched and turned.
"There is water above too, be sure to drink at will and enough. This sun will leach the blood form your bones as easily as the desert."
Musen-ni nodded again, lifting his head to the sound of ropes and sails, the creak of wood.
Damuzi bade him dress then sent him to fetch water, ignoring the hesitation in the boy as he changed from the robes he'd traveled in to the shorter kirtle and robe of a ship's man. Musen-ni walked easily enough against the sway and rock, and returned with his bowl of water, drinking after Damuzi did and taking the bowl back up when Damuzi headed up.
There was little for the boy to do and Damuzi left him at the side, watching the shores retreat, those bright, dark eyes cast to water and sky. The men watched the black bird -- as much as they could with the ship's master cracking his voice along the gunwales as easily as he would cast a whip.
It was in him to take Musen-ni as Nintu had taken him. He lifted the boy's chin and searched the dark eyes but saw none of the green, none of the fire. She moved on his flesh still, in his flesh. She was there, and Damuzi's own anger was anchored deep. He let his hand slip around the slender throat, under the dark hair, gathered and twisted it, jerking the boy's head back and pulling upward.
No sound escaped Musen-ni and even the widening of his eyes was quickly controlled, his gaze dropping.
She moved in Damuzi as well. In his blood, in his dreams. Burned in his loins and along his skin.
The mouth was as sweet as he recalled, tasting of honey and bruised fruit, wet and unresisting, and the flutter of Musen-ni's pulse was strong and panicked although the boy made no sound of protest, nor made any effort to deny the assault.
The cloth tore easily, leaving the red welt of a burn across the boy's shoulder, the fabric dropping settling at the swell of hips and ass. On his back the seer's marks moved and shifted, Damuzi caught by the patterns as he traced them, felt Musen-ni tremble.
He let his fingers follow the long line of ochre dots until they faded at the swell of buttocks, and slipped his hand between the firm cheeks. Little matter now who owned who, but he watched the unlined face, daring Nintu to make her presence known.
She did not show, would not, he knew, save in her own time, even as he thrust the boy down, on his back to hide those marks, bending one slender leg upward to open him and pushing the cloth back, eyes ever on the face that watched him both warily and with no protest. The genitals flushed and swelled as Damuzi drove his fingers deeply inward, twisting them, smiling in both appreciation and grim amusement as the boy writhed, dry flesh against dry fingers.
He offered the same fingers to the boy's lips, watched them grow wet, then replaced them and caught Musen-ni's wrists against the bed.
There was still beauty there, and what more choice did Museni-ni have, to be slave to both Damuzi and to Nintu?
His anger fled as quickly as it had risen and he found the oil, easing his rending of the boy's warm insides and feeling his own needs and desires rise. With more gentleness he pulled the rest of the tunic free, leaving a trail of oil across the pale belly. His own tunic fell and the oil left a slick place where their bellies met. Musen-ni would have twisted, the better to let Damuzi read the patterns on his back but Damuzi held him, even enjoying the boy's confusion as he eased him further onto the narrow bed and slid hands along his hips.
"Prophecy can wait, black bird," he said, finding his way, letting himself slide inward rather than force himself. Wide-eyed again and Musen-ni arched on a gasp as Damuzi filled him easily and steadily.
Damuzi could have sworn he heard her chuckle as he sought the depth and firm grip of Musen-ni's body and then ignored her.
There had been no lies here, Museni-ni's voice as clear as song on the wind, sirens could not have cried out so sweetly. Pleasure too, once the boy lost his fear and gave into his teachings. His hands roved and his mouth hungered, swept up doubt in wet kisses and in murmurs laid upon Damuzi's flesh.
The wash of his own seed was warm and white as it lay along the pale thighs and blood flushed passage. Musen-ni's own release was as sweet as the honey on his lips, and he only tightened his grip around Damuzi's shoulders when he was lifted and moved, laid again on the bed and Damuzi pressed tight to his chest. The dark hair tangled and caught and was set free.
Even as sleep claimed Damuzi, He realized that he'd need to mark the day of the moon to know when he would next need feed on the boy and then cast the thought away.
Before the dawn broke had had the boy again, this time on his belly, and watched the marks of prophecy shift, listened to the boy's gasping, dreamy revelations of wind and water, before rolling him to feed from the overflowing fountain of his seed and listen to him cry out in pleasure.
This sweet and he'd never need fear the failure of his unnatural feeding to sate him.
++++
Mark start count 11,145
[1] mušen: bird (muš, 'reptile', + an, 'sky') [MUŠEN archaic frequency: 178]. máš-ñi6, maš-ñi6: *night-time vision, dream; omen ('goat/extispicy' + 'black/night').
[2]*gíg, ñíg, gi6, ge6, ñi6, ñe6, mi, mé, ku10; gi25 *n., night (sounds represent the throat chamber or the mouth as an enclosed dark chamber) [GI6 archaic frequency: 105].* v., to be black or dark (ku10: reduplication class).
[3] en-nu(-un/ùña)...dù/ak: to watch; to guard against. * lúdab5-ba: hired man ('to hire' + nominative).
[4] uru-šà-ga: the interior city (contrasts to uru-bar-ra)('city' + 'inside' + nominative).
[5] zag-uru: outskirts of the city ('edge, limit' + 'city').
[6] da-ri: driver (of animals) ('to protect' + rig; ri,'to bring, tend').
[7] ká-mè: wings of a temple door ('gate' + 'battle'). sañ (an-šè)...íl: to lift the head (towards heaven); to raise up ('head' ( + 'unto heaven') + 'to lift
Glossary
ama: mother [AMA archaic frequency: 241; concatenates 2 sign variants]. (munus) kar-kid: prostitute (B. Alster reads munus-kar-ke4) ('marketplace' + 'reed mat'). da-ri: driver (of animals) ('to protect' + rig; ri,'to bring, tend'). dun: n., ward, pupil, subordinate. éd, è; i: to go out, emerge; to send forth; to lead or bring out; to rise; to sprout; to be or become visible; to appear as a witness (the final d appears in marû conjugation) [ED2 archaic frequency: 12; concatenates 2 sign variants]. en: n., dignitary; lord; high priest; ancestor (statue); diviner [EN archaic frequency: 1232; concatenates 3 sign variants]. en-nu(-un/ùña)...dù/ak: to watch; to guard against. * lúdab5-ba: hired man ('to hire' + nominative). é-šag4/šà: house interior; (temple) cella ('house, temple' + 'midst'). éš-kàr, éš-gàr: task; one man's daily work assignment; the oxen or plows which perform a task; to be assigned for someone's benefit ('measuring tape' + 'something round and upraised'). gi-gun4(-na), gi-gù-na: sacred building ('reeds' + 'decorated temple'). ká-mè: wings of a temple door ('gate' + 'battle'). lúdub-alal-urudu: a temple servant ('to pour' + 'pipe' + 'copper'). kíñ, kin: n., message, order; task, work (to build + to mete out to) [KIN archaic frequency: 9]. v., to seek, fetch (with locative-terminative -ni-); to send; to order (reduplication class). lugal: king; owner, master (lú, 'man', + gal, 'big') [LUGAL archaic frequency: 80]. lú: grown man; male; human being; someone, anyone, no one; gentleman [LU2 archaic frequency: 85]. nin9: sister (reduplicated ní, 'self; body; one's own'). lúníñ-áña: a temple servant ('things' + 'to measure, check'). ñiš-kar2/3: task (cf., éš-kàr). mušen: bird (muš, 'reptile', + an, 'sky') [MUŠEN archaic frequency: 178]. máš-ñi6, maš-ñi6: *night-time vision, dream; omen ('goat/extispicy' + 'black/night'). *gíg, ñíg, gi6, ge6, ñi6, ñe6, mi, mé, ku10; gi25 *n., night (sounds represent the throat chamber or the mouth as an enclosed dark chamber) [GI6 archaic frequency: 105].* v., to be black or dark (ku10: reduplication class). nir: n., prince, lord [NIR archaic frequency: 45; concatenates 2 sign variants]. pa-paþ: ella, inner sanctum of a temple (cf., Orel & Stolbova #1926, *pah- "close, lock"). rig5,7: n., list; temple ward, slave. sañ (an-šè)...íl: to lift the head (towards heaven); to raise up ('head' ( + 'unto heaven') + 'to lift up'). šu(-dañal)...dug4/du11/e: to supply, to provide (generously) with (with -ni-) ('hand' ( + 'wide, copious') + 'to effect'). tumu4, tum4[NIM]: to carry (ta, 'from', + ú, 'food', + ma4, 'to leave'). tùr; tur5: birth-hut; byre; sheepfold, pen; stable; a frequent metaphor for a temple, sanctuary (cf., tur) [TUR3 archaic frequency: 121; concatenates 3 sign variants]. ùnug, unu6 [TEMEN.ÈŠ = TE.AB]: elevated shrine, temple; living room; sanctuary. uru-šà-ga: the interior city (contrasts to uru-bar-ra)('city' + 'inside' + nominative). zag-uru: outskirts of the city ('edge, limit' + 'city').
Research notes: ancient-worlds.net
Physical features
General considerations
Having risen in close proximity, the Tigris and Euphrates diverge sharply in their upper courses, to a distance of some 250 miles at their points of greatest separation, near the Turkish-Syrian border. Their middle courses gradually approach one another, bounding a triangle of mainly barren limestone desert known as Al-Jazirah (Arabic: “The Island”). There the rivers have cut deep and permanent beds in the rock, so that their courses have undergone only minor changes since prehistoric times. Along the northeastern edge of Al-Jazirah, the Tigris drains the rain-fed heart of ancient Assyria, while along the southwestern limit the Euphrates crosses true desert.
In the alluvial plain, south of Samarra' and Ar-Ramadi, both rivers have undergone major shifts throughout the millennia, some as a consequence of human intervention. The 7,000 years of irrigation farming in the alluvium are reflected in a complex landscape of natural levees, fossil meanders, abandoned canal systems, and thousands of ancient settlement sites. The location of tells, or raised mounds—under which are found the ruins of towns and cities of ancient Babylonia and Sumeria—most often bears no relation to modern watercourses. In the vicinity of Al-Fallujah and Baghdad, the distance separating the rivers is so small (some 30 miles) that, prior to its damming, floodwaters from the Euphrates often reached the capital. During the Sasanian and Islamic periods (3rd century AD and later), an elaborate feat of engineering linked the two rivers along this narrow neck by five navigable canals (the Isa, Sarsar, Malik, and Kutha canals and the Shatt an-Nil), allowing Euphrates water to empty into the Tigris.
South of Baghdad the rivers exhibit strongly contrasting characteristics. The Tigris, especially after its confluence with the silt-laden Diyala, carries a greater volume than the Euphrates, cuts into the alluvium, forms tortuous meanders, and, even in modern times, has been subject to great floods and consequent natural levee building. Only below Al-Kut does the Tigris ride high enough over the plain to permit tapping for flow irrigation. The Euphrates, by contrast, builds its bed at a level considerably above the alluvial plain and has been used throughout history as the main source of Mesopotamian irrigation.
The Shatt al-Gharraf, now a branch of the Tigris but in ancient times the main bed of that river, joins the Euphrates below An-Nasiriyah. After flowing through marshes and Lake Al-Hammar, an open stretch of water, the Euphrates and Tigris join and flow as the Shatt al-'Arab to the Persian Gulf.
Physiography of the Euphrates
The headwaters of the Euphrates are the Murat and the Korasuyu (Karasu) in the Armenian Highland of Turkey. Considerably altered in the 20th century by water-control projects, they join to form the Euphrates at Keban, near Elazig, where the Keban Dam, completed in 1974, spans a deep gorge. The river breaks through the Taurus Mountains and descends to the ancient kingdom of Commagenes (modern Nemrutdagi region) through the Karakaya and Atatürk (Karababa) dams, both built in the 1980s. The Atatürk Dam feeds a massive irrigation project. With the Mediterranean only 100 miles to the west at this reach, the Euphrates continues south and southeast into a relatively barren part of Syria, where the cultivable floodplain is no more than a few miles wide. The Euphrates Dam (completed in 1973) impounds a large reservoir, Lake Al-Asad, above Madinat ath-Thawrah (Tabaqah). Below the dam, the greatly reduced flow is supplemented by the Balikh and the Al-Khabur rivers. Ample rainfall in the northern reaches of both these tributaries allowed the creation of major cities in ancient times and now supports intensive agriculture.
From its confluence with the Al-Khabur down to Abu Kamal, the Euphrates flows through a broad agricultural province. Below the border with Iraq, the river once again narrows to an alluvial strip between limestone escarpments. The reservoir formed by the Al-Hadithah Dam submerged the ancient town of 'Anah and dozens of smaller settlements, as well as a major part of the agricultural base of the middle Euphrates. Below Hit, the river begins to widen and irrigation increases.
Just south of the river below Ar-Ramadi lie Lakes Al-Habbaniyah and Al-Milh, both of which are large depressions into which excess Euphrates water is diverted by controlled escape. A canal links Lake Al-Habbaniyah to Lake Ath-Tharthar north of the river, which in turn draws overflow from the Tigris by canal. Between Ar-Ramadi and Al-Hindiyah—a distance of about 140 miles—the mouths of all the main controlled-irrigation canals, as well as most of the pumping installations, are to be found. At Al-Hindiyah itself the river splits into two branches, Al-Hillah and Al-Hindiyah, each of which, over the centuries, alternately has assumed importance. A barrage at Al-Hindiyah that collapsed in the late 19th century was replaced in 1908 by the present device. The Al-Hindiyah branch has been the main channel for several years. The Al-Hillah branch, which divides into numerous canals, has been extended, permitting cultivation in desert areas to the east and south. Al-Hindiyah below Al-Kifl, previously uncontrollable and tending to dissipate itself in marshes, has been regulated and now supports large-scale rice production. Below An-Nasiriyah the river flows into marshes and then joins the Tigris at Al-Qurnah to form the Shatt al-'Arab. Several major irrigation, drainage, and desalinization projects were interrupted by the Iran-Iraq War in the 1980s and by the conflict between Iraq and United Nations forces in 1990–91.
Animal life
Wild pigs are common in the marshes and have spread into newly planted eucalyptus groves in other parts of the alluvial plain. Jackals, hyenas, and mongooses are to be seen along the rivers in southern Iraq, and a large variety of Indian jungle cat reportedly still inhabits remote tamarisk thickets. Lions were last sighted along the Tigris in 1926. Foxes, wolves, and gazelles are common in the alluvial plain, and some of these range as far north as central Anatolia. Among the smaller animals are several species of gerbil, the jerboa (desert rat), hares, shrews, bats, the hedgehog, the river otter, and the Buxton's mole rat, which covers the entrance of its riverbank burrow with a mound of clay.
Locally resident birds include babblers, bulbuls, scrub warblers, sand grouse, crows, owls, a variety of hawks, falcons, eagles, and vultures. In spring and fall, many birds migrating between Europe and Asia—such as pelicans, storks, and various geese—fly along the rivers' courses, and the marshes provide a breeding ground for some migratory species.
There are several kinds of viper and a small cobra, as well as a variety of non-venomous snakes. Lizards can reach lengths of nearly two feet. Frogs, toads, and turtles abound in the rivers and marshes. Among the freshwater fish of the Tigris-Euphrates system, the carp family is dominant. Barbells weighing as much as 300 pounds (136 kilograms) have been recorded. There are several varieties of catfish, as well as the spiny eel. Some saltwater species—including anchovy, gar, and sea bream—range upriver at least as far as Basra, and the Ganges shark has been known to reach Baghdad.
The people
The region watered by the Tigris and Euphrates is populated mainly by Arabs, with lesser numbers of Kurds, Turks, and other groups. Although predominantly Sunnite Muslim, the people of the area include Shi'ite Muslims, Christians, Jews, and a variety of small sects.
Outside the cities and towns, the Arab population on the rivers' banks live either by stock breeding or by agriculture. The way of life varies from the nomadism of the desert Bedouin to the settled condition of the villagers (fellahin) in the agricultural districts. Both Bedouin and fellahin, together with semi-settled Arabs, may be included within the organization of a single tribe, although economic development and various government measures have considerably weakened this structure.
The traditional pattern of village life among the fellahin in Iraq suffered severe disruptions, from both general societal forces and protracted warfare, during the second half of the 20th century. Even the formerly isolated Ma'dan, or Marsh Arabs, occupying the vast palustral triangle between An-Nasiriyah, Al-'Amarah, and Basra, increasingly were displaced as upstream damming diminished the marshlands.
North of Al-Fathah Gorge, the Tigris and its tributaries pass through country in which Arabs are a minority. For centuries, the plains of northern Iraq furnished winter pasture for Kurdish and Arab tribes. In the early 17th century, the Ottoman sultan Murad IV settled Turkmen in the region in an effort to secure his communications with Baghdad. The majority of Kurds receded into the Assyrian plain and the mountains of northern Iraq, western Iran, and eastern Anatolia. The Kurds now comprise settled, semi-nomadic, and fully nomadic groups, often with members of the same tribe carrying on each of the subsistence strategies. Both rivers in their upper courses run through areas that are predominantly Kurdish.
Plant life In ancient times, oak, pistachio, and ash forests covered the mountains and foothills through which the upper Tigris and Euphrates pass. New plantings, particularly in Turkey, supplement the scattered remnants of these forests today. In the steppe zone between the mountains and the Tigris, some vegetation can flourish year-round, but the growing season in most non-irrigated areas is quite brief; the wildflowers and other plants that appear in spring die off in the heat of May and June. In the driest zones, camel thorn and prosopis are the dominant shrubs. The densest communities of plants are to be found along the rivers and in the marshes. Various reeds and the narrow-leafed cattail are abundant, and the giant mardi reed, which reaches a height of up to 25 feet, has been used as a versatile construction material since antiquity. The Euphrates poplar and a species of willow grow in small belts beside the rivers and canals; the poplar provides strong timber for construction and boat building, as well as handles for tools. The date palm is indigenous to the region. Five-stamen tamarisk and mesquite form thickets along the lower and middle courses of the Tigris and its tributaries, up to an altitude of about 3,300 feet. Licorice is sufficiently plentiful to allow exports.
Agriculture and irrigation From the point of view of agriculture, the rivers are high at the wrong time of year for most crops (except rice), so that cultivation by direct inundation generally cannot be practiced. The initiation of massive irrigation projects in Turkey heralds unprecedented change for the piedmont area of southeastern Anatolia. Historically, the agriculture of this zone, as well as of northern Iraq and Syria, has been entirely dependent on rainfall. Some minor irrigation by means of mechanical lifts long has been practiced in Syria, where vines, olives, tobacco, fruits, and grains have been the mainstays. In Iraq the major field crops are wheat, barley, millet, rice, corn (maize), and sorghum. Sugar beets are grown in the area of Al-'Amarah. Date palms have been prized in Mesopotamia since ancient times. Modern palm groves are often interspersed with fruit trees and vegetable gardens.
In Iraq most of these crops depend on irrigation, which can be applied in three ways: by flow from rivers and canals through small channels, by lifting with wheels or pumps into channels, and by direct inundation. The latter method is employed in the rice-growing areas below Al-Kut on the Tigris and around Lake Al-Hammar. On some parts of the Tigris the diameter of traditional wheel lifts can exceed 50 feet. The number of pumps available for use by individual farmers has increased dramatically.
Canals are of three kinds: controlled canals, receiving water from regulators on the main river in all seasons; uncontrolled canals, taking water only when the river is in flood; and raised concrete flumes, usually requiring pumps. The principal canal systems are the following: (1) a series of left-bank Euphrates canals between Ar-Ramadi and Al-Musayyib, the most important being the Al-Musayyib Drainage Project, (2) canals derived from the Al-Hindiyah Barrage, (3) new left-bank canals south of Al-Kifl on the Hindiyah, (4) the Tall 'Afar region, watered by pumps from the reservoir at Eski Mosul, (5) the Diyala canals, dependent on the Diyala Weir and the Hamrin Dam, (6) canals and projects fed by the Al-Kut Barrage, including the Shatt al-Gharraf Canal and the Shatt ad-Dujaylah (an old bed of the Tigris), and (7) canals and spillways from Al-'Amarah to Qal'at Salih on the left bank of the Tigris.
While intensive irrigation has supported Mesopotamian agriculture for thousands of years, it has caused—in combination with poor drainage—the progressive destruction of the soil through salinization. Irrigation water from the rivers, itself slightly saline, activates mineral residues in the soil, which rise to the surface through evaporation. It takes only a few years of over-irrigation to lower the yield in an area, eventually leading to abandonment of fields. A simple, traditional method—alternate-year fallowing—can halt or at least retard the deterioration. One study of Sumerian records from the 3rd millennium BC has suggested that an understanding of the salinization process led to a shift from wheat to the more salt-resistant barley. Although this interpretation has been questioned, it appears certain that the ancients recognized the long-term ill effects of over-irrigation.
Navigation
The traditional vessel for downstream transportation on both rivers was the kalak—a raft of timber supported on inflated goatskins. Kalaks could carry loads of up to 35 tons, including men and donkeys, and could take as little as a few days to travel from Mosul to Baghdad. The trip from Birecik to Al-Fallujah on the Euphrates usually lasted from 10 days to more than three weeks, depending on the condition of the river. Upon arrival the rafts were disassembled, the goods and timbers sold, and the skins deflated and loaded on donkeys for the return trip north. Traditional sailing craft still in use include muhaylahs and safinahs 30 to 80 feet long, with a capacity of up to 50 tons. Balams are slender, double-ended, flat-bottom craft with a shallow draft. Until the 1970s gufas—huge circular coracles of basketwork, coated with bitumen and capable of carrying up to 20 passengers—were in regular use in the vicinity of Baghdad.
In 1835 Francis Rawdon Chesney of the British army hauled two paddle steamships, the Tigris and the Euphrates, overland from the Mediterranean to the Euphrates, and the following year he successfully navigated the river to the Persian Gulf. This attempt to find a shorter route to India did not result in steam service on the Euphrates but did lead to regular steamship traffic between Basra and Baghdad on the Tigris. Waterborne traffic above Basra has been replaced, largely, by train and road transport, but shallow-draft motorized vessels, small sailing ships, and pleasure boats still use the river. The marsh dwellers of southern Iraq use a variety of motorized boats up to 50 feet in length, along with balams and other traditional craft.
The ancient trade route from the Persian Gulf to the Mediterranean followed the right bank of the Euphrates almost as far north as Aleppo, Syria. Since 1950 Turkey, Syria, and especially Iraq have developed major road systems throughout the Tigris-Euphrates region. The Iraqi network was badly damaged, however, during the Persian Gulf conflict in 1991.
Study and exploration
As one of the world's major ecosystems and a cradle of civilization, the Tigris-Euphrates system long has been a focus of scientific and historical research. A mass of data on the environment, soils, flora, fauna, land use, settlement patterns, and artifactual history of the entire region has become available through geomorphologic, hydrologic, and archaeological surveys. A full assessment of tectonic movement, sea-level oscillation, alluviation, river shifts, and long-term patterns of climatic change has been hampered by the lack of data from Iraq, although important information on some of these processes has been obtained by studying the Persian Gulf.
Different explanations, for example, have been given for the way in which the plains were formed and the present coastline created. From about 1900, it generally was accepted that the head of the gulf once extended as far north as Baghdad and had been pushed back to its present limits by silting over the course of millennia. In 1952, geologists concluded that the present coastline at the delta was much older than previously thought and that silting had occurred in conjunction with the subsidence of basal rock beneath the Euphrates estuary. Studies of sea-level oscillations conducted in the 1970s, however, have brought this formulation into question; and the cumulative impact of human intervention—in the form of massive irrigation and subsequent abandonment of cultivated tracts—on the delta-formation processes has yet to be taken sufficiently into account.
Pioneering surface surveys by the American geographer Robert McCormic Adams in the northern part of the alluvial plain (1956–57) and in the Diyala region (1957–58) were followed by similar work in the Khuzestan plain of Iran (1961) and the southern alluvium (1967) and by a restudy of the central alluvium (1971–73). Other scholars have surveyed these and other areas, often in conjunction with archaeological salvage projects.
Aerial photographs and maps can only begin to show the intricate tangle of watercourses and ancient irrigation channels present in the alluvial plain. Archaeologists, in surface surveys, are able to separate discrete systems by period, through a study of potsherds found on sites that lie along the canals. In some areas, the tells of ancient towns remain above the alluvium and allow a reconstruction of the ancient canal patterns. Through such methods, especially when combined with geomorphologic techniques, it is possible to demonstrate that at no time in the past were all areas irrigated. In fact, a key to the continuity of Mesopotamian civilization seems to have been the possibility of shifting from a salinated area to a new one simply by extending a canal into the alluvial desert. The surveys make possible the correlation of changes in settlement patterns with historical records. They also provide information on major events, such as the abandonment of large areas, presumably because of shifts in water to other Euphrates courses, that receive no mention in texts from the period. Even though the surveys cover only a fraction of the alluvium, it is possible now to lay out in general the patterns of human occupation and exploitation of the region from the first delta settlements (c. 5000 BC) to the present day. Similar assessments also can be made in specific areas on both the Tigris and Euphrates in Syria and Turkey. But work of this kind is still relatively preliminary, and improved data will allow much more sophisticated reconstructions of the adaptations humanity has made to the Tigris-Euphrates system.
How Asherah made Enki sick... How this story is translated depends on it is interpreted. Some see it as a Fall from Paradise story. Some see it as a battle between male and female or water and earth. Some see it as a fertility allegory. This reading is based on the interpretation of Bendt Alster... Enki, and Ninhursag -- who is Asherah, although in this story she also bears other epithets -- live in a place called Dilmun. Dilmun is pure, clean and bright, there is no sickness, people do not grow old, predatory animals do not hunt. But there is no water. So Ninhirsag pleads with Enki, who is a sort of water-god, to bring water to Dilmun. He does so by masturbating among the reeds if the ditches letting flow his life-giving semen -- the "water of the heart," as it is called. At the same time, he pronounces a nam-shub forbidding anyone to enter this area -- he does not want anyone to come near his semen... why not, the myth does not say. ... Dilmun is now better than before. The fields produce abundant crops and so on. ...[Sumerian agriculture was entirely dependent on irrigation] ... So Enki was responsible ... for irrigating the fields with his 'water of the heart'. ... But Ninhirsag - Asherah - violates his decree and takes Enki's semen and impregnates herself. After nine days of pregnancy she gives birth, painlessly, to a daughter, Ninmu. Ninmu walks on the riverbank. Enki sees her, becomes inflamed, goes across the river and has sex with her. ... She has another daughter after nine days named Ninkurra, and the pattern is repeated. ... Enki has sex with Ninkurra too... and she has a daughter named Uttu. Now, by this time, Ninhursag has apparently recognized a pattern in Enki's behavior, and so she advises Uttu to stay in her house, predicting that Enki will then approach her bearing gifts, and try to seduce her. ... Enki once again fills the ditches with the 'water of the heart' which makes things grow. The gardener rejoices and embraces Enki. [the gardener is] just some character in the story. He provides Enki with grapes and other gifts. Enki disguises himself as the gardener and goes to Uttu and seduces her. But this time, Ninhursag manages to obtain a sample of Enki's semen from Uttu's thighs. ... Ninhursag spreads the semen on the ground, and it causes eight plants to sprout up. ... [Enki] eats them, in some sense he learns their secrets by doing so. ... Ninhursag curses Enki, saying "Until thou art dead, I shall not look upon thee with the 'eye of life'." Then she disappears, and Enki becomes very ill. Eight of his organs become sick, one for each of the plants. Finally, Ninhursag is persuaded to come back. She gives birth to eight deities, one for each part of Enki's body that is sick, and Enki is healed. These deities are the pantheon of Dilmun; i.e., this act breaks the cycle of incest and creates a new race of male and female gods that can reproduce normally. ... Alster interprets the myth as an 'exposition of a logical problem: Supposing that originally there was nothing but one creator, how could ordinary binary sexual relations come into being? ... the myth can be compared to the Sumerian creation myth, in which heaven and earth are united to begin with, but the world is not really created until the two are separated. Most Creation myths begin with as 'paradoxical unity of everything, evaluated either as chaos or as Paradise' and the world as we know it does not really come into being until this is changed. I should point out here that Enki's original name was En-Kur, Lord of Kur. Kur was a primeval ocean - Chaos - that Enki conquered. ... But Asherah has similar connotations. Her name in Ugaritic, 'atiratu yammi' means 'she who treads on (the) sea (dragon).' ... so both Enki and Asherah were figures who had in some sense defeated chaos. ... this defeat of chaos, the separation of the static, unified world into a binary system, is identified with creation.
copyright 1996 vwatts