MESOPOTAMIA -THE HEALER, THE SLAVE AND THE PRINCE. A HISTORICAL FICTION NOVEL BY YEHUDA ISRAELY AND DOR RAVEH

PROLOGUE

Tonight, the lots shall be cast: freedom, slavery or death. 

          After the final verses of the harvest song had been sounded, Rukha straightened his back and stretched his bones, which made popping noises in response. Behind him trailed a wake of barley stalks, swollen by the water of the Euphrates.  He was proud of himself.  After years of dependence on the surreptitious crutch of his muscular friend, in recent months, Rukha had at last succeeded in meeting his harvest quota by himself. 

          The taskmaster started to hum the harvest song again from the beginning.  Rukha shifted all the pent-up tension from his soul to the arm grasping the sickle and continued on with his labor. 

          It was likely that today, of all days, Rukha's friend would require his help for the first time to meet his harvest quota.  Normally, his friend could harvest a full donkey's load more than he could, but not today.  Three years his senior, he was nearly a head taller, with broad shoulders and a muscular chest.  These features inflated his price as a slave.  In contrast, the gaunt Rukha bowed under the weight of his large head.  His ability to survive as a slave was astonishing in light of his frailty.

          The harvest labor was backbreaking, though it was an honorable pursuit considering that waged workers were also employed in the task.  The waged workers were paid silver and copper according to the weight of the barley they harvested.  The slaves only received an allowance of barley and liquor, but they were also allowed the sheep's wool that had been caught in the thorns and thistles.  Rukha was grateful to the patron God of his fathers.  The majority of prisoners of war were tortured to death in order to sow fear into the hearts of enemies and to force them into submission without resistance.  Unlike his older friend, who was born free and later captured as a slave, Rukha, who was born into slavery, was content with his lot in life.  In comparison to the victims of war, or to those slaves who became injured, he felt as if fate had smiled upon him.  He did not dare compare himself to the free men.

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER 1

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

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

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

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

            “Thank you, Taskmaster,” replied Rukha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “Are you mad at me?  Did I unwittingly insult you?”

            “Heaven forefend, Rukha my brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            Suddenly, he noticed a movement.  Rukha sat up at the entrance of his hut and saw the silhouettes of two taskmasters advancing toward the laundry pool.  'What are they doing?'  A terrifying thought crossed his mind as his breath became short.  Did one of the maids fail to bring them all of their laundry?  Perhaps they were checking that no slaves remained in the pool, or maybe they were looking for a maid for the night.  Could it be that their liquor jugs were empty and they were thirsty for water?  He decided to divert their attention.

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

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

All night, Eo tossed and turned between his straw mattress and feather quilt, unable to sleep.  Finally, he rose from his bed and began to dress.

            “What's going on, my dear?” asked his wife.

            “Four donkey loads and water rations of two months, Tashritu and Arahsamnu?  Wherever shall I get them, Kishmi?”

            “King Meskiagasher loves you, Eo,” replied his wife as she rose from their bed.  Eo was a nickname, short for Eogulades, the name his teacher had given him upon ordaining him as an Eazo, healer of oils and spirits.  The name meant 'He who the Medicine Goddess Gula lays within him'.

            “And what makes you so sure of this?”

            “Did anyone of all the king's doctors receive the seal besides you?” she asked, combing his thick hair and square beard with a comb made of hippopotamus ivory. 

            Eo glanced with pride at the cylindrical seal, made of blue lapis lazuli, which he wore around his neck.  Kishmi was right, as usual.  Even his rival, the Ezo, healer of water and flesh, did not get such an honor. 

            “Ever since you banished the Spirit of the Dead from the palace halls two harvest seasons ago, you have been remembered favorably.”

            “Indeed, yes, my dear.”  He stroked her black curls and gazed at the love of his soul.  He loved every eyelash that framed her large almond eyes.  Eyes that always gave him strength.  He cherished her touch, which never failed to warm him, and every curve of her plump body, from her smooth shoulders down to her abundant hips and her wide, barren thighs. 

            “Don't worry, Gula has blessed you with the gift of healing.  Take with you a fat goose for the high priest at the ziggurat temple, along with a sheep for him to bless, and go to the king with the sheep as a gift and request the price of a slave.”

            “I will have to meet with one of the king's ministers.  In this vipers' nest, I have no idea who leans in my favor and who does not.  How will I get past them to reach the king?”

            “Be patient.  Advance slowly.  Turn to whoever you need to and return home.  Then we will consult together about how to progress.  I'll be waiting for you with a sweet dish of pork neck meat with cherries and apricots in saffron and date honey, just how you like it.”

            “I cannot even afford the slave that I need and here you are planning a royal feast,” grumbled Eo as he looked into Kishmi's face.  She dipped her hand in sheep's milk butter and peppermint extract and slid it over his beard.  He kissed her hand and regretted his words.

            In Eo's eyes, there was no one better or more beautiful than Kishmi.  The feeling intensified over the years, whenever he used to see her sitting at the entrance of her parents' hut as a young girl, helping her mother sort peas, he dreamt of her gleaming teeth that flashed through her coy smile.  No man was happier than he when her parents agreed to his parents' request to arrange an engagement between them.  He learned to appreciate her intelligence over the years.

            He stood up.  Kishmi wrapped the traditional wraparound skirt around his small belly, fastened the skirt and laced his sandals that he reserved for special occasions.  Eo examined himself in the polished copper mirror and studied his high forehead, flat nose and dark skin.  A tangled plume of hair sprouted from his collar.  'This is how an oil healer favored by the king ought to look,' he tried to convince himself.  He looked at his jewelry, the gold earrings adorning his ears, the bone bracelets hugging his forearms, the chain with the blue seal around his neck and the golden serpent pin that was a testament to his position as a healer. 

            “You look very respectable,” said Kishmi, standing behind him as her image dimly took shape in the mirror.

            He scrunched his thick eyebrows so that his sharp gaze appeared even more penetrating.  'This is the soul-penetrating gaze of an oil healer,' he tried to flatter himself, but the thought only brought a smile to his lips and the dour wrinkles on his forehead vanished.

            “At least I look like a healer,” said Eo sheepishly. 

             He loaded the goose, whose legs were bound together, onto one shoulder and with his other arm he pulled the sheep, which was tied to a rope woven from palm fibers.  The couple touched noses in farewell.  He left the dimness of the hut through the low doorway and emerged into Shamash's blinding light, on his way to the temple.

            At the edge of the broad palm avenue, before the red temple reserved for the king, rose the ziggurat tower, the white temple, called such after the tens of thousands of white engravings made of baked clay that were embedded in the building's mortar and that lent it its color.  Here and there, blue engraved lines highlighted the whiteness of the walls.  Eo headed anxiously and excitedly toward it, greeting passersby’s with a touch of his hand to his nose.  He apologized to those who wanted to stop and consult with him about their ailments and hurried along on his way.  In exchange for a few flakes of copper paid at the foot of the white step pyramid, he quenched his thirst with some bitter pomegranate juice.  

            The priest was delighted to receive the goose.  After slaughtering it in accordance with all the rules and customs, he offered the roast goose to the idols of An, God of the Sky, and his daughter Inana, Goddess of Uruk.  The Gods ate their meal in private from behind a screen.  They ate very little, an almost imperceptible amount of the food.  Afterward, when Eo visited and prayed with the icons who prayed for him and Kishmi, the priest ate what remained of the Gods' offering.  When he finished, he wiped the goose fat from his beard and blessed Eo and the sheep in the name of the Gods of heaven and earth.  Eo tugged the sheep's rope and continued on his way, down the broad road that stretched from the temple to the palace.

            The chief guard called him: he must not wait in line with the commoners.  He led Eo around the pool at the entrance, past the gilt statues of winged lions into a small waiting room.

            Eo waited a long time.  The minister’s slaves served him chilled water, roasted pistachios and dried figs.  He ate until he was content and almost fell asleep in the warmth of the day when one of the guards finally invited him into the minister’s chamber.

            “Seruf, the respected and sublime minister of slaves, who serves King Meskiagasher, may his glory be exalted, ruler of the Middle World, will see you now,” announced the erect doorman.  Eo followed him through a maze of corridors until he reached the chambers of Minister Seruf.  The minister's bottom filled the wide couch and the many folds of his chins overflowed out onto his blood-red robe.  The robe covered an enormous belly that settled somewhere between his knees.  His black eyes were lined with dark kohl and his cheeks were smeared with rouge in the manner of the Egyptians. 

            “The oil healer Eogulades!” announced the sentry.

            The eunuch continued to file his long fingernails on a stone, and without even raising his eyes to Eo, inquired in a shrill and obsequious voice, “How are you and how is your wife... healer?” he added with a touch of sarcasm. 

            “I am well and my wife is well, my master.”  Eo felt chills crawling up his spine in the eunuch's presence. 

            “And if you are doing so well, then to what honor do I owe this visit?” The eunuch glanced sideways at Eo and blinked seductively.

            “I wish to acquire a slave to act as an apprentice to my craft, my master.”

            “Of course, of course, a distinguished healer such as yourself is deserving of an apprentice to safeguard your precious knowledge.  Indeed I am the officer of slaves, but why have you turned to the king's court?  Why do you bother us with such trivial matters?

            “Well... Even though I find myself in the king's favor, my wages are still meager, and... I am unable to purchase a slave,” stammered Eo shamefully.

            “So you feel that King Meskiagasher, may his glory be exalted, does not pay you properly for your toil?”

            Eo felt webs of intrigue grasping his ankles and creeping up the length of his body, pushing all of his blood up into his flushed face.  He twisted the sheep's rope nervously around his fingers.  “No, my master.  I am grateful to the king and his officers for all compensation for my craft.  I am merely asking for a loan.”

            “Please, come closer, my dear Eogulades.  Why do you stand so far from me?  Come sit by my side.”  The eunuch's lips curled into a greasy smile and he patted a cushion next to the couch. 

            Eo reluctantly sat down on the cushion and the eunuch rested his hand naturally on his thigh. 

            “How much do you need?”

            “Four donkey loads of barley and two autumn months’ worth of water rations, my master.”  Intense cold crept from his thigh and spread to the rest of his body.  The eunuch did not hurry to reply.  He pressed his weight more heavily on Eo's thigh while staring at him and said, “Of course you are a talented healer.”

            “Many people are satisfied with my work.”  Eo hoped that that was the correct answer.

            “And what do you think?  Is this indeed the case?”

            “I have been able to harness the Gods to help my patients more than once, if not every time.”

            “Tell me, are you good at what you do?”

            “Yes...” he replied hesitantly. 

            “Yes, I also imagined that was the case, otherwise the king would not have invited you to see him.  King Meskiagasher, may his glory be exalted, wisest of men in the Middle World, makes no mistakes, as opposed to some of his ministers.  I want to help you because I know how great your contribution is to the kingdom, a contribution that far outshines that of his most senior viziers, is it not?”

            “Your servant is not an expert in the laws and processes of the kingdom.  Who am I to open my mouth and give my opinion on the king's ministers?”  Eo quickly considered if he should continue talking and came to the conclusion that it would be better for him to continue to do so.  Even if the eunuch did not approve of his answers, Eo could defend himself against any eavesdroppers.  “The king who is wisest of men has been endowed with the understanding to choose his advisors and ministers.”

            “Of course, of course,” the eunuch immediately retracted his hand from Eo's thigh and hurried to unravel the webs of trickery that he had woven.  A man such as him, however, does not relent so easily.  “Indeed, the king, may his name be exalted, chooses those faithful to him.  But even he needs eyes in all places.  Even though he is the son of Gods, he has only two eyes in his head.  Tell me a bit about your work, oil healer.”

            “Gladly.  What would you like to know, my master?”

            “For what reasons do your patients come to you?”

            “When they think that a demon or spirit is the cause of their illness, they turn to me.”

            “And how do you work?”

            “I try to clarify cases in which dwellers of the Netherworld and the Heavenly World are indeed involved with human affairs, that is, the men and women who live in the Middle World.”

            “And if it turns out that this is the case?”

            “I try to negotiate with the demons and spirits to see what they want and why they are trying to attain this through humans of the Middle World.”

            “If so, you could say that it is part of your job to try to help both humans as well as dwellers of the other Worlds?”

            “Yes...” he stammered hesitantly and tightened the rope around his fingers again. 

            “And you are able to intercede with the dwellers of other Worlds on behalf of human beings?”

            “I can try.”

            “Wonderful, wonderful, Eogulades my friend, simply wonderful.”

            Eo gave him a puzzled look.

            “The involvement of otherworldly beings may be extremely helpful in a certain matter.  You need not carry on any longer without an apprentice slave to bear your knowledge, if you can help me as well.  I am a person, if not exactly a man nor exactly a woman.”  He batted his eyes again.

            “And how can I be of service to you, my master?”

            “Wonderful, Eogulades, how nice it is that you are willing to help me.  I assure you that you will not regret the donkey loads you shall receive.”  From his disappointment to his finger, which had turned slightly pale under the tight rope, Eo could hide nothing from Seruf's eyes.  Part of his devious scheme had been to treat Eo as if he had already agreed to help so that he could no longer refuse.  “The matter is quite simple, and as a slave owner, it will interest you as well.  But first, let us drink young and refreshing wine together.”

The table was set with clay plates and cups, wooden spoons, a chunk of bread and pitcher of cool water.  A stew of pork with cherries, apricots and date honey bubbled on the stove.  The sweet scent of saffron filled the house.  The brooding Eo ignored the lavish feast.  “Why did you bring the sheep back, my dearest Eo?  And why has your face fallen?”

            “It's better to continue with no slave at all or to cut back our expenses and buy the slave in two or three years' time than to fall into Seruf's web.  Bring me cold water to settle my nausea from that scum.”

            Kishmi poured water into a ceramic cup and remained silent until Eo finished formulating his thoughts into words. 

            “Minister Seruf, chief of slave affairs, outwitted me with his smooth talking.  He manipulated me in such a way to make me look like a worthless fraud who is unable to negotiate with the dwellers of the other Worlds, and then while trying to prove my abilities I had to agree to grant his request so I could be worthy of his trust.  To grant his price far exceeds the cost of a number of slaves.”

            He swallowed the entirety of the cup's contents.

            Kishmi waited silently for him to continue his speech and refilled his cup from the pitcher.

            “I must deliver a curse against Vizier Murdoch by summoning Ereshkigal and Nergal, rulers of the Netherworld, to take him.”

            “Seruf wants you to kill Murdoch, the chief vizier?”  asked Kishmi in astonishment.

            “Shh...” whispered Eo, “the excuse that he gave me was that Vizier Murdoch treats the slaves too mercifully.  If he continues to make their lives easier, we will face a slave revolt that will threaten the very existence of this kingdom.  He asked me to assist him in saving the kingdom.”  His mouth contorted.  “Seruf has increased the severity of the slaves' punishments and now he wants to make their lives even harder.  He claimed that, as a slave owner, I should also take interest in this.  He even offered me many gifts so that I'd be able to buy more slaves.  He refused to accept the sheep.”

            “His real intentions are to rule,” said Kishmi.  “The vizier is the most powerful man in the kingdom after the king, and if he dies, Seruf accedes to his position.” 

            “Even the royal throne is at stake then.”

            “And his successor as well, Prince Enmerkar.”  Kishmi poured a cup of water for herself as well.

            “If his plot is revealed, I will be executed as a traitor to the kingdom and I will bring great shame on all oil healers.  If I don't expose this plot and even aid him in its execution, I can expect some heavy retribution in the Netherworld when I die.”

            The sheep, whose neck had been released from the rope, went out to the courtyard. 

            “Kishmi, my wise one, what shall I do?”

            “You must approach Vizier Murdoch and tell him everything.”

            “How?”

            “Don't worry, we'll find a solution.  Now eat.”

The guardsmen surrounded the six burly slaves who were on the verge of collapse under the weight of the litter.  Inside sat the gargantuan slave minister, Seruf.  The slave at the back right corner of the litter stumbled on a stone.  His friend rushed over from his position supporting the center of the litter to take his place, even if doing so meant breaking his back.   The slaves tried to cover for each other as best as they could.  If one of the slaves supporting the litter stumbled, all of them would be sent back to the slave pit unless they were able to stabilize the litter in time.  This time, they succeeded.  The one who stumbled quickly got back to his place.  Seruf, hidden within the litter's canopies, felt nothing.  His attention was currently devoted to the roasted sesame and honey balls that he was eating greedily and the raisin wine he was emptying down his throat.  They continued toward the slave pit under the eunuch's palace.

            The narrow passage leading down to the pit could not accommodate the width of the litter.  Four of the stronger slaves of the group held His Eminence's thighs and arms and carried him on their hands down the slope of the passage.  Their colleagues waited outside the pit and guarded the litter while two guardsmen kept an eye on them.  A litter must never be left unattended.  Any novice assassin would seize the opportunity to sprinkle volatile and toxic oils in the litter for Seruf to inhale the fumes and perish.  He certainly had no shortage of enemies or conspirators who wished him harm.

            Every week at the usual time of Seruf's visit, the chief watchman in charge of the pit would order the lighting of the torches lining the passage.  At a depth of six cubits below ground level, the paved path ended opposite two tall doors made of thick oak reinforced with bronze bolts. 

            When the door opened, a heavy miasma emerged from within: the stench of the slaves in the pit.  His Excellency rose to his feet and paced along the balcony platform that encircled the perimeter of the pit.  He looked down toward the dozens of slaves crowded inside.  The walls of the pit were smoothed over with mud and the bottom was filled with water.  Not all slaves were thrown into the pit.  Most of the king's slaves were employed in various tasks.  Of these slaves, the ones who were in a waiting period, having been recently captured or marked to be sold, were held in a walled camp above ground.  The pit was set aside for particular slaves:  the especially strong slaves, whose owners feared their violent resistance; slaves who had been separated from their family and could potentially run away in search of them; or slaves who were simply subjected to the whims of their masters.  Slaves who presented an obvious threat were put to death. 

            Seruf sensed a thrill in anticipation of his favorite game.  Into his pudgy hand the chief taskmaster placed the pigskin ball wrapped around a circle of clay and fastened tightly with sinews.  The eunuch clearly enjoyed his ability to instill fright and apprehension in the slaves.  With a wholly derisive smile, he held the ball over the pit and watched the leaping slaves trying to catch the ball.  When he was sufficiently entertained, he flung the ball into the pit.

            There were slaves who glued themselves to the walls of the pit.  Some were too weak to deal with the ordeal and simply preferred to avoid getting hurt.  Others did not want to cause injury to their fellows.  There were also those who refused to allow the eunuch enjoyment at all costs, even if that cost was condemning themselves to stay in the pit.  The remainder of the slaves, however, crowded into the center of the pit like a solid mass and tried to snatch the ball.  The eunuch delighted in the cries of the trampled, the sight of the flowing blood, the writhing mass of sweaty bare limbs and the sinewy muscles threatening to burst under the strain.

            To his dismay, however, his amusement was short-lived.  One short but stocky slave, whose flat nose indicated Egyptian ancestry, used the last of his strength to climb the rope dangling into the pit, clenching the sinews of the ball in his teeth.  He kneeled and extended the ball to the eunuch. 

            “You have merited to come out of the pit and return to your labor.”  The eunuch concluded the game and left the platform toward his litter.  He did not linger; the tally of wounded would be presented to him later, after his slaves carried him back to his quarters. 

Eo skipped swiftly in his light and silent felt shoes over the river rocks between the banks of the small gutters that flowed from the courtyards into the back alleys. He was careful not to step on the rats that were not quick enough to dart out of the way in time.  At this time of night, not a soul walked through the streets and certainly none in the sewers; even Sin himself had finished his journey across the sky.  Before Eo went out, Kishmi clothed him in a thick wool cloak worn over his cotton nightdress.  On top of all this he wore a cloak made of black camel wool and a large cowl that hid his face from the night chill as well as from prying eyes.  He was familiar with the serpentine path behind the courtyards that led toward the vizier's mansion.  When he skipped over the wider banks, his hand grasped the clay tablet inside the pocket of his cloak.

            That morning, he rose early and went down to the banks of the irrigation channel nearby.  He dug a bit of clay off the side of the bank and flattened it into a tablet.  Using a piece of flint, he cut off a section of reed and sharpened it into a stylus.  The curse was a simple one.  Three symbols:  disease, downfall and death.  Even though he did not know how to read or write, he was familiar with these symbols.  He lay the tablet out to dry and went off to gather wood to fire it.  Before placing the tablet on the scorching stones, he pressed into it a small clay marble bearing the symbol for reversal. 

            A wide road patrolled by watchmen separated the craftsmen's quarters from the royal servants' quarters that encircled the palace.  Eo paused next to a house and silently listened to the chattering of the guards and the slapping of their sandals until they had passed.  When he was certain that the coast was clear, he quickly crossed the street and flattened himself against the outer wall of a mansion that was most likely inhabited by relatives of the king.  He removed his cloak and turned it inside out so that the yellow stripes were clearly visible on his sleeves.  Kishmi had sewn on these stripes that indicated service of the king.  This way, he could step out from the shadows inconspicuously.  'Wise Kishmi,' he smiled to himself as he continued walking. 

            The vizier's house was now about two hundred cubits away down the alley.  'So far, no mishaps.  With Gula's help, it should remain this way,' he said to himself.  He clenched the lapis lazuli seal that hung from his neck.  He then went back to crouching in the shadows and waited. 

            “Thieves! Help, thieves!” rose a woman's voice from underneath Vizier Murdoch's house.  Eo restrained himself from peeking at the scene.  He listened in suspense. 

            “Thieves are prowling the king’s streets and no one is watching!” shrieked the woman furiously. 

            “What happened, fair lady?” he heard one of the watchmen whisper.

            “Someone snatched my bundle of silver coins and fled in that direction,” she raised her voice and gestured in the opposite direction of where Eo was hiding. 

            “Run and catch him!” the chief guard commanded his sentries.  He then turned to the woman.  “What is a respected lady such as yourself doing outside at such a late hour?” asked the guard without raising a voice lest he awaken his master. 

            But the woman did not care.  She continued to complain at the top of her lungs about the dangers lurking on the roads,  the crime encroaching onto the city and about how, even in the royal quarters, a woman cannot safely walk while carrying a bundle of silver coins without being robbed.  The chief watchman attempted to silence her, but to no avail. 

            “I can assure you that law and order are being maintained in these streets.  It's possible that the thief who snatched you money is the fugitive slave who recently ran away from Master Savsesser's fields.  We'll catch him soon and I can assure you that we will sentence him with as many punishments as the number of coins he stole from you.”

            Eo took advantage of the ruckus unfolding in front of the house and slipped through the sewage alleys into the back courtyard of the vizier's house. 

            “My lady, please lower your voice as not to awaken my master from his sleep,” whispered the chief watchman.  But it was already too late.  On the second floor, a window opened and an older man's voice called out, “What's going on there?”

            “We're taking care of it, Your Highness...”

            The woman interjected, “Your Highness, there are thieves prowling about outside your house and the guards were unable to detain them.”

            “And who are you, my lady?” asked the vizier in an amused tone, the glow of the oil candle flame flickering across his wrinkled face.

            “It is improper for me, and especially for Your Highness, that our conversation is exchanged in the streets like petty gossip in the marketplace.  Is that not so, my master?”

            “Of course, of course,” replied the vizier.  “Escort her up here!” he instructed the chief watchman. 

            “As you say, my master.”

“Psst...” whispered the vizier. 

            “Psst...” replied Eo from within his hiding place in the dark alcove in the house's back courtyard. 

            “Kishmi is a very courageous and wise woman, Eogulades.  I wanted to send her home in a litter, but she refused.”

            “Yes, Your Highness the Vizier.  Thank you, but it is crucial that no one finds out that we were here.  She will go on her way by herself.  She certainly told you that your watchmen acted appropriately.”

            “I was glad to see that no thieves had slipped through my guards' hands.”  The vizier smiled.

            Eo smiled back.

            “And so, what is this important and secret issue that necessitated this whole scheme?”

            Eo told him about his meeting with the eunuch, of the eunuch's request for him to place a curse on the vizier and his inability to directly refuse him lest the eunuch conspire against him.  The vizier listened intently.  Initially, he was suspicious of Eo, but he quickly realized that the spiritual healer had no interest in becoming entangled in the intrigues of the court and it looked like he had been dragged into this mess against his will.  His words seemed truthful.  The vizier's gaze hardened.  Finally, he said, “I always knew that that eunuch was a snake in the grass.  I would gladly behead him.  I assume you came here to suggest a solution.”

            “Yes, Your Highness, if you find my solution favorable.  This is the curse.  Hold it carefully.  Don't worry, it won't hurt you.”  Eo removed the clay tablet from his pocket and placed it in the vizier's palm.  “There are three symbols here:  Disease, downfall and destruction.  The marble pressed into the tablet bears the symbol for reversal.  Break off the marble with your right hand and put it in your pocket.  It will serve as an amulet so that whatever curse is hurled at you will function as a blessing.”

            The vizier broke off the little ball from the corner of the tablet and cupped it in his fist inside his pocket.  He returned the tablet to Eo, who placed it inside his own pocket. 

            “Your Highness,” Eo turned to him, “In order to remove any doubts or suspicions from the eunuch's heart, I think it would be worthwhile for you to affect illness for a few days and make sure the eunuch gets a chance to see your weakened state.  This way, he will be certain that I am operating on his behalf, will assume that he has achieved what he seeks and will not take any more measures against you.”

            “Then so be it!  By the way, if for any reason the price of the slave is not approved, I'll help you.  Do not hesitate to approach me regarding any matter whatsoever.  I see that you are averse to black magic and are loyal to the king and his loyal servants.”

            “Your Highness, with your permission I shall utilize the remaining hour of darkness to slip away to my house.”

            “Go in peace, Eogulades.”

When he returned from the sewage alleys through the back entrance of his hut, Kishmi was already home.  She hugged him tightly and silently.  He stretched out on his bed and hoped to sleep for the little time that remained until sunrise, but he did not fall asleep.  When the roosters crowed, Eo did not tarry.  He bundled up the breakfast of cheese and onions that Kishmi had prepared for him and headed toward the eunuch's chambers in the royal palace.  In his pouch was the tablet, whose corner had been sanded down so that it was impossible to discern that it was not whole.

            This time, the eunuch did not let him wait outside as he had previously done.  The sentry announced his arrival and brought him in immediately.  He wore a thin green robe and sat, as usual, with his belly protruding out between his knees.  After a brief exchange of polite chitchat and regards to Kishmi, the eunuch began the conversation in his shrill voice.

            “Eo, my dear, what is that in your hand?”

            “This is the curse,” he said as he drew it out of his pocket, “You must hide it in a secret place and avoid touching it so that it won't affect you.”

            “I knew you would not disappoint me, my dearest Eogulades.”

            “Yes, my master.”  Eo held himself back so as not to inadvertently blurt out the truth in front of the eunuch.  'And why would you care if he thought that you are corrupt just like him?' --he heard the prudent voice of Kishmi speaking in his head.

            “That is why you will receive all that you have requested.  The donkey loads, silver coins, irrigation rights.  And don't hesitate to approach me again.  I am sure that I'll find others who deserve to be cursed, and you will only be the richer for it.  Stay by my side, Eo, and you will amass a fortune.  A greater fortune than you have ever imagined.”

            “Yes, my master.”  Eo sensed his ability to feign his intentions was reaching its limit.  He was itching to be rid of the oppressive presence of the slick eunuch. 

            “Why are you sitting so far away, opposite me?  Come, sit beside me.  After all, we are friends and partners now.”  The eunuch batted his kohl lined eyes.  His thick wet lips stirred up feelings of nausea in Eo, but he had no choice but to get up and sit some distance from his side.  Seruf put his hand on Eo's knee.  When he sensed Eo becoming tense, he retracted his hand and relented.  'It seems that, in the meantime, I cannot obtain or gain any more than this from the handsome oil healer,' he mused.

            “Here is the promissory note.”  From within the folds of his robe, the eunuch removed a tablet bearing inscriptions testifying that the king's officials are guarantors to the financial obligations for the debt to the lender.  “I won't keep you any longer, my friend.  You have your work cut out for you, purchasing a worthy slave.  Just one word of advice.”

            “Gladly, my master.”  Eo was thinking about how the eunuch's shrill voice reminded him of the squeaking rats in the sewers.

            “Ever since one of Savsesser's slaves escaped, slave prices have plummeted.  I suggest you buy your slave without delay.  That way you can get a slave at the lowest price and keep the sack of coins for yourself.”

            “Thank you, my master.”

            The eunuch gestured toward the door with his hand, rang the small copper bell and waved goodbye with his pudgy fingers laden with gold rings.  The sentry opened the door form the outside and Eo exited, taking care not to overtly break out in a run as he stifled a sigh of relief.

Savsesser spared no effort in hosting Eo.  Eo had already become accustomed to the honor showered upon him by those whose health depended on him; the embarrassment of those whose social status was below his own; and even the apprehension displayed by those who did not understand his practice, wary of his abilities to communicate with demons and spirits.  Savsesser's attitude was different.  He was a wealthy man, a landowner and slave owner, but in Eo's presence he became remarkably servile:  he yelled at the slaves to hasten to bring the esteemed guest chilled pomegranate juice, barley liquor and smoked strips of lamb.  He spoke in obsequious praise of Eo, 'the most distinguished healer that Uruk has ever known'.

            Eo knew how to filter the truth.  This flattery was an integral part of the business, as the eunuch had mentioned—a relationship between buyer and seller in a buyer's market. 

            They sat under the grape arbor, sipping liquor and chewing smoked meat as they observed the toiling slaves. 

            “I have two Nubian slaves, built for long hours of field labor under the blazing Shamash.  You can see them there in the line of harvesters, the two on the far right.  What do you think?”

            “They certainly look industrious.  How long have you had them?”

            “The tall one for two years and the shorter one—a year.  If you need especially vigorous slaves I'll give you a special price for one of them, just for you.”

            “And who else is for sale?”

            “I have a number of fine maidservants, excellent for both field and house labor.  If your wife does not object, I'll suggest the best one for you,” winked Savsesser and laughed deeply with his entire mouth: his gums were almost empty, with only a few rotten teeth remaining.

            Eo ignored the joke.  “No, thank you.  I am looking for a slave.”

            “And maybe you'd like to purchase a boy, who you can mold like potter's clay?”

            “No thank you, my honorable Savsesser.  Just a simple slave.”

            “If that's the case then, I'll show you the merchandise.  But first, eat and drink. It is an honor for me to host you in the shade of my arbor.  More meat and juice!”  he yelled out to a slave, who leapt to the kitchen as if his life depended on it. 

            “I offer you heartfelt thanks for your substantial generosity, but I have eaten and drunk enough.  If you are ready, let us take a stroll through your property.”

            Savsesser rose to his feet and moved with a limp, supported by his staff while leaning with his other arm over Eo.  Savsesser looked older than his forty five years.  His right knee had already collapsed under the weight of his heavyset body.  When he spoke, his beady eyes darted from side to side and Eo wondered if he was plotting something while he continued to heap flattery upon him.  Eo breathed deeply and thanked him in return, expressing astonishment at the beauty of his fruit trees, the sweetness of the water in his canals, the swollen stalks of barley and the diligence of his slaves.  Savsesser greedily drank in every compliment.

            “Call him!” Savsesser ordered the slave that was escorting him and pointed his staff toward the edge of the field.  The slave set off in a sprint and returned with one of the slaves by his side. 

            “Yes, my master,” said the slave with his head lowered.

            Savsesser did not answer him.  “He is one of the most diligent slaves.  Assyrian origin.  You can see that he manages double the quota and leaves his fellow slaves in his dust.  Come closer and examine the fine condition he's in.”  Savsesser peeled back the lips of the slave, who stood at attention, revealing straight white teeth.  He pressed his thumb into the fold of his elbow and demonstrated the speed at which the muscle moved back in place without leaving a mark.  Finally, he struck the slave's side with his staff to demonstrate his obedience and ability to absorb blows.  Savsesser forcibly grabbed the Assyrian's jaw and turned his gaze to Eo. 

            Eo saw depths of despair within the slaves dimmed eyes.  He restrained himself from reacting to Savsesser's harshness and regretted that he could afford only one slave.

            “He really makes an excellent impression, but he is surely more expensive than the other slaves and I have no need for a slave this strong.  I am ready to see the other candidates.”  But the slave's gaze had pierced his soul. 

            “How much are you willing to pay?” ventured Savsesser.

            “I prefer to see the others,” sidestepped Eo.  He was not a natural merchant and was wary of negotiation.

            “As you wish.  Let me show you the slaves who are occupied with the olive harvest.”

            Between the furrows of barley grew the orchard trees: pomegranates, crab apples, sycamores, figs, almonds, apricots and a number of olive trees.  When Savsesser and Eo approached them, the boys stopped smacking the tree branches.  Savsesser signaled the biggest one of them to come forward and he ran over.  He stood before them, his entire body tense and trembling, assuming he was about to be whipped. 

            “This slave is of Semitic Amorite origin, twelve years old, speaks Sumerian and Akkadian.  He was brought to me by his sharecropper parents as payment for their crops.  Don't worry about him escaping—his parents' lives are at stake as they are collateral for his loyalty.  He is diligent and quiet and I am sure that he will be of good use to you.”

            Eo felt distressed by the slave's suffering and wondered if it was best for him to just give up on the whole idea.  He had no interest in joining the ranks of slave masters, recoiling at the practice of separating a child from his parents to sentence him to a lifetime of slavery.  Maybe it would be best if he didn't take an apprentice; perhaps Kishmi would be upset, but surely she would understand once he explained to her what he had witnessed in Savsesser's estate.

            “Allow me to think it over, my honorable Savsesser.  I have seen more than enough and now I must consider.”

            “If the cost is too much for you, I am certain that we can reach a compromise.”

            The boy shot Eo an entreating glance, his eyes pleading, 'Buy me at any price, and just get me out of here.'

            “Thank you, your honor.  Obviously, I would not purchase a slave that was outside my price range; however, cost is not my only concern.  I need to reconsider my own needs and I shall return to you shortly.”

            “You shan't find healthier or more diligent slaves with any of the other landowners.  Just promise me one thing.”

            “And what is that?”

            “That when you return, you state the price that you see fit, before approaching other landowners.  They are merciful and their slaves are in turn lazy.  You will not find harder working or more obedient slaves in all of Uruk.”

            “I offer you my most heartfelt thanks and shall consider your words positively.”

            “If so, then I am satisfied.  Let me escort you back.”

            As they approached the gate of the property, Eo noticed something that had been hidden from him when he arrived.  Chained to the stone wall to the right of the gate was a swarthy slave, spread-eagle, back bleeding, streaked with whip lashes and swarming with flies.

            “Who's that?” inquired Eo.

            “A rebellious slave, whose penalty is death.”

            “What is his crime?”

            “Assisting in the escape of a slave.”

            “How do you know?”

            “I have no proof, but the chief taskmaster told me that he was the slave's best friend, so it's impossible that he was not involved in the escape plan.  It seems that he pretended to suffer from acute stomach pain and distracted the taskmasters just as his friend was escaping.  Slaves are obligated to hand over another slave who is planning to escape the moment the knowledge becomes available to them, and if not, their sentence is death.  He was interrogated the entire night and did not admit to anything.  I would have let him die last night but I hoped that he would reveal the destination of the escaped slave.  We'll leave him here until he talks or until the flies, ants and cattle egrets finish the work for us.  Had he talked, he would have been entitled to a quick death by the sword.”

            “Has his friend been captured yet?”

            The question embarrassed Savsesser, who stammered an answer.  “He disappeared yesterday and I am sure that by tomorrow night, the slave hunters will have found him, dead or alive.” 

            “How did he escape?”  Eo felt a sort of satisfaction hearing about the slave's escape and the slave owner's consequent embarrassment. 

            “We, uh... we don't know,” stuttered Savsesser. 

            “May I examine this slave?” 

            “You want to buy a rebellious slave?” Savsesser asked incredulously. 

            “I want to examine him,” replied Eo politely but firmly.

            The baffled Savsesser did not know what to say.

            “If you do not wish to sell to me, then I will be on my way.”

            “No, no, please, examine them all,” said the master, coming to his senses.  

            Rukha wished he were dead.  With each lash of the whip he prayed to die before the next lash.  From time to time he sunk into flights of fancy, imagining that he had already died and was meeting Dagon, God of his fathers, crowned with fish scales.  Dagon asked him: “Would you still have helped Timin had you known the fate that awaited you?”  Sometimes he answered yes and other times no; but then he thought of Timin's abounding loyalty, how he endangered himself time after time on Rukha's behalf.  He then settled into contentedness, at peace with his choice and its aftermath. 

            'I knew what awaited me,' he thought.

            “What is your name?”  He heard Dagon's voice.  He was taken aback, since the God surely knows his creations.

            “What is your name?” repeated Dagon.

            “Rukha,” he muttered inaudibly. 

            “What?  I cannot hear you.”

            “Rukha,” he tried to repeat his name in a louder voice.  'Dagon cannot hear?  It cannot be!'  The sharp pain in his lacerated back and his weary joints struck him at once as he was jolted back to reality. 

            “Rukha?” asked the stranger.

            “Yes,” he replied indifferently, staring into the stranger's eyes.

            Eo knew immediately and without a doubt that that this was the slave he had been looking for. 

            “He's practically dead,” Savsesser gestured with his staff toward Rukha.

            “I do not wish to waste more of your time, your honor, and thank you for your hospitality.  You may return now to your important occupations.  I shall stay another moment with the slave before going on my way, if you do not mind.”

            “As you wish, and like I already said, return to me before you approach the other slave owners.  I am certain we can reach a favorable compromise.”

            “Thank you, thank you.”  Eo held his breath in hopes of avoiding Savsesser's foul stench as they rubbed noses in parting.  Savsesser called to one of his slaves and began limping toward the shaded arbor, supported by a slave and his staff.

CHAPTER 2

            “Why are you being punished?”  Eo asked Rukha.

            “I was accused of exercising free will,” answered Rukha in a tone that was surprisingly composed.

            “And what was that choice?”

            “I was accused of helping my friend escape to freedom.  And who are you?”

            “Eogulades, oil healer.  Is it true?”

            “It is the right thing to do, regardless if I did it or not.”

            “I will not ask if you helped him.”

            Rukha was silent.

            “They plan on leaving you here so that you will die.”

            “Yes.”

            “And if you confess, you will at least die without suffering.”

            “Yes.”

            “If that is the case, then why don't you confess?”

            Rukha tried to glance around without success.  He could barely even raise his head. 

            “Your master has gone,” said Eo.

            Rukha was silent.

            “Because then, instead of letting you die they will interrogate you even more about the escape and then they might catch him.”

            Rukha remained silent but his eyes expressed admission.

            “That cruel Savsesser should be the one chained to the wall in your place,” said Eo.

            “Everyone has his own fate, which provides him with opportunities to make his own choices.  I bear no hatred or bitterness.  Savsesser chooses to oppress his slaves, Timin chose to risk his life for freedom and I am accused,” Rukha took care not to admit to anything, “of choosing to risk my life in the name of friendship.”  The energy it took him to speak exhausted him and his head slumped onto his chest.

            Eo kicked a small stone, dug the toe of his sandal into the sand and tried to imagine what Kishmi would say.  He turned from side to side and finally succeeded in articulating what he felt.  “I choose you.  Come work with me.”

            Eo could not understand the rage that manifested on Rukha's face.  Had he the energy, Rukha would have spoken, opened his closed heart and expressed his anger.  During the long hours of his torture, Rukha had come to terms with his death sentence.  He detached himself from the green landscape, the blue water and the brown earth.  In his mind's eye, he could already see his mother and father awaiting him on the other side of the netherworld river controlled by the raft demon Siluigy.  As the hours passed, he longed for death.  Though death would release him from pain, he must protect Timin's secret.  Death was within reach.  In just a moment he would be liberated from the burden of his languishing body.  And it had to be at this exact moment that the oil healer stood before him, inviting him not only to live but to live in dignity?  He foiled his plans, interfering with his silent descent into death. 

            “I'll buy you from Savsesser,” continued Eo.

            'It cannot be,' Rukha's thoughts persisted in an attempt to protect him from disappointment.  He glanced at Eo with searching eyes.  Eo seemed like he was speaking the truth.  He continued to stare at him.  He saw the goodness of his heart in his relaxed lips, his sincerity in his straightforward gaze.  The more he looked at him, the more he trusted him. 

            “I'll take you out of here,” continued Eo, “if you so desire.”

            The freedom afforded by death and the freedom afforded by the hope of life struggled within the young slave's tormented soul.  The decision came to him of its own accord.  Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream burst forth from the depths of his bowels, followed by bitter cries of hope.  The physical pain of the torture overcame him all at once.  He fainted.  Savsesser hastily limped over on his staff, fearing that his guest had been injured. 

            “I will buy Rukha from you,” said Eo.

            “I cannot sell you a rebellious slave.  I cannot have it on my conscience that he may rise up and rebel against you one day.”

            “I am willing to promise you that I free you of any such liability.”

            After some thought, Savsesser added, “I cannot waive his punishment. What will the other slaves think?  What will the other landowners say about me?”

            “I am willing to compensate you for these damages as well.”

            “That's a very high price we're talking about.  I don't know if it is one you can afford.”

            Eo removed the royal promissory note form the folds of his belt.  Savsesser took the tablet in his hand and examined it closely on all sides.  A glimmer flashed in his eyes.  With difficulty, he parted with the tablet and handed it back to Eo.  He rubbed his empty hands together.

            “If His Excellency Seruf, eunuch of the king, is your guarantor, then perhaps it is better for you to buy a different slave, one who is stronger and more loyal.  A wealthy man like yourself certainly can afford more.  If you wish, I can give you two slaves for the price of one.”

            “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  I'll take Rukha now.”

            Without waiting for an answer, Eo delivered the tablet into Savsesser's hands and began to unravel the knots on Rukha's wrists and ankles. 

            “Be careful, you are making a mistake!  He is dangerous—take a different slave,” cried Savsesser.

            “Do you want to give me back my promissory note?”  Eo stretched out his open hand. 

            Savsesser could not stand up to his avarice.  He slipped the tablet into the folds of his gown and said nothing.  When Eo undid all of the binds, Rukha fell into his arms, still unconscious. 

            “Get back to work, now!” Savsesser thundered at the slaves who had stopped working and were now smiling widely.  'I shall instruct the chief taskmaster to be stricter with them in the coming days.  I cannot let this matter arouse dangerous thoughts in their heads,' mused Savsesser.

            “Bring me pomegranate juice, please” said Eo. 

            At Savsesser's command one of the slaves ran toward them carrying a pitcher and a flask.  Eo cradled Rukha's head in his lap and dripped the juice into his mouth with his free hand.  Rukha stirred, coughed slightly and finally drank a few drops. 

            Savsesser could not stand to watch the way in which a free man regarded the errant slave.  He averted his gaze and fidgeted impatiently.  Savsesser wanted to be rid of them as quickly as possible and to forget the disgrace that, instead of killing the rebellious slave, he had sold him in front of all of his servants.  Eo also wanted to leave the slaves' court, but first he needed to give Rukha a drink.  With infinite patience, he dribbled drops of juice into his mouth.  Savsesser rocked on his cane and walked away, fondling the precious promissory note in his pocket.

            Eo carried Rukha like a baby in his arms, taking care not to exacerbate the pain of the lacerations on his back.  He exited through the gate, in anticipation of delighting Kishmi.

CHAPTER 3

            For the first three days, Kishmi bandaged his wounds with mint to prevent infection.  Throughout the week, she chewed bitter sage leaves and applied the sticky paste to the wounds on his back in order to accelerate their healing.  During the second week, he managed to sleep through the entire night without waking from nightmares of the lashing whip and cries of “Timin, Timin”.  By that point he had also begun to contribute his share of simple household chores as well as accompany Eo when receiving patients. 

            The treatment he received from Eo and Kishmi aroused Rukha's suspicion.  Since his parents' passing and Timin's escape, Rukha had come to terms with his solitude on this earth—no one would miss him were he to die.  He sank into a deep depression despite the maternal warmth that Kishmi bestowed upon him through her dedicated care and despite Eo's certainty that Rukha would be delighted not only to have survived but to have been spared from hard labor.  Even extract from St. John's Wart plant extract could not ease his misery.

            “Eo, my love, what shall we do with him?” asked Kishmi while milking the goat. 

            “It's only been two weeks so far, dear.  He needs time.”

            “What for?”

            “For him to believe that his destiny has improved.”

            “It seems to me that something is still gnawing at him,” said Kishmi.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Timin.”

            “What about Timin?”

            “I think that he misses him or is worried about him.  He may even admire him and is wondering why he himself is not trying to escape as well.”

            “Or all of those things simultaneously,” said Eo.

            “You're the healer.  What can we do?”

            “I have an idea.”

            “What?”  Kishmi stroked the goat soothingly to prevent it from kicking over the jug of milk. 

            “We'll let him out.  Send him to buy olive oil from across the river.  This will accomplish several goals.”

            “Such as...?”

            “We shall indubitably prove to him that we trust him, which may encourage him to trust us in turn.  The excursion will provide him with an opportunity to inquire about Timin's fate without having to openly admit that he is doing so.  And it is of utmost importance that he be given an opportunity to escape.  Should he choose to return, he will no longer regard his presence in our home as a forced one, but rather one of choice.”

The anxiety in Rukha's heart only heightened the nearer he came to Savsesser's land.  Even though he knew in his mind that he was no longer his property and even though he had a slave travel permit with him, the fear did not lessen and was not forgotten.  He could have reached his destination by traveling a different route that bypassed Savsesser's land, but as Eo and Kishmi had expected, Rukha seized this opportunity to investigate news of Timin.  In the weeks that passed since his disappearance, not a trace of information had surfaced regarding his fate.  Had he been captured, the entire city would have known. 

            He tried to walk with the confident gait of a free man as he was walking along the path on the banks of the canal through which Timin had escaped.  He severed a long reed and dipped it into the water, as if Timin were still submerged and would notice that Rukha was looking for him.  About two parasangs further, he stumbled upon one of the stomachs that Timin had used for floatation.  The slave hunters had surely passed by here but could not have imagined that this unusual contraption had facilitated Timin's escape.  If they had suspected such a thing, they would have pursued him along the canal until the river.  He recognized the stitches that he had sewn with his very own fingers and hope ignited within him once more.  'At least I know that the plan worked.  At least he got this far.'

            The estuary was dammed with woven reed fishing nets filled with fish, fluttering in a futile attempt to escape.  'This is where Timin came out of the canal.  Nobody saw him.  If they had seen him, he would have been caught.  The river was full to the brim and the strong current would have quickly swept him to the ocean, and from there to his home in Elam,' Rukha thought encouragingly.  'From this point on, I will not find any more signs.'  He bit into the barley bread and cheese that Kishmi had given him as provisions for the journey and tossed a piece of it into the water, as if sharing it with Timin.  He then retied the knots on the sack of cheese on his back and ascended the bridge leading toward the other side of the river. 

            Rukha stood on the bridge and gazed down at the stream below.  As Eo had predicted, he deliberated his options. 

            One moment he thought: 'I am no longer the property of any man.  Not even of the kind Eo and Kishmi.  I have the right to go free, if I so desire, just like Timin did.  This sack of cheese could last me a couple of days and there are plenty of fruit and almond trees along the river banks.  I could build myself a raft out of canes and float out to sea and from there continue to Elam, to Timin.'

            And then the next moment he contradicted his own proposition: 'You have nowhere to go.  You have no family to which you can return.  The chances of locating Timin in the Kingdom of Elam is akin to finding a fish scale inside a swamp.  Kishmi and Eo are not like the masters you used to know; they treat you fairly.  Eo does not burden you with hard labor and Kishmi cares for you as if you were her own son.  And where would you go, anyway? Perhaps you will see Timin one day again.'

            Rukha traded the cheese for oil on the other side of the river and returned to the hut.  He grasped the neck of the jug of oil and unloaded it from his back.  “My master, my lady, I have returned.  I brought the oil,” he called out as he entered the house.  When he heard no reply, he went out to the back yard and saw them sitting on the ground.  Eo's face was sullen and Kishmi appeared to be sobbing.  They lifted their eyes to him in silence. 

            “What has happened?” he asked as he felt the dread creeping up his back to his nape and closing in on his face.

            “They found Timin,” said Eo.

            The jug of oil dropped from his hands, struck the ground and spilled.  His eyes darkened, his lungs deflated, his knees trembled and he collapsed like a sack of grain.  Only after Kishmi offered, “I'm so sorry, Rukha,” he began to sob and they hugged him in their arms.

            Finally he composed himself and asked, “What happened?”

            “About fifty parasangs down the Euphrates from Uruk lies the city state of Ur.  When Timin tried to enter the gates of Ur, according to Savsesser's account, the slave hunters waiting there recognized the Elamite dressed in rags.”

            They were supposed to meet one day.  Rukha insisted on it.  Timin would join his family in Elam and one day he would have enough money to buy Rukha's freedom.  As far as Rukha was concerned, he would be freed from slavery one day with the Gods' help, sail down the Euphrates to Elam in a boat made of reeds and then the Gods would help him locate Timin.  They already planned on raising their children as neighbors and then marry them to one another, thereby realizing the familial bond that they already felt toward each other for so long.  Now none of this would happen.  Ever.  As he felt his future falling to pieces, Rukha thought about how no one could ever take from him the past that he shared with Timin, his memories of the man who was like a mother and father to him, the one who bore both of their harvest quotas on his rugged back. 

            “Did they capture him?”

            “No.  He fled as soon as he realized they were on to him.  Then they understood that he was indeed Timin and shot him with their arrows.”

            “So he died a free man?”

            “Yes.  Timin left this world as a free man.”

CHAPTER 4

"What, do you think is the reason for the woman's fainting spells?" asked Eo.

As was their habit at the end of each work day, since Rukha had been bought a year before, they sat between the spice sacks, skins of oil and tar, potion bottles and star charts, and discussed the patients who had asked for their help that day.

"You can't ignore the fact that these attacks started since her husband took himself an additional wife, and they have become worse since his other wife gave him a son".

"Good Rukha. What else"?

"When she is unconscious, her husband never leaves her bedside, never even goes near the bed of his second wife".

"Good, and what about the other man we saw? Why does his left eye have a visual paralysis that comes and goes"?

"His son, who he calls 'the Apple of My Eye', disappeared in the flooding of the Euphrates and won't return. At least 'the apple of his left eye' returns now and again".

Eo smiled in satisfaction at Rukha's wit and the clarity of his diagnosis but continued to question him.

"And the girl whose parents brought her, the one who is tearing her hair out one hair at a time"?

"Maybe like the first woman she isn't receiving any attention from her parents"?

"Did you see any sign of that"?

"No".

"Trust yourself. If you don't see something, it probably it isn’t there".

"Maybe it's a demon?" asked Rukha.

"Did you hear a demon speaking from within her"?

"No".

"Did you see a demon resisting letting her speak with us"?

"No, I didn't see that either".

"Again, trust yourself. That's not it".

"My teacher, I do not know. What is the reason"?

"You surely remember the day I bought you from Savsesser a year ago".

"How could I ever forget?"

"Do you know why I chose you"?

"No".

"And it never occurred to you to ask"?

Rukha was silent.

"I chose you as an apprentice oil healer because I believe that people are free, and choose at least some of their illnesses in order to pretend that they are not free".

"And why did you choose me"?

"Because when I saw you beaten, in pain, and chained to the wall, you were completely enslaved in the simple meaning of the word, but uncommonly free in the deeper sense. You had realized your freedom in the choice to help a friend escape, and you had put your freedom to the test, in the way you carried the price of that choice".

Rukha had never admitted that he aided Timin, but now he saw no reason to deny it. He lowered his eyes humbly.

"Do you remember what you answered me when I told you that Savsesser should be chained in your place?" asked Eo.

"No. I wasn't really conscious".

"I'll remind you. You said: Every man's fate is determined by his choices. I have no hate or bitterness. Savsesser chooses to oppress his slaves, Timin chose to risk his life for freedom and I am charged with choosing to risk my life for friendship".

"How does that have anything to do with it"?

"Did you see how they were sitting"?

"She and her mother sat very close to one another, hand in hand, and the father sat bent over opposite them".

"Well"?

"Well what? My teacher, I do not know," Rukha responded.

"If she doesn't resist her mother's hold, she will never be able to become one with a man. How old is she"?

"Sixteen".

"She has reached a marriageable age and her mother is not searching for a suitable match for her. Don't you find that odd?" Eo asked, hoping Rukha would notice the clues.

"It is strange, but what does that have to do with the fact that Savsesser chooses to act the way he did?" his mind was working feverishly.

"The mother, the daughter, and the father are making choices too. What are their choices"?

"Now I understand," Rukha's eyes lit up. "The mother is choosing not to let the daughter go, the father is choosing not to intervene, and the daughter is choosing to please her mother".

"And the hairs"?

'Severance', the word echoed in Rukha's mind, but he said nothing. He was afraid of sounding silly. Despite the good treatment of Eo and Kishmi, in his heart nested a worry that he might fail as an apprentice and be returned to Savsesser. Eo understood Rukha's fear. He knew that despite all his efforts, it would still be a long time before Rukha would learn to trust himself and his instincts.

"Speak! Don't be afraid to be wrong".

Rukha gathered his courage and said, "the word severing seems to be important here".

"Good, go on," Eo encourage him.

"She is severing the hairs from her head".

"Go on".

"Like… like she would like to sever herself from her mother," he said all at once, and waited tensely for the reaction.

Eo looked at him with a serious expression and little by little a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "Excellent, Rukha, you're learning to read body language".

Rukha sighed in relief and straightened his wrinkled forehead.

"In contrast to your choice against Savsesser, why did the girl's choice have to be an unconscious one?" asked Eo.

Rukha thought and finally answered. "I don't know, Eo".

"What was the reason why you refused to admit to Savsesser that you had aided Timin? Didn't you believe that admitting it would grant you a swift death"?

"Actually, I did believe that," Rukha answered.

"So then why did you stay silent"?

"Because admitting to aiding him might have revealed how he escaped and led to his capture".

Eo was silent.

"How is this connected to the girl?" asked Rukha.

"You also refrained from admitting it in order not to give away someone else".

Rukha's eyes lit up. A pleasant satisfaction stimulated his senses. True pleasure. "You mean the girl is refraining from admitting she wants to be cut loose from her mother, in order not to give away the fact that her mother is enslaving her?" Rukha asked.

"Very good," said Eo and didn't let go. "Now for the treatment. How would you treat the woman who keeps fainting"?

"I would give her a concoction of wormwood leaves ground up with mustard seeds and instruct her husband to give her a heaped serving every time she faints, but other than that, he must not be anywhere near her when she is unconscious. Only his other wife may come near her and massage her temples with common rue oil. I would tell the husband to allow the wife to choose three nights a week when he will sleep in her bed and instruct him to keep to this arrangement for two months and then return to us again".

"And to the bereaved father"?

"I would tell him to take a young goat's kid and sacrifice it to the river God Enki, but not to eat from the meat of the kid. He must spill the blood into the river, and after separating the priests' sections to the temple, he must prepare from the rest a meal for the lucky dice players at the taverns".

"Why?" Eo was puzzled.

"The sacrifice will help him to refrain from closing his eye," winked Rukha, "that's because the river God Enki took his son as a sacrifice, not to be returned. The lucky dice players will invite him to play with them, and the game of luck will be a place where money comes and goes, rather than the vision in his left eye".

"Your words are so wise and precise, Rukha. You listen to the patient's words like a scribe reads a tablet. And what would you do about the girl who is tearing out the hair from her head"?

"I would tell her mother to find her a match".

"That may find her a match, but I don't know if that would cause her to leave her hair alone".

"What would cause that?" Rukha asked. Learning excited him. Working with Eo had taught him that for years he had been walking the world without seeing or understanding. It had never occurred to him that he could see into the depths of the soul, understand the motives of men.

Eo thought for a few moments before answering. "In contrast to what is usually accepted, her father should be the one looking for a match for her. She must be transferred from her mother's possession to her father's, before she can move to her husband's possession. She must cling to her father by preparing with him to meet the suitors' parents, and tighten the hairs in his beard with linen fibers and butter oil. The girl's mother must express her approval of the transfer from the mother to the father by churning the sheep's cream for the butter herself".

"And that's how she'll be transferred from the possession of the mother to that of the father, and from the father to the husband?" asked Rukha excitedly.

"Exactly, Rukha".

"Is that it"?

"No. She must also feel the bodily pain at the separation between her and her mother.

"How"?

"Her mother will pierce the earlobe of the girl, without a clove concoction to numb the pain, and her father will put the earring on her".

Rukha was surprised at the depth of Eo's perception, and from the speed at which he had designed the treatment ceremonies. "I'll never be as good as you".

"Why not? You're a quick learner and you understand what you need to learn. You understand that this world is with us at all times, under the surface, like a double bottom of a jug. Sometimes it is possible to understand what is going on there, and sometimes it isn't. I also don't understand all the time.

On a fine spring day, His Royal Highness, King Meskiagasher went out hunting lions. On his head he wore a tortoiseshell helmet, from which two polished buffalo horns protruded. His hair was braided and tied, his beard was separated into sideburns entwined with golden threads and curled against the slope of his wide exposed chest. At his waist, he wore a skirt of ox leather and on his feet he wore felt shoes made of sheep's wool.

Eo sat frozen in the sedan chair on the king's right hand side. Was there any higher honor than this? It could be interpreted in two ways only: Either the king was giving him respect for a particularly successful healing he had performed recently – Eo doubted this was the case, since he hadn't performed a healing like this recently, and also because he generally underestimated his worth; but the second option, the more likely and more intimidating, was that the king was going to put before him a particularly difficult challenge. Eo feared that the king had invited him in order to discuss the ongoing drought that had hit their normally fertile fields, dried out the barley before it had even ripened, and made the ground as hard as stone. Could it be that Shamash, the sun God and his servant Nergal, king of the underworld, were angry with them for some reason? Eo feared that the king was going to ask him to heal the suffering of the ground. He knew that this task was above his powers.

The king sat straight as a young palm tree, his jaw tight and his eyes focused on an unknown point on the horizon. Eo did not need his special skills to distinguish the great tension and the heavy sadness that encompassed His Highness. Eo was scared. The king was deep in thought and did not say a word during the entire trip, and neither did Eo.

Finally they arrived at a great wide space, surrounded by rare fruit trees from around the world. Between the trees were brooks which in these arid days had dwindled to a thin trickle. The king's servant guided Eo, along with the entourage of musicians and scribes. They could not hide their envy of Eo for the honor he had received.

A trumpeting sound erupted from a ram's horn, and the king's servant, who was standing on the lion's cage, pulled the cage's opening up and opened it. The lion was tremendous in size, its mane was blacker than black, a gift sent by sea from the land of Sheba. There were lions in Sumer as well, but their size was not so impressive, and as such they were not considered worthy for a royal hunt.

The hunt began. The soldiers surrounded the confused and furious lion with their spears and directed it towards the king. He, from his lofty location at the top of the pole tower, shot his arrows at the lion. The audience cheered enthusiastically with each arrow that was shot, and that seemed to infuriate the lion even more. The lion tried to charge the soldiers, but they escaped in time. After a while, the wounded lion collapsed on the bloodstained grass, numerous arrows protruding from its body. The soldiers of the king's guard surrounded it with their spears, in case it recovered and got up just when the king was coming down from the pole tower. The king grasped a bronze sword he had been given as a gift by the king of the Philistines, who were known as metal-smiths. He lifted the sword to plunge it in the lion's heart, but the lion beat him to it, and rose on its legs.

The king was forced to show great courage and fight the lion or be torn to shreds by his people. The soldiers of the guard understood this and refrained from interfering. His Majesty was a brave man; if he had not been as brave, he would not have survived the many years of his reign. He slashed at the face of the charging lion, and slipped away from its jaws at the last second. The lion, with its slashed nose and eyes, moved slowly because of the blood flowing from its wounds, turned in place and tried to charge again. The king escaped at the last second and plunged his sword in the lion's side. The sword was so strongly embedded, that the king could not get it out. He took a spear from the nearest soldier and waited for the next charge.

The bleeding lion raised its paws with claws outstretched to strike the king with; but where the king had been a fraction of a second before, the lion now encountered nothing more than his protruding spear. The lion twitched and exhaled his last breaths as the spear penetrated his chest. The king laid his leg on the dying lion and forcefully withdrew the bronze sword from its side. Sweat mixed with the lion's blood flowed down his face. His heart was pounding like the drums of destiny. He was filled with the vigor that he had stolen from the fearsome animal. The feeling of elation temporarily allowed him to forget his troubles. He waved the bloody sword in the air and called out a victory cheer in a loud and clear voice:

"Long live Uruk".

"Long live Meskiagasher's dynasty forever and ever," the audience responded.

After the giant animal had stopped twitching, the king poured over it cows' milk diluted with holy water of the Euphrates, in order to appease its spirit. On the return journey, the king and Eo sat alone in the sedan chair. His Highness was almost friendly. The hunt had released the tension that was built up in him, and he spoke of his movements while giving honor to the brave lion. It was only when they got to the outskirts of the city that the king began to discuss the subject for which he had summoned Eo, and his words came as a complete surprise to Eo.

While Eo had been watching the king fighting the lion, Rukha had replaced him in the treatment room. For a long time Eo had been trying to persuade him to try out his skills as a healer but Rukha was hesitant. He was afraid that he would harm or, injure, heaven forbid, the people requesting their help, but Eo insisted, and indeed, under Eo's supervision, Rukha had some success. Eo tried to persuade Rukha to treat patients also when he was out of the house on business. But Rukha firmly refused. He agreed to take chances with patients only under Eo's supervision, but this time circumstances forced him to intervene.

Kishmi greeted the parents with their seventeen-year-old son. They had brought him sitting on a plank of wood that they carried between them while holding it on either side, while the son leaned on their shoulders. Kishmi sent them to the treatment room. Rukha refused to treat them. The great responsibility intimidated him. He asked them to come back in the coming days, when Eo was available to see them. The father of the family, a muscular man with a thick black beard, insisted upon being treated on the spot. Logic drove Rukha to continue to refuse. 'I'm not ready yet,' he said to himself and shook his head.

"I am not used to begging," said the father with his head bowed. "Master healer, hear the voice of my plea as I cry to you, my son needs your help."

 He placed the chicken he had brought as payment into Rukha's lap.

'Master healer,' Rukha mumbled the words to himself. The words were sweet and bitter in his mouth like the first almonds. He began to understand the gift he had been given by Eo, the ability to give, the ability to heal. He said to himself that in the worst case scenario, if the treatment was not successful, they would come back to Eo. He decided to take the responsibility.

"Put him on the stool".

"Thank you, thank you, Master Healer," the father said. The mother bowed lightly and turned her eyes on him.

He noted to himself, based on the course linen clothes of the parents, that they were lower class. Their son, on the other hand, wore the uniform of the king's palace honor legion: sandals laced up his legs, a skirt of hardened ox leather, a tightly knitted woolen tunic, and wide leather bracelets on both his wrists. As he had been taught by Eo, he asked the parents to sit on the side, and began to listen to the youth.

"What is your name"?

"Khafus, sir," said the boy.

"I am Rukha." He introduced himself without the title of Healer. The title 'Master' was jarring to him. It appeared that the boy did not know he was a slave. Rukha restrained himself. Part of the power to heal was drawn from the respect that the patient had for the healer.

"What is the problem?" he asked.

"I fall".

"What do you mean"?

"I try to stand up and fail, and then I fall".

"Let me see. Try to stand".

The boy tried to raise himself up on his legs, but crashed to the floor. Rukha helped him return to the stool.

"What happened?" asked Rukha.

"I tried to stand on my legs, and each leg went in a different direction".

"When did it begin"?

"Four moons ago".

"Have you tried going to a water healer"?

"It didn't help".

"What did he say"?

"He felt my bones, bent my joints, made me drink potions and fed me powders, tied my legs with a splint, hung me upside down from the ceiling, twisted my torso, knocked on my knees, and finally sent me to an oil healer".

"Hmm…" said Rukha, and thought to himself, 'I cannot escape this. I'll try and solve this myself'.

"What had happened four moons ago"?

"Except for the falling"?

"Yes, in your life in general, I see you are wearing the uniform of the king's palace honor legion".

"Yes, four months ago I dropped out of the legion's training program. I was a foot soldier and I requested the opportunity to be tested to join the lines of the legion".

Rukha was surprised at the tone of indifference in his words and noted the connection between the falling on his legs and his dropping out of the training program. He continued his questioning.

"Why did you drop out"?

"The commanders of the legion said I wasn't obedient enough".

"And what do you say"?

"It's probably true".

"And you're still in uniform"?

The boy sat in uncomfortable silence.

"Did you know that the discipline in the legion was tough? Tougher than in the regular army"?

"Yes".

"And were you ready for it"?

"I thought so".

"When you dropped out… of the legion, were you sorry"?

"Yes, yes, since I was a child my greatest ambition has been to be a soldier in the legion".

Rukha got the impression that although the boy was talking of sorrow, he was not really sorry. He noticed that the mother's eyes were lowered.

"Why are you sorry that you dropped out of the legion"?

"That's obvious, isn't it – the honor, the prestige. The legion is where men are measured," Khafus answered.

Rukha discerned a tiny flicker of agreement in the father's eyes.

"And what does your father think"?

Khafus looked at his father. The father nodded in agreement. "My father always wanted to be recruited into the army and go to the legion, but it wasn't possible".

"Why"?

"He had to work his family's land. After the death of his father, there was no one left but him to work the land," he said sadly.

"And why aren't you working your lands"?

"My parents are not wealthy, but my two younger brothers work with my parents and they all provide for us together".

Rukha could feel the tension in the room. He looked at the mother. He saw in her eyes that she could tell where he was headed.

"So you wanted to be a soldier in the legion, in order to fulfill your father's dream"?

"Yes… that is… because of that too".

"But you didn't want it enough," Rukha smiled a knowing smile. "Again, what do you feel about the fact that you dropped out… from the training program".

"All right, not bad. You don't always succeed in everything you want".

"It seems like you're not that disappointed".

"What do you mean"?

"If you had really longed to serve in the legion, you would be acting and speaking differently".

"How"?

"To begin with, you would have explained why you wanted it, and not why your father aspired to it. Secondly, if you had really wanted to stay in the legion you would have been willing to obey orders, you would have preferred to obey orders rather than drop out of the training. You would not have easily come to terms with dropping out. You would say 'it's the greatest disaster that's ever happened to me, it's a disappointment that I don't know how I will ever overcome, it's the future I had intended for myself, and now I'm left without a future'. That's how someone would talk who really wanted the legion".

The boy was silent.

"Leave us alone, please," Rukha told the boy's parents in an authoritative tone that surprised even himself. The boy's parents left the room.

"How do you feel about the fact that you fall… off your legs?" Rukha asked, and it was clear from his voice that his confidence was growing.

"It's difficult," said Khafus. The tension in his voice had lowered but not dispelled.

Rukha noticed again the discrepancy between the problem and the feelings being expressed. "Do you want to know what I think?" asked Rukha.

"Yes," said Khafus.

"I'm debating. I don't know if you're happy or sad about dropping out of the legion. I don't know if you're happy to be rid of the mission your father set for you, or that you're sad that you didn’t rise up to the task. I think you're not sorry that you won't be a legionnaire, but that you disappointed your father. What would you have done if you could not have joined the ranks of the army and the legion"?

"I would have bred cattle," said Khafus without delay and his eyes lit up.

"And let's say you could join the legion and also breed cattle"?

"Then I don't know where I would go".

"And so each leg goes in a different direction?" Rukha smiled his thin smile.

Khafus chuckled and asked: "so what do we do"?

"We cry".

"What?" the boy asked in astonishment.

"It's possible that the problem is in the flesh, and the water healer just didn't find it, but if the problem requires the treatment of the oil healer, in my opinion, you haven't cried yet at all, and if you have, maybe you haven't yet cried enough. Have you cried in the last four moons"?

"No. About what"?

"About not being free to focus on cattle breeding, about not succeeding in the legion, in your father's mission, about not being able to choose between the legion and cattle – between your father and yourself, for not being able to direct both of your feet in the same direction, and for falling on your feet".

Khafus's eyes reddened somewhat but he still didn't cry. Rukha noticed excitement under the affected expression of indifference.

"How do you feel?" Rukha asked delicately.

"Fine," lied Khafus.

"Would you agree to let me speak to your father"?

"Of course".

The father came in hesitantly and with reverence, holding his hat in his hand. Rukha gestured for him to sit down on the mat.

"Your son Khafus wanted very much to serve in the king's honor legion".

"Yes, he brought great honor on us all".

"I get the impression that Khafus loves you with all his heart. You must be an exemplary father".

"Thank you sir." The father took pleasure in this and looked at Khafus with pride.

"It is possible that due to his great love for you, he wanted so much to bequeath to you the honor of his service to the king".

The father was pleased.

"It is my impression that he believes his service in the legion is very important to you, more important than his ability to walk".

"What?" the father was stunned. His face fell. He lowered his gaze to the leveled dust floor for a long moment. Finally he raised his eyes, looked at his son and asked, "is this true? Is that what you think"?

Khafus lowered his eyes and wrung his hands. Rukha continued. "Yes, I believe that's what he thinks. He thinks he loves you more than you love him. If he knew how much you love him, he would understand that his health is important to you".

"What is more important to me in the world than you and your brothers?" said the father to his son sorrowfully.

Khafus was silent and he lowered his gaze to the ground.

Rukha turned to the father: "I cannot promise, but I believe your love, a father's love, can cure your son more than anything else," and then he turned to the son. "You so want to please your father, to bring him joy and honor, that I am sorry to see you fail in this."

Khafus believed that Rukha was talking about serving in the legion and became even more embarrassed, but Rukha surprised him: "I am sorry to see you are causing him sorrow because you do not believe in his love".

The father and son looked at him, surprised.

Rukha turned to the son: "What would make your father happier than anything is for you to be happy with your labors. A father's greatest pride is his children accomplishing their desires, even if their greatest desire is to breed cattle. Right?" he turned to the father.

"Of course, of course." Nodded the father.

"You must dilute a pinch of this powder in boiled camel's milk, and drink it every night," Rukha told Khafus. He took a handful of the ostrich eggshell powder from the medicine bag in the corner and wrapped it in vine leaves. Khafus nodded in agreement.

"That's enough for today. If the problem doesn't resolve itself, come back next week. My master and teacher, Eogulades, will be here to greet you".

"Thank you very much," said the father and bowed his head.

"You're welcome," answered Rukha, and helped the father to carry the son on the board out of the treatment room.

"In my harem, there are women from the four corners of the land, Hittites, Elamites, Canaanites and Egyptians, but not one of them could compare in her intelligence or her beauty to my beloved queen, Partakhti, daughter of Pharaoh, king of Egypt. I have many sons from my many wives, and my daughters the princesses are wives to the kings of the world, but I have but one heir, the son of Queen Partakhti, Enmerkar," the king said in a broken voice.

Eo looked away so as not to see the dampness in his eyes, in order not to shame the king. He continued to listen attentively.

"Eogulades, you once assisted in banishing a ghost from the halls of the palace. Both the head eunuch Seruf and Vizier Murdoch have named you as a talented oil healer, who negotiates with the creations of Nammu in this world and the Gods and demons in the upper and netherworlds. Please be so kind as to help me, Eogulades," asked the king.

The king did not command him, but rather requested, but Eo knew that the king's request was a command just as any other. The anxiety that he was feeling did not allow him to enjoy the honor the king had bestowed upon him. The beating of his heart mixed with the sound of the footsteps of those carrying the sedan chair.

"Since the drought hit our plentiful land, a worry has nested darkly in my heart," the king continued, "and when I heard about a two headed calf that was born to one of my farmers, it was clear that this was an omen, a sign that something bad was about to happen." The king breathed deeply. "A week later, a spirit grabbed hold of Enmerkar, my son and heir." He had trouble speaking. "I do not know if it is a ghost, a demon from the netherworld, a curse that has been cast on him by my enemies or a flesh sickness. The water healer prescribed a herbal potion, grounded up stone dust for him, and decreed that he should eat cooked bone marrow of powerful animals, but nothing has helped. Incoherent voices bubble up from within him in an unknown language, tossing him from side to side like a prophet. He is sick, my son who means more than anything to me, my crown prince Enmerkar." Eo nodded in understanding and sorrow, and the king went on. "Can you return his health, that he might reign over Uruk, and conquer all the fortified cities of the country? If you can save him, Eogulades, I will keep you and your offspring in the employ of the monarchy for generations to come. I will give you slaves to work the great fields I will give you. Your sheep will eat barley and your slaves will drink oil".

The king did not need to state the obvious, what would happen if he failed. Eo knew that if he disappointed Meskiagasher the cruel, he would be punished in whatever way the king saw fit, from death to slavery. Meskiagasher was merciful and kind to his friends, but was cruel to his enemies and to all who denied him. The residents of Larsa who had survived after the terrible slaughter spread his name in the streets of the land between the rivers.

Eo, filled with fear, didn't notice that they had already reached the palace. One of the eunuchs proffered his hand and assisted him in getting out of the sedan car. He walked home in a daze, not even responding to the acquaintances that touched their noses as they passed him.

Kishmi saw that he had a heavy heart and asked no questions. She silently aided him in removing his clothes; taking off his many pieces of jewelry, and she unraveled the hairs of his beard. After he was wrapped in his favorite house robe, a gift from a grateful patient he had cured, Eo sat down at Kishmi's side and told her everything that had transpired between him and the king.

"I have never in my life received such a compliment. I never saw myself as a royal healer. Me?! A royal healer?! Kishmi, I don't know if I can do this".

"Why not? You've already banished demons from the palace".

"I don't know, but this is the king and the prince, I don't know if I can treat them".

"Why? Are they not flesh and blood? Are they Gods like the Pharaohs of Egypt? If they were Gods, would they ask for the help of a flesh and blood oil healer"?

"I don't know. I know they're human, but still, royalty are not normal people".

"Do you consider the more respectable of your patients to be less worthy of your treatment than the less respectable?

"I'm scared. Although I know you're right, and I've thought about it myself and come to the conclusion that there is no reason for His Highness to wish to fail me. I'm still scared".

"Royalty won't make you fail, but your fear might blind your wisdom".

"How am I going to free myself of it"?

"What would you say about this to a worried patient"?

"I would tell him that worrying is something that you turn to when there's nothing to do and you're not willing to admit it".

"So what do you prefer? Worrying or helplessness"?

"I’ll do the best that I can. That's what's important," he tried to repeat it to himself. "And if I succeed, we will be granted great wealth".

"Wealth can also hinder you. I have no objection to being wealthy, but that is not what you should have your eye on. You are at your best when you are working out of the love for your work. Acting out of fear or a desire to gain material wealth will hinder you".

Her words relieved his discomfort. "You're right, so right. Every day I negotiate with creatures from other worlds with no fear or desire to gain. I know my work, and even the king thinks I am better than all the rest".

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll succeed. The fear will subside as soon as you begin working".

"In that case, I shall begin immediately".

Her quiet voice and complete confidence in him cleared his mind.

CHAPTER 5

            It was the first night of healing.  At Eo's request, the king's servants prepared a smoldering coal stove, fragrant sandalwood twigs, a basin full of water, a flask of sesame oil and a small bowl of tar.  At the king's request, the room was completely soundproofed with wooden beams so that the palace neighbors would not hear the sounds of the demon emanating from Enmerkar, as well as to help the healers concentrate on their task.  The only sound in the stillness of the room was the steady dripping of the water clock. 

            Eo and Rukha began their various preparations for protecting themselves while treating the crowned prince Enmerkar.  First, they rubbed each other from head to toe with sesame oil to seal all of their pores and prevent the demons from entering their bodies.  The demons were known to be able to penetrate even the tiniest of openings.  The sesame oil also served to ease the removal of the tar from their bodies later on.  They helped each other don and fasten the complex demon masks.  The masks were to deceive the demons or spirits that possessed Enmerkar so that they would believe that they were in the netherworld among familiar faces.  Eo's mask was that of a minor demon, which was intended to engage Enmerkar's demon in conversation.  Rukha's mask bore the semblance of a terrifying major demon, whose purpose was to weaken the powers of the invading demon.

            They put on armor made of elm bark, on top of which were sewn polished copper discs.  The sparkling metal would grab the demon's attention as well as deflect any curses he may hurl at them.  Finally, they covered all remaining exposed parts of their bodies with black tar in order to conceal themselves from the demon.  Rukha moistened the sandalwood twigs in the basin of water and placed them on the stove to smoke.

            In accordance with the plan, as soon as the last drop of water fell from the water clock at midnight, the crown prince Enmerkar was led into the room by two loyal servants.  Eo specifically requested that Enmerkar wear only a simple woolen tunic, so that his clothing would not serve as unnecessary protection to the powers they must tackle.  At his command, the servants left quickly, leaving him standing in the center of the room as they closed the doors on their way out.

            Eo and Rukha studied that young heir that stood motionless in the faint light of the oil lamp.  The prince was a handsome young man.  He was of average height with a strong physique.  His smooth skin was the shade of a hazelnut.  His black curly hair was slicked onto his head with oil.  His honey colored eyes blazed between high cheekbones and sculpted eyebrows.  His gaping mouth expressed fear, but his fear was not in reaction to the two healers disguised as demons.  Enmerkar did not even notice them.

            Suddenly, Enmerkar was overcome with spasms, convulsions that shook his entire body uncontrollably.  The intense shaking subsided and were replaced by random twitching.  Enmerkar began to spin in place and then stopped.  He turned again and then stopped, changed directions and stopped again, this time directly opposite Eo.  The prince swiveled his entire body along with his gaze, which alternated its focus between Eo and Rukha.

            'He noticed us.  We are now inside his world as demons,' thought Eo as he took a small step toward Enmerkar.  The prince did not react.  Eo took another step and then another, until he was a mere four paces away from the prince.  He still did not react.  Rukha knew from experience that he was forbidden to move.  'Eo knows what he is doing and will give me instructions as needed.'

            Eo felt incredibly peaceful.  He felt comfortable in the realm of demons, unafraid of Nergal, king of demons, or Ereshkigal, the queen of the dead, or any other entity from the netherworld.  Humans, especially nobility, usually made him anxious; even more so the king or the prince.  But the man who stood opposite him did not seem like a prince to him.  This was another being, from another world.  Eo took care not to draw him into the human world.  He concentrated only on the entity that was operating from within the prince's body.  Through the mask's eye holes, Eo intently soaked in every detail.   

            Then they heard the unintelligible voice.  Out poured a gushing speech without any pauses or spaces between the syllables.  Enmerkar only stopped to gulp in air as the flowing speech continued.  It seemed as if the words were controlling the prince, using him as an outlet for escape.  The speech was suddenly cut short and then it began flowing again, alternately pulsing.  The stammering intensified until Enmerkar fell completely silent, frozen in place.  Then the twitching set in.  It began in his left eyelid, and then a few seconds later, his right shoulder threw up his arm.  The twitching traveled from his left knee to his neck, remaining at a constant intensity, pulsating gently, each pulse in a different part of Enmerkar's body, like lightening flashing in a cloud before a storm.

            Suddenly, Enmerkar cried out in pain.  He clutched his stomach and collapsed onto his knees on the carpet.  The convulsions stopped and it appeared as if the pain had ended as well.  The prince remained in the same position.  He did not look at Eo again.  Eo suspected that, although the prince's eyes were open, he did not focus them on the carpet in front of him.  He very much wanted to continue to observe the prince, to try to decipher what he was staring at; but it was possible that their presence was a burden on Enmerkar.  The experience had ended, and they must respect that.  The being from the realm of the dead was liable to disappear at any moment, and it was best if they finished the session before Enmerkar came to his senses and panicked to find himself surrounded by demons.

            Eo signaled to Rukha, who tiptoed toward the door to open it.  The kings' servants lifted the prince off the floor and took him to his room.

            “We will sleep now.  Right here, right now, with the masks and tar and everything,” said Eo to Rukha.  “We will not go far from the world of the demons.  We will dream inside the demon world.  Do not fear,” added Eo, recognizing his apprentice's fear of the world of demons.

            They stretched out on wide pillows in the corner of the room.

            “Good night, Eo,” said Rukha, still unsettled.

            “Good night, Rukha,” replied Eo softly.

“His highness, Meskiagasher, the great and just one, if it be your will, I shall speak.”

            “Speak, Eogulades, and may your words heal my son.”

            “We do not know what is possessing Enmerkar, but it is clear that the being is a demon spirit, or the soul of a man who was not properly buried.  This is not an affliction of the flesh.  The spasms and convulsions point to the existence of some sort of presence in his body.  When he turned facing all directions, he did so because he was surrounded by beings and each time he faced a different one.  Perhaps it was because they turned to him first, or perhaps it was he who approached them with a request.  I imagine that he needs their help, and perhaps was pleading with them to spare him pain.  It is still unclear.  In any event, we have entered his world.  In his eyes, we were two of the demons who surrounded him, and this is good:  I did not anticipate such quick access.”

            Rukha marveled at Eo's masterful skills of analysis and insight.  Although Eo was known to be anxious in his dealings with people, when he was among demons or talking about demons, he exuded confidence.  His highness, who was known to harden his heart toward his enemies, listened with compassion and fatherly concern.  Eo continued.

            “The outpouring of speech is the demon's attempt at making himself heard.  It is unclear why the demon has specifically chosen the heir to be the one to serve as a medium for his words, and it is not clear what he is trying to say or to whom; but what is clear is that he definitely wants to be heard.  It is likely that the interruptions are cause by opposition from other demons of the netherworld that are intruding and interfering, and possibly because of your son Enmerkar's efforts to overcome them as well.  The pain in his stomach is a hint received from the Goddess Ereshkigal, queen of the dead.  We must find the next clue in the signs of the liver, in the belly of a black lamb that we shall sacrifice to the queen of the netherworld.”

Like all other important religious events, the liver reading was carried out in the red temple, which was intended only for the king and his heirs.  Eo and Rukha purified themselves in the king's pool.  They then donned new white tunics and drank liquor mixed with salt water from the sea.  They walked barefoot from the palace to the red temple, escorted by the king and his entourage.  They then completed their final preparations for the reading of the liver.  Eo kneeled and prayed with closed eyes while sharpening the copper knife on the basalt whetstone.  Rukha stacked the aromatic frankincense and myrtle branches on the ceramic tray above the glowing coals. 

            Rukha held the black lamb and pulled its head backwards while Eo slaughtered it.  The blood flowed into the drainage basin and from there it was poured through a reed stuck into the earth in order to quench the thirst of the nether-beings while the humans ate from the sacrifice. 

            Eo opened the lamb's belly and extracted the intact liver, laying it on the raised marble table.  He examined it with Rukha.  In the past, Eo used to perform this ritual silently, but ever since he had acquired Rukha, he whispered to him throughout the procedure so that Rukha could learn the thought process of a healer.  His thought process was like a hunter stalking its prey.  “The Gods will speak to you via the liver if you know the right questions to ask.  They will guide you to the next question.”

            Eo began.  “What must I do?  Who must I be in order to engage the demon into a conversation with me?  What must I do in order to know the answers to these questions?”

In the network of membranes surrounding the liver, he noticed the shape of a tree splitting into branches and twigs.

            “What does a tree have to do with the prince?” he asked.  “Perhaps I must burn incense from a particular tree on his behalf?”

            He found the likeness of a river branching off into streams and rivulets in the capillaries surrounding the liver.

            “What does water have to do with knowledge?  Perhaps I must bath in the Euphrates?”

            Between the capillaries, he discerned the likeness of a human body with a head, arms and legs waving upwards.  Eo turned his arms and gaze upwards to the God Shamash, closed his eyes and asked, “Water?”

            The answer came to him in his body.  His hearing suddenly faded, a chill crept down his neck and he felt that he could have fainted on the spot had he so desired.  The face of his deceased mother appeared before his eyes.  He received his answer.  “Mother of the Universe.  Namu, the primeval sea, mother of An, God of the heavens, and Ki, God of the Earth, who created humans to aid the Gods.”

            “What else?” he asked the liver.

            He watched the folds of the liver membrane and saw markings of a stylus, triangles and lines, scattered between the capillaries as if they were boundaries between countries. 

            “Writing in a foreign language?”

            No answer appeared.

            He summoned the scribe from the kings' entourage but the scribe could not decipher the strange markings at all. 

            “Enough.  We shall eat from the lamb, drink liquor and then we shall fast,” he told Rukha and turned toward the king to coordinate the rest of the healing process.

CHAPTER 6

            Kishmi tidied the house in anticipation of their arrival.  The lentil and chickpea stew, the roasted veal shank with bay leaves and hot peppers—it was all ready.  The compacted clay floor was swept but the house remained empty, like her womb.  Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door.

            Khafus stood at the door with tears in his eyes.  She remembered him from his previous visit, but at that time he had arrived carried in his parents' arms.  Now he stood erect on his own feet.  When she opened the door, the tears began to flow like rivers down his cheeks.  She tried to calm him down, inquired about his well-being, asked him to have a seat and offered him a cup of water.  He refused to sit, recounting in exhilaration how he had woken up the previous night in the middle of the night and had gone to the basin of water in the adjacent room in order to wash his face, when it suddenly dawned on him that he was walking on his own two feet!  Since that moment, he had been overcome with waves of emotion and tears of joy.  This was his reason for coming to thank Master Rukha.  Kishmi did not correct the title he had bestowed upon the apprentice slave, promising that she would relay the message to Rukha as soon as he arrived.  Khafus insisted on returning later in person.

Kishmi was disappointed when she learned that they were fasting and would not partake of the meal she had prepared.  She did not want to bother her husband with her issues when he was engaged in such important matters, but she could not restrain herself.  After Rukha left to go to his hut in the courtyard, she began.

            “I had a dream,” she ventured while weaving a basket out of palm fronds to make a carrier for a water pitcher.

            “What did you dream?”

            “I was in the center of a large cistern and many Goddesses surrounded me, each one represented by her symbol.  I remember Ashnan with her grains of barley in her hand, Geshtinanna with her cluster of grapes and the Goddess Gula, who was closest to me, clutching her healing snake in her hand.  I wondered, where is Inanna?  Where is she?  I searched for her.  Why did she not come to release me from my barrenness?”  Kishmi cried out in a choked voice.      

            Eo embraced her, feeling her pain.  For years he had turned down her pleas that he take a second woman.             

            “Tell me more,” he asked.

            “Afterward, all of the Goddesses disappeared under the water.  Only I remained with Gula's charm, the golden snake floating on the water's surface.  I stretched out my hand to take it and then the water began to recede.  Only the barren land remained and a small puddle that seeped into a hidden crevice in the ground.  I reached out my hand to take the healers' charm and then I woke up.”

            “What caused you to awaken?”

            “I thought that Rukha was calling me, but then I remembered that both of you were at the palace.  The cries I heard were from wanderers passing by on the street, taking advantage of the crisp night air to make their journey.”

            “All the Goddesses were there??”

            “Yes.”

            “The Goddess Nammu?” he guided her on.

            “I did not see her.”

            “You were inside her!” he determined with a smile.

            “Yes.  The great primeval sea.”  Kishmi laughed.

            “Did you ask that your womb be opened?  Did you ask Inanna?”

            “Yes,” she replied, her smile fading.

            “So why were you specifically in the middle of Nammu's sea?”

            “I don't know.”

            “Why don't you ask your request from Nammu?”

            She answered him with gentle facetiousness.  “Not just anyone may come before the Gods.  That is why the simple folk, who do not work for the king, first turn to the minor Gods.  They will relay the message forward.”

            Eo laughed.  He felt relief for the first time since he got caught up in the tension of dealing with the prince's demon.  “You did not allow yourself to approach Nammu directly, but you found yourself inside her anyway,” he joked with her.

            “That was not the only reason,” she said gravely.  “Nammu, mother of all creation, was not fertilized by a man, since men had not yet been created.  She did not bear the world from her womb, and I shall not receive the womb spirit from her.”     

            “So what did you receive from her?”

            “Healing.  Maybe you as a healer, my loving husband?  I do not understand.”

            Eo was silent.

            After a few moments, her eyes illuminated.  “I understand!”

            He also understood, but was waiting for her to decipher it on her own. 

            “I turned to Nammu to ask for a child that does not come from a man, and like Nammu, I must bear a child without being fertilized.  The healers' snake is Rukha.  I was trying to catch Rukha.  In the twilight between sleeping and waking, I heard Rukha calling out to me,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes.

            “Today, in the red temple, the signs in the liver directed me toward the God Shamash and the Great Mother Goddess Nammu.  I also wanted to turn to her and ask for a child, but I stopped myself in order to focus on my task at hand.  Now I realize that this is not just a personal request by me or by you.  Rukha's release and adoption as our son is part of the prince's healing process.  I do not know how, but this is a clear message that came separately to each of us.”

            “After such a short amount of time?  You haven't even finished paying off his price!  Such a bold move is liable to arouse anxiety among the other slave owners.  They will fear that their slaves will demand their freedom as well.”

            “This is our will, but it is also the will of the Gods.  This is what is written on Enlil's tablet of destiny.”

            “And the king?  You haven't even paid off the loan for buying the slave, and now you are freeing him?”

            Eo was decisive and calm.  When the signs were this clear, there was no danger of error.

            “The king desires the health of his son, and it is incumbent upon me to do what the Gods instruct me to do, for the sake of the prince, for the sake of the king, for the sake of the demon, and for our sakes.  Freeing and adopting Rukha is part of Enmerkar's destiny, even if I have yet to fully understand the explanation for this,” he said while twirling a lock of his beard.  “The puddle that is receding in your dream is the water clock of fate.  The dream tells us that we must act soon.  We must decide to release and adopt him, but not to reveal this to him in the meantime.  If he were supposed to know this, he would have appeared in your dream in person.”

The temple scribe, an expert in all languages and scripts of the region, hid behind a curtain in the corner of the room.  Eo brought him along to aid them in deciphering the hints that surfaced during the liver reading and the cryptic words spoken by the prince.  The prince was also required to prepare.  Before he began his fast as instructed, they gave the prince castor seed extract in order to try to exorcize the demon by vomiting.  The burning stoves scattered about the room were intended to remove the demon through his sweat.  This time, the prince was calmer, though completely disconnected from what was going on around him.  All the other ritual accessories—the sesame oil, the tar and the masks—were like they were on the first night.

            Eo sat on the carpet opposite the prince and Rukha kneeled beside them.  Eo began.  First, he rocked back and forth to a rhythm he set for himself, slowly adding a tune with words that he repeated over and over again. 

            “I hear you.

            I hear you.

            I hear you...”

            The heat was melting the tar, which began to drip onto the floor.  Eo continued to sing for another long hour, patiently.

            Finally, they heard a voice emanating from Prince Enmerkar's throat, a voice that spoke rapidly like it had done on the first night,

            Eo continued in the same tune, but with different words.

            “I want to understand you

            I want to understand you

            I want to understand you...”

            The prince lifted his eyes to Eo.  His gaze was pleading and frustrated.  He began to glance around. 

            Eo changed the verse he was reciting.

            “The Great Mother sent me.”

            The prince turned back to him.

            Eo continued: “The Great Mother sent me,

            The Great Mother sent me...”

            This time, the demon spoke more slowly but his language was unintelligible, and the pauses were still absent from his words.  It seemed to Eo that demon was repeating his words. 

            “Call in the scribe,” he whispered to Rukha.

            Wearing his black robe to make him invisible, the scribe approached Eo, a stylus in his right hand and a clay tablet in his left.  The tablet was blank.  The only marks on the soft clay tablet were the indentations made by the terrified scribe's fingers as he gripped it tightly.

            “I have failed you, healer.  I cannot understand a single word the prince is saying and I did not manage to record even one word that he said,” the scribe whispered to Eo.

            “I want to understand you...” Eo repeated over and over again.

            Suddenly, he discerned a slight change.  The staccato speech and the twitching in various parts of Enmerkar's body returned.

            Enmerkar turned directly toward the scribe and dictated something to him slowly. 

            The scribe stood up, helpless, trying to impress the stylus into the soft clay in vain.  He could not identify a single word that had a symbol in pictogram or in cuneiform script.

            The demon speaking from within Enmerkar's throat turned now to Rukha with pleading in his voice and eyes. 

CHAPTER 7

            The dark room was filled with the scent of cedar incense.  Rukha tried his best to listen to the demon and understand it, but without success.  He could not even discern a single syllable that spouted forth from the demon.  The demon looked at Rukha and continued to murmur unintelligible words in despair.  Rukha turned toward Eo in frustration.  With a slight encouraging movement of his head, Eo directed Rukha's attention back to the demon.  'We must be patient,' thought Rukha as he focused on the demon once more.

            But patience was not enough.  He could continue staring at the demon from now until the Euphrates ran dry and would still not be able to comprehend a thing.  Something else was needed.  Something that require time but not just time.  Rukha concentrated, utilizing the skills that Eo had taught him.  He recalled how Eo concentrated on the words of one patient or followed another's movements, but he had already exhausted all these options with no results.

            He tried to mirror the demon, to copy the position in which he was seated, in the hope that he would understand him based on the tensions of his body.  He spent long minutes in the same position and bearing the same expression as the demon, but the only thing he felt was the demon's desperation to be understood.  He did not glance again at Eo because he knew that Eo too was concentrating on the demon and he did not want to bother him with another task.  Rukha repeated Eo's words: be patient, be calm, do not make an effort to understand, do not focus on anything; just be empty, exposed, vulnerable and sensitive, allowing the information to penetrate you on its own.

            Rukha relaxed his body and the creases in his forehead, taking deep, slow breaths as he felt the muscles of his face falling.  His eyes transformed into large windows that absorbed the light from outside.  At first he decided to remain in this state until the knowledge would ignite within him, but even that very thought required too much concentration.  He dropped the thought and simply stationed himself opposite the demon. 

            Eo closed the water clock.  Even the dripping of the clock fell silent as utter silence enveloped the three of them.  For a long time, the healer and his apprentice sat in increasing calmness.  The demon squirmed uncomfortably, as if calling them to extract him from his torment.

            A sense of pleasure in the back of Rukha's throat began to warmly spread throughout his chest.  His breath became lighter and a faint smile curled the corners of his mouth.  He dismissed his initial thought, which was that this was no time for enjoyment.  Then he recalled something that Eo said: 'Pleasure is an indication of truth.'  He let the pleasure spread throughout his entire body, released his smile and waited for truth. 

            He did not resist the urge to place his hands upon the demon's shoulders.  The demon did not flinch.  They locked gazes.

            Like a bolt of lightning, he felt a jolt that coursed from his head and spread throughout his body in convulsions.  He could not explain how he knew, but he was certain that this was the truth. 

            “He is a slave,” whispered Rukha. 

            “What?”

            “The demon is a slave in the Netherworlds.  I can identify with his longing for freedom.  I am sure of it.  I can feel it in the way he looks at me.  As if we share a brotherhood of slavery between us.  He is a slave.  Approach him and ask him.”

            “No.  You must approach him.  He has already approached you.  You will understand him better.”

            Rukha's heart pounded with excitement.  The burst of happiness he felt over Eo's confidence in his abilities disturbed him in his concentration on the demon.  In such a short amount of time, and thanks to the generous and wise Eo, he had climbed from the status of a slave condemned to death, chained to a wall and eaten by flies, to a healer's apprentice tending to the king's son.  He wanted to hug Eo and cry tears of gratitude.  His attentiveness to the demon faded.  Rukha tried to compose himself.  He struggled to block his personal thoughts and to focus only on the demon.  But when his thoughts began to race again, he was seized with terror.  For he did not really know what he was doing, and what would happen if he disappointed Eo?  What if the king decided to sentence Eo to death because of his own failure?  His fears distanced him farther and farther away from the demon. 

            “Eo, I can't do it.”

            “Yes you can,” Eo calmed him.  “You are talented and wise.  If you sensed that he is a slave, be confident in your intuition.  I trust you.  No one can understand him better than you can.  You can do this, Rukha.”

            “I am afraid that I will make a mistake.”

            “Don't worry.”  Eo held Rukha's trembling hand.  “You knew how to listen to the legion’s soldier who regained his ability to walk.  People and the demons residing inside them are not that different from each other on a basic level.  You can do this.  The demon wants to be heard and he will keep at it until he is understood.”

            Rukha showed Enmerkar the piercing in his earlobe that was a testament to his former slavery.  A spark flashed in Enmerkar's darkened eyes.

            “Sing him one of the slaves' songs,” whispered Eo.

            Rukha looked at Eo with an expression that asked, 'Really?'

            Eo nodded.

            Rukha withdrew into himself and in a melancholy voice began to sing a song that his mother used to sing to him when he was a child:

The loads of sheaves are many

The bricks our backs made sore

The smell of bitumen, the taste of mortar

Like the bread of the poor

The plow and threshing harness

Cloaks us in the day

From the rise of Shamash to nightfall

We have no other way

We are like the air to them

Like the clear waters of the Euphrates

The desert dust and wildflower

Hardly regarded as worthies

But do not fear the whip

The taskmaster is a cruel one

This is our destiny in the world

My dear beloved son

This is our destiny in the world

But do not be sad, prithee

Your mother's love is with you

For your heart is always free.

            He continued to sing in a lamenting voice about slavery, the yearning for freedom, and the ability to make choices concerning your life without a master.  The song placated the demon's spirits.  At the sound of the sad notes, the prince's muscles relaxed even more.  When Rukha finished, Enmerkar was calm, as if he had returned to his normal state and was once again the crowned prince of the Sumerian Kingdom.  His cryptic words continued to flow from the netherworld but were now coming at a slower pace.

            Then another insight struck Rukha like lightning.

            Much to the surprise of Eo and the scribe, Rukha jumped up from his seat as if bitten by a snake, grabbed the stylus and the clay tablet from his hand and began to impress symbols upon it.  In a fury and with great urgency, he filled the tablet with symbols.

            Aside from the king's scribes, treasurers and select priests, the common people of Uruk did not know how to read or write.  This was a complex task that was intended only for the especially talented, a secret concealed by members of the guild who guarded their advantage zealously.

            Luckily for Rukha's, he paid no attention to the dangers posed by this law.  Had he been more focused, it was likely that he would not have grasped that stylus.  A citizen who was not licensed as a scribe and was found to be engaged in this sacred practice would be sentenced to flogging.  The punishment would be doubly severe if the law were to be broken by a slave.  A slave!  The king's scribe was shocked when he saw the slave holding the scribe's stylus.  Eo shot him a fierce glance and the scribe was silent.  Eo marveled once again at Rukha's hidden talents. 

            When the demon saw that Rukha was writing, he began to speak more slowly and in a clearer voice.  Since he felt that his words were being understood, his face lit up.  Eo instructed the scribe to hurry and bring more and more tablets, which Rukha densely filled with symbols in rows going from left to right, made up of small indentations and lines, long and short, triangular and diamond shaped in horizontal lines.  There were spaces between some of the symbols, and some were impressed on top of others.  He quickly filled tablet after tablet, his eyes staining to see in the dusky room.  Eo and the scribe stared at him in amazement.  Rukha was not accustomed to the practice of writing.  He had not held a stylus since the time when was a child and he and his father used to play with clay.  He murmured the syllables that he heard from the demon and pressed them into the soft clay.  He nearly crushed the stylus with the intensity with which his fingers and blanched knuckles grasped it, but he persisted.  Each time a muscle twitch came over Enmerkar, Rukha felt it in his body and noted it on the tablet.  He decided to treat the convulsions as sorts of punctuation.  Eo gestured to the scribe not to move and he himself moved back in order to allow Rukha to write the demon's words with utmost concentration.

            After a long time, Enmerkar's voice slowly diminished.  Finally, he moved his lips soundlessly.  Rukha continued to transcribe the sounds onto the tablet as long as he could make out the words shaped by Enmerkar's lips until the prince fell asleep.

            After the prince's servants took him to his bed and the scribe had left, Eo brought Rukha a cup of water that he had filled in the water clock.  “Drink it slowly,” said Eo to his shaken and panting apprentice.  After Rukha's breathing stabilized and his heartbeat calmed down, Eo turned to him with a questioning face.

            “I recorded the sounds,” said Rukha as he massaged his throbbing hand.

            “What?”

            “In my youth, my father taught me how to write the Ugaritic phonetic symbols from the land of the cedars, an alphabet that the God El passed down to my ancestors.  The Ugaritic alphabet has thirty symbols, one for each of the sounds the mouth produces in speech.  That was how I was able to write down and record everything that he said.”

            “So you did not understand him?”

            “No,” said Rukha with disappointment.  “But we can try to read the sounds like we did with the sheep's liver.  Perhaps the demon is trying to tell us something in code, either because he is in danger that he may be overheard by someone who is with us, someone who we cannot see, perhaps?  Or maybe he is not speaking in code at all, but rather in the language of the demons and we are unable to understand his words while listening to them?  Maybe by studying the written speech we will be able to understand it more?”

            Eo felt extreme pride in his student.  “We must act patiently.  We will not risk the formation of cracks that sometimes occurs when drying a tablet in the fire.  Let's dry the tablets in the sun and wait until noon tomorrow to try to read it.  We'll sleep here and dream again on behalf of the crowned prince.  When we wake, you shall teach me the writing of the land of the cedars.  You did well, my son.  Good night.”

            “Good night,” answered Rukha as the sound of the words 'my son' echoed melodiously in his ears. 

CHAPTER 8

            They huddled around the tablets, their hands dusty from the clay.  Rukha marked the order in which he had written them, pressing Ugaritic numbers into the top of each tablet.  He read out loud and Eo listened, ready to reveal some unpredictable message, and looking for anything that may relate to the clues they received from the liver reading. 

            At the beginning, the scribe was shocked—'A mere slave, holding a tablet!'  But he accepted the king's instructions to write down whatever he was told.  Eo stopped Rukha at the word 'gigi' and told the scribe to write it down.  'Gigi' was a crabapple tree.  He stopped him again at 'susu', a sycamore.  But the message was still unclear.  After all, one could find various names of trees in almost any random collection of syllables. 

            After they went over the tablets a number of times, Rukha asked, “Did you notice that the names of the trees can be read backwards?  If I read the syllable pairs of 'gigi' or 'susu' backwards, we get the same words.  Maybe we need to read the syllables backwards.”

            “Let's try it.”

            Rukha held the first tablet in his hand and read the syllables from the bottom of the tablet up to the top.  The words still sounded like a meaningless jumble of noise.

            “Let's try something a little different now,” said Rukha.  “Let's say that the convulsions that I marked stand for the divisions between the words.  Let's try to read each word backwards, but keep the sequence of the words in the order in which they were spoken.”

            Eo understood what Rukha was saying.  Even if the demon had tried to communicate with them backwards, it was hard to believe that he had turned his entire speech backwards.  Perhaps he just inverted the order of the sounds in each word while expressing the words themselves in the correct sequence.  It was likely that Rukha was correct, and the convulsions and twitching of his muscles were meant to serve as indications of divisions between each word.  Rukha began to read again, and all of a sudden, coherent words began to emerge from the text, expressing the demon's desperate pleas.

            While Rukha read what he wrote in the phonetic script, the king's scribe recorded it in cuneiform script.  He selected symbols from the six hundred at his disposal in order to record the words.  The demon repeated certain things a number of times and the scribe recorded it all.  Afterwards, the three of them arranged the ideas into a clear message.  Eo looked at Rukha in amazement.  In all his years of experience, he had never encountered a demon's presence in such a clear manner.  Until that moment, it was unclear whether their efforts would yield results; now, Rukha had produced the exact document that they needed.  After they finished editing, the king and queen joined them, eager to hear what the demon had to say.  The scribe stood and read:

            “I can see you through your masks and through the tar dripping off your skin.  I know that you are mortals.  I cannot speak to you in your own language because I am a demon and you are humans.  I hope that you possess the wisdom to interpret my words and lift my burden from me.

            “I am 'Layil', demon of my King Nergal's underworld.  I turn to you because only mortal men can help me.  Demons and spirits are bound by the authority of King Nergal and Queen Ereshkigal.  The Gods of the upper world are not allowed to interfere in matters of the netherworld.  Only you, the mortals on Earth, can influence the Gods.  This is my story:

            “I was a woodsman in the cedar forests of the forest God Enkidu for ages.  I felled mighty cedars with a single blow of my sharp ax.  I sold the cedars to the inhabitants of the underworld and primarily to Kumbaba.  It was not easy to sate the hunger of the menacing demon with the thunderous voice, deathly breath and mouth full of fire and cedars.  One day, I was so absorbed in my work that I did not notice that I had left the cedar forest and accidentally chopped down some trees from Kumbaba's private garden.  When I realized what I had done, I saw the olive trees, crabapple trees, almond trees, date palms and sycamores lying dead on the forest floor.  Kumbaba raged like a volcano.  I did not run from punishment, for I loved my work and I had only acted hastily out of my love and enthusiasm. 

            “The judges of the underworld, the elders and wise men who decide the fates of the demons and spirits, held a meeting to discuss my case.  A great dispute was struck up between the judges.  There were those who emphasized my unacceptable actions and there were those who emphasized my good intentions.  Kumbaba, the terrible demon, requested that I be placed into slavery as punishment.  Not one creature in the entire underworld could muster the courage to defend me and stand up to Kumbaba's furious wrath.  Anonki, presiding judge of the netherworld, finally decided that the Gods and demons serving in the netherworld should be judged in the same manner in which they judge the spirits of the dead—on the basis of their actions and not on their intentions.  They sentenced me to return to my work chopping wood, but now as Kumbaba's slave. 

            “I accepted my sentence, but the loss of my freedom was too heavy for me to bear.  Without the ability to choose how to conduct my life, I was left devoid of it.  My blade became dull and my arms limp.  With each additional tree I felled, I became filled with the decision to flee to my freedom.  Using my copper ax, I bribed Siluigi, demon of the ferry, to take me across the river that consumes men and demons.  In the twilight hours, when the gates of the netherworld are open to welcome Shamash, I distracted Neti, guardian of the netherworld, with intoxicating cedar incense and escaped to the middle world, the dwelling place of humans. 

            “The solitude was even bitterer than slavery.  I was a stranger in the middle world.  The netherworld is my home.  I am tormented with longing for the cedar forest, the soot of the furnaces and the whispering magical incense.  I miss the sounds of the beating ax and the rushing of the water underneath the ferry.  I miss the work songs of the woodsmen and the hellish warmth of the depths of the earth.  I longed to return to the netherworld, to my home.  Only with your help, sons of man, can I return to my world as a free creature.

            “While wandering through the land, in the barley fields, I recognized Enmerkar, son of Meskiagasher, King of Uruk.  He was blessing the land in the name of the Gods.  I decided to reside within him because, like me, his love for his work distracted him and he remained in the fields after sunset.  I chose him because, like me, his intentions were good but his actions were improper.  He wanted to bless the land, but did so at twilight.  That is the time when we come out and possess men, taking advantage of the fact that the gates of the netherworld are open to receive Shamash.  I chose him because his father is a king who has the power to be heard in the temple of the Gods.  He has the ability to make me heard by Nergal, my king.  I chose the young crown heir because, like me, he felt a sense of slavery—he felt chained to the dynasty of kings established by his father in Uruk.  He was bound by the restrictions to which kings are obligated.  He cannot drink water unless it is from the king's well; he cannot associate with the people of the city; when his time comes to rule, he cannot deviate from his duty to do justice, to sentence those deserving of it to death; when his time comes to lead Uruk's army into battle, he shall not be able to avoid slaughter and killing.  And his soul is so delicate.

            “I chose the prince because he is also a slave, a slave to the royal dynasty, although his soul yearns to be a regular man.  Like me, his thoughts are innocent but his actions are dark.  The prince walked as a righteous man following a straight path, neither deviating right nor left, but in his soul he had removed the boundaries of the Gods by neglecting his obligations as a cruel conqueror in the future; as a conqueror, who will spread wisdom throughout the city states.  I also ignored the boundaries of Kumbaba by chopping trees from his garden, but in my heart I was faithful to my work.

            “I attached myself to his fate so that I could be tried along with him—the highest prince of the land, the son of the God's chosen one.  I knew that if I were to choose him, the men of Earth would listen to my pleas that emerged from him and be my advocates in the netherworld.  If the Gods forgive the prince on account of his pure intentions, acquitting the crown heir by the merit of your prayers and lifting my punishment from him, then they must uphold a parallel judgment system between the humans and the demons, thereby freeing me from my slavery and returning me to the land in which I belong.”

            Only Rukha noticed that underneath his front of confident composure, Eo was anxiously unsettled.  As an apprentice, Rukha could not appreciate the greatness of the discovery.  He did not know that even Eo had never encountered a demon in such a direct manner.

            Meskiagasher and Partakhti his queen were horrified by the news of their son's condition.  A glimmer of hope stirred in the queen's heart, but the king trembled as he thought about the tremendous powers the healer must face.  'I hope that Eo's abilities will serve him well,' he thought.

            Seruf the eunuch and Murdoch the vizier, sworn enemies vying for closeness with the king, sat opposite each other across the long royal table, exchanging phony smiles and words of respect devoid of any meaning. When the sentry at the entrance announced the king's presence, they stood to their feet, along with eight of the senior advisors of His Majesty Meskiagasher.  Seruf clutched the curse in his pocket and squinted at Murdoch, trying to ascertain his state of health.  'The curse was too weak,' he told himself.  'I must speak again with the stupid healer.'  Meskiagasher briskly approached the chair at the head of the table and gestured to the others to sit down as he took a seat.  Murdoch the vizier felt a sense of confidence as he clutched the clay marble that Eo had given him to serve as a protective charm against the eunuch's curse.  In his head, Seruf reveled at the image of the slaves trampling each other as they tried to reach the leather ball.

            “You are all aware of my high regard for Eogulades, the oil healer, and are familiar with his efforts to cure my son, Enmerkar,” said the king.

            Everyone present nodded mechanically.

            “According to Eogulades, my son's illness is none other than the result of a demon or spirit that possesses him.”

            The men's mouths widened and gasped in surprise and concern, though only a few of the expressions were actually genuine. 

            The king, who had become expertly accustomed to the feigned responses of his entourage, continued.  “Eogulades made it clear to me that the demon possessing my son is none other than a slave, attempting to win his freedom.”  The king paused for a moment so his words could sink in and then proceeded.  “And in order to pave the way for my son's release from the demon, we must support the release of the demon from his slavery.  You will probably tell me that this is the responsibility of the oil healer!”

            The men nodded, “Yes, yes, the oil healer.”

            “And so, the oil healer is conducting meetings with the upper world and the netherworld.  We must do something in the middle world.” The audience quivered apprehensively for what was to come next.  “For a while now, I have been deliberating making some changes to the slavery laws.  I see the involvement of the Gods of the netherworld as a sort of message.  The Gods are telling me to implement these changes.”

            The vizier preempted the eunuch in his show of dedication to the king.

            “We must do something for the sake of Uruk's slaves,” said the vizier. 

            “I am glad that someone here understands this,” said the king as a compliment to the vizier and a jab at the rest of them.

            “Yes, yes, we must do something for Uruk's slaves,” repeated all of the sycophants, aside from the eunuch, who sat in silence. 

            “What do you think, eunuch?” asked the king.

           “Indeed, we must pacify the demon slave and do something for the slaves,” said the eunuch halfheartedly.

            “What do you suggest?” the king asked the eunuch with veiled sarcasm.

            “Well,” began the eunuch with mock gravity, while deliberately pausing to calculate the minimum concession he could offer without angering the king.  “Well, we could release more slaves from the pit each week.”

            The king was silent.  The eunuch understood that he had erred in offering too meager a proposal and hastened to correct it.  “Much more.”

            “Maybe we should release many more prisoners of war as part of the peace deals with the surrendering parties,” said the vizier.  “That way, we gain them as allies on our side.”

            The vizier was betting on the likelihood that the king would be happy with this suggestion as well as the financial perks involved.  The vizier also knew that the suggestion would enrage the eunuch, who pocketed money with each prisoner that was sold. 

            “I think that this is an excellent idea, Vizier,” said the king.

            “Yes, yes, truly a great idea,” they concurred obsequiously.

            “Minister of War,” the king turned to the commander.  “You must cancel the executions and the slave auctions that were planned this week for the Amorite captives.”

            “As you wish, my King,” said the Minister of War, his head bowed humbly as he tried to hide his disapproval as best as he could.  The jeering smile of the eunuch, which had been wiped from his face at the beginning of the meeting, was replaced by a bleak and embittered expression.

            “Is this enough for you?” the king prodded them.

            They all benefited in some manner from the slaves, either from their ransom or their sale; without sufficient fawning, however, their lives were hanging in the balance.  “No, it is not enough,” the murmurs rose from around the table.  Only the eunuch was silent.  He knew the correct answers, but despite this, he still could not overcome his greed. 

            “Yes, my honorable eunuch,” the king turned to him.  “As the Slave Minister, what else can we do for our slaves, in your opinion?”

            “The situation is a very delicate one, my king,” the eunuch squirmed.  “Every concession we make for the benefit of the slaves will ignite the wrath of the lords, and we depend on them to supply our soldiers from the tenants of their estates.”

            “It seems as if you do not understand the importance of the crown heir to the throne,” chided the king.

            “Yes, yes, the exalted crown heir.”  Sweat poured off his forehead.  The sycophants exulted in his misfortune.  They also knew that as long as the king's pressure was directed at the eunuch, they were momentarily safe from the danger that the king would turn on them. 

            “I think that we should free approximately half of the slaves in the pit,” conceded the eunuch.  Though it pained him greatly, he was prepared to relinquish a portion of the enjoyment he derived by watching the sadistic games.  He hoped that he would not be forced to part with his money. 

            “Slave Minister,” the king addressed him.  “You must bid farewell to your beloved game and release all of the slaves from the pit!”

            He did not dare hesitate.  “Yes, my king,” said the eunuch in a broken voice, comforting himself in the thought that he might manage to squeeze in a game or two before carrying out the order.

            “Also,” he addressed all of them, “I am prepared to enact sweeping leniencies and ameliorate the conditions of all of the slaves in the kingdom, if that is in fact what is needed for Eogulades to heal my son.”

            “Of course, of course,” echoed the obsequious chorus. 

            “Vizier,” said the king.

            “Yes, your highness,” Murdoch met his gaze without flattery.

            “I appoint you to be responsible over the implementation of this plan, as well as the preparation of a proposal discussing changes in slaves' conditions.”

            The eunuch had previously enjoyed exclusive command over the slaves.  The king had just enacted a blatant change.  He knew that he could not rely on Seruf to accurately carry out the agreement and took advantage of the opportunity to rearrange the chain of command.  He placed the vizier above the eunuch, including in his duties regarding the slaves.  The king knew that the eunuch would be humiliated; that was precisely his intention.  He hoped that all those present would understand that if they did not properly fulfill what was expected of them, they would not be able to maintain their positions. 

            “I request that you make a trip to my office immediately following the end of this meeting,” smile the vizier in gratification of his new position.

            “Yes, my master,” the humiliated eunuch muttered angrily.

            For the third time, the king's servants prepared the stove of burning coals, the sesame oil, the clay water basin, the small jug of tar and a jug with a perforation that would serve as a water clock.  This time, the oil healer did not request the sandalwood incense but rather cedar incense mixed with intoxicating galbanum.  Once again, the room was sealed with wooden boards to soundproof it and prevent the palace's neighbors from hearing the sounds of Enmerkar's demon.  Eo was afraid that the king would not grant his request, but knew that without the consent of the king he could not act of his own discretion. 

            The king debated for some time and then finally agreed.  In an unprecedented manner, Eo and Rukha were sealed inside the room alone with the prince. 

            Eo helped Rukha spread the sesame oil and tar over himself.  He tied the demon mask to his head and coached him on how he should act based on the agreed signals.  After Eo donned the mask, he sat the prince cross-legged in the center of a circle of twelve oil wicks.  Eo sat opposite him, inside the circle.

            Rukha lit the wicks and scattered the cedar resin and galbanum on the smoldering coal stove.  He then placed the stove inside the circle and sat behind Prince Enmerkar.  He stacked a pile of wet clay tablets and a stylus to the side of them.  When the room had filled with the scent of the galbanum, Eo removed the mask, placed his forehead against Enmerkar's own and laid his hands on his shoulders.  He hummed a slow, simple tune in a low, quiet voice while rocking from side to side.  By doing so, he drew himself and the prince into a trance until the words emerged from within him.

            Kumbaba, Kumbaba, Kumbaba

            Come show your face,

            Kumbaba, Kumbaba, Kumbaba,

            Come show your face...

            The trance deepened.  Eo, in a twilight state between waking and dreaming, continued to beckon Kumbaba for a long time.  Eo jolted awake as soon as he felt a change taking place.  The prince sat erect and stretched.  It appeared as if his shoulders had widened.  His forehead became furrowed, his eyebrows twitched and a menacing look came into his eyes. 

            Eo pulled his forehead away from the prince and pressed his right temple to the prince's.  The price opened his mouth and an unfamiliar voice emerged.  Rukha was ready to record any unintelligible syllable he could hear, but the voice, which was not that of the prince, spoke in his language.  It spoke in fluent Sumerian, in the local dialect of the Urukian aristocracy.

            “Who so brazenly disturbs the slumber of Kumbaba, the terrible and awesome demon?”

            “I am a human.  Eogulades, the oil healer,” replied Eo calmly. 

            “What do you want, human?  How dare you disturb Kumbaba!  Do you desire the deadly cedar fire of my breath?”  The demon raised his voice.

            “You enslaved Layil, the demon,” continued Eo in the same tone of voice. 

            “And what is it to you, mortal?  You came from dust and will return to dust.  What do you care about issues between the demons?”

            “Layil the demon has possessed Prince Enmerkar, the son of his almighty kingship Meskiagasher, King of Uruk.  I am the boy's healer.”  Eo continued as he firmly pressed his temple against Enmerkar's, while his arms pressed down on the boy's shoulders. 

            “I do not interfere with human matters.  It is not my problem if the sinful Layil clings to a simple slave or to an exalted prince.”

            “Release Layil so that he can release the prince!” said Eo in a confident voice. 

            “Stay out of my business or I'll interfere with yours, you rotten maggot food,” Kumbaba's voice intensified.

            “Release Layil so he can release the prince!”  Eo intentionally ignored the demon's words and repeated his own in a low, firm voice.  He pressed his temple more firmly into the prince's temple and felt their sweat mixing together as he grabbed the prince's neck with his right hand.  “You are an inferior and weak demon,” provoked Eo.

            “I shall kill you for your insolence, you wormy human!”

            “You are an inferior and weak demon, deriving pleasure from the suffering of your loyal servant.”

            “How dare you!  Your tongue—”

            Eo cut him off and continued speaking.  “You are an inferior and weak demon.  You do not deserve your position in the netherworld.  You do not deserve to be counted as one of the rulers because you are a slave to your own cruel delights.”

            “I shall tear you to pieces and singe your flesh in the fires of Hell!” yelled the demon, quickly grabbing Eo's neck.  Eo strengthened his grip and ignored the pain in his wrist.  “The cruelty of human beings is unmatched by anything occurring among the animals, Gods or demons.  How many souls has king Meskiagasher slaughtered?  How many severed heads has he scattered in the battlefields?”

            Eo deliberately ignored these words and returned the topic of conversation to the demon.  “The pleasure that you derive from the suffering of another demon demonstrates how despicable you are, how much the envy gnaws at you inside—your envy for humans that walk on earth!”

            “I shall inflict you with curses, ridicule and maleficence!” roared the demon as he dug his nails into Eo's skin.

            “You have no power at all. Those who would ridicule and cause harm do not heed your command.  Ever since you abandoned the woodsman, you removed yourself from the underworld order and all of your servants have abandoned you!”

            Eo was betting on the reaction that his words would elicit:  he did not yet know if Kumbaba did in fact have these supporters at his disposal, but he did know that these things could only damage the veneer of arrogance he wore.  The humility that sometimes made it difficult for him to interact with other people now acted as a protection in his encounters with other worldly beings.  The shock that Eo caused the demon began to show its effectiveness.  He could not speak out of shock and Eo seized the opportunity.

            “The rage, the jealousy, the arbitrariness, the arrogance, the ingratitude: these are the evildoers and mockers that are coursing through your veins,” said the healer slowly and quietly.

            “The mockers are like the hair on my body,” he laughed demonically. 

            “They suck the blood of your insides, blind your eyes and block your ears,” said Eo silently, almost whispering.

            “The evildoers are like the nails of my fingers,” roared the demon derisively, bursting out in wild laughter.

            “They are working against you.”  All at once, Eo raised his voice with all his might and suddenly yelled into his ear, “And they incite you against Nergal!”

            Rukha had difficulty recognizing Eo.  He had never heard him acting so confident and assertive.  He was amazed when he saw that the provocation had worked.  The demon was indeed afraid that Nergal the king of the demons would hear them and suspect him of subversion.  He began to defend himself.

            “I have never meant any harm to my master Nergal,” said Kumbaba, his voice now devoid of the aggression that he demonstrated but a moment earlier.

            “If you indeed submit yourself to the order of the netherworld, you should be certain that Nergal will support your actions.”

            “Nergal my king and Ereshkigal my queen are familiar with my devotion and will support my decisions.  Your attempts will not succeed in tipping the balance, mortal.  Layil was sentenced to slavery and it is not within your feeble power, being the putrid body that you are, to change the workings of the netherworld,” said the demon.

            Eo felt that the decisive moment had come.  He had chained Kumbaba in a web of words.  He had caused the demon to declare his obedience to Nergal.  The demon could no longer get out of this mess; Eo now cast the final trap.

            Eo roared, “All the male and female demons from below, all of the Gods and Goddesses of the netherworld:  You are my witnesses that Kumbaba agrees to either declare himself as a lawbreaker in the underworld or to obey the instructions of his king and queen.  Let us meet for Nergal's ruling in the red temple, the temple of the Goddess Inanna.”

            In order to prevent the demon from having any response, Eo leapt out of the ring of lit wicks.  This was the signal for the eagerly waiting Rukha to quickly pour water from the clay basin onto the burning coals.  A suffocating white smoke struck the prince's face and he fell back unconscious.  Eo signaled Rukha to release the bolts in the doors to allow the prince's servants to carry him out.

CHAPTER 9

            Since the previous night, the high priest had been diligently laboring over the emanation of the idols.  He organized them by order of importance in the great plaza of the red temple of the Goddess of love and war, Inanna.  The most important statues were placed in the center and the lesser ones around them.  From the moment Shamash went down to the netherworld, the high priest and the other priests started singing verses of praise, each to the God he was charged with.  They directed their words to the star identified with each God.  Exposing the statues to the starlight while singing and playing music infused them with the holiness of the Gods in the heavens.  In the morning, those statues that had been sanctified and become Gods themselves were anointed with goat's milk that had been diluted with ale.

            In the afternoon hours, the preparations for the ceremony advanced with great momentum.  Torches were kindled around the plaza and beside each God.  The king, the queen, the prince, the priests, Eo and Rukha immersed themselves in a sanctified purifying pool and wore white garments.  The priests shaved the hair from their heads.  The animals set aside for sacrifice, those which had been fed on the purest of barley, had already been prepared: each of them was resting, bound, beside the God to whom it would be offered.  Between them there was a black goat which had been chosen because it wandered away from its flock.  The musicians tuned their instruments and rehearsed their accompaniment of the songs on the harp, flute, horn and drums of destiny.

            In the temple plaza, the ceremony was due to start.  The prince was in the center, looking as though he was unaware of what was taking place.  Surrounding him were the king, the queen, the high priest, Eo and Rukha.  The three hundred and sixty statues of Gods and Goddesses surrounded them.  The high priest waited for twelve stars to appear in An's night sky, and then he began by saying:

            “In the name of all the priests of the temple of Inanna, in the name of the great and powerful King Meskiagasher, scion of the dynasty of the righteous, may your sheep, goats and cattle feed on barley and your slaves fat forever and ever; in the name of the Queen Partakhti, whose face lights up the night; and in the name of their son destined for greatness, who has not sinned a day in his life, Enmerkar:  I turn to you, the Gods.  Open your ears and hearts to the distress of the mortals, your devoted servants.”

            To the beat of the drum of destiny he declared:

            I turn to you, Inanna, Ishtar, Goddess of Love and War,

            Evening star, ostrich egg beads at your neck, eyes of azure, fingers of gold,

            Holding the distaff and spindle, spinning clothes of crimson and purple,

            Beheading in battle,

            Strumming the women's harp and beating the drum of lamentation.

            This temple is yours.

            I beseech you, bless all the Gods and humans residing here with you and let no harm come to them.

            I appeal to you, Nammu, Great Mother, Goddess of Creation, Source of all Creation.

            I appeal to you, An, God of the Heavens, the origin of the authority of kings.

            I appeal to you, Sin, God of the Great and Awesome Moon, who protects us from demons and spirits and gives us the calendar to live by.

            I appeal to you, Gula, Goddess of Medicine, provide a cure to the Crown Prince Enmerkar.

            The priest was silent after appealing to the Gods of Heaven and Earth.  He then turned to face the statues of the Gods of the netherworld.

            I appeal to you, Nergal, High and Mighty King of the netherworld; all the dwellers of the netherworld adhere to your word.

            I appeal to you, Ereshkigal, High and Noble Queen, Goddess of Death and Darkness, who holds souls in her hand.

            I appeal to you, Enlil, who holds the fate of men and Gods, and who chose Uruk for your dwelling.

            I appeal to you, Shamash, who hangs in the sky in the daytime, and at night does the bidding of Nergal.  Please deliver our words to him.

            I appeal to you, Mot, God of Death, please do not hasten.  We all come to you at the end of our time on this Earth.

            I appeal to you, Neti, Guardian of the Seven Gates of the netherworld.  Protect the humans from the demons and allow the demon to return to his home.

            The priest prepared to continue with his plea.

            “I present my plea before you, Inanna, Ishtar, in your temple, the temple built by one who loves you, the king of the dynasty of the righteous.  Give your ear to the king of this land, the righteous Meskiagasher.  Gather the Gods in order that they should listen to his words.  Please accept our humble gift.”  He gestured with his hand toward the animals in the plaza.  “May the fragrance be pleasant to you and to the other Gods.”

            The musicians and singers broke into songs of praise for the Goddess Inanna at the priest's signal, while the junior priests slaughtered the sacrifices.  The blood drained through clay pipes down into the ground, as a gift to the Gods of the netherworld.  The meat would be eaten by the Gods and the priests later.

            The crown prince still sat, unmoving, in the center of the plaza.  The King's turn to appeal to the Gods had come.

            “Virtuous Inanna,” began the king.  “You are the beloved of Enlil and devoted to An, as I myself love and am devoted to my son.  I stand before you not as a king, but as a father lamenting the distress of his son.  Please bless Gula, Goddess of Medicine, that she will listen closely and hear Eogulades and strengthen his hand to heal my dear son, Enmerkar.  Ask the King of the netherworld Nergal to hear Layil's words for us.  Ask your father An to mercifully use his influence for us.”

            The queen's eyes never veered from the king as she accompanied his prayer in her heart.  The priests, mainly the younger ones, were gripped with fear in the presence of the royal family.  Rukha's heart pounded with excitement; was he hearing the beats of the drums of destiny, or was that his own heart pounding?  The proximity of the Gods of the netherworld made him tremble.  Only Eo was calm, focused entirely on the prince, aware of every small change in his expression.

            The priests cleared the center of the arena.  The prince remained in the center, an indifferent expression on his face.  Nergal's statue was placed behind him and Eo opposite him.  Rukha knelt on his knees at Eo's feet, and next to him, wrapped in wet felt, were wet clay tablets and a stylus for writing.  Eo began.

            “Please see, Masters of the Worlds, the great honor the king of the Middle Earth, Meskiagasher, has bestowed upon you.  Please see the suffering of the Prince Enmerkar, who gives his body as a dwelling so that your words may be heard.  Open your ears and your hearts to the words of the demon Layil.”

            Eo signaled to the high priest to conduct the musicians.  A deafening burst erupted at once from all the horns and then there was silence.  Eo continued in his appeal to the prince and this time the thundering drums of destiny accompanied him.

            “I hear you.

            I hear you.

            I hear you…”

            The queen gripped the king's hand.  The king's heart threatened to burst from his chest.  The priests moved their lips feverishly, whispering the sacred verses.  Rukha's gaze was riveted to his teacher.  Eo's entire being was focused on the prince.  After several long minutes, Enmerkar awoke with a spasm of pain and began talking in his indecipherable tongue.  From time to time, he stopped due to a spasm that gripped one of his limbs, and then he continued.  Rukha reached for a clean tablet from the pile and pressed the stylus into it, writing the sounds that came out of Enmerkar's lips.  Every time he stopped, Rukha marked it with a dot.

            When the demon fell silent, Eo turned to Rukha to read what had been said.  The dots helped Rukha turn meaningless sounds into words and sentences.  He read each word in the opposite direction:

            “I, Layil the demon, thank the humans of the Middle Earth for enabling me to speak before the Gods.  I turn to you, Nergal, King of the netherworld.  Please forgive your servant.  In my eagerness to serve the demon Kumbaba, I sinned and cut down the trees in his garden.”

            “Great and terrible Nergal,” Eo appealed to the God through the crown prince.  “Please speak your words to Layil, to the humans, to the King Meskiagasher, and to the Gods.

            I hear you.

            I hear you.

            I hear you…”

            It was obviously apparent the moment that Nergal took over the prince's body.  The prince straightened himself nobly, his shoulders became erect and all his muscles tensed.  His face became harsh and wrathful.  The look in his eyes was powerful, foreboding, as the king Gilgamesh-Nimrod would look in many years' time, for he is Enmerkar.

            This time he spoke in clear Sumerian, in an assertive voice.  “Heed me, for I am Nergal!”  Panicked cries were heard in the crowd.  Those in attendance recoiled and averted their eyes in awe.  The queen, who dared to look, did not recognize her son's face.   “No one will disobey me.  No man, no demon and no God.  Layil was punished so that all dwellers of the netherworld, the Middle Earth and the Gods in heaven would know my great power.  With the lifting of my finger, I can crush mountains; with a breath I can burn forests; and with the spittle from my mouth the waters of the deep will rise up and flood the Earth.  Only to the authority of An, Lord of the heavens, will I step aside.”

            Everyone present froze, except for Eo.  Eo gestured to the king to make his appeal to Nergal.

            King Meskiagasher entered the arena.  His innards churned when he didn't recognize his son in the body before him.  He, the awesome King Meskiagasher, the cruel conqueror, a fearless fighter, supreme sovereign between the rivers, was afraid of the foreignness peering at him from the eyes of his son.  He appealed to the King of the netherworld, Nergal, dwelling in the body of his son.

            “Nergal, King of the Netherworld, great and powerful God.  Hear the words of your servant Meskiagasher, King of Uruk in the Middle Earth.  Without the power of your blazing anger, the world could not exist.  Without the struggles caused by you, the world would not go on.  Just as the clouds of An pour down a flood, but without them the earth could not sprout; just as Layil's power to fell trees with one swing would not exist without his blind enthusiasm; just as the leadership of the crown prince cannot exist without the freedom to choose his duty; thus too the power of the Gods of the netherworld, the force of the Gods of the heavens, the vigor of the demons of the netherworld and the courage of the kings of the Middle Earth could not exist without the destruction that is caused by their great power.  Forgive your servant Layil and permit him to work, praise you and glorify your name throughout the world.  Forgive my son Enmerkar for his soft and gentle thoughts, for he was born to serve you and all the Gods of the world.”

            At a signal from Eo, the king turned to the statue of An, King of the Heavens.

            “King, Lord of the Worlds, An, the exalted and supreme.  Hear the plea of your devoted servant Meskiagasher.  In the name of the Patron Goddess of Uruk, your beloved daughter Inanna, open in your great wisdom the ears of the Gods, your servants, so that they shall hear my words.

            “If you use your authority to influence Nergal and to appease him, that he should influence the gatekeeper of the netherworld to open his gates to Layil; and influence the ferry God to return him safely to the netherworld; and influence the judge of demons to forgive him; and influence the king of the forest to accept him for work as a free demon; if you influence all of these, for the sake of freeing Layil from his retribution, for the sake of freeing Enmerkar from Layil, then I will fulfill this vow:

            “I will do everything in my power to expand my kingdom, to conquer this land, from the land of the black heads in the south to the hunters of the white bear in the north, from the slant eyes in the east to the metalworkers in the islands of the sea in the west.  I will spread your holy name everywhere.  I will teach all the scribes of the nations to read and write in your tongue so that they might read of your deeds and strength.  I will teach all the common people of the world to read and write with the help of your holy phonetic script.  I vow that I will do all I can to ensure that Enmerkar my son will follow in my footsteps, spreading your name until there is no man or demon who does not accept your authority.”

            There was silence when the king finished his plea.  No one drew a breath in anticipation of An's response.  All at once, the skies darkened and the terrible light of Shamash, which had beaten down on the heads of those gathered as it had beaten down for the last year, faded.  Clouds filled up in the sky, the udders of the God.  Rain began to fall, quenching the parched ground.

            Eo held the black goat, the one chosen because it wandered from its flock and then wanted to return.  The demon who wishes to return to the netherworld would cling to the soul of the goat trying to return home, and would in turn return to his home.

            Eo brought the mouth of the black goat close to the mouth of the prince, while his father the king embraced him tightly from behind.  The prince thrashed about wildly in an attempt to free himself.  He shouted in a deep and guttural voice that echoed from the walls of the temple.  Meskiagasher ignored the blows he was receiving and held his son with all of his might.  The prince began to convulse, his eyes rolled up, and his mouth foamed.  The king pressed on the prince's lungs forcefully and sent his breath into the mouth of the goat.  The goat began to bleat and kick Eo, who was holding it.  Quick as lightening, the healer drew the slaughtering knife and slashed the throat of the goat.  The unconscious prince fell, limp, into his father's arms.  Lightening split the skies and thunder shook the entire temple.  The skies opened and torrential rain poured down.  He poured the blood into the ground as a tribute.  The demon, riding on the soul of the goat, returned to the netherworld.

            The eunuch would have preferred to send one of his clerks to perform the task, but the vizier, with the authority that the king had publicly bestowed upon him, had ordered him to perform the task personally.  He made his way to the malodorous slave pit.  The slaves doubled over under the weight of the litter chair.  Their backs broke as they carried him down the underground ramp to the oak door.  All the torches on the way down to the pit and the platform around it had been ignited.  To the surprise of the head taskmaster, the eunuch did not want to hear about the wounded.  That morning, the final ball game had been played before the slave pit was to be shut down. 

            When the doors opened and the eunuch's massive figure was seen in the entrance, the slaves expected another game.  As was their habit, the determined ones gathered in the center while the others pressed themselves against the mud walls, distancing themselves as far as possible from the dangerous hubbub.  The eunuch ignored the taskmaster that brought him the ball.  With great embarrassment, the taskmaster held the superfluous ball.

            “I wish to speak.  Prepare them for my speech,” the eunuch whispered to the head taskmaster.

            The taskmaster whipped his long whip down into the pit several times to no avail.  “Silence, slaves!” he thundered.  The shouts were replaced by whispers.

            “Silence!” the taskmaster commanded again, whipping here and there.

            This time his order was obeyed fearfully.

            “His Excellency the Eunuch, Minister of Slaves, our exalted and revered Lord, will speak before you.”

            Understanding that something unexpected was about to occur, the slaves pressed back against the wall opposite the eunuch and waited in silence.  The eunuch coughed, trying unsuccessfully to get away from the stifling stench.  Finally he began in his nasal voice.

            “His Majesty, the almighty King Meskiagasher, and I, Seruf the Slave Minister, have decided in our great generosity to relieve the slave population.”

            The exultation was unstoppable.  The taskmaster whipped his whip indiscriminately until the noise subsided.  Even the slaves who were injured and bleeding anticipated his words with radiant faces.

            “In our great generosity, we have decided to remove you from the slave pit and transfer you to an encampment…” the eunuch intended to finish his sentence, '…on the ground,' but the slaves' shouts of joy swallowed his words.

            The slaves ignored the taskmaster's whip, flailing ecstatically in every direction.  They ignored the eunuch, whose thin voice was swallowed up in the noise, and began shouting as one: “Freedom, freedom, freedom…”  They stamped their feet and threw clods of mud in every direction, staining the eunuch's purple cloak and covering the balcony in sodden mud.

            Amid the uproar, a few slaves whispered among themselves.  Jets of mud from the stinking reed bucket flew towards the torches and extinguished some of them.  Three slaves got down on all fours, two more climbed on top of them, another stood on their shoulders and the smallest of all climbed up to the top of the pyramid.  He reached the bottom of the balcony, directly underneath where the eunuch stood.  He felt around in the dark and tried to grip Seruf's ankle, but he could not encircle the thick flesh of the ankle with his hand.  The slave below him pushed him up in a tremendous effort, which made his entire body quiver.  The small slave at the top managed to grab hold of the edge of Seruf's cloak.  Despite the eunuch's attempts to free himself, the slave would not let go.  He tried but could not move the heavy eunuch even slightly.  The eunuch's guards tried to hold back the slave, but with exceptional resilience, he refused to let go despite the severe blows he was dealt.  All six slaves below him held on to him until His Excellency the Eunuch, Minister of Slaves, slid down into the mud pit.  The slaves set upon the immense mound of flesh like a pack of hyenas.  Dozens of hands tore at his flesh and gouged out his eyes, lost in the ecstasy of vengeance.  It took an entire day and a harnessed donkey to recover his shredded body.

            Eo was ready.  Kishmi had wrapped him in a woven linen shawl, dyed yellow by turmeric root.  Over it he wore a goat's leather overcoat with shells decorating the edges.  She pinned the golden healer's snake pin on the overcoat. On his head she wound a stripped turban and folded its edge inward. She adorned the front of the turban with an onyx pin.   She brushed his sandals with goose fat and anointed his beard with sheep's butter.

            Next she turned to dress Rukha.  He was not used to the purple tunic, colored with pomegranate peels, covering his upper body.  As was the custom of the common people, Rukha was used to walking about his chest exposed and his feet bare, only with a strip of fabric wrapped around his loins.  The new sandals, with their laces that reached his knees, were uncomfortable as well.  Kishmi removed the strip of fabric he usually wrapped around his head, with the end hanging over his right ear, like the common people.  She shaved his hair neatly with a piece of volcanic glass, like a youth from the landowning class.  Around his neck she placed a pendant, and on it a small clay image of the Goddess Inanna.

            Kishmi herself had already donned a shawl of white sheep's wool felt, which clung to the curves of her hips.  Her upper body was covered in linen, colored indigo by snail's dye, but her right shoulder remained uncovered.  The hair on her head was plaited in braids into which she had threaded thin strands of copper.  Copper bracelets decorated her forearms and ankles.  On her feet she wore flat shoes made from soft sheep's skin, colored black with charcoal and oil, and fastened with white tendons.  Rings with red, blue and green gemstones adorned her fingers while a necklace with a tiny stone image of the Goddess Nammu rested about her neck.  The festive dress emphasized her noble beauty.    After the preparations were complete, they left the house.  Outside, three litters were waiting for them, sent on the king's command, to bring them to the banquet.

            The passersby bowed their heads in respect when they saw the king's guests on their way.  At the entrance to the palace, the litter carriers halted as the three descended together with many other guests.  The sentries bowed before each of the guests.

            Eo and Kishmi were excited, but Rukha's breath was caught in his throat.  The magnificent hall where the banquet was taking place rose to the height of three houses.  Delicate engravings, plated in gold, decorated the edges of the ceiling.  Paintings of animals, warriors, and delegations of ambassadors and subjects bringing tributes adorned the walls in bright colors.  In some of the paintings, Rukha saw Gods bearing the head of a lion or crocodile, or the body of a bull and the wings of an eagle.  Servants with ostrich feather fans cooled the air and spread fragrant incense.  The polished marble floor reflected the decorations on the ceiling and paintings on the walls.

            One of the king's servants escorted them through the hall, which opened up into a blooming garden surrounded by shade trees.  Brooks gushed under small bridges, and songbirds flew about and drank from water basins and fountains.  The garden was bustling with guests leaning on couches padded with down cushions.  When the guests noticed them, they stood in respect.  The servant led them to their chairs, which were adjacent to those of the royal throne.  The servant poured them wine in goblets made from animal horn on wooden bases engraved in the shape of a lion's head.  He served them a bowl with roasted shelled and salted pistachio nuts and then turned back to tend to the other guests.

            The three of them exchanged looks of wonder and grinned from ear to ear.  Kishmi admired the fancy clothing of the lords and ladies coming into the garden in pairs.  Rukha and Eo stared at the giant royal throne, made of rose wood and adorned with slivers of shells and gold plated armrests.

            When the garden and the hall were full, the horns heralded the entrance of the king and his entourage.  All the guests knelt to their knees to bow to him.  On his right hand side, the crown prince Enmerkar walked, brimming with health.  At his left was Queen Partakhti.  Behind him came the Vizier Murdoch, and behind them a line of dozens of the king's ministers, wives, concubines and adult sons and daughters.  After they had taken their places, the horns sounded again and everyone returned to their seats.

            The herald called out:

            Welcome to the banquet of the supreme and admired King of Uruk,

            The ground bows before his might,

            Our lord and leader, King Meskiagasher,

            Son of Utnapishtim-Noah who saved humanity in the ark as God commanded him,

            Son of Lemech,

            Son of Methuselah,

            Son of Enoch,

            Son of Jared,

            Son of Mehalalel,

            Son of Cainan,

            Son of Enosh,

            Son of Seth,

            Son of Adam our father and Eve our mother.

            Distinguished and supreme king,

            May An strengthen the crown on your head,

            And lengthen your days,

            And establish you on your throne for all your life,

            And fill your hand with the scepter of justice,

            And lift up your arms to rule the people,

            And give you the productivity of your subjects,

            And open the skies for you,

            For prosperity and happiness in your entire kingdom.

            The entire crowd stood to face the king.  And then the king himself stood; a jeweled crown on his head and gold covered wooden scepter in his hand.  The golden signet ring sparkled on his finger, a red cloak embroidered with golden threads rested atop his shoulders, the edges trimmed with cheetah fur.  The king began:

           “My dear guests, ministers, ambassadors, and all who wish for my wellbeing, the wellbeing of my family, and the prosperity of the city state of Uruk: Welcome to my home.  Today is a holiday in the kingdom.  The crown prince, Prince Enmerkar, who is destined for greatness, has recovered from his illness.  I have invited you all here today to drink and eat, to sing and celebrate, to rejoice in our joy at the miracle that has been performed for us thanks to the great oil healer, Eogulades.”

            Vizier Murdoch presented Eo and Rukha, who bowed before the king while the crowd clapped their hands and cheered, “Long live Eogulades!”

            The king lifted his hand.  The crowd was silent and he continued.  He told in great detail the story of the healing, emphasizing the skill and resourcefulness that the healers had demonstrated.  He spoke of his joy and the joy of his queen, Partakhti, and of their son's recovery.  When he finished, the king turned to the healer.

            “Eogulades, you recognized that the wellbeing of the demon, like the wellbeing of my son, was dependent on changes I had to make in our treatment of slaves.  For this I thank you, and your apprentice, from the bottom of my heart.”

            The crowd cheered, the musicians blew on their horns and the drummers beat their drums.  Tears sprung into Kishmi and Eo's eyes.  Rukha could not stop the quivering that overcame him in his excitement.  Kishmi hurried to support him so that he would not fall and offend the king's honor.

            “I declare,” continued the king, “a change in the laws of slavery in the kingdom.  Even if the landowners among you are worried about loss of income, do not worry.  These changes will guarantee support from the upper and lower Gods and bring us rains at their proper times, fields full of produce, well-fed animals and widespread fertility.  The vizier Murdoch will fill you in on the full details.”  The king gestured with his hand to the vizier.  The landowners masked their worry with contrived smiles.

            The king sat down and his guests followed suit.  Only Murdoch remained standing.

            “By order of the king,” began the vizier, “and after consulting with his ministers and advisers, the new laws on slavery will take effect today.”

            He waited a few seconds and continued. “On this day, the fifth day of the month of Tammuz, in the one hundred and seventy-fifth year since the Great Flood, in the twenty-first year of the reign of the almighty Meskiagasher, the laws of slavery shall be as follows:

            “Henceforth, slaves will no longer suffer physical punishment given to them by the king's soldiers or landowners.”

            A few of those present, who found this practice unpleasant, smiled in satisfaction.

            “Henceforth, slaves will be allowed to bring their problems before the elders at the city gates in a just trial.

            “Henceforth, children of slaves will no longer be separated from their parents, or slaves from their spouses.

            “Henceforth, slaves will be given a wage, equal to one twentieth of the wage of employees, and this wage will be available to them to buy their freedom from slavery.”

           Despite the presence and majesty of the king, the landowners could not avoid a murmur of dissatisfaction.  The murmur ceased as soon as the king lifted his hand.

            “Henceforth, there will no longer be third generation slaves in Uruk.  Any child born to a slave who was born into slavery will be born free.  This order has been written and signed by His Royal Highness King Meskiagasher the Almighty.”  The vizier displayed the tablet with the king's declaration to all the guests, with the imprint of his signet ring at the bottom.

            The vizier sat down.  The guests' faces revealed their astonishment.  Such far-reaching changes as these had been previously unheard of among all the eastern nations.  The landowners had trouble hiding their displeasure.

            The herald returned and proclaimed: “Now the oil healer Eogulades, his wife Kishmi and his apprentice Rukha will approach His Royal Highness King Meskiagasher the Almighty."

            Three servants escorted them to the king's table.  The herald signaled all present to stand.  The king stood as well and gestured to the three of them to sit at the table next to him.  The beautiful Kishmi was radiant with happiness.  Rukha was supported by the servant.  His heart wanted to burst from his chest and his knees failed him.  When the king asked the blushing Eo to speak, he could not even muster up one word out of excitement.  The king, smiling at Eo's embarrassment, waited patiently.  Finally, Eo began.

            “I thank the Gods of the heavens and the netherworld for your help.  I thank the Goddess Gula who granted me the knowledge of healing.  I thank you, Your Highness, King Meskiagasher, for your faith in me and in my apprentice, for depositing your son in our care.  I thank you, my beloved wife Kishmi,” he looked her in the eye and was silent a moment, “the earth beneath my feet and the spirit of my soul.  I thank you.”  Eo choked.

            “I thank you, Rukha, my son, for your courage and loyalty to your freedom, in whose merit you were destined to grasp the healing snake of the Goddess Gula.  I thank you, Rukha, for the gift of the God, the phonetic script.”  Rukha's flood of emotion dissipated.    The palace with all its guests dissipated.  Only the phrase “my son” filled his entire being with love.

            “I wish to thank you, the Almighty Crown Prince Enmerkar,” continued Eo.  “When looking into Layil's soul through your own, I saw the magnitude of your courage, the depth of your wisdom, the flame of your passion and the breadth of your grace.  Thanks to these traits, there is no doubt that you are destined to rule many nations in the future.  You shall sow the seeds of understanding within them, making your mark with the reed stylus on the languages of man.”  The prince bowed modestly to Eo.

            The proud king continued.

            “I have described to you the wonders that Eogulades has performed and the great contribution made by Rukha his slave.  As a sign of appreciation, and as a first step, I hereby free Rukha completely and proclaim him a completely free man.”

            Rukha could hear Timin's voice in his head: “Now both of us have earned our freedom!”

            “To Eogulades and his household,” continued the king, “I grant an estate on my fertile lands on the banks of the Euphrates, a donkey's load of gold coins, water allocations as his land needs and all the cattle, sheep, goats and donkeys that he needs.  From this day forth, Eogulades will hold the official title of 'Court Healer'.”

            Eo almost choked with emotion.  He began coughing, although in other circumstances, coughing could have shown dangerous offense to the king's honor.  Kishmi handed him a goblet of wine.  He sipped it and calmed down a little.

            The king smiled and continued.  “In addition to the property, as a sign of my gratitude and the gratitude of my queen Partakhti, I grant Eogulades a new cylinder seal, as a testament to his devotion and my faith in him.”  He fastened the beaded chain with the golden seal around Eo's neck.

            “As a sign of appreciation for freeing the demon and my son from slavery, I hereby grant Rukha, the freeman, this onyx cylinder seal, which shows that he serves in the royal court.”

            The king raised the seal and showed it to the guests.  He placed it around the neck of the emotional Rukha.  Eo and Kishmi could not restrain their happiness.

            The king sat down, followed by Eo, Kishmi and Rukha.  They were followed by the ministers, ambassadors, landowners and the remainder of the guests.  The herald signaled to the horn blowers to blow their horns and then he called out loudly:

            “Let the festivities begin!”

            The royal orchestra burst out in song.  Rows of dancers entered the room, dancing. They enchanted the guests as they danced to the music of lyres, flutes and cymbals. Acrobats spun in the air while jugglers breathed fire and threw sand-filled leather balls in the air.  From the kitchen, servants brought out calf ribs, lamb browned on open fire, roast pheasant decorated with colorful feathers, fragrant stuffed vegetables, onions, wild strawberries and herbs, slices of gazelle meat in honey, cumin, and red and hot peppers, wild pig's meat minced and roasted with fennel and coriander and fish caught in the Euphrates that had been smoked in a slightly sour tamarind sauce.  For dessert, there was a mint infusion with semolina cakes and candied dates, ground walnuts and almonds with dried figs, watermelons and melons.  The guests washed down the food with jugs of grape wine, pomegranate wine and fig wine.  Fresh ale, both dark and pale, which had been fermented and filtered in preparation for the banquet, was poured like water.

EPILOGUE

 Rukha, Kishmi and Eo sat among the dragonflies in the shade of the grape arbor on the banks of the canal.  They feasted on roasted pigeons stuffed with barley and figs as they imbibed on expensive wine that the king had imported in enormous jugs from the land of the Hittites.  For dessert, they enjoyed a delicacy reserved for nobility—honeycomb that hunters had brought from the forest.  Kishmi beamed with pride as she listened again to the details of how her husband and son had exorcized the demon.  Now that the giddiness of their success had somewhat subsided, the family could find time to perform the adoption ceremony.  At the close of the meal, Kishmi took a lump of clay from the banks of the canal and Eo found a reed, which he sharpened with a piece of flint.  They then made their way home together. 

 The whole way home, Rukha excitedly kneaded the clay in his hands until it was sufficiently firm.  When they arrived home, Rukha impressed the phonetic symbols into the clay as Eo dictated to him:

The redeemer from slavery,

 His gaze descends to the depths of the bowels,

And his word is redemption.

He returns the son to his fathers

And unfetters the captives.

 From Uruk shall come the Earth's salvation.

After they stamped the charm with the new golden signet that Eo had received from the king, as well as with Rukha's onyx signet, they put it aside to dry.  The following day, they baked the charm and buried it three cubits below the threshold of the entrance to their home.  “May this charm be an everlasting reminder,” said Eo, one hand grasping Kishmi's hand while the other held Rukha's.  The three of them recited, “May it remain here for posterity, as a testimony for the future.”

-          End   -