Mesopotamian Myths

A Captivating Guide to Myths from

Mesopotamia and Sumerian Mythology
© Copyright 2019
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Table of Contents
Part 1: Mesopotamian Mythology
A Captivating Guide to Ancient Near Eastern Myths
Introduction
Part I: Creation Myths
Part II: Tales of Gods and Goddesses
Part III: Selections from the Epic of Gilgamesh
Glossary
Part 2: Sumerian Mythology
Captivating Myths of Gods, Goddesses, and Legendary Creatures of Ancient
Sumer and Their Importance to the Sumerians
Introduction
Part I: Tales of Gods and Goddesses
Enki and Ninmah
Enlil and Ninlil
Enki and Ninhursag
The Exploits of Ninurta
The Journey of Nanna to Nippur
Inanna and Ebih
Dumuzi and Enkimdu
The Marriage of Martu
Part II: Tales of Kings and Heroes
Enmerkar and the Ensuhkeshdanna
Lugalbanda in the Mountain Cave
Lugalbanda and the Anzu Bird
The Sumerian Gilgamesh
Part I: Inanna and the Huluppu Tree
Part II: Enkidu in the Underworld
Part III: Gilgamesh and Huwawa
Part IV: Gilgamesh and Aga
Sargon and Ur-Zababa
Bibliography
Glossary
Part 1: Mesopotamian Mythology
A Captivating Guide to Ancient Near
Eastern Myths
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Introduction
The civilizations that grew up in the Tigris and Euphrates River
Valleys many thousands of years ago have left important legacies:
agriculture, mathematics, astronomy, the wheel, and writing. The
ancient Sumerian culture was one of the first to create a method of
recording thoughts and data in a more or less permanent form, and
other peoples who came into contact with the Sumerians adopted
this idea for their own uses. Not only did they adopt technological
advances, but also there was a great deal of interplay between
Sumerian mythology and storytelling and that of Mesopotamian
culture, generally.
Starting around 2300 BCE, Akkadian became the standard language
of the Mesopotamian region, and it was split into three dialects:
spoken Akkadian fell into either the northern or Assyrian dialect, or
the southern or Babylonian dialect, while a third literary dialect was
in use for written works and thus was accessible only to the
educated. A Semitic language that is related to modern Arabic,
Amharic, and Hebrew, Akkadian was used to record business
transactions, laws, history and pseudo-history, mythology, and heroic
epics. It was the language of trade and diplomacy for a wide
geographical area as well, extending both into a large part of
western Asia and even into northwest Africa. For example, we have
surviving pedagogical documents showing that scribes in ancient
Egypt might be expected to learn to read and write Akkadian as part
of their duties.
Mesopotamia also was the scene for a series of imperial projects,
starting with the Akkadian Empire under Sargon of Akkad in the 24th
century BCE. Akkad was a city-state, the exact location of which has
yet to be determined, and from this base Sargon expanded his reach
to other places including Sumer. After the fall of the Akkadian
Empire, the city-states of Assur (the primary city of Assyria) in the
north and Babylon in the south vied for control of the region, each
having success at various times.
Because of the linguistic, political, and religious intermingling of
speakers of the Akkadian language, it is very difficult to separate out
specific religious or mythological traditions for any of these three
cultures, with certain exceptions. We know that the principal deity of
Assyria was the god Assur, and the principal deity of Babylon was
Marduk. There are certain creation legends that can be connected
specifically with Babylon because of the primacy of Marduk in those
tales, and certain prayers and incantations addressed to Assur that
obviously come from Assyria, but it is otherwise extremely difficult to
parse which mythographic bits came from which culture due to the
roster of shared divinities in the pantheon, the sharing of myths, and
the commonalities of religious practices among Mesopotamian
peoples. The waters are further muddied by the integration of
Sumerian, Assyrian, and Babylonian mythographic practices; many
of the clay tablets containing these stories are bilingual, in both
Sumerian and Akkadian, while myths in these languages also
contain many parallels in terms of character, theme, and plot.
Surviving documents in Akkadian principally are in cuneiform writing
on clay tablets. The word “cuneiform” comes from the Latin cuneus,
which means “wedge,” referring to the use of a wedge-shaped stylus
to impress symbols into wet clay. The Sumerians originated this form
of writing, which was later adapted for the Akkadian language. A
significant number of literary texts come from royal libraries that were
compiled by the Assyrian king Sennacherib (705–681 BCE) and
Ashurbanipal (r. 668–c. 627 BCE), the king of the so-called Neo-
Assyrian Empire. The ruins of these libraries, in what is now Iraq,
were discovered by archaeologists in the mid-nineteenth century,
and until that time, writings from these ancient civilizations had been
lost to history. Therefore, the modern discipline of Assyriology (a
blanket term for studies of the ancient Near East) is less than two
hundred years old, and more is yet to be discovered from the
fragments that have been excavated (or pillaged) from the remains
of these ancient civilizations. One recent discovery from 2015 is a
new segment of the Epic of Gilgamesh.
This present volume of Mesopotamian myths is divided into three
sections. The first of these contains creation myths, the most
extended of which is the Enuma Elish, or Babylonian creation story.
In this myth, the god Marduk does battle with the dragon Tiamat, and
from her body and that of her second-in-command, he creates the
world. The story of Atrahasis involves not original creation but re-
creation, since this is the myth of the Great Flood that the gods send
to wash everything away. The good man Atrahasis is spared only by
the intervention of the god Enki, who forewarns Atrahasis and tells
him to build the ark that will save him, his family, and the animals.
Etana’s tale is less cosmic in nature than the preceding two stories:
the act of creation involved is Etana’s attempt to have a child and
thus an heir to his throne.
The deeds and foibles of the Mesopotamian gods are on display in
the second section, in stories that inform us about the characters of
these divinities and which contain themes that tell us something
about Mesopotamian concepts of cosmic order. In the first story, the
goddess Ishtar decides to visit the Underworld where the goddess
Ereshkigal holds sway. When Ereshkigal worries that Ishtar plans to
supplant her, she sets a trap that holds Ishtar prisoner until she is
rescued. Ereshkigal’s deed has cosmic implications: since Ishtar is a
fertility goddess, her imprisonment means that procreation on Earth
is suspended.
Ereshkigal is a primary figure in the next story as well, which tells
how Nergal, god of war and pestilence, comes to be her consort.
Nergal manages to refuse all of the blandishments Ereshkigal puts
before him, except for the enticement of her body. Having given into
his desire, Nergal must make the Underworld his abode and remain
there as Ereshkigal’s lover or else Ereshkigal will overturn the
natural order by sending the dead onto the Earth to eat the living.
Divine and natural order are also themes of the last two stories in
this section. In the first, the hero-god Ninurta does his own work of
restoring divine order when he defeats the Anzu Bird who steals the
Tablets of Destiny from Ellil, while the myth about Adapa functions as
a just-so story explaining why humans are not immortal.
Perhaps the most famous of all Mesopotamian myths is the Epic of
Gilgamesh, an extended narrative about the exploits of Gilgamesh,
king of Uruk, and his wild-man friend, Enkidu. If the stories of the
gods told in the first two sections function as explanations about
cosmic order, the themes of Gilgamesh center on the internal order
of human beings, focusing on the deep love and friendship between
Enkidu and Gilgamesh, on human fears about mortality, and the
human desire for eternal life.
Mesopotamian myths are some of the oldest written stories in the
world, and although in modern history we have only had the privilege
of knowing them for less than two hundred years, they nevertheless
speak to us about things that are basic to the human condition. Love,
hate, creation, destruction, desire, sorrow, and fear are all universal
human experiences and have been since the beginning of time, as is
the human wish to project these things onto beings that are larger
than life in order to explain how the world came to be the way it is.
Part I: Creation Myths
The Creation of the World
The Babylonian creation myth is preserved in cuneiform writing on
seven clay tablets and has come to be known as the Enuma Elish,
after the first two words of the epic. In ancient times, this important
myth was recited annually on the Babylonian New Year in honor of
Marduk, the primary Babylonian god, who defeats the rebellious
goddess Tiamat and her general, the god Qingu. Marduk then uses
the bodies of his slain enemies to create the heavens and the Earth,
and to make human beings to serve the gods.
Unfortunately, the tablets that preserve the Enuma Elish are broken
and incomplete, so much of the original poem is missing. However,
the poem tends to repeat large sections of text, so what is missing
from one point in the story sometimes can be recreated or inferred
from another. The myth recounts the emergence or creation of
several named gods, the most important of whom are Marduk and
his father, Ea. In addition to Marduk and his immediate ancestors,
many other gods both named and unnamed have roles in this tale,
but their origin stories are not told here.
In the time when the heavens above had no name and the Earth
beneath had no name, there was only Apsu, the one who begat the
heavens and the Earth, and with Apsu was Tiamat, who gave birth to
them. And in this time, the waters mingled together, the sweet water
that was Apsu and the salt that was Tiamat, but neither was there
pasture nor reeded marsh, nor had any of the gods yet been
begotten or given names.
Then it happened that the gods came into being. First among them
were Lahmu and Lahamu, brother and sister, the children of Apsu
and Tiamat, and Lahmu and Lahamu together are the constellations
in the sky. From Lahmu and Lahamu came Anshar and Kishar,
brother and sister, god of the sky and goddess of the Earth. If Lahmu
and Lahamu were great, Anshar and Kishar were greater yet,
greater of stature, greater of strength.
From Anshar and Kishar came Anu, the very equal of his divine
father, and Anu begat Ea, the god of the waters of the Tigris and the
Euphrates. Ea was even greater than his own father, was even
mightier than his own grandfather, and the wisdom of Ea knew no
bounds.
Together Ea and his brother gods roared up and down the divine
abode. Such a clamor they made that it disturbed Tiamat. In the face
of their doings, Tiamat held her peace, although she detested their
acts. Such a noise the brother gods made that even Apsu could not
make himself heard above it, and so Apsu called to himself Mummu,
his adviser, and said, “Good Mummu, let us go to Tiamat and take
counsel together. We must decide what to do with these gods who
roar up and down our divine abode.”
And so Mummu and Apsu went to Tiamat, and Apsu said, “We must
have order! We must have peace! Surely I should destroy these
brother gods who roar up and down our divine abode.”
But Tiamat replied, “Destruction is too harsh a solution. We should
not destroy what we ourselves have created. Let us deal kindly with
the brother gods, to make them stop their roaring about.”
Mummu spoke next. “Yes, O Apsu, O radiant one, surely you must
destroy these gods. Destroy them all! Then you will have peace,
then you will have order in the divine abode.”
Then Apsu rejoiced, for he knew that Mummu spoke the truth. Apsu
rejoiced and plotted to kill all his children, and Mummu fell upon
Apsu’s neck and embraced him.
But the plans of Apsu did not go unnoticed. Ea learned of what Apsu
meant to do and vowed to put a stop to the destruction of the brother
gods. Ea crafted a great spell, a powerful spell, a holy spell of sleep,
and he cast it upon Apsu. Apsu was powerless to resist the
incantation, and soon he fell into a deep slumber. When Ea saw that
Apsu was overcome with sleep, he went to Apsu and took from him
his diadem and put it upon his own brow. Ea bound Apsu with strong
bonds, and then Ea slew that elder god. Ea slew Apsu, the father of
all the gods, and then he fell upon Mummu and bound him in chains
and threw him into a strong room, locking the door so that there
should be no escape.
Then it was that Ea founded a divine abode of his own. He founded
this abode and called it the Apsu. Within this abode, Ea made a
chamber, a chamber for himself and for his wife, Damkina. And there
it was in the abode called the Apsu that Marduk was begotten. Ea
was his father, and Damkina was his mother. Marduk, the greatest of
gods, was begotten there, and his father Ea delighted in him. Ea
bestowed great majesty and strength upon Marduk, making him not
only the equal of the other gods but their superior. Well made in his
body was Marduk, with comely limbs. Four eyes had Marduk, and
four ears, and from his mouth shot flames of fire. Large were his
eyes and ears, and his body was exceeding tall, and he was named
Son of the Sun and Sun of the Heavens, and his father Ea delighted
in him greatly.
Anu, god of the sky and father of Ea, fashioned the four winds. Anu
took these winds and gave them to his grandson, Marduk. Anu gave
the winds to Marduk, and with these Marduk called up a mighty
storm. The storm made waves upon waves, and this disturbed
Tiamat greatly.
The other gods saw what was done, and they went to Tiamat,
saying, “Did not Ea destroy Apsu, your divine spouse? Did he not
imprison Mummu, Apsu’s wise counsellor? And so it is that now we
cannot sleep. And so it is that we have no rest. Come! Let us go into
battle! Let us avenge Apsu and Mummu and recover our peace that
we may rest.”
And so the gods went aside to plan their battle.
But Tiamat, for her part, engendered great monsters, strong beasts
and fell, that they might avenge her divine spouse, that they might
destroy Ea and thus punish him for his deeds. Tiamat brought forth
dragons, beasts with poisonous sharp teeth, creatures so fearsome
that even the bravest would die if they but saw them. Dragons
Tiamat brought forth, and many other beasts besides: lions and
scorpion-men, wild dogs and demons, and a great bull. Eleven of
these beasts Tiamat brought forth, but she gave the headship to
none of these, preferring instead to bestow it on her son, Qingu. To
him, Tiamat gave the three Tablets of Destiny, that he might have the
power to overthrow Ea.
Then Tiamat said to Qingu, “Go! Lead the army of fell beasts! Lead
the army of gods who are our allies! Bring battle to Ea, and avenge
my divine spouse!”
Word of what Tiamat had done came to Ea, and he despaired.
Surely he would never defeat such an army, headed by such a
captain. Ea went to his grandfather, Anshar, and said, “Woe! Tiamat
has created an army of eleven fell beasts, and of many gods, with
Qingu at their head, and he bears the Tablets of Destiny. Surely we
will never prevail against such a foe!”
Anshar said, “No, we shall not falter! You yourself slew Apsu,
Tiamat’s divine spouse. Any foe that faces you surely will be
defeated. Go into battle!”
And so Ea set out to do battle with Tiamat. He found the place where
she was with her army, and when he saw how very great the fell
monsters were, with Qingu at their head, he grew greatly afraid, and
he turned back.
“O my father,” said Ea, “I set out on my road to do battle with Tiamat,
but woe! Her power is too much for me. I shall never be able to
defeat her. Send someone else instead.”
Then Anshar turned to Anu and said, “O my son, my firstborn! You
who are hero and warrior, no one may withstand your strength. Go
you and fight Tiamat and her army! Surely you shall return
victorious!”
And so Anu set out to do battle with Tiamat, but when he saw what
she had prepared against him, his heart quailed, and he turned back.
“O my father,” said Anu, “I set out on my road to do battle with
Tiamat, but woe! Her power is too much for me. I shall never be able
to defeat her. Perhaps you yourself should go.”
Anshar called to himself all the gods. He told them of Tiamat’s plans
and of the army she had created, how they purposed to destroy all
the other gods in revenge for the death of Apsu. But none of the
other gods would take up the quest to defeat her. They all sat silent
and afraid.
It was then that Ea summoned his son, Marduk. Together they went
into Ea’s chamber to take counsel together. Ea said, “Only you may
stand against Tiamat and her fell beasts. Go before Anshar. Declare
yourself our champion. Only you can save us!”
Obedient to his father, Marduk went before Anshar and the other
gods. There he declared himself their champion, there he offered to
meet Tiamat and her fell beasts, with Qingu at their head. Then the
gods rejoiced and declared a feast, a feast to celebrate Marduk, their
champion, before he went into battle. And when the feast was done,
they said, “Marduk our champion shall be first among us! To you
shall be the sovereignty over all that is, and even the gods shall bow
down to you.”
And so it was that Marduk readied himself for war. He took up his
great bow and a quiver of arrows. He took up his mighty spear and
his massive club. He took up lightning and filled his whole body with
flame. He commanded the winds to help him, the four winds and the
seven winds. These and other winds besides he called to him, to
come with him and to wreak havoc on Tiamat. To his chariot he
harnessed four steeds, swift as arrows and fierce as lions. Thus
prepared, Marduk set out for battle in his chariot pulled by war
stallions, with the winds at his command.
Qingu heard the approach of Marduk and saw him thus arrayed for
battle, and his heart quailed. Seeing their leader’s distress, the
eleven fell beasts also despaired, but Tiamat gathered her courage
and spoke words of rebellion to Marduk.
Marduk was not swayed by the words of Tiamat. He said to her, “You
have rebelled against Anu, against the gods themselves. You have
prepared an army to destroy them. But I say to you that we should
settle this between ourselves. Let us meet in single combat, you and
I, and that way decide who may have the victory.”
For answer, Tiamat screamed her battle cry and ran at Marduk,
thinking to destroy him where he stood. Not fearing her at all,
Marduk held his ground. He took up a great net and threw it over
Tiamat, entangling her so that she could not move. Then Marduk
sent an evil wind to blow in Tiamat’s face, to force open her mouth
and to distend her body so that she could not speak. When that was
done, Marduk nocked an arrow to his bow and shot Tiamat. The
arrow entered her and clove her heart in two.
When Tiamat’s army saw what had befallen the goddess, the eleven
beasts fled the field. The gods who had followed Tiamat trembled
and tried to flee, but Marduk caught them all in his net and threw
them into prison. The demons also that had followed in Tiamat’s train
Marduk captured, and he hunted down the eleven beasts and cast
them into fetters. Last of all, Marduk captured Qingu. Marduk took
from him the Tablets of Destiny and fastened them upon his own
breast.
Then Marduk went to the body of the slain Tiamat. With his great
club, Marduk crushed her skull. He cut open the vessels of her body
and let the North Wind take her blood away. The other gods rejoiced
at Marduk’s victory, giving him many fine gifts and praising him well.
But Marduk’s work was not yet done. He took Tiamat’s body and cut
it in half along its length. One half of her body he set above to be the
sky. Marduk posted two guardians to watch that portion of Tiamat, to
make sure that the waters it contained did not escape. This done,
Marduk went into the heavens, and there he created an abode for
the gods. This abode he built neighboring the Apsu that his father Ea
had made, and Marduk called his dwelling the E-sara. The E-sara
was made to be even greater than the Apsu, and within the E-sara,
Marduk made dwelling places for his grandfather, Anu, and for his
father, Ea, and for Ellil, the god of the winds.
That done, Marduk began a new work. In the sky, he placed the
stars in their courses; he made the twelve creatures of the Zodiac
and put them in their rightful places. Marduk divided the times and
the seasons, he created the calendar of months and days, and to
watch over this, he placed Nibiru [the planet Jupiter]. Marduk created
Nanna, the moon-god, and commanded him to shine at his proper
time. To Nanna, Marduk gave the keeping of time, the measure of
the months, and the times and places he should stand in relation to
Shamash, the sun-god, and thus it was that Marduk established the
turnings of the night and the day and the turnings of the months and
the years.
From Tiamat’s body, Marduk made the waters. He made the rain and
the mist; he filled the abyss with the waters from her head. Two
rivers he made flow from her eyes, the great rivers of the Tigris and
the Euphrates, and from her breasts, Marduk wrought the
mountains. And so it was that from Tiamat’s body was made the
substance of the Earth.
When all was ready, Marduk gave the guiding of the world to his
father Ea, and to his grandfather, Anu, he gave the Tablets of
Destiny that he had taken from Qingu. The eleven fell beasts made
by Tiamat he bound, and he made statues of them to guard the
gates of the Apsu.
Seeing all that Marduk had done, all the gods rejoiced. They
proclaimed the glory of his name; they gave him rich gifts. The gods
all bowed down to Marduk and honored him greatly. They clothed
him in clean robes and anointed him with fragrant oil. They gave to
him the keeping of their holy places, and they said to him, “You alone
shall be our king! Whatever you command, thus shall we do!”
Then Marduk said, “The Apsu I have made secure, and the E-sara I
have made to be your abode. But another palace shall I yet create,
the place where the gods shall gather to take counsel together. This
place shall I call Babylon. In Babylon shall we make feast, and in
Babylon shall we receive the offerings that we are due.”
And the council of the gods said, “Yes, all these things you should
do, for you are our king, and we shall have none other. Let it be done
as you say.”
When things had been set in order in the heavens and on the Earth,
Marduk bent his thought to the creation of other things, of things that
might live and move upon the Earth. “I shall make a creature,” said
Marduk, “I shall make it of bone and of blood, and its duty shall be to
provide for the gods. This creature I shall call ‘man,’ and I shall make
it to live upon the Earth.”
Then Marduk turned to the council of the gods and said, “Tell me,
who was it that told Tiamat to rise in rebellion against us? Whose
words swayed her and caused her to bring battle?”
The gods answered Marduk, saying, “Qingu it was who fomented
rebellion, and Qingu it was who told Tiamat to bring battle.”
Thus it was that Qingu was brought before Marduk and the council of
the gods. Bound in fetters, Qingu was brought before them, and
sentence was passed upon him. Marduk opened the vessels of his
body, and from his blood, Marduk fashioned human beings to be the
servants of the gods.
The heavens and the Earth had been created, and the sun and the
moon given their duties. Human beings had been created to serve
the gods, and all had been set in order except for the council of the
gods themselves. Marduk divided the gods into companies and told
them where they were to dwell. Three hundred he made to guard the
heavens, and six hundred he sent to the Earth and to the
Underworld.
When that was done, the gods turned to Marduk and said, “O King,
you have done a great work. You have made all that is. You have
created human beings to do service for us. What now might we do
for you in return?”
Marduk was greatly pleased by what the gods had said, and he
replied, “Create Babylon! Make for us a shrine in which we might
repose ourselves.”
The gods accepted this task with a good will. They went to work
making bricks, and from the bricks, they made a city, and within the
city, a great shrine was built, a high tower that was to be a temple
where Marduk might reside along with Ea, Ellil, and Anu. For
themselves also they built temples, that they might have places of
repose.
Babylon soon was finished, a great and shining city with a fine
temple to the gods. Marduk was well pleased with this work, and he
said, “Well done, well done, my brother gods! Let us now have a
feast! Let us eat and drink to celebrate our creations and to celebrate
our new shrine in which we might repose.”
The whole company of the gods sat down with Marduk to a feast.
They ate and drank to their hearts’ content. They rejoiced in the
making of their new city and their new shrines. When the feasting
was over, the gods took a solemn oath to Marduk, proclaiming him
their king and judge, giving over to him dominion of all things. They
also made commandments for the proper care for the gods and of
the work that human beings ought to do in honor of all the deities.
The gods all praised Marduk for his glory, calling upon him by his
many names: Wise in Counsel, Great Provider, Lord of Life, Creator
of All Things, and many other great names besides, all the fifty
names of the great god Marduk, the mighty one and hero, who made
the heavens and the Earth, who set the gods in their abodes, and
who made human beings to be their servants.
Atrahasis
Many cultures have narratives of a great flood that wipes away all life
with the exception of a few righteous survivors, and ancient
Mesopotamian culture was no different. There are several different
versions of the Flood narrative in both Sumerian and Akkadian; one
such survives within the context of the Gilgamesh epic. The retelling
presented below is based on the Old Babylonian version, which
dates from the 17th century BCE, according to Benjamin Foster in his
translation of the tale.
In the beginning of the world, there were no people. Only the gods
walked the Earth, and the gods themselves had to work for their
sustenance. The Annunaki themselves, the greater gods, had to dig
the canals, till the fields, tend the beasts, and bring in the harvests.
“This work is too much,” said the Annunaki. “Our backs bend under
this heavy load. We must get someone else to do this for us.”
And so the Annunaki decided that they would go up into the sky.
First they cast lots to see where they would go. Anu the Father of All
went up into the sky. Ellil took the Earth for his domain, and Enki
took the sea. Then the Annunaki made the Igigi, the lesser gods, do
all of the work that they had formerly done. They made the Igigi dig
the canals, till the fields, tend the beasts, and bring in the harvests.
The first deed of the Igigi was to dig the riverbed for the Tigris. Then
they dug the bed for the Euphrates. They set up the Apsu, the home
of the gods, on their lands. For forty years, the Igigi labored at the
Annunaki’s command, and finally they had had enough of it. “Let us
go to Ellil and throw him down. We will throw him down from his
seat, and he will no longer have dominion over us. We will bring
battle to his gates and overthrow him, and then we will be free!”
The Igigi made a great pyre of their work tools and set it ablaze.
Then they took up their weapons, and in the middle of the night they
marched on the E-kur, the house of Ellil. Ellil did not know of the
approach of the Igigi, but Kalkal, a servant of Ellil, had done his duty
well and had barred the gates of the E-kur long since. Kalkal saw the
approach of the Igigi. He went to Nusku, another servant of Ellil, and
told him, “Go to our master. Rouse him. Let him know that a great
mob is approaching the E-kur. They will surround us. Tell Ellil,
quickly!”
Nusku ran to Ellil’s chamber and told him about the mob that was
surrounding the E-kur. “Take up weapons!” said Ellil. “Take up your
weapons, and stand in front of me. Bar the door to my chamber, but
you stand between it and me, with your weapons at the ready!”
Nusku looked at Ellil and said, “O my master, why are you so pale?
What is it you fear from those who are outside our walls? If you are
so afraid, summon Anu to your aid! Summon Enki to your aid! Surely
they will help you.”
Ellil summoned Anu, and he summoned Enki. Anu said, “What is it?
Why do you summon us?”
Ellil said, “Look about you! Look how the rabble surround my home!
Look how they pound at my gates! What am I to do about this?
These are my own children, risen up against me! My own children
have taken up weapons, and they have laid siege to my home.”
“Do you know what it is they want?” said Anu. “Why are they here?
Maybe you should find that out first. Send Nusku out to them. Have
Nusku ask them what they want of you and why they have taken up
weapons against you. Send him in the name of the Annunaki.”
Nusku went to the gate. He opened it and stood before the Igigi. He
bowed to them and said, “I am here in the name of Anu, your father;
and of Ellil, warrior and counsellor; and of Ninurta, your chamberlain;
and of Ennugi, who controls the canals. I am here in their name to
ask you why you are here and what you want. Who started this?
Who decided that you should take up weapons and surround the
house of Ellil? Speak! Tell me why you are here.”
The Igigi answered, one and all, “Together we decided to take up
weapons. Together we decided to lay siege to the house of Ellil. The
Annunaki set us to work for them. Hard and long has been our labor.
Our backs are bent, and our bodies are weary. We have had
enough! And so we bring battle to the gates of the E-kur. We will
fight for our freedom!”
Nusku went back to Ellil and told him what the Igigi had said. Ellil
wept when he heard the plight of the Igigi. “O father Anu,” he said,
“can nothing be done to help my children? Can nothing be done to
ease their burdens?”
Anu summoned together the council of the Annunaki, that they might
discover what ought to be done about the plight of the Igigi. Enki
spoke before the council, saying, “Yes, we ought to help the Igigi.
Truly we gave them a burden that is too heavy for them. I know what
we ought to do. We should create human beings. We should create
them and give the labor of the Igigi to them.” Enki turned to Mami,
the mother-goddess, and said, “O Mami, could you create human
beings? Could you make them, so that we might give to them the
labor of the Igigi?”
But Mami replied, “This is not for me to do. You must be the one to
create the humans. But if you give me clay, I will shape them.”
“Very well,” said Enki. “This is what I shall do: I will make a bath of
purification on the first, seventh, and fifteenth days of the month, so
that the gods might be purified. One god shall we sacrifice, and his
blood will be mixed with Mami’s clay.”
And so this was done. The Annunaki made the purification baths,
and they sacrificed Aw-ila, who gave himself for this purpose. Mami
took the clay and mixed it with Aw-ila’s blood, and so it was that the
human being had also a spirit, because it was made with the blood
of a god.
When the clay was well mixed with the blood, Enki called together
the whole assembly of the gods. The Annunaki came at Enki’s
summons, and they spat upon the clay. The Igigi came at Enki’s
summons, and they spat upon the clay. Then Mami said to the whole
assembly, “I have completed the task that you set me. Here is the
clay that has the blood and the spirit of a god. From this, I will make
beings to take upon them your labor and your pain. Before you is the
beginning of new creatures, creatures who also may bewail their lot,
who also may weary our ears with their clamoring.”
Hearing this, the Igigi surged forward and fell at Mami’s feet. They
kissed her feet, saying, “We called you Mami, but now you shall be
known as Mistress of All the Gods.”
Enki and Mami summoned fourteen goddesses who would bear the
new beings. While Enki trod the clay, kneading it with his feet, Mami
said an incantation. When the clay was well mixed and the
incantation done, Mami divided the clay into fourteen portions.
Seven pieces she set on the right, and seven she set on the left.
Seven pieces of clay were given to seven of the goddesses, and the
beings they bore became males. The other seven pieces of clay
were given to the other seven goddesses, and the beings they bore
became females.
Mami told the new beings that they should each choose another to
be their mate, one male with one female. She instructed them on
how to live, and how they would bear their children, and on the
proper reverence to the gods.
And so it was that the new men and women were put upon the
Earth, and to them was given the labor that the gods had done. The
new men and women dug the canals, tilled the fields, tended the
beasts, and brought in the harvests. The new men and women did
this labor, and they also married and had many fine children.
Twelve hundred years went by. The new human beings did their
labor, and they had their children, and their children had children,
and on and on this went until the Earth was well covered with human
beings, and the noise of their clamoring rose up into the heavens,
offending the ears of the gods.
“Oh!” cried Ellil. “This cannot stand. The noise of these beings is too
much. I cannot sleep because of their din. We should diminish them.
Let us make a plague, and send it upon them. Let us send a plague
to kill them and diminish their numbers, and diminish their noise
thereby.”
The other gods readily agreed to this. “Yes, let us send a plague.
Truly there are too many people, and truly they make such a din that
none of us can sleep. Let us send a plague!”
And so the gods sent a plague upon the people. The plague swept
through the land, and many died. Men, women, and children, young
and old, all fell victim. One among them who survived was a wise
man named Atrahasis. He was a devout man, speaking often with
the god Enki. In turn, Enki honored Atrahasis by speaking with him.
“O Enki!” cried Atrahasis. “How long must we suffer like this? How
long will the gods afflict us with this plague? Our children are dying,
and our elders. Wives are leaving their husbands widowers, and
husbands widow their wives. Help us! What can we do to appease
the gods?”
“Call together the council of elders,” said Enki. “Call them together,
and tell them that they must all forgo the worship of their own gods.
Instead, they must build a temple for Namtar, god of plagues. For
him must they bake bread, and to his temple must they bring it.
When he sees the fine gift of bread laid at his door, perhaps he will
feel ashamed and stop the plague.”
Atrahasis did as Enki instructed. He told the elders what must be
done. Together the people built a great temple to Namtar. They
baked bread for him and laid it at the door of the temple. Namtar
smelled the perfume of the baking bread. He saw how well crafted
the loaves were and how many had been laid at the door of his
temple. He felt ashamed for having afflicted the people, and so he
withdrew the plague from them. Those who had been stricken began
to get well again, and no one else fell ill.
Twelve hundred years went by after the end of the plague. The
people did their labor, and they had their children, and their children
had children, and on and on this went until the Earth was well
covered with human beings, and the noise of their clamoring rose up
into the heavens, offending the ears of the gods.
“Oh!” cried Ellil. “This cannot stand. The noise of these beings is too
much. I cannot sleep because of their din. We should diminish them.
Let us make a drought, and send it upon them. Let us send a
drought so that their crops will not flourish. They will starve, and
diminish their numbers, and diminish their noise thereby.”
The other gods readily agreed to this. “Yes, let us send a drought.
Truly there are too many people, and truly they make such a din that
none of us can sleep. Let us send a drought!”
The gods called upon Adad, god of rain. “Stop the rain, Adad,” said
the gods. “Stop the rain so that the Earth dries up, so that the crops
will not grow. That way the people will starve, and they will die, and
finally it will be quiet enough for us to sleep.”
And so Adad held back the rain. Drought came upon the land. The
crops dried up, and the people thirsted, and soon many and many
died.
The wise man Atrahasis again went to Enki and said, “How long
must we suffer like this? How long will the gods afflict us with this
drought? Our children are dying, and our elders. Wives are leaving
their husbands widowers, and husbands widow their wives. Help us!
What can we do to appease the gods?”
“Call together the council of elders,” said Enki. “Call them together,
and tell them that they must all forgo the worship of their own gods.
Instead, they must build a temple for Adad, the rain-god. For him
must they bake bread, and to his temple must they bring it. When he
sees the fine gift of bread laid at his door, perhaps he will feel
ashamed and stop the drought.”
Atrahasis did as Enki instructed. He told the elders what must be
done. Together the people built a great temple to Adad. They baked
bread for him and laid it at the door of the temple. Adad smelled the
perfume of the baking bread. He saw how well crafted the loaves
were and how many had been laid at the door of his temple. He felt
ashamed for having afflicted the people, and so he withdrew the
drought from them. He gave them rain in plenty and morning dew.
Soon the fields were bearing crops, and there was a plentiful
harvest. Hunger and thirst were gone from the land.
Again the people became too noisy for the gods, and again the gods
sent plague upon them. Again the gods sent plague, and when the
numbers of the people were reduced, the gods relented.
After the plague was banished from the land, the people increased,
and once again they disturbed the gods with their noise and bustle.
Again the gods sent drought, and when the numbers of the people
were reduced, the gods relented.
Twice the gods sent plague and then removed it. Twice the gods
sent drought and then removed it. But after every plague and
drought abated, the people increased their numbers until the din of
their living echoed through the House of the Gods and the gods
could no longer sleep.
Finally Ellil called together the Annunaki. He called them to a council
and said, “Something must be done about the racket the people
make. They are so noisy, none of us can sleep! We have tried
plague. We have tried drought. Neither of those worked for long. We
must do something more, something that will wipe out the people, so
that we can sleep. I wish to bring a great flood upon the land. That
will wipe out all the people, and at last we shall have peace.”
Enki stood in council and cried out against this plan. “This is an evil
thing you do, Ellil! Why should we wipe out all the people? Why
should I desire to slay all of my children? Do this deed if you must,
but I will have no part of it!”
And so Enki resolved to save at least some of the people from the
wrath of Ellil and the Annunaki. Enki went to the wise man Atrahasis
and sent to him a dream. Enki came to Atrahasis at night while he
was sleeping, and he said, “Atrahasis! A great flood is coming, one
that will wipe out every living thing. But I, Enki, your god, command
you. Make a boat. Build it well, and seal it with pitch. Build it with
many decks. Build it long, and build it wide. Take with you on your
boat as many living things as you can. Seven days have you, before
the flood arrives. Go and do my bidding, if you would live!”
Atrahasis woke from his dream. He straightway began building his
boat, and his family helped him. Soon the great boat was built and
provisioned, and Atrahasis filled it with the animals as Enki had
commanded him to do. When the boat was ready, Atrahasis brought
his family aboard. They sat down to a meal together, but Atrahasis
was restless. He could not sit still. He could not eat or drink. He kept
going outside and looking to see whether the flood was coming.
Although he had built the boat that would save him, his heart was
wretched, and he was sore afraid.
Atrahasis watched the skies. As he watched them, they grew dark
with clouds, darker than Atrahasis had ever seen. Adad rode in
those clouds, and he unleashed their rains upon the earth. Atrahasis
went back into his boat and sealed up the doors with pitch.
The Anzu Bird roared through the sky. He rent the sky with his
talons. And then it was that the flood came forth. It rushed out over
the land in a great wall, washing away everything in its path. So
great was the deluge that even the gods became frightened and hid
within the walls of their House. Enki wailed in mourning for the death
of all his children.
The entire world was scoured clean by the flood, and soon the
Annunaki and the Igigi became hungry. They became hungry
because the flood had washed away everything. All the people were
dead, and all the fields lay under a great depth of water. The great
mother-goddess Mami lamented the destruction. “O that the day may
never again break! Woe to me that I agreed to Ellil’s chosen path!
Would that Anu had intervened and checked Ellil’s course as he
ought to have done!”
Ellil looked out over what he had wrought, thinking that finally he
would have peace. But then he spied the boat of Atrahasis, and he
fell into a rage. “Look at that! Look, out on the water! There is a boat,
and it is filled with people and animals! We gods agreed together
that all living things were to be destroyed. We gods agreed together
that nothing should survive this flood. Only Enki could have done this
thing. Only Enki would dare go against the will of all the gods!”
“Yes, I did this thing,” said Enki. “And I would do it again, a thousand
times over. My work it is to see that life is protected. The flood was
an evil deed, Ellil, for you have punished the just along with the
unjust.”
[The remainder of the tale is fragmentary, but apparently Enki and
Nintu, the goddess of giving birth, work together to create new
people and establish a new social order. One remaining fragment
deals with assigning roles to women as the bearers of children and
priestesses who are to remain childless.]
Etana
This story is set in Kish, which was an ancient Sumerian city-state in
what is now Iraq, and is about Etana, who the story says was the
first king of Kish. However, the Sumerian King List puts Etana as the
thirteenth king of Kish, so it is possible that one purpose of this story
was to bolster Etana’s historical clout and claim to authority.
One important theme of this story is the relationship between parents
and children. Etana has no children of his own, and this is a sorrow
to him; part of the story deals with his attempts to get an heir. The
two other main characters in the story are an eagle and a serpent,
both of which have broods that they are raising. The eagle’s
youngest chick attempts to advise his parent, while the serpent’s
children all fall prey to the greedy eagle. The serpent duly punishes
the eagle for his treachery, but the eagle’s redemption is found when
he assists Etana to get the plant that will allow him to have children
of his own.
In the beginning, the gods created the Earth and filled it with people.
The gods also created a great city, the city of Kish. The Annunaki
laid the plans for the city, and the Igigi built it from good brick. When
the city was built, the gods decreed a great feast for all the people,
but the gods would not let them into the city for the people had no
king to rule them and to establish order. The gods searched all the
lands for a man to be king over the city and finally declared that
Etana should be made king in Kish.
In thanksgiving for his kingship, Etana built a shrine to the rain-god
Adad, whom Etana especially revered. Next to the shrine, Etana
planted a poplar tree, and when it came into its growth, an eagle
made its eyrie in the branches, and a serpent made its burrow in the
roots. The eagle said to the serpent, “We are neighbors here, so let
us also be friends.”
The serpent replied, “This I cannot do, for you have transgressed
against Shamash, the god of the sun. But if you will swear with me
not to overstep the limits of Shamash, then we can be companions.
Let us swear that whoever oversteps the limits of Shamash receive a
great punishment.”
The eagle agreed to this, and so they both swore on the Underworld
not to anger Shamash. The serpent and the eagle then worked
together, taking it in turns to find prey and bring it back to their
homes. When it was the eagle’s day to hunt, he would find wild oxen
and wild asses and bring them back to the tree, and the serpent and
his children would eat of what the eagle brought. When it was the
serpent’s day to hunt, he would bring back deer and gazelles, and
the eagle and his children would eat of what the serpent brought.
For a time, the eagle and the serpent lived in peace together, hunting
their prey and feeding one another’s children. But soon the eagle
began to think ill of the serpent. He plotted in his heart to eat the
serpent’s children. The eagle said to his brood, “I have a mind to eat
the serpent’s children. Then the serpent will run away, and we shall
have the whole tree to ourselves.”
The smallest chick said to his father, “No, Father! This is an evil
thought. You must not eat the serpent’s children, for you swore an
oath to Shamash to live in peace with the serpent. If you eat the
serpent’s children, surely Shamash will punish you most sorely!”
But the eagle did not listen to the words of the youngest chick. He
waited until the serpent had gone out to hunt, and then he flew down
to the roots of the tree and ate up all the young serpents. That
evening, when the serpent returned with its kill, he looked in his
burrow and found it empty. He looked at the ground outside the
burrow and saw it scored with the marks of the eagle’s talons.
The serpent mourned deeply. He wept bitter tears, mourning for his
dead children. Then the serpent turned his eyes to the heavens and
said, “O Shamash, look what has become of my family! I trusted the
eagle, and we swore an oath together. I trusted him, and together we
worked to feed our young. But the eagle has betrayed me. He has
devoured all my children. They are dead and gone, but his fledglings
grow and flourish. O Shamash, I ask you to take vengeance on the
eagle for this deed and for breaking his solemn oath to you!”
Shamash saw the tears of the serpent and heard his words. He said,
“This is what you shall do. Go out hunting. Find a fine wild ox, and
kill it. When it is dead, cut open its belly, and hide yourself in its
entrails. Soon the birds will see the dead ox and will come down to
feast upon it, and the eagle will come down with them. When the
eagle begins to eat of the entrails, seize him, cut off his wings, and
pluck out his tail feathers. Then cast him into a pit, and leave him
there to die of hunger and thirst.”
The serpent did as Shamash commanded. He slew the ox and hid
himself in the beast’s entrails. The eagle saw the dead ox and said
to his children, “Come, let us feast! There is a fine dead ox there,
and we shall eat well!”
But the smallest chick said, “No, Father! You must not eat of that ox.
What if the serpent is hiding inside it? Surely he is wroth that you
devoured his young. He may have set a trap for you!”
The eagle did not listen to his chick. He flew down to the dead ox
and began walking around it and on top of it, trying to find which was
the best part to eat first. The eagle decided to go for the entrails, but
when he was close enough, the serpent darted out from his covert
and seized the eagle’s wings.
“You invaded my burrow! You devoured my young!” shouted the
serpent.
In great fear, the eagle cried, “Have mercy! Do not hurt me! If you let
me go unharmed, I will reward you greatly!”
“I cannot let you go,” said the serpent, “for in capturing you, I am
following the command of Shamash himself, and if I do not do what
he commands, I shall be punished. But I have done no wrong and
deserve no punishment, while you have devoured my children and
must pay for that deed!”
And so, the serpent cut off the eagle’s wings and plucked out his tail
feathers, then cast him into a pit and left him there to die. Every day,
the eagle called to Shamash, saying, “Do not leave me here! Do not
let me die in a pit! If you save me, I shall see to it that your name
receives praise from every tongue of every creature!”
Shamash replied, “Why should I save you? You did a most evil thing.
You devoured the serpent’s children, and you broke the solemn oath
you swore to me. I will not help you, but perhaps a mortal man will.”
Now, at this time, Etana ruled over the city of Kish, and he had but
one sorrow: he had no children of his own. Every day, Etana prayed
to Shamash, saying, “O Shamash, listen to my prayer! I have fed you
on the finest beasts of my flocks. I have poured the blood of my
sacrifices out so that the Underworld might drink of it. I honor all the
gods, and try to do right, but still I have no children. Mighty
Shamash, I beg of you, reveal to me how I might have children.
Reveal to me how I might get an heir. Show me where grows the
plant of birth!”
Shamash heard the prayers of Etana and said to him, “Follow the
road that leads into the mountains. You will find there a pit, and in
the pit is an eagle. The eagle will show you where the plant is.”
Etana did as Shamash commanded. He followed the road that led
into the mountains, and there he found the pit. The eagle heard
Etana’s approach, and he cried out to Shamash, saying, “O mighty
Shamash! Is this the man you promised would help me? Give to him
the gift of understanding birds’ speech, and let me understand his!”
Shamash did as the eagle asked. He gave the eagle the power to
understand Etana’s speech and gave Etana the power to understand
what the eagle said. The eagle cried out from the bottom of the pit,
“Tell me why you are here!”
“I am looking for the plant of birth,” said Etana. “Mighty Shamash told
me to come here. He said you would be able to help me. I am a king,
but I have no heir, and it is a great sorrow to me.”
“Help me,” said the eagle, “and I will show you where the plant
grows.”
And so Etana helped the eagle. Every day, he brought food for the
bird to eat, until its wings healed and its tail feathers grew back.
Etana fed the eagle and taught it to fly again. For seven months,
Etana fed the eagle and taught it to fly, and when the seven months
were over, Etana helped the eagle out of the pit.
After Etana cared for him, the eagle was well and strong again. “I
thank you for your help,” said the eagle. “Tell me, how I may serve
you, in return for your kindness?”
“Find for me the plant of birth that I might have an heir,” said Etana.
The eagle flew up into the sky. He flew all around, but the plant was
nowhere to be found. The eagle returned to Etana and said, “Maybe
it would be better if you helped me search. Here, climb up on my
back. We shall fly together, and search together. We shall go to
Ishtar, the goddess of birth. Perhaps she will tell us where the plant
is.”
Etana mounted the back of the eagle. The eagle took flight, and
when they were high in the sky, he cried out to Etana, “Look how
small the Earth seems from up here! Look how small the sea
appears!”
Higher and higher they flew, and the land and sea looked smaller
and smaller, until finally they were so high that Etana could no longer
see either the land or the sea, and he became very frightened
indeed.
“My friend, set me down!” said Etana. “I do not wish to fly all the way
up to heaven. Set me down, and let me return home to my city!”
The eagle dropped Etana off his back. Etana fell down one league,
but then the eagle caught him with his wings. Then the eagle
dropped Etana again and caught him again a league farther down.
Once more the eagle dropped Etana and caught him when Etana
was barely three cubits above the ground.
[Here there is a gap in the narrative. The story resumes with Etana
telling the eagle about a dream he had.]
Etana said to the eagle, “My friend, I had a great dream last night.
Surely it was sent by the gods. Let me tell you what happened.
Together we went up to heaven, you and I. We came to the House of
the Gods. First we went through the gates of Anu, Ellil, and Ea. Then
we went through the gates of Sin, Shamash, Adad, and Ishtar. We
bowed low before the gods, both you and I. After we passed through
all the gates, we saw a house before us. We went into the house,
and there was seated the most beautiful woman. She wore upon her
head a shining crown. Also in the house was a finely carved throne,
and under the throne there were three lions. I stepped toward the
throne, but the lions sprang at me, and I woke up, shivering with
fear.”
“Oh!” said the eagle. “I know what this means. I must take you up to
heaven. Climb on my back, and we will fly there together.”
Etana mounted the back of the eagle. The eagle took flight, and
when they were high in the sky, he cried out to Etana, “Look how
small the Earth seems from up here! Look how small the sea
appears!”
Higher and higher they flew, and the land and sea looked smaller
and smaller, until finally they were so high that Etana could no longer
see either the land or the sea. Higher and yet higher they flew until
they arrived in heaven at the House of the Gods. Together Etana and
the eagle went through the gates of Anu, Ellil, and Ea. Then they
went through the gates of Sin, Shamash, Adad, and Ishtar. They
bowed low before the gods together. After they passed through all
the gates, they saw before them a house. They opened the door and
went inside.
[The remainder of the story is missing, with the exception of a
fragment that indicates Etana was able to obtain the plant of birth
and return home with it.]
Part II: Tales of Gods and Goddesses
Ishtar Descends to the Underworld
This story explains what happens when the goddess Ishtar decides
to pay a visit to the Underworld, which is ruled by Ereshkigal, her
older sister and a rival goddess. It is somewhat unclear what Ishtar
intends to accomplish by her visit, but Ereshkigal seems to be under
the impression that Ishtar intends to supplant her. Ereshkigal
therefore acts accordingly to strip Ishtar of her power by taking
Ishtar’s clothing and jewelry, piece by piece, so that the goddess
must enter the Underworld as the human dead do, naked and alone.
Ishtar is a fertility goddess; when she is imprisoned by Ereshkigal, no
procreation can take place upon the earth. The god Ea creates a
beautiful eunuch named Asushunamir (although some translators
state that this character may have been a male prostitute or
transvestite) to trick Ereshkigal into letting Ishtar return to the world
of the living. Assyriologist Benjamin R. Foster, in his translation of
the story, notes that sending such a person would have been seen
by Mesopotamian peoples as apropos, since Ishtar was the patron
goddess of male prostitutes and transvestites, who worked as
entertainers, and it is in this capacity that the eunuch enters the
Underworld to trick Ereshkigal.
Two portions of the story seem to be omitted in the Akkadian
version, and have been supplied from Foster’s notes on the tale.
These have to do with Asushunamir’s interaction with Ereshkigal and
with the reason why Tammuz is sent to the Underworld when Ishtar
returns to the world of the living.
There came a time when the goddess Ishtar, daughter of the moon-
god Sin, determined to go to the Underworld. She went to the
Underworld, the place all enter but none leave, the place at which all
roads end, a lightless place, and those who dwell therein eat clay
and drink dust.
Ishtar went to the gates of the Underworld and said, “Gatekeeper,
open the gate! Open for me, lest I break down these doors. Open for
me, lest I raise the dead so that they might feed upon the living, and
soon more shall be dead than alive. Open the gate!”
The gatekeeper said, “O Lady Ishtar, have patience, and wait a
while. I must ask permission of my Lady Ereshkigal before opening
to anyone, even to the Lady Ishtar.”
The gatekeeper went to Ereshkigal and said, “O Lady Ereshkigal,
your sister Ishtar waits at the gate of the Underworld and demands I
open to her. The one who stirs up the deep in the sight of Ea is here
and craves admittance.”
Ereshkigal paled when she heard the gatekeeper’s speech. “What
might Ishtar hold against me that she visits me here? Shall I join the
ones whose road has ended here? Shall I dwell in the place all enter
but none leave? Shall I eat clay and drink dust? Shall I mourn for the
young men torn from their brides and for the young women torn from
their grooms? Shall I mourn for the stillborn and the infants who had
so little of life?”
Then Ereshkigal said to the gatekeeper, “Ishtar may enter, but see to
it she obeys the ancient laws.”
The gatekeeper returned to the gate and said to Ishtar, “You may
enter, Lady Ishtar. Enter and let the Underworld rejoice at your
arrival.”
The gatekeeper took Ishtar to the first gate. There he took from
Ishtar her great crown and opened for her the gate.
“Why do you take from me my crown?” said Ishtar.
“I bid you enter, my lady,” said the gatekeeper. “I take the crown
because it is an ancient law of this place, and I must uphold it.”
The gatekeeper took Ishtar to the second gate. There he took from
Ishtar her earrings.
“Why do you take from me my earrings?” said Ishtar.
“I bid you enter, my lady,” said the gatekeeper. “I take the earrings
because it is an ancient law of this place, and I must uphold it.”
The gatekeeper took Ishtar to the third gate. There he took from
Ishtar her necklace of beads.
“Why do you take from me my necklace of beads?” said Ishtar.
“I bid you enter, my lady,” said the gatekeeper. “I take the necklace of
beads because it is an ancient law of this place, and I must uphold
it.”
The gatekeeper took Ishtar to the fourth gate. There he took from
Ishtar the fastenings of her garment.
“Why do you take from me the fastenings of my garment?” said
Ishtar
“I bid you enter, my lady,” said the gatekeeper. “I take the fastenings
of your garment because it is an ancient law of this place, and I must
uphold it.”
The gatekeeper took Ishtar to the fifth gate. There he took from
Ishtar the belt decked with birthstones.
“Why do you take from me my belt decked with birthstones?” said
Ishtar.
“I bid you enter, my lady,” said the gatekeeper. “I take the belt
decked with birthstones because it is an ancient law of this place,
and I must uphold it.”
The gatekeeper took Ishtar to the sixth gate. There he took from
Ishtar the bracelets from her wrists and the anklets from her feet.
“Why do you take from me my bracelets from my wrists and the
anklets from my feet?” said Ishtar.
“I bid you enter, my lady,” said the gatekeeper. “I take the bracelets
from your wrists and the anklets from your feet because it is an
ancient law of this place, and I must uphold it.”
The gatekeeper took Ishtar to the seventh gate. There he took from
Ishtar the garment of her body.
“Why do you take from me the garment of my body?” said Ishtar.
“I bid you enter, my lady,” said the gatekeeper. “I take the garment of
your body because it is an ancient law of this place, and I must
uphold it.”
Ishtar entered the presence of Ereshkigal, who trembled with anger.
Not waiting for Ereshkigal to speak, Ishtar approached her.
Ereshkigal cried out, “Namtar, my wise counsellor! Take Ishtar away
from me at once! Let her be riddled with diseases of all kinds,
diseases of her eyes and skin, diseases of her hands and feet,
diseases of her heart and head. Take her away, and strike her thus!”
And so it was that Ishtar was held in the Underworld, cursed by
Ereshkigal. And upon the earth, the bull would not mount the cow.
The young groom did not lie down with his bride. The husband slept
in one room, and the wife in another.
Papsukkal, the wise counsellor of the Annunaki, saw what happened
upon the Earth, and he was greatly saddened. He cast himself into
mourning, donning ragged garments and letting his hair go unkempt.
In mourning, Papsukkal went before Ea and said, “The Lady Ishtar
has gone into the Underworld, and all is awry. The bull will not mount
the cow. The young groom will not lie with his bride. The husband
sleeps in one room, and the wife in another.”
Ea heard the words of Papsukkal and saw his grief. Ea therefore
created Asushunamir, a eunuch of great beauty. Ea said to
Asushunamir, “Go down to the Underworld. Go to the Lady
Ereshkigal. She will be entranced by you. When her anger is
appeased, ask her to swear by the Annunaki, and then ask her to
give you the waterskin that you might drink.”
Asushunamir did as Ea instructed, but when he asked for the
waterskin, Ereshkigal became enraged. “How dare you ask this
thing! You have no right. A curse be upon you! You shall beg crusts
from the bakers of the city, and drink from the public sewer. You shall
stand only in the shadows, and you shall dwell only within doorways.
Drunk and sober alike shall strike you in the face.”
Then Ereshkigal said to Namtar, “Go to the E-galgina, the Eternal
Palace. Decorate the doorways with coral and fine shells. Bring forth
the Annunaki, let them be seated upon golden thrones. Take up the
Water of Life, and sprinkle it upon Ishtar. Then take her away from
here, out of the Underworld.”
Namtar did as Ereshkigal commanded. He decorated the doorways
of the E-galgina with coral and fine shells. He brought forth the
Annunaki and seated them upon golden thrones. He took up the
Water of Life and sprinkled it upon Ishtar. Then he brought her to the
gates.
At the first gate, he returned to Ishtar the garment of her body and let
her out the gate.
At the second gate, he returned to Ishtar the bracelets of her wrists
and the anklets of her feet and let her out the gate.
At the third gate, he returned to Ishtar the belt of birthstones and let
her out the gate.
At the fourth gate, he returned to Ishtar the fastenings of her garment
and let her out the gate.
At the fifth gate, he returned to Ishtar her necklace of beads and let
her out the gate.
At the sixth gate, he returned to Ishtar her earrings and let her out
the gate.
At the seventh gate, he returned to Ishtar her great crown and let her
out the gate.
Ereshkigal also said to Namtar, “If Ishtar does not pay her ransom
price, you are to return her to the Underworld. When you let her go,
bring here Tammuz, her lover. Bathe him in clearest water, and
anoint him with fragrant oil. Dress him in fine red clothing, and give
him a flute of lapis to play music upon and a ring of carnelian to
adorn his finger. Send prostitutes to him that he might delight in
them.”
Ishtar rose up from the Underworld and found Tammuz at his ease,
playing music on his flute and delighting in prostitutes. “What is this
that you do?” she said. “Why do you not hold yourself in mourning,
seeing that I was held captive in the Underworld?”
Then Ishtar cursed Tammuz, saying, “May the Lady Ereshkigal take
you in my stead!”
Belili, the sister of Tammuz, was adorning herself with jewelry when
the wail for Tammuz went up. She cast aside her jewels and cried
out, “Do not take from me my brother! On the day when Tammuz
returns, the lapis flute and carnelian ring will rejoice. Those who wail
and keen will rejoice, and the dead shall smell the incense.”
Nergal and Ereshkigal
Two versions of this myth exist. The earlier version, which was found
in Tell el-Amarna, Egypt, appears to date from the 15th or 14th
centuries BCE. This version is relatively short and involves the god
Nergal’s hostile takeover of the Underworld with the help of a
company of demons. One important function of this version of the
text seems to have been to help ancient Egyptian scribes learn
Akkadian.
In the longer, later, Babylonian version, Nergal receives special
instructions from Ea about how to behave so as not to become
captive in the Underworld, including the command not to give in to
any desire he may have for Ereshkigal, the goddess of the
Underworld, no matter how she might tempt him. Of course, Nergal
follows all of Ea’s commandments except the one about desire, and
he eventually assumes the throne of the Underworld by becoming
Ereshkigal’s lover. It is the second, longer version that is presented
here, although the ending has sadly been lost.
There came a time when the gods decided to hold a great feast, and
so they sent a messenger to the Underworld to the goddess
Ereshkigal, where she dwelled in her domain. The messenger said
to Ereshkigal, “The gods, my masters, bid me to tell you that they are
having a great feast. You cannot go up to their domain, and they
may not come down to yours, so send a servant up to the gods so
that the servant might bring you your share of the feast.”
Ereshkigal called to herself her chief counsellor, Namtar. “Go up to
where the gods are having their feast,” said Ereshkigal. “Greet my
fellow gods well, and bring back to me my portion.”
Namtar went to the dwelling of the gods where they sat at their feast.
When Namtar entered the banqueting chamber, the gods rose to
greet him. One god, however, remained seated: Nergal. He refused
to do honor to the chief counsellor of the goddess of the Underworld.
When Namtar returned to the Underworld with Ereshkigal’s portion of
the feast, he told her what had happened and how Nergal had
refused to stand to honor him as the messenger of the goddess.
Ereshkigal was greatly affronted. “Go back to the domain of the
gods. Go thither, and bring back to me the one who did not honor
you that I may kill him!”
Namtar went back to the domain of the gods. He said to them,
“When I came to get Ereshkigal’s portion of the feast, there was one
among you who did not stand to greet me. I am commanded to bring
him back with me so that he might answer for his insolence.”
Namtar looked all around the hall, but he did not see Nergal among
the other gods, for Nergal was greatly afraid, and he had crouched
down behind the others so that Namtar might not see him.
Then Namtar went back to Ereshkigal and said, “I went to the
domain of the gods. I looked for the one who slighted me, but he was
not there.”
“Go back to the domain of the gods,” said Ereshkigal, “and ask the
help of our father Ea. Tell him that the one who did not rise to greet
you must come to my domain to answer for his insolence.”
And so a third time Namtar returned to the domain of the gods. He
went before Ea and said, “Ereshkigal, my mistress, demands that
you send the one who slighted me to the Underworld that he might
pay for his insolence.”
Ea agreed and then sent Namtar back to the Underworld to give
Ereshkigal his word that Nergal would be sent. Then Ea caused
Nergal to come before him. Nergal was greatly frightened, for he
knew why Namtar had been sent.
“O Father Ea!” pleaded Nergal. “Do not send me away. Do not send
me to the Underworld, for surely Ereshkigal will kill me!”
“Have no fear,” said Ea. “You will be safe if you do as I instruct you.
Make for yourself a chair. Bring it with you to the Underworld. When
the people of the Underworld offer you a seat, do not take it. Sit in
your own seat instead. If they offer you food or drink, you must
refuse it. And if Ereshkigal should show you her body, you must
refuse that as well.”
Nergal took up his axe. He went and cut down trees to make his
chair. He fashioned the chair well and decorated it brightly. This
done, he set out for the Underworld.
After a long journey, he came to the gates of Ereshkigal’s domain.
Nergal knocked on the gates. A guardian looked through the
peephole and said, “Who are you, and what is your errand here?”
“I am Nergal, and I am come in answer to Ereshkigal’s summons.”
“Wait here,” said the guardian. “I must ask whether I am to allow you
to enter.”
The guardian went to fetch Namtar. “There is a god at the gate. He
says he has come in answer to the Lady Ereshkigal’s summons.”
Namtar went to the gate. He looked through the peephole, and when
he beheld Nergal standing there, waiting, he began shaking with
rage. Namtar went to Ereshkigal and said, “The god who slighted me
is here at the gate. What should be done with him?”
“It is not for you to deal out judgment to him,” said Ereshkigal. “Bring
him into my presence. I shall deal with him as I see fit.”
Namtar went back to the gate and let Nergal in. Namtar led Nergal
through all the seven gates of the Underworld, one by one, until they
came to the courtyard of Ereshkigal. There Nergal threw himself at
the feet of the goddess. “Our father Anu sent me to your realm” he
said. “I am here and will do your bidding.”
“Sit down on this throne,” said Ereshkigal. “Sit down here on my
throne and pronounce judgment.”
But Namtar remembered the instructions of Ea, and he did not sit on
Ereshkigal’s throne. He sat on his own chair instead.
Ereshkigal commanded her servants to bring food and drink to her
guest. The food and drink were set before Nergal, but he
remembered the instructions of Ea, and he did not touch it.
Then Ereshkigal said, “It is time for me to go and bathe.” She went to
her bath, and she made sure that Nergal could see her as she
removed her clothing. She made sure that Nergal could see her
body.
When Nergal beheld how beautiful Ereshkigal was and how comely
her body, he was overcome with desire for her. He went to her and
embraced her. Together they went to her bed where they delighted in
one another as men and women do. There they lay together for six
days, delighting in one another.
On the seventh day, Nergal rose from Ereshkigal’s bed. “I must leave
you now,” said Nergal, “but have no fear. I shall return to you.”
Nergal went to the guardian of the gate, saying, “You must let me
out! The goddess Ereshkigal has said that I am to be allowed to
return to the domain of the gods.”
The guardian let Nergal out. Nergal ascended to the domain of the
gods. The gods saw him return and said, “Lo! Nergal has come
back! Let Ea bless him with fresh water, and let him sit once more
among us and eat our food and drink our drink.” And so it was that
Nergal rejoined the company of the gods in their domain, blinking at
the drops of fresh water that Ea had sprinkled upon him.
Ereshkigal, for her part, did not know that Nergal had left the
Underworld entirely. She called to her servants to sprinkle fresh
water for him and to set out food and drink for him. But then Namtar
came into her chamber, saying, “Nergal is not here! He has left the
Underworld entirely and has returned to the domain of the gods!”
Ereshkigal cried out in despair. “Alas!” she cried. “Alas that Nergal
has left me! My bed shall be cold. My nights shall be empty. Never
again shall I know delight. Alas!”
Namtar said to Ereshkigal, “Let me return to the domain of the gods.
Let me ask Anu and Ellil and Ea to let Nergal return to you.”
“Yes, my wise counsellor,” said Ereshkigal. “Yes, go back to the
domain of the gods. Tell Anu and Ellil and Ea that they must return
Nergal to me. I feel a stirring in my belly; surely he has left me with
child. Also, you must tell them that if Nergal is not returned to me, I
shall raise all the dead. I shall raise the dead, and send them into the
land of the living. The dead shall eat the living, and no one shall be
left alive!”
Namtar went up to the domain of the gods. He went before Anu and
Ellil and Ea, and told them what the goddess said. “Ereshkigal
demands you return her lover to her. He has left her with child. She
weeps over her cold and empty bed. She desires him to return. If he
does not return, Ereshkigal shall raise the dead, and the dead shall
eat the living until no one is left alive.”
“Very well,” said Ea. “Search for the one you want. See whether he is
here among us.”
Nergal went through the company of the gods. He looked this one in
the face and that one, and when he came to a god whose head had
been sprinkled with water, he did not recognize that it was Nergal.
Namtar therefore returned to the Underworld, and told Ereshkigal
what had happened. “I went to the domain of the gods. I gave your
message to Anu and Ellil and Ea. I looked through all the company
of the gods, but I did not see the one you desired. I looked through
all of them, even the one who was blinking from the water that had
been sprinkled on his head.”
“That is the one!” said Ereshkigal. “The one with the water on his
head is the one I desire. Go back to the domain of the gods, and tell
them they must send that one to me.”
Namtar returned to the domain of the gods. Once again he went
through their company, seeking the one he was to take back to
Ereshkigal. Finally he found Nergal. Namtar said to him, “You must
come back with me to the Underworld. Ereshkigal desires you and
wishes you to come and live with her in her domain.”
“Very well,” said Nergal. “I shall come with you.”
Then Namtar said, “Listen well to my instructions. At each gate, you
must give something that belongs to you to the guardian who is
there. But do not let the guardian take hold of you.”
While Namtar went back to Ereshkigal’s domain, Nergal made
himself ready. He thought about the words of Namtar. He took up his
bow and his arrows, and descended to the Underworld. When
Nergal arrived at the first gate, he commanded the guardian to let
him in. The guardian opened the gate, but before he could demand
one of Nergal’s belongings from him, before the guardian could take
hold of Nergal, Nergal struck him down. Nergal went to the second
gate, and there he struck down the guardian. Nergal went to the third
gate and the fourth, and at each gate to the Underworld, he struck
down the guardian.
Finally, Nergal arrived at the courtyard where Ereshkigal was. He ran
up to her where she was seated on her throne. He took hold of her
long hair and pulled her into an embrace. Passionately they
embraced, and then they went to Ereshkigal’s bed, where they
delighted in one another once more. There they lay for the first day
and the second day. They lay for the third, the fourth, the fifth, and
the sixth day. And on the seventh day, Anu sent his messenger to
Ereshkigal and Nergal, where they dwelled in the domain of the
Underworld.
[The remainder of the story has been lost.]
Ninurta and the Anzu Bird
The Anzu Bird is a mythical creature that appears in both Sumerian
and Akkadian stories. Having the head of a lion and the body of a
bird, this fearsome beast was associated with thunder and could be
either a good or an evil character depending on the story.
It is the evil character that comes to the fore in this story: the Anzu
Bird is made guardian of the dwelling of the gods, and when he sees
the Tablets of Destiny that are kept by Ellil, he is overcome with
greed and lust for the power that the tablets represent. One day,
when Ellil is taking a bath, the Anzu Bird steals the tablets and runs
away to the mountains with them, throwing the universe into chaos
because the seat of authority has been removed from Ellil and given
to the capricious bird. When the Anzu Bird (or more simply, “Anzu”)
refuses to give the tablets back, the gods send the hero Ninurta to
recover them. In a series of battles involving both martial skill and
magic, Ninurta finally recovers the tablets and restores them to their
rightful owner, which also restores order to the cosmos.
Ninurta himself is a god, the son of Ellil and the mother goddess
Ninhursag. Ninurta had associations with both agriculture and
lawgiving, and in both Sumerian and Akkadian tales he is the one
hero the gods themselves turn to when a powerful enemy presents
itself and must be destroyed.
In the time when the great Tigris and Euphrates had been made,
their channels dug so that they might flow through the land but
before they had been filled with water, and in the time before any
places of honor had been built for the Igigi, the Younger Gods of
Heaven, the great god Ellil came before the Igigi and said, “Lo! Upon
the mountain there has come to be a great bird, the Anzu Bird,
whose beak is like a saw. I do not know where Anzu comes from.
Perhaps he was born out of the Earth herself. Perhaps he was born
out of the stone of the mountain itself. I say we should bring the
Anzu Bird here, to serve us. Let him guard our holy of holies.”
And so it was that Anzu was brought to the Duranki, the dwelling of
the gods, to watch over the holy of holies. Every day, Ellil would go
into the sacred chamber and there bathe himself with holy water, and
Anzu would watch over him while he bathed. Anzu looked upon
lordly Ellil, his fine clothes, and his golden crown, but most of all,
Anzu gazed upon the Tablets of Destiny, which were in Ellil’s
keeping. Anzu looked upon the Tablets, and within his heart formed
a great desire to have them for himself.
“Oh, if only I could be the holder of the Tablets!” Anzu said to himself.
“Then I would be first among all the gods. All would have to bow to
me. All the Igigi would be in my thrall. Surely the Tablets shall be
mine!”
Anzu waited until the next time Ellil went to the holy of holies to
bathe in the sacred water. When Ellil had set aside his golden crown
and his fine raiment, and when he had set aside the Tablets of
Destiny and entered the sacred water, Anzu swooped down upon the
Tablets. He took the Tablets of Destiny in his talons and flew away to
the mountain where he had been born. Ellil watched Anzu take the
Tablets. He watched Anzu fly away with the authority of the gods,
leaving the dwelling of the Igigi without any of its power.
The gods gathered together to take counsel of one another as to
what should be done. Soon enough it was decided that someone
should climb the mountain, kill Anzu, and bring the Tablets back to
their rightful owners.
First the gods turned to Adad, the son of Anu. “Go and kill Anzu,”
said the other gods. “You are strong and a brave warrior. You are the
god of storms and rain. You control the water in the canals. You will
have holy places throughout the world, and everyone will praise your
name if you do this deed.”
But Adad said, “The mountain is impassable. No one can climb it.
Anzu has the Tablets of Destiny. All authority and power rests in him
now. Surely if I try to take the Tablets away from him, he will destroy
me. No, I shall not go. Find another to do this deed.”
Then the Igigi turned to Erra, the son of Annunitum, and asked him
to go kill Anzu and bring back the Tablets. But Erra gave the same
answer as Adad; he would not go.
Next, the Igigi asked Shara, the son of Ishtar. “Go climb the
mountain and kill Anzu,” they said. “You are strong and a brave
warrior. You are the god of war and the son of the goddess Ishtar.
You will have holy places throughout the world, and everyone will
praise your name if you do this deed. Bring back the Tablets!”
But Shara gave the same answer as Adad and Erra. He would not
go.
The gods grew vexed. They argued with one another. They blamed
each other that no one would go climb the mountain. No one would
kill the Anzu Bird and take back the Tablets. Everyone was too afraid
of Anzu’s power.
Ea stood aside from the other gods and their wrangling. He thought
long and deep, and then he went to his father, Anu, and said, “Let
me be the one to find a champion. Surely I can find someone who
will go to the mountain to face Anzu and bring back the Tablets.”
Anu thought this a good plan, and when Ea told the Igigi what he had
in mind, they praised him loudly.
First, Ea had the gods summon to themselves the goddess Mami.
They said to her, “O Divine Mistress, we have need of your aid. We
need you to give us your beloved son, the strong and bold Ninurta,
for surely only he can deliver us from our plight. We beg you to ask
his help.”
Mami went to her son and told him what Ea and the Igigi had said.
“You must go to the mountain and kill Anzu. You must bring back the
Tablets of Destiny. The halls of the gods have lost their luster, and
there is no power or authority here anymore. Go climb the mountain.
Take your mighty bow, and pierce him with arrows. Surround him
with mists and fog so that he cannot see you. Shine as brightly as
the sun so that he is blinded by you. Kill Anzu, and bring back the
Tablets, and you shall have shrines built to you throughout the whole
world.”
Ninurta heeded the words of his mother. He armed himself and set
out for the mountain. When Anzu saw Ninurta approaching, he
became very angry. “How dare you come to face me? How dare you
threaten the bearer of the Tablets of Destiny? I am now the authority!
Mine is the power of the gods! Away with you!”
Ninurta answered, “I am Ninurta! I have come from the sacred
Duranki, sent by the gods themselves. I have come to kill you and
take back that which you have unlawfully stolen. Have at you, foul
demon!”
Anzu raged at Ninurta’s words. He covered the whole mountain with
darkness. Shrieking, he descended upon the brave Ninurta, and
together they battled up and down the mountainside. Long and hard
they fought, and in the end, Ninurta’s armor was all splashed with
blood, but the Anzu Bird did not die.
Ninurta took his mighty bow and nocked an arrow to the string. He
set the arrow in flight, aiming it at Anzu’s heart. Anzu saw the arrow
and said to it, “Arrow shaft! Return your cane to its riverside.
Fletching! Return your feathers to their birds. Bow! Return your wood
to its forest. String! Return your gut to its sheep.”
And so it was that Ninurta’s arrow could not approach Anzu. The
arrow turned away and did the bird no harm, and no matter how
Ninurta might try, he could not get the bow to draw with any power.
The Anzu Bird had bewitched that mighty weapon, and it was of no
aid to Ninurta now.
Ninurta called out for help. He called to the god Adad and said, “O
Adad! Go you to our father Ea and tell him that I cannot kill the Anzu
Bird. We fought, but I could not defeat him, and he has bewitched
my mighty bow and my swift arrows so that they are of no help to
me. Tell this to Ea, and then bring his answer back to me.”
Adad did as Ninurta asked. He went to Ea and told of all that had
happened on the mountain, of how Ninurta had not been able to kill
the bird, and of how Anzu had enchanted Ninurta’s bow and arrows.
Ea replied, “My son, do not be afraid! Do not cease in your efforts!
You will be victorious. Attack the Anzu Bird. Attack him relentlessly.
Attack him until he tires and can fight you no more. Fight him until all
the feathers drop from his wings, and then cut them off with your
sword. Anzu will try to reattach his wings, but never fear; once his
feathers and wings are lost, he will not be able to withstand you. Call
up the winds; bid them blow his feathers and wings away. Then you
may take your mighty bow and launch a swift arrow at his breast.
Grab Anzu by the neck, take your sword, and slit open his gullet!
“Do these things, and do them well. Return the Tablets of Destiny to
their rightful owners. Restore order. Do these things, and you shall
have many shrines and much honor, in heaven and on the Earth.”
Adad returned to Ninurta and told him everything Ea had said.
Ninurta hearkened well and girded himself once more for battle. He
took up his mighty sword, the Seven of Battle. He called to himself
the seven winds, they who create the dust storms. The winds he
called to himself to be his army, and he arrayed them for war.
Again Ninurta advanced upon the Anzu Bird. Again their battle was
fierce. But Ninurta did not cease to press his attack. On and on, he
harried the great bird. On and on, Ninurta pressed him until Anzu
began shedding the feathers of his wings in his weariness. When
Ninurta saw this, he drew his sword and slashed off Anzu’s wings.
Anzu tried to reattach his wings. “Wing to wing!” he shouted, but
before he could complete the spell, Ninurta nocked a swift arrow to
his mighty bow and sent the dart deep into the breast of the Anzu
Bird.
Ninurta did not cease his fighting once the bird was dead. First he
went and slew the mountain. Ninurta slew the mountain that the
Anzu Bird had defiled. Then he flooded the plains all around. With
that done, Ninurta took up the Tablets of Destiny that Anzu had
stolen and set out for the abode of the gods.
While Ninurta was still journeying back, an omen came to the Igigi. A
great number of feathers floated into the abode of the gods, the
feathers of the Anzu Bird. Dagan, god of the growing grain, saw the
feathers. He called to all the other gods, saying, “Rejoice! Surely the
hero Ninurta has slain the Anzu Bird and taken back the Tablets of
Destiny. See? Here are the feathers of the great bird, floating into
our abode on the wind. Rejoice!”
Soon enough, the brave Ninurta returned, bearing the Tablets of
Destiny in his powerful arms. Ninurta placed the tablets in the lap of
Ellil, restoring them to their rightful owner, restoring order to all that
is.
Ellil said, “Behold! The hero Ninurta has slain the Anzu Bird and
restored the Tablets of Destiny! Let us praise his name henceforth, in
heaven and upon the Earth. May he have many shrines and be
called by many holy names. Praise to the hero Ninurta!”
Adapa and the South Wind
This brief story may appear relatively simple at first glance, but it
contains a great deal of depth and complexity. The tale of Adapa is
at once a trickster story, a tale of the relationship between mankind
and divinity, a story about the fatal refusal of immortality made by a
man who was supposedly divinely wise (or who perhaps wisely
refused immortality), and a just-so fable about why human beings
are both mortal and separated from the gods. Some scholars have
seen antecedents for the Genesis tale of Adam and Eve in the
Garden of Eden within the myth of Adapa, in that the gods make
eternal life available to the protagonist(s), who ultimately do not
achieve it.
However, the roles of food and obedience in the eventual outcome of
each of these stories are different. In both stories, the main
characters are told by a divine being not to eat what is made
available to them. Adapa obeys the command of Ea not to eat the
food of the gods, while Adam and Eve disobey and eat the forbidden
fruit. Adapa is later chastised by the great god Anu for failing to eat
the food of life, but Adam and Eve are exiled from paradise for taking
the forbidden fruit.
Once there was a man named Adapa, who was favored of the gods
and who was the son of the god Ea. The gods gave him great
wisdom, wisdom like unto their own wisdom, but to Adapa, they did
not grant eternal life.
Adapa lived in the city of Eridu, and to him Ea gave authority over all
things so that he might pronounce judgment upon the people. A wise
man was Adapa, and a pious one. He served in the temple, baking
the sacred loaves, catching the sacred fish. Adapa it was who
opened the temple doors, and Adapa it was who closed them again.
One day, Adapa went down to the harbor, for there was need of fish
to feed the gods. Adapa went to the dock where his little fishing boat
was moored. He got into the boat, and away he sailed. With the
power given to him by the gods, he steered his boat out onto the
open water, where he laid his nets for a catch of fish.
Having caught enough fish, Adapa made ready to return to the
harbor. The sea had been calm and unruffled the whole day. Adapa’s
sailing and fishing had been easy and very pleasant. But when he
tried to sail back to the harbor, the South Wind flew down upon him.
So great was the power of the wind that Adapa’s little boat was
capsized, and all his catch was lost.
This made Adapa very angry. “May your wing break!” he said to the
South Wind, and as soon as he said it, the South Wind’s wing was
broken. The South Wind could not blow from the sea onto the land.
For seven days, there was no cooling wind from the sea. For seven
days, the heat of the sun was not abated by a southerly sea breeze.
The god Anu suffered much from the heat. He called to himself
Ilabrat, his messenger. “Tell me, Ilabrat,” said Anu, “why is it that
there is no good breeze from the sea? Where are the cooling
winds?”
“O Anu,” said Ilabrat, “it is because the man Adapa has broken the
South Wind’s wing. It cannot fly to bring the coolness from the sea
onto the land.”
“Oh!” cried Anu. “Oh, this is a great insult. Bring the man Adapa
before me to answer for what he has done!”
Ea heard of Anu’s anger toward Adapa. Ea went to his son and said,
“You will be summoned before the god Anu for breaking the South
Wind’s wing. Dress yourself in ragged clothes. Leave your hair
uncombed. Behave as though you are in deep mourning.
“When you arrive at the door to Anu’s house, there will be two gods
waiting there for you. These are Tammuz and Gizzida. They will ask
you why you were mourning. You must tell them that you are
mourning for two gods who have vanished. They will ask you which
gods, and you must tell them ‘Tammuz and Gizzida.’ Then they will
laugh in mirth at this, and bring you into Anu’s presence. There they
will speak a good word for you.
“Tammuz and Gizzida may offer you the food of death and the drink
of death. Do not eat it! Do not drink it! But if they offer you clean
clothing and oil to anoint your body, put on the clothing and anoint
yourself with the oil. Do not forget what I have told you!”
Adapa did what Ea told him. He dressed himself in ragged clothes.
He left his hair unkempt. He put on an air of mourning. And in this
guise, he went to the gates of the house of Anu, where Tammuz and
Gizzida were waiting outside the door.
When the two gods saw Adapa, they said, “Adapa! Whatever is the
matter? Why do you go about in rags with your hair unkempt and an
air of mourning about you?”
“Oh,” said Adapa, “it is very sad indeed. Two gods have vanished!
They have vanished and will never return, so I am mourning for
them.”
“Which gods are these?” asked Tammuz and Gizzida.
“Why, Tammuz and Gizzida, of course,” replied Adapa. “They have
vanished quite away. It is very sad.”
Tammuz and Gizzida looked at one another and then began to
laugh. They laughed for a very long time. But when they could catch
their breaths again, they brought Adapa into the house of Anu to
stand before Anu himself.
Anu said to Adapa, “Tell me, why did you break the South Wind’s
wing?”
Adapa said, “O Great Anu, I went fishing on the sea to get fish to
feed the gods. When I had enough fish, I wanted to sail back to the
harbor, but the South Wind flew down upon me and capsized my
little boat. I lost all my catch. This made me very angry, so I cursed
the South Wind, and now its wing is broken.”
Anu began to be very angry indeed with Adapa, but Tammuz and
Gizzida spoke on Adapa’s behalf. They calmed the anger of Anu,
just as Ea had said they would.
Anu sighed. “What did Ea think to accomplish by giving such power
to a mere mortal? What should we do with this Adapa?”
Anu turned to his servants. “Bring this man the food of life. Bring this
man the water of life. Bring him fresh clothing and oil with which to
anoint himself.”
The food and drink and clothing and oil were given to Adapa. Adapa
put on the garment and anointed himself with the oil, but he did not
touch either the food or the drink.
Anu wondered that Adapa would not eat or drink. “Adapa, surely you
are hungry and thirsty. Why do you not eat? Why do you not drink?
Do you not wish to live?”
“O Great Anu,” said Adapa, “my father Ea told me, ‘When you go to
the house of Anu, you must not eat the food. You must not drink the
water.’ That is why I do not eat or drink.”
Anu laughed. “Very well, suit yourself! Surely it is a strange thing that
Ea should tell a mere mortal to disobey the commands of Anu.”
Anu caused Adapa to be returned to his home in Eridu, where he
became even more renowned for his wisdom and piety. But because
Adapa had refused the food and water of life, he did not live forever.
Only the memory of his wisdom and piety lived on, for Anu ordained
it to be thus.
Part III: Selections from the Epic of Gilgamesh
The Epic of Gilgamesh is one of the first tales of its kind ever
recorded. It follows the friendship and adventures of Gilgamesh, king
of Uruk, and his companion, Enkidu, a wild man created by the gods
to curb Gilgamesh’s excesses. These stories originated in Sumer as
a loosely connected collection of tales about Gilgamesh and his
friend, but the version presented below is based on the two most
important later Akkadian versions: the Old Babylonian, which was
compiled sometime around 1800 BCE, and the so-called Standard
Version, which was compiled around 1200 BCE.
The Akkadian versions of Gilgamesh’s tale contain some of the
same stories that the Sumerian version does, but they go far beyond
the Sumerian version in terms of characterization. For example, the
Akkadian versions of Gilgamesh introduce Enkidu as a round
character in his own right, explaining his backstory and telling how
he and Gilgamesh came to be friends. Also enfolded into the
Akkadian Gilgamesh is a version of the Sumerian Flood myth as told
to Gilgamesh by Utnapishtim, the man who built the ark and survived
that deluge and who was granted eternal life by the gods.
But above all, the Babylonian Gilgamesh is a meditation on
friendship and mortality, showing the love that Gilgamesh and
Enkidu have for one another and the extended journey Gilgamesh
undertakes after his friend’s death to find the secret of eternal life. Of
course, every effort Gilgamesh makes in his attempt to gain
immortality is doomed to failure, but at the end of the epic, he returns
to his city of Uruk, apparently content that what he has achieved
there as king should be his lasting legacy after his death.
Although in both the Akkadian epic and the Sumerian tales
Gilgamesh is a semi-divine being and superhuman hero, he is based
on an actual human ruler. The historical Gilgamesh ruled the city-
state of Uruk sometime between 2800 and 2500 BCE. Legends
about the mythologized Gilgamesh begin to appear in Sumerian
some four to five hundred years later. The story was then lost for
about three thousand years; the modern rediscovery of the tale
happened in 1853, when Austen Henry Layard, Hormuzd Rassam,
and W. K. Loftus found the tablets in the remains of the Royal Library
of Ashurbanipal in the ruins of Nineveh, capital of the Assyrian
Empire, which is near modern-day Mosul, Iraq.
Gilgamesh and Enkidu
One of the most famous friendships in all of human storytelling is
that between Gilgamesh and Enkidu. At the beginning, Enkidu is a
hairy wild man who knows nothing of human customs and who is
sent by the gods to moderate Gilgamesh’s excesses as king. Enkidu
is civilized first by having sexual relations with a prostitute named
Shamhat and then by being brought to a shepherd’s camp where he
is taught how to eat and drink as humans do and where his hair is
shaven and shorn and he dons clothing as humans do. Enkidu goes
to Uruk intending to challenge Gilgamesh and to put a stop to the
king’s practice of droit du seigneur, which Enkidu finds abhorrent, but
instead of killing Gilgamesh, he ends up becoming his best friend
and companion in arms. Gilgamesh, for his part, is delighted to have
finally found a companion who is truly his equal, and from that point
on, the two are inseparable.
Once there was a mighty king named Gilgamesh. His mother was a
goddess and his father a great king. Enki himself shaped
Gilgamesh’s body, gave him his stature and his strength, his beauty
of face, his thick wavy hair and beard, and all things that make a
man beautiful to behold. No one could best Gilgamesh, either in
sport or in battle, and he ruled as king over the city of Uruk as his
father Lugalbanda had done before him, and his father’s
predecessor, the mighty Enmerkar, son of Utu the sun-god, before
him.
Gilgamesh was mighty and the king of Uruk, but he did not rule
either wisely or well. The young men he summoned to contest after
contest, and would not let them go home to their mothers even after
he had bested every one. When it came time for the young women
to be wed, Gilgamesh took them for himself on their bride-night, only
letting them go to their young husbands after he had had them.
The women of Uruk raised their voices to Anu, saying, “O great Anu,
O mightiest among the gods, we pray your mercy on our behalf. This
Gilgamesh rules us neither wisely nor well. He keeps our sons at his
contests day and night, and never does he let them come home
even after he has bested every one. And when our daughters are to
be wed, he takes them for himself on their bride-night, not giving
them to their rightful husbands until after he has had his way with
them. O Anu, spare us! Save us from the rapacity of Gilgamesh!”
Anu saw the misdeeds of Gilgamesh, and he heard the cry of the
women of Uruk. Anu said, “Let Aruru come forth. Let her create one
who is the equal of Gilgamesh. Let him then be sent to Uruk to teach
Gilgamesh a lesson!”
And so Aruru heeded the command of Anu. She took a piece of clay
and threw it down upon the Earth. From the clay, she made Enkidu,
and Ninurta granted to him his own strength. Enkidu had the form of
a man, but he was all covered with long hair, and the tresses of his
head hung unkempt over his shoulders and down his back. Enkidu
knew neither mother nor father; the offspring of silence was he.
Enkidu lived in the wilds among the gazelles, and the gazelles
accounted him as one of themselves. Together they ran and grazed
and went to the waterhole to drink, and like the gazelles, Enkidu
knew nothing of human speech or human customs.
One day, a hunter lay in wait near the watering hole, hoping to catch
a gazelle. There he spied Enkidu coming down to the water with his
herd. The hunter watched as Enkidu went around the watering hole,
pulling up all the traps the hunter had laid to catch his prey. The
hunter came back a second day and a third, and each was like the
day before: Enkidu came to the watering hole and destroyed all the
traps the hunter had laid.
Not knowing what else to do, the hunter went to his father and told
him what he had seen. “Every day, this hairy, wild man comes down
to the watering hole with the gazelles. He has the strength of a god,
and every snare I set he destroys. I am afraid of him, and I do not
know what to do.”
The hunter’s father said, “There is only one thing to do: go to Uruk,
and tell King Gilgamesh what you have seen. Gilgamesh is the
mightiest in the land; he will know what is to be done, and he will
defeat this creature if that is what is needed.”
The hunter took his father’s advice and set out for Uruk the next
morning. He went to the palace where he begged an audience of
Gilgamesh. “O Gilgamesh, O mighty King of Uruk, I need your help.
A hairy, wild man comes and destroys all the snares I set for game.
Truly he has the strength of a god, and I am afraid of him. Please
help me, for I have not been able to catch anything to feed my family
for many days.”
Gilgamesh said, “You must go back to the watering hole, but take the
prostitute Shamhat with you. When the wild man appears, have her
stand before him and remove her garments. Surely he will be
entranced by her beauty and will wish to lie with her. Once he has
done that, the herd will no longer account him as one of their own,
and he will leave your snares alone.”
The hunter did as Gilgamesh said. He went and asked Shamhat the
prostitute to go with him, and she agreed, readily. Together the
hunter and Shamhat went to the watering hole, and there they lay in
wait for Enkidu and his herd. They waited one day, then two days,
and on the third day, Enkidu and the gazelles appeared. Enkidu
grazed with the herd and played in the water with them and moved
about with them as though he were one of them. The hunter said,
“There! There is the one I told you about, the hairy, wild man who
lives with the gazelles! Go to him, reveal your body, and lie with him.
Then maybe the herd will shun him, and I will be able to catch game
again.”
Then Shamhat came out of hiding and stood on the shore of the
watering hole. When she was sure Enkidu was looking at her, she let
her shift fall to the ground, revealing her naked body. Enkidu saw the
beauty of Shamhat, and he greatly desired her. He went to her, and
together they lay on the grass on top of her shift, which she laid out
like a fine sheet on a beautiful bed. Enkidu lay in delight with
Shamhat. For six days and seven nights they lay together, delighting
in one another the whole time. When finally Enkidu’s desire was
sated, he went to rejoin his herd, but they no longer recognized him.
They ran away from him, refusing to let him come near, and when
Enkidu tried to run after them, he found that his legs had greatly
weakened. He could no longer run among them as he used to do, for
Shamhat had taken the wildness from him and replaced it with a
man’s reason.
So Enkidu went back to where Shamhat sat watching him. Enkidu
sat at her feet, and she said to him, “Enkidu, you are as handsome
as a god, and as strong. You shouldn’t stay here among the beasts;
you belong in the cities of men. I will take you back to my city, to
Uruk, where Gilgamesh the mighty rules over all, and the temples of
Anu and Ishtar rise above the plain in all their splendor.”
Enkidu replied, “Yes, take me to your city! I desire to see its temples
and to meet this Gilgamesh. There I shall challenge him, and we
shall see which of us is mightiest.”
“We will go to Uruk, and you shall taste of its delights. There are
festivals with music and dancing, where the drummers and flute
players play all day long. The prostitutes are so beautiful, none can
withstand their charms. But put aside thoughts of challenging
Gilgamesh; he is favored of the gods, and no man may best him, in
sport or in battle.”
In Uruk, Gilgamesh slept in his kingly bed, and he had a dream. It
was a strange dream, and he did not know what it meant. So he
went to his goddess-mother, the lady Ninsun, to see what she might
make of it. “Mother, I have had the strangest dream. I would like to
tell it to you to see what you will make of it.”
“Tell me your dream, my son,” said Ninsun, “and I will apply all my
wisdom to it.”
“In my dream, a great stone fell from the sky. It fell down into the
center of Uruk, and there it sat. All the people gathered around it and
wondered at it. I tried to lift the stone, but it was too heavy. I tried to
roll the stone away, but I could not move it. And all the while, the
people of Uruk gathered around the stone, praising it and kissing it.
“Then something changed. I found that I loved this great stone as a
man loves his wife. I loved it as dearly as my own life. And when I
loved the stone, I suddenly was able to move it. I picked up the stone
and brought it back to you, Mother, where I laid it at your feet, and
you said you would turn it into my equal. Tell me, what does this
mean?”
“I think I see what this dream portends,” said Ninsun. “There is one
who is coming who you will love as a man loves his wife, who you
will love as dearly as your own life. He will be your equal, and
together you will have many adventures. He will save your life, and
you will save his.”
That night, Gilgamesh went to his rest, and again he had a dream.
He dreamed of an axe that fell from the sky, and again all the people
of Uruk gathered around it and praised it. Gilgamesh found that he
loved the axe as he had loved the stone in the dream before, and
just as in that dream, he picked up the axe and brought it to lay at
Ninsun’s feet.
In the morning, Gilgamesh asked his mother Ninsun what the dream
foretold, and she said to him, “My son, this is like the dream of the
stone. One is coming who you will love as dearly as your own life,
and he will be your equal. He will save your life, and you will save
his, and his strength will be like that of a god.”
Hearing this, Gilgamesh rejoiced. “May Ellil make it so! I wish to
have such a friend and such an equal. May it come true!”
Then it came time for Shamhat to take Enkidu away from the wild
places that had been his home. She took her garment and rent it.
Part of it she put on herself, and the other part she wrapped around
Enkidu. Shamhat took Enkidu to an encampment of shepherds that
lived nearby. When the shepherds saw Enkidu, they all gathered
around him, wondering. “How like Gilgamesh he is, in stature and in
build. This must be Enkidu, of whom we have already heard, for his
strength is that of a god.”
The shepherds invited Enkidu in and treated him as an honored
guest. They set before him bread and good beer, but Enkidu had
never seen these before and did not know what to do with them.
Shamhat said to him, “Eat the bread, Enkidu! You need good food to
keep you strong. Drink the beer! It is one of the delights of life.”
And so Enkidu ate his fill and drank of the beer, seven whole goblets
full. Soon he was feeling very merry and sang songs. When the meal
was done, the barbers of the camp came to Enkidu. They shaved
him and anointed him with oil. They shaved away all the beast from
him; they cut his locks and trimmed his beard and dressed him in
warrior’s garments, and thus it was that Enkidu became a man. Then
Enkidu lived among the shepherds, chasing away wolves and lions,
watching over the people and their flocks. And when Enkidu slept, he
did so with Shamhat the prostitute, and they continued to delight in
one another every night.
One night as Enkidu and Shamhat lay together, Enkidu happened to
look up and saw a man standing not far away. He seemed to wish to
speak to Enkidu, so Enkidu said to Shamhat, “Do you know that
man? Do you know what he wants? Bring him here so that I may find
out what he needs of me.”
Shamhat brought him over, and Enkidu said, “Tell me, what is it you
want? How may I aid you?”
The man said, “I was invited to a wedding banquet in Uruk. That is a
time when a man takes a wife, and everyone celebrates. But in Uruk,
the king demands that the young woman not spend her bride-night
with her husband. Instead, Gilgamesh takes the woman back to his
palace and has his way with her. Gilgamesh says that this is his right
because he is king.” And as the man spoke, his voice shook with
anger.
Enkidu heard what the man said, and he became angry as well. He
set out for Uruk that instant, and Shamhat went with him. When
Enkidu entered the city, all the people looked at him in wonder. “Who
can this be? He is just as tall as Gilgamesh and just as well made in
his body. Surely this man has the strength of a god!”
Enkidu went to the place where the marriage feast was being held.
He saw the marriage-house all arranged with a fine bed, a place to
be blessed by the goddess of weddings. Then Enkidu saw
Gilgamesh, a man like him in stature and build. Gilgamesh took the
hand of a young woman dressed in fine linen and golden jewelry,
and led her to the marriage-house. He ushered the young woman in,
but before Gilgamesh could enter himself, Enkidu stood in the way
and put his foot in the door. Gilgamesh was enraged at this
presumption. He grappled with Enkidu, and combat was joined.
Up and down the town square they fought. They landed such blows
that the doors shuddered in their jambs. They knocked one another
down with such force that all the windows shuddered in their frames.
Up and down the town square they fought, neither one able to get
the best of the other. They fought as the day went from morning to
afternoon and then as afternoon wore away to sunset, but neither
one could claim himself the victor. Finally, they stood panting and
glaring at one another, and Gilgamesh said, “You have done a thing
that no other in the land has ever been able to do. You have fought
with me up and down the town square, landing blows and knocking
me down, and I have done the same to you, and yet neither of us is
the victor. None before you has done this feat. Come, let us clasp
hands and kiss one another, for I think we should be friends!”
Gilgamesh and the Bull of Heaven
In the story that precedes this one, Gilgamesh and Enkidu have
gone to the Mountains of Cedar to slay the forest giant Humbaba.
With that task accomplished, Gilgamesh and Enkidu arrive home
safely only to find that another threat awaits them. The goddess
Ishtar sees how beautiful and brave Gilgamesh is and proposes
marriage to him, but when he refuses, she sends the Bull of Heaven
down to destroy him. Of course, Gilgamesh and Enkidu manage to
slay the Bull, but the combination of this deed and the slaying of
Humbaba will prove fatal to Enkidu. The episode of the Bull of
Heaven ends with Gilgamesh and Enkidu being welcomed to a
banquet in their honor, but in the following story, we learn that the
gods have looked unfavorably on Gilgamesh’s exploits and declare
that one of the two friends must die.
The story of the Bull of Heaven is one of those having a parallel in
the Sumerian version of the epic. The basic plot of both versions is
the same. Gilgamesh comes home from killing Humbaba (Sumerian
Huwawa), and Ishtar (Sumerian Inanna) proposes marriage.
Gilgamesh refuses, and so Ishtar/Inanna, in a fit of temper, sends
the Bull to destroy Gilgamesh and his city. In the Sumerian version,
Gilgamesh attempts to placate Inanna by offering her treasure and
animals from his flocks, while in the Akkadian version, Ishtar tries to
get Gilgamesh to agree to her proposal by promising to enrich him
and increase his political power. Gilgamesh’s refusal in the Akkadian
version also is much more forceful: he recites a litany of the fates of
Ishtar’s past lovers and states baldly that he refuses to become yet
another male to first become her lover and then have the bad luck to
fall afoul of her.
Gilgamesh came home to Uruk. He came home from his quest and
found that his clothing, body, armor, and weapons were dusty and
spattered with blood. Gilgamesh took off his dirty clothing, and he
cleaned his armor and weapons. Then Gilgamesh cleaned himself
well in the bath, washing all of the dirt of his adventure from his body
and his hair and beard. He put on fresh, clean clothing. He combed
out his hair and put on his crown.
Then the lady Ishtar saw Gilgamesh. She saw how well dressed he
was, how well made he was in his body and how fair of face, and
she desired him greatly. Ishtar went to Gilgamesh and said, “O
Gilgamesh, come to me and be my bridegroom! Let us delight in one
another, as husband and wife! Marry me, and I will give you riches
beyond compare, a chariot made of gold and lapis lazuli, with lions to
pull it for you. I will give you a house made with fragrant cedar, and
when you arrive home, even the threshold and your throne shall kiss
your feet. Kings and lords from all the lands around will honor you
and bring you tribute. All your flocks will increase two- and three-fold,
and your beasts of burden will never tire. Come to me! Marry me! Let
us be husband and wife together!”
Gilgamesh replied, “Lady Ishtar, were you to give me all that and
nothing else, still I would be in your debt. Never could I match those
rich gifts. What happens to me when you no longer delight in my
company, when you no longer wish to share my bed, when my body
no longer sets yours aflame with desire?
“My lady, well I know what happens to those who accept your offers.
Well I know what happens to lovers who give in to your charms. How
many of those have there been now? How many have you loved and
discarded? Perhaps we should count them together. There was
Tammuz, who loved you first, but who now sits in the Underworld
where he weeps in perpetuity. Next came the allallu-bird, but when
he displeased you, you broke his wing, and now he sits in the forest
crying for pain. After that, you loved the lion, and when you were
through with him, you dug for him a pit, and when he fell in, you left
him there. You loved the horse, but in return for his devotion, you
gave him a whip and spurs to make him gallop endless miles, and
for his reward at the end a pail of muddy water.
“Once you loved a shepherd. He toiled for you, baking fresh bread,
slaughtering and cooking a lamb for you, every day. And his reward?
To be turned into a wolf, driven away by his friends, chased down
and bitten by the dogs. And after him was Ishullanu, the gardener.
Every day, he brought you a basket full of dates. Him you looked
upon with desire, saying, ‘Come to my bed! Touch me in my private
parts! Let me caress you, let us delight in one another,’ but he
refused you again and again, and only gave in because you would
not relent. And when he pleased you no longer, you turned him into a
frog, and now he sits lamenting in the middle of his withered garden,
for he no longer is able to labor in it as he used to.
“Come, my lady,” said Gilgamesh, “Why should I accept your offer,
generous as it is, knowing what has happened to everyone who has
loved you before? I doubt that even I would be able to escape such a
fate, should I displease you.”
Hearing Gilgamesh’s words, Ishtar flew into a rage. She ran
shrieking into heaven and went to her father Anu and mother Antu,
tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mother! Father! Come to my aid!
Gilgamesh has been saying terrible things about me! He heaps insult
after insult upon me, and it is unbearable.”
Anu said, “What did you say to him? Did you provoke him so that he
spoke to you thus?”
Ishtar replied, “Father, give me the Bull of Heaven. Give it to me, and
I shall send it to slay Gilgamesh and trample his palace into dust.
And if you will not give me the Bull, then I shall destroy the
Underworld. The dead I shall raise and set them upon the living to
devour them until there are more dead than living upon the Earth.”
“If I give you the Bull of Heaven,” said Anu, “then famine shall
descend upon Uruk, famine lasting seven years. What provision
have you made for the people and their beasts? Have you set aside
grain and chaff and hay for them?”
“Yes, I have grain and chaff and hay aplenty, enough for seven
years,” said Ishtar.
And so Anu gave to Ishtar the Bull of Heaven. Ishtar led the Bull
down onto the Earth, and together they journeyed until they reached
Uruk. When the Bull entered Uruk, the trees and the plants all
withered and died. The waters of the Euphrates diminished, receding
by seven full cubits. The Bull uttered a great snort, and a pit opened
beneath the feet of the men of Uruk. A hundred men toppled into the
pit. The Bull uttered a second snort, and another pit claimed two
hundred men of Uruk. At its third snort, a pit opened at the feet of
Enkidu, who fell in up to his waist.
Enkidu jumped out of the pit and grabbed the Bull by its horns.
Enraged, the Bull spat in Enkidu’s face. It lifted its tail and poured
dung all over him.
Enkidu called to Gilgamesh for aid. “Come, my friend! We must
defend our city and our people! I have tried myself against the Bull of
Heaven, and I know its strength and what it can do, and I know how
we might defeat it. I will grab hold of the beast’s tail and brace my
foot against the back of its leg. Then you must take your knife and
slay it as butchers do cattle. Slide your knife into its neck behind the
skull, and do it quickly while I hold its tail!”
Enkidu went behind the Bull and grabbed hold of its tail. He braced
his foot against the back of its leg. Then Gilgamesh drew his knife
and plunged it with skill and strength into the spot on its neck behind
the skull, and the Bull fell down, dead. The two friends opened up
the Bull’s chest and pulled out its heart. They went to the temple and
offered the heart to Shamash, bowing down before him. Then they
went and sat together, side by side, like brothers.
When Ishtar saw that the Bull had been slain and its heart offered to
Shamash, she shrieked in fury and climbed upon the walls of Uruk.
“Woe to you, Gilgamesh! Woe to you for your insults and for killing
the Bull of Heaven!”
Enkidu heard the shrieks of Ishtar. He pulled off one of the Bull’s
haunches and flung it toward her. “Here is your portion,” he cried,
“and if I could catch you, I would do the same to you, and wrap your
arms in the guts of the Bull besides!”
Ishtar sent a summons throughout the city. She called together all
the courtesans and prostitutes, and set them to mourning over the
haunch of the Bull. Gilgamesh, meanwhile, called together the
craftsmen of the city. They sawed off the Bull’s horns, each weighing
thirty minas of lapis lazuli. So great were they that they could hold six
kor of oil.
Gilgamesh took the horns, hallowed them for the anointing of the
god Lugalbanda, and filled them with holy oil, and when that was
done, Gilgamesh hung the horns in his bedchamber. Then Enkidu
and Gilgamesh went to the river to wash the sweat and dust and
blood of battle from their bodies and clothing, and when they were
refreshed, they returned to the palace in a chariot, where they stood
hand in hand.
As they drove through the streets, the people of Uruk gathered to
shout their praises. Gilgamesh asked the serving girls of his
household, “Tell me, who is the most beautiful of all men, and who
the bravest of all heroes?” And they replied, “Why, Gilgamesh is the
most beautiful of all men and Enkidu the bravest of all heroes!”
Then Gilgamesh and Enkidu went into the palace where a great
feast had been laid in their honor, and there they ate and drank and
made merry long into the night.
The Wanderings of Gilgamesh
After killing the Bull of Heaven, Enkidu is cursed by the gods for his
presumption. Enkidu falls ill, and after many days of suffering, he
dies. Gilgamesh is heartbroken at the loss of his companion, and he
becomes more aware than ever of death and of his own mortality. He
wanders in the wilderness, looking for Utnapishtim, the man who
survived the Great Flood, thinking to get from him the secret of
eternal life. In the process, Gilgamesh becomes a wild man of a sort
himself, living in the open, wearing animal skins for clothing, and
hunting prey for his food. It is not until Gilgamesh encounters
Utnapishtim and hears his story that Gilgamesh is restored to a more
civilized state.
Having sung a lament for Enkidu and buried him with all ceremony
as is fit and proper, Gilgamesh sat and wept. He wept not only for his
dead friend but also for himself. “Enkidu, best of companions, is
dead. He has gone into the Underworld. Never more will he see the
light of the sun or taste of clear water or freshly baked bread. Never
more will he be at my side through thick and thin, my strong, brave
companion Enkidu. For he has died and gone down into the
Underworld, as we all must go. Even I, Gilgamesh, King of Uruk,
child of the gods, must one day die.
“I do not wish to die. Death is a fearsome thing. I am afraid of dying. I
must find a way to cheat death, to escape that fate. I will go into the
wild and look for Utnapishtim, for he of all human beings was made
immortal by the gods. I shall find him and ask him how I might go
about cheating death myself.”
And so Gilgamesh went into the wilderness. When fierce beasts
attacked him, Gilgamesh fought with them. He killed the beasts,
skinned them, and roasted their flesh and ate it. Gilgamesh
wandered long in the wilderness, clad in the pelts of lions and
hyenas and gazelles, living on what game he could catch, always
looking for the way to the abode of Utnapishtim.
Shamash, the sun-god, looked down upon Gilgamesh and grew
worried. “Gilgamesh, what is this that you do to yourself? Why do
you wander the wilderness, clad in the pelts of animals, ever
wandering and never resting? You will never seek what you find.”
Gilgamesh replied, “Why should I rest now? When I am dead, I shall
rest forever. Why should I stop wandering now? At least now I can
still see the light of the sun; in the Underworld, all is darkness and
dust, forever. No, I will not stop. I will wander as I may; it is my will.”
And so Gilgamesh continued to wander the world until he came to
the towering mountain of Mashu, who crest meets the sky and
whose roots went down into the bottom of the Underworld itself.
Gilgamesh reached the gates to the mountain and found them
guarded by two scorpion-beings, fearsome to behold and deadly.
They shone with a radiance nearly as bright as Shamash himself, for
it was their duty to guard him as he rose in the morning and set in
the evening. Gilgamesh looked upon the scorpion-beings and fell to
his knees. He covered his face in fear before them.
“Who is this who comes before us?” said one scorpion-being to the
other. “Why is he here?”
The other replied, “I know who this is. This is Gilgamesh, King of
Uruk, and the blood of the gods flows in his veins.” Then the second
scorpion-being looked upon Gilgamesh and said “You there, who
kneels before us, why have you come to our mountain? What is it
you seek here? Explain yourself!”
“I am looking for the abode of Utnapishtim,” said Gilgamesh. “I have
wandered the whole world looking for the way to his abode, for he
has the secret of eternal life, and I wish to learn that of him for
myself.”
The first scorpion-being said, “Very well, we will tell you the way, for
never has a mortal man ever found his way to our mountain gate.
But be warned: the way you go is dark and lightless, for it is the path
Shamash himself follows after he sets in the west at nightfall. Have
you the courage to brave that darkness?”
“I have known nothing but darkness and grief since the death of my
companion,” said Gilgamesh. “What can this new darkness possibly
add to that? Tell me the way.”
“Very well,” said the second scorpion-being. “You must go through
these gates and down into the dark tunnel that lies beyond. On, on,
on you must go in the darkness, and you must never stop until you
reach the other side. Do not stop, no matter how fearful you are! Go
on until you see the light of day again. Twelve hours is the journey
on the path Shamash follows. Twelve hours must you also journey
on, in total darkness.”
Then the scorpion-beings opened wide the gates of their mountain,
and Gilgamesh walked through them into the darkness that lay
beyond. For one hour, Gilgamesh walked. The darkness around him
was complete; he could see neither in front of him nor behind. For
two hours, Gilgamesh walked, and three and four, and never a ray of
light did he see. On and on, Gilgamesh walked, and as he walked,
he could feel the great weight of the darkness pressing down upon
him. A fifth hour, and a sixth, and a seventh he walked through the
darkness, and never a ray of light did he see. An eighth hour he
walked on, and he began to think that maybe he had entered the
Underworld itself, that he was dead already and would never see the
light of day again. But he summoned all his courage and walked on.
At the ninth hour, Gilgamesh found hope, for a cool breeze blew
along the path. His strength renewed, Gilgamesh walked on for a
tenth hour, and an eleventh, and at the end of the twelfth hour, he
could see a glimmer of light ahead of him, the light of the morning
sun. Gilgamesh rejoiced and ran toward the light. He ran out into this
bright new place and found himself in the orchard of the gods, where
fresh grapes grew on vines of cornelian, where trees of lapis lazuli
bore fruit of their own that perfumed the entire orchard, and all
sparkled in the light of the morning sun.
Gilgamesh walked through the orchard, looking about him in delight.
When he came to the other side, there he found a tavern, which had
been built on the shore of the sea. The owner of the tavern was a
wise old woman named Siduri. She saw Gilgamesh approaching and
knew him for one who had the blood of the gods in his veins. But he
was clad all in the pelts of animals and had a fearsome, wild aspect,
and so Siduri barred the door of the tavern so that Gilgamesh could
not enter. Then Siduri went up onto the roof, the better to watch what
Gilgamesh might do.
Gilgamesh saw the old woman bar the door of the tavern, and a few
moments later, he saw her up on the roof, watching him. “Old
woman,” shouted Gilgamesh, “why do you bar your door to me?
What have I done that you should fear me? Know this: if you do not
open to me willingly, I shall break down your door myself!”
“I barred the door because I do not know who you are or why you
are here,” said Siduri. “Tell me of yourself, that I may judge whether it
is wise to open to you.”
“I am Gilgamesh, King of Uruk. My brave companion Enkidu and I
slew the forest giant Humbaba. Together we slew the Bull of Heaven.
Together we hunted lions in the mountains, and there we slew
many.”
“A likely story,” said Siduri. “If you really are a king and a hero like
you say, why is your face so gaunt and your hair so matted? Why do
you go about dressed in dirty beast pelts? You certainly look nothing
whatever like a king and certainly nothing like Gilgamesh, of whom I
have heard.”
“My face is gaunt and my hair is matted and I wear beast pelts
because I have been wandering in the wilderness. I wander the
wilderness because my brave companion Enkidu, who bore many
dangers with me and who I loved most dearly, has died. He was
cursed by the gods and has gone down into the Underworld to drink
dust. After my friend died, I became afraid of death, and now I am
seeking the abode of Utnapishtim, that I may ask of him the secret to
eternal life.
“Can you tell me the way, O innkeeper? How may I find the abode of
Utnapishtim? If I must cross the sea, I will do it. If I must cross the
desert, I will do it. If I must climb a mountain, I will do it. Tell me the
way, if you know it. And if you do not know it, I shall wander the
wilderness until I find it for myself.”
“This is a fool’s errand you are on,” replied Siduri. “No one has ever
crossed that sea but Shamash himself. And even if you could make
the crossing, it is so dangerous that you would never survive it. Even
if you sail the sea, the Waters of Death are halfway between here
and there and block the way forward. You cannot get to Utnapishtim
without crossing them. What will you do then?
“But if cross you must, you must go to Urshanabi, the boatman of
Utnapishtim. You will find him over yonder, with the stone-beings
who are his companions and shipmates. You will find them in the
pine forest, cutting down saplings to use for barge poles. Go to
Urshanabi, and ask whether he will take you across. But if he will not
take you, there will be no way across for you, and you must go back
the way you came!”
Gilgamesh went into the pine forest where he saw Urshanabi at work
with the stone-beings. Gilgamesh drew his axe and his dagger and
then fell upon them. Urshanabi saw Gilgamesh coming and took up
his own axe to defend himself and his companions, but he was no
match for Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh knocked Urshanabi down, and he
lay stunned on the ground. Then Gilgamesh attacked the stone-
beings, shattering their bodies and throwing the pieces into the river
that flowed through the forest.
When the stone-beings had all been slain, Gilgamesh went back to
Urshanabi and stood over him. Urshanabi opened his eyes and saw
Gilgamesh standing there. Gilgamesh said, “Tell me your name.”
“I am Urshanabi, boatman to Utnapishtim. Who are you?”
“I am Gilgamesh, King of Uruk. My brave companion Enkidu and I
slew the forest giant Humbaba. Together we slew the Bull of Heaven.
Together we hunted lions in the mountains, and there we slew many.
I took the path of Shamash under the mountains, and I am seeking
the abode of Utnapishtim.”
“A likely story,” said Urshanabi. “If you really are a king and a hero
like you say, why is your face so gaunt and your hair so matted?
Why do you go about dressed in dirty beast pelts? You certainly look
nothing whatever like a king and certainly nothing like Gilgamesh, of
whom I have heard.”
“My face is gaunt and my hair is matted and I wear beast pelts
because I have been wandering in the wilderness. I wander the
wilderness because my brave companion Enkidu, who bore many
dangers with me and who I loved most dearly, has died. He was
cursed by the gods and has gone down into the Underworld to drink
dust. After my friend died, I became afraid of death, and now I am
seeking the abode of Utnapishtim, that I may ask of him the secret to
eternal life. Now, tell me how I may get there, for the innkeeper said
that you know the way.”
“I do know the way,” said Urshanabi, “but you have taken from us the
means to get there. I cannot manage the boat without the help of the
stone-beings, nor without the barge poles they were making, and
you have killed them all.”
“Tell me what you need,” said Gilgamesh, “and I will provide it.”
“Cut down pine saplings, and strip them to use as barge poles. We
will need 120. When the saplings are stripped, put a boss on the end
of each of them.”
Gilgamesh took his axe and cut down 120 saplings. Then he took his
dagger and stripped them. When that was done, he put a boss on
the end of each of them. Then Gilgamesh helped Urshanabi launch
the boat into the sea. Together Gilgamesh and Urshanabi rowed the
boat. Now, the journey from the shore to the Waters of Death
normally would take two months, but with Gilgamesh’s help, they
arrived in only three days.
At the edge of the Waters of Death, Urshanabi said, “Take up a
barge pole, Gilgamesh, and punt us across the waters. But take care
not to touch the waters, for they will shrivel up your hand!”
Gilgamesh took up the first pole and began to punt them across the
Waters of Death while Urshanabi steered. Soon the first barge pole
was no longer of any use, so Gilgamesh took up the second. And
when the second was no longer of any use, Gilgamesh took up the
third, and the fourth, and the fifth. After he had punted them a long
way but before they had arrived at the other side, Gilgamesh had
used up all the poles.
“What will we do now?” said Urshanabi. “We have no more poles.”
“Strip off your garments,” said Gilgamesh. “I shall strip mine also,
and we shall use them for a sail.”
“But there is neither mast nor yardarm on this craft,” said Urshanabi.
“I shall be both mast and yardarm,” said Gilgamesh. And so
Gilgamesh and Urshanabi stripped off their garments, and
Gilgamesh stood up in the middle of the boat and held his arms open
wide. Urshanabi took the garments and made of them a sail, hanging
it from Gilgamesh’s mighty arms while his body served for a mast,
and in this way they sailed across to the place where Utnapishtim
made his abode.
Now, Utnapishtim happened to look out over the water as Urshanabi
and Gilgamesh were sailing toward him. Utnapishtim said to himself,
“I see there Urshanabi, my boatman, but who is that with him? I do
not recognize him at all.”
Soon enough, Urshanabi and Gilgamesh arrived on the shore where
they found Utnapishtim waiting for them.
“My boatman I know,” said Untapishtim to Gilgamesh, “but who are
you?”
“I am Gilgamesh, King of Uruk. My brave companion Enkidu and I
slew the forest giant Humbaba. Together we slew the Bull of Heaven.
Together we hunted lions in the mountains, and there we slew many.
I took the path of Shamash under the mountains, and I sailed across
the sea and across the Waters of Death, for I am seeking
Utnapishtim.”
“Utnapishtim you have found, for he stands here before you. But I do
not believe your tale of yourself. If you really are a king and a hero
like you say, why is your face so gaunt and your hair so matted?
Why do you go about dressed in dirty beast pelts? You certainly look
nothing whatever like a king and certainly nothing like Gilgamesh, of
whom I have heard.”
“My face is gaunt and my hair is matted and I wear beast pelts
because I have been wandering in the wilderness. I wander the
wilderness because my brave companion Enkidu, who bore many
dangers with me and who I loved most dearly, has died. He was
cursed by the gods and has gone down into the Underworld to drink
dust. After my friend died, I became afraid of death, and that is why I
have sought you out, that I may ask you the secret of eternal life.”
“Oh, Gilgamesh,” said Utnapishtim, “the blood of the gods runs in
your veins, and yet you behave thus? You were given a throne and
riches, and you have cast them all away in exchange for a life of
endless toil in the wilderness and a fool’s errand. Death comes for
everyone in the end, and no one ever sees his face. Death creeps
up on them and takes them unawares. We may build fine houses
and bridges and boats, but nowhere may we hide from Death. Those
he takes are gone forever, and we never see them again. This is the
fate the Annunaki have decreed. Life they have given, but also
death, and the gods may not be gainsaid.”
Gilgamesh and Utnapishtim
This final chapter of the Epic of Gilgamesh contains a retelling of the
Sumerian flood myth by Utnapishtim, the builder of the ark and the
only man ever to attain immortality. When Utnapishtim is done with
his tale, Gilgamesh asks him how he might become immortal as well.
Utnapishtim tells him that he must stay awake for six days and seven
nights, whereupon the exhausted Gilgamesh promptly lies down and
sleeps for that much time. Despairing of ever reaching his goal,
Gilgamesh prepares to leave Utnapishtim, but the latter’s wife
reminds him that there is one other possible route for Gilgamesh to
take: go to the bottom of the sea and find the plant of life. Gilgamesh
succeeds in this, only to lose the plant to a thieving serpent when he
is making the journey home to his own city.
Gilgamesh and his companion Urshanabi travel together until they
reach Uruk. Upon their arrival, Gilgamesh boasts to Urshanabi of the
prosperity of Uruk and proposes a tour of the city walls. The epic
ends here, with Gilgamesh safely returned home and proud of his
accomplishments as the King of Uruk.
Gilgamesh stood on the shore and looked at Utnapishtim. Then he
said, “At first I thought that you might be like a god and that I would
need to fight you. But now that I see you, I understand that you are a
man, just like me. Tell me, O eldest one, how is it that you came to
be immortal? How might this gift be obtained? For I do not wish to
die. I do not wish to go into the Underworld to drink dust.”
“I will tell you this,” said Utnapishtim, “even though it is a secret
known only to the gods. Once I lived in the city of Shuruppak, a fine
city on the banks of the Euphrates wherein even the gods dwelt
once. The great god Anu had become angry with the people, and he
resolved to send down a Great Flood to wash them all away. He took
counsel of Ellil and Ninurta, and they agreed that this was a good
plan. Even Ea, the most wise, took an oath that this thing should be
done. But when Ea did so, he went near my house and whispered
into the walls his oath to bring the Great Flood, and so I learned what
it was the gods resolved to do.
“Ea also whispered to me that I should build a great boat and place
therein every kind of living thing. He whispered to me how long the
boat should be and how wide, and he told me to put a roof over it. I
said to Ea, ‘O mighty Ea, wisest of the wise, I hear your command,
and I obey. But surely the elders of my city will notice the boat as I
build it. What shall I say to them when they ask me what it is I do?’
“Ea said to me, ‘Tell them that you have run afoul of Ellil and so can
no longer live in the city. Tell them that I have given you the
command to build the boat, that I am going to take you to live with
me in my dwelling in the Apsu. Tell them that if they help you build
the boat, I will shower upon them fresh bread and fresh fish, enough
for a feast!’
“And so it was that I commenced building the boat. I hired workmen
to fell the trees and mill the lumber, to construct the hull and put
inside it the decks. After five days, the hull was complete. The boat
measured ten rods high, and it covered a full acre of land. Six decks
it had, and the inside was divided into nine compartments. Every
day, I slaughtered lambs and oxen to feed my workers. I fed them
well; every day was like a feast!
“When all was finished, I loaded the boat with all my goods and with
food and water for people and beasts alike. I took aboard all of my
family and also workmen who were skilled in their crafts. I took
aboard the animals, as Ea had instructed me, wild beasts and tame
alike. I took all these things aboard and waited for the sign Ea said
would come, the shower of fresh bread and fresh fish, enough for a
feast!
“Soon enough that sign came, and so I looked to the heavens to see
what would happen next. I watched the sun rise, and as Shamash
started his path across the sky, a great wall of black clouds rose up
behind him, and within those clouds stormed Adad, the god of rain,
and his attendants stormed along with him. The Annunaki came, too,
and wherever they passed, they called down lightning that struck
down trees and destroyed houses and breached the city walls. The
river rose and began to overflow its banks, and still the storm wind of
Adad continued to blow, and the rain came down.
“Then the whole world went black as night, and for a moment, it was
still. And then came the Great Flood, a great surge of water that
swept away all before it. It scoured the land clean of all living things
and rose many rods above the tops of the highest trees. The water
climbed up the sides of the mountains, covering all but the peaks of
the very tallest.
“The gods looked down upon the flood they had unleashed, and they
became frightened. They ran away to their abode in the heavens
where they sat cowering like dogs. When the goddess Belet-ili saw
what the gods had wrought, she wailed and lamented. ‘Woe that I
agreed to this course! Woe that I had a part in the destruction the
flood has wrought! For all my children have been swept away, and
now they float in the water like fish.’
“The Annunaki looked down at what they had wrought, and they
quailed there in their abode in the heavens. They looked down on
what they had wrought, and they wept for sorrow and for shame. But
on and on the storm raged, for this is what the Annunaki had
commanded. For six days and seven nights did it rain, for six days
and seven nights did the winds blow a gale. And on the seventh day,
the rain stopped, and the winds quieted, and the waves of the ocean
that had been like very hills quieted, and my boat floated upon a
calm sea under the light of Shamash.
“I opened one of the portholes in the side of the boat and saw the
light of Shamash. I looked out, and everywhere I looked was nothing
but sea, except for fourteen islands that had been the highest
mountain peaks. I saw what had become of the world, and I wept
bitter tears. We floated upon the waters for a while, but then the boat
ran aground on Mount Nimush, and there we sat for six days. On the
seventh day, I released a dove, to see what had become of the land,
but the dove returned, for there was no place for her to perch. I did
the same with a swallow, and it, too, came back. Then I brought out
a raven and let it go, but it did not come back, for the waters had
begun to recede, and it was able to find food.
“When the raven did not return, I sacrificed to the gods. I burned
incense there on the top of the mountain, and the scent of it rose into
the nostrils of the gods and pleased them. As the incense burned
and the smoke of it arose, the goddess Belet-ili appeared and said,
‘Surely this incense will draw all the gods nigh. But let Ellil stay away,
for it was his counsel that the world should be destroyed by a Great
Flood.’
“Just then, Ellil arrived. He saw the boat and the people and the
animals who had survived the flood, and he was most wroth. ‘How is
it that these have survived? Who is it that told them to prepare, that
they might be spared? Who is it that went against the will of the
Annunaki?’
“Ninurta said, ‘Who else would do such a thing but Ea? Ask him.’
Ea turned to Ellil and said, ‘Yes, I did this thing. I saved them. For
you did wrong by destroying the whole world. Why punish those who
were not guilty? You could have sent lions to eat the ones who did
wrong. You could have sent a famine or a plague and still achieved
your goal. I did not tell this man our secret but rather sent him a
vision of what was to come, and he did as he was commanded. But
now you must decide his fate.’
“Ellil went into my boat. He stretched out his hand to me and to my
wife and brought us aboard. He bid us kneel before him, then he
touched our foreheads and said, ‘You were born mortals, but from
now on, you shall be immortal. Together you shall dwell in a far land,
at the source of all rivers.’
“But the gods are not here. They will not gather together here for
you. Perhaps if you go six days and seven nights without sleep, you
will find what you seek.”
Gilgamesh then sat down, to attempt what Utnapishtim said he must
do, but no sooner had his body touched the ground than he was
overcome with a deep sleep, and there he lay upon the ground.
Utnapishtim said to his wife, “Look! He wanted to become immortal
by staying awake, and the moment he touches the ground, he falls
asleep!”
His wife said, “Wake him then, and send him back to his own
country. Send him home, back the way he came!”
“No, I’ll not do that,” said Utnapishtim, “for men can be deceitful.
Instead, you shall bake for him his daily bread, and each day he
sleeps, place one loaf by his head. Then mark on this wall the
number of days he has slumbered away. When he awakes, he will
see how long he has slept.”
Utnapishtim’s wife did as her husband commanded her. Each day,
she baked a loaf of bread and put it next to Gilgamesh’s head where
he slept there on the shore, and she marked the number of the days
he slept on the nearby wall. One day Gilgamesh slept, then two, then
three and four, then five, then six. And each loaf of bread began to
harden and then molder as time went by. Finally, on the dawn of the
seventh day, Utnapishtim shook Gilgamesh by the shoulder and
said, “Gilgamesh, awaken!”
Gilgamesh sat up and said, “What is this? No sooner did I lay down
to sleep but you awaken me!”
Utnapishtim pointed to the loaves of bread and said, “You have slept
for six days and seven nights. Look here at these loaves of bread.
My wife baked one for every day you slept, and you can see that
they have all begun to harden and molder. Also, we marked the days
of your slumber on this wall. You will see there are seven markings.”
Gilgamesh sorrowed at this, saying, “Alas, for no matter where I go,
Death is always there, snapping at my heels! Will I never be free of
him?”
Utnapishtim then turned to Urshanabi, the boatman, and said,
“Never more shall you come here. You and the man you brought are
both banished from this place forever. But these tasks must you do
before you bring him home. Draw a hot bath for Gilgamesh, and let
him soak in it until all the dust and grime of his weary travels have
been washed away. Wash his unkempt hair, and comb it out neatly.
Take the beast pelts and cast them into the sea for the tide to take
them where it will. And when Gilgamesh is clean and refreshed, give
him clothing to wear, garments befitting his station. Restore his body
to its natural beauty, so that he may go home to his people without
shame.”
Urshanabi did as he was commanded. He drew a bath for
Gilgamesh and washed and combed his hair. He took the beast pelts
and threw them into the sea. And when Gilgamesh was clean and
refreshed, Urshanabi dressed him in clean garments befitting his
station. Then Gilgamesh and Urshanabi boarded their boat and
pushed it out into the surf.
Utnapishtim and his wife stood on the shore watching them go.
Suddenly, Utnapishtim’s wife said, “Wait! Call them back, for
Gilgamesh leaves us without a gift befitting such a guest, a royal
guest who has come here after long toil and danger.”
Utnapishtim called them back, and when they had beached the boat
once more, he said to Gilgamesh, “Before you go, one last secret will
I impart to you. In the ocean that flows beneath the earth, there is a
plant that will restore an old person’s vigor, the Plant of Life. If you go
down to that ocean, you will see it growing there. The plant has
many thorns; have care when you pluck it! Bring it back with you,
and you will have your desire.”
Gilgamesh dug a great pit that opened above the ocean that flows
beneath the earth. He tied great stones to his feet so that he could
descend to the sea floor, then he jumped into the pit and descended
to the bottom of the ocean. There he saw the thorny plant, just as
Utnapishtim said. Gilgamesh grasped it, and the thorns cut his palm,
but he did not pay that any mind. He cut the bonds that held the
stones to his feet and rose to the surface. When he broke through
into the good, clean air, he shouted, “I have found it! Now I shall be
able to cheat death! But first I will test this on some old man of my
city to see whether it works, and if it does, I shall take some myself!”
Urshanabi helped Gilgamesh out of the pit, and together they took
ship to take Gilgamesh home to his city of Uruk. They crossed the
ocean in safety, but a journey of many miles still lay before them.
Together they walked in companionship, until one day they stopped
by a clear pool that was surrounded by trees. The day was hot and
dry, and Gilgamesh wished to refresh himself. He stripped off his
clothing and lay it at the edge of the pool, along with the Plant of Life.
But while Gilgamesh splashed in the water refreshing himself, a
serpent passed nearby. The serpent smelled the scent of the plant
and was drawn to it, so it went to the edge of the pool and carried
the plant away.
When Gilgamesh came out of the pool, he saw that the plant was
gone, but that the serpent had shed its skin after taking it and
slithering away. Gilgamesh sat on the ground and wept. “O, all I have
endured has been for naught! All the journey, and all the hardship,
and all the danger, wasted! I will never again be able to find that
plant, and Death shall come for me in time, as he does for
everyone.”
Gilgamesh and Urshanabi traveled on, stopping only to eat and
sleep. And on the next day, they arrived at the city of Uruk. “There is
my city, Urshanabi! Is she not glorious? Look at her strong walls, her
finely crafted gates! Come, walk with me upon the walls, and you
shall see how well my city is built, and how prosperous she is. You
shall see the date groves and the Temple of Ishtar and many other
things besides, in this, my city. Come!”
Glossary
Adad God of weather and rain
Adapa A wise man favored by the gods; unknowingly
refuses the gift of immortality
Annunaki The greater gods
Annunitum A warrior goddess originally connected with
Ishtar
Anshar Mesopotamian god; father of Anu; consort of
Kishar
Anu Chief god of the Mesopotamian pantheon; one
of the Annunaki
Anzu Bird Mythical creature with the head of a lion and the
body of a bird; associated with thunder
Apsu (i) In the Babylonian creation myth, a creator god
associated with sweet water
Apsu (ii) Dwelling-place of Enki underground; place of
underground sweet water
Aruru Mesopotamian mother goddess; one of the
Annunaki
Asushunamir Eunuch created to help rescue Ishtar from the
Underworld
Atrahasis Survivor of the Great Flood and builder of the
ark
Aw-ila God who gives his life to create humans
Babylon Mesopotamian city; became the seat of the
Babylonian Empire and one of the most
important ancient urban centers
Belet-ili A mother goddess; mother of the hero-god
Ninurta; one of the Annunaki
Belili Sumerian deity; sister of Dumuzi (Akkadian
Tammuz); also known as Geshtinanna
Bull of Heaven Possibly a reference to the constellation Taurus;
monstrous bull sent by Ishtar to kill Gilgamesh
Dagan A god of fertility and agriculture
Damkina A mother goddess; wife of Enki; one of the
Annunaki
Duranki A house of the gods
E-kur Another name for Duranki
Ea God of wisdom, creation, and mischief; often
syncretic with Enki in Sumerian myths; one of
the Annunaki
E-galgina A palace within the Underworld
Ellil God associated with winds; one of the
Annunaki
Enki God of wisdom, creation, and mischief; often
syncretic with Ea in Akkadian myths; husband
of Damkina; one of the Annunaki
Enkidu A hairy, wild man sent to tame Gilgamesh;
becomes Gilgamesh’s best friend and
companion in arms
Ennugi Servant to Ellil; also associated with canals
Ereshkigal Goddess of the Underworld; consort of Nergal
Eridu Ancient Sumerian city; considered to be the
home of Enki
Erra Warrior god; also associated with the power of
the sun; syncretic with Nergal
E-sara House for the gods created by Marduk
Etana Ancient king of Kish
Gilgamesh King of Uruk and protagonist of the Epic of
Gilgamesh
Gizzida Sumerian Underworld deity; husband of Belili;
also known as Ningishzida
Humbaba A forest giant slain by Gilgamesh and Enkidu
Igigi The lesser gods
Ilabrat Attendant of Anu
Ishtar Goddess of procreation and war; one of the
Annunaki
Ishullanu Man who refused to make love to Ishtar;
mentioned in the Epic of Gilgamesh
Kalkal Gatekeeper of the house of Ellil
Kish Ancient Mesopotamian city-state
Kishar Mesopotamian goddess; mother of Anu;
consort of Anshar
kor A measure of liquid volume
Lahamu A Mesopotamian goddess; mother of Anshar
and Kishar
Lahmu A Mesopotamian god; father of Anshar and
Kishar
Lugalbanda Father of Gilgamesh; treated as a deity in the
Epic of Gilgamesh
Mami A mother goddess; one of the Annunaki
Marduk Chief Babylonian creator god and hero
mina A measure of dry weight
Mount Nimush Mountain where the ark of Utnapishtim comes
to rest after the Great Flood
Mountain of Mountain under which runs the path that
Mashu Shamash takes during the night
Mummu Adviser to the god Apsu
Namtar Adviser to Ereshkigal; associated with plague
and disease
Nanna God of the moon; one of the Annunaki
Nergal God of war and consort of Ereshkigal
Nibiru The planet Jupiter
Ninsun Mesopotamian goddess; mother of Gilgamesh
Nintu A mother goddess who helps create the human
race; one of the Annunaki
Ninurta A hero-god; son of Mami
Nusku Adviser to Ellil; associated with light and fire
Papsukkal Counsellor and servant to the Annunaki
Qingu Son of Tiamat; rises in rebellion against the
gods and is killed by Marduk
Shamash God of the sun; one of the Annunaki
Shamhat Prostitute who civilizes Enkidu
Shara A Sumerian god of war; son of Ishtar
Shuruppak Ancient Sumerian city on the banks of the
Euphrates
Siduri An old woman who keeps a tavern near the
seashore in the Epic of Gilgamesh
Sin God of the moon; also known as Nanna; one of
the Annunaki
Tammuz A dying-and-rising god; consort of Ishtar
Tiamat Mesopotamian goddess associated with salt
 water; rebels against the gods and is killed by
Marduk, who uses her body to create the world
Urshanabi Boatman to Utnapishtim in the Epic of
Gilgamesh
Uruk Ancient Sumerian city; Gilgamesh is its king in
the Epic of Gilgamesh
Utnapishtim Man who survives the Great Flood and is
granted eternal life by the gods; character in the
Epic of Gilgamesh
Waters of Death Band of water in the ocean that separates the
land of mortal people from the place where
Utnapishtim lives in the Epic of Gilgamesh
 Part 2: Sumerian Mythology
Captivating Myths of Gods,
Goddesses, and Legendary Creatures
of Ancient Sumer and Their
Importance to the Sumerians
Introduction
Sumerian literature comprises one of the oldest collections of written
documents in the world. Like other bodies of mythology created by
myriad cultures, the Sumerian corpus contains stories explaining the
origins of the world, myths of the deeds and foibles of all-too-human
deities and semi-divine beings, tales of magic and miracles, and
epics detailing the mighty exploits of heroes who by their great
strength and skill overcome dangerous beasts and human enemies
alike. Surviving texts in Sumerian also include a number of religious
texts composed by Enheduanna, the daughter of Sargon of Akkad
and the high priestess in the temple of the moon god Nanna, as well
as the first named author in human history.
The writing system used to record Sumerian texts of all kinds is
known as cuneiform, for its use of a wedge-shaped stylus to make
symbols impressed into soft clay tablets that were then left to dry, or
were sometimes fired in a kiln, to preserve the writing. (The word
“cuneiform” has its roots in the Latin word cuneus, meaning
“wedge.”) This system, thought to be the oldest form of writing in the
world, was later adapted throughout Mesopotamia by speakers of
languages such as Akkadian and Old Persian. Although an untold
number of these tablets have been entirely lost, thousands of them
have survived into the present day. However, many of the surviving
tablets have come down to us broken and therefore incomplete,
leading to difficulties in translating and reconstructing the texts that
first began to be written down almost five thousand years ago.
The ancient Sumerian civilization began in the so-called “Fertile
Crescent,” an area around and between the Tigris and Euphrates
Rivers in what is now Iraq. Starting around 3000 BCE, the
Sumerians occupied the southern end of this Crescent, near the
mouths of the rivers and not far from the Persian Gulf. The Sumerian
people were among the first in the region to practice agriculture and
to create city-states. They pioneered many important techniques in
metalworking, the creation of textiles, and animal husbandry, and
with their invention of cuneiform writing, they not only inscribed their
religious texts but also kept very meticulous records of their business
dealings and created the first corpus of written law.
Sumerian is what is known as a “language isolate,” meaning that it
appears to have no relationship to any other languages. Sometime
around 2000 BCE, Sumerian fell out of use as a spoken tongue and
was replaced as a vernacular by Akkadian (a Semitic language
related to modern Amharic and Arabic); however, Sumerian
remained as an elite literary and ritual language for many centuries
afterward. One outcome of these shifts in language use is that
Sumerian texts were recorded in both monolingual Sumerian forms
and also in bilingual forms alongside the Akkadian versions.
Defining what constitutes “Sumerian” myth is complicated not only by
the linguistic situation but by other historical events and cultural
realities. Sumer was absorbed into the Akkadian Empire in 2234
BCE, and there is a generous amount of overlap between Sumerian
and Akkadian religions and mythography that can make it difficult to
disentangle one from the other. Therefore, for the purposes of this
book, I have followed the lists and categorization of narratives
provided in the Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature
(ETCSL) created by the Faculty of Oriental Studies at the University
of Oxford.
The myths presented in the present volume include tales of gods
and goddesses, both major and minor, as well as kings and heroes,
both historical and mythical. One such king is the hero of what many
scholars believe to be the first written epic: Gilgamesh. Stories about
Gilgamesh—a historical Sumerian king who later became deified
and mythologized—and about his illustrious (and likely mythical)
forbears, Lugalbanda and Enmerkar, form an important subset of the
narratives recorded in the Sumerian language, and the Sumerian
myths formed the basis for the expanded Akkadian epic best known
to modern readers. The tale about Sargon of Akkad is also about an
actual historical figure, although one for whom we have more reliable
evidence than we do for Gilgamesh. However, the events related in
the story that explains how Sargon rose to kingship have been
mythologized, likely as part of an attempt to provide Sargon’s reign
with political and religious legitimacy.
Just as the stories of Gilgamesh are set in places that are at once
historical and mythical, so, too, do the tales of the gods create an
overlap between the physical world and the world of myth. In
Sumerian myths, Enlil lives in his house, the E-kur, in the Sumerian
city of Nippur, but this is not merely a mythical house populated by
mythical beings: The E-kur was the actual structure made by
Sumerians as a temple for the worship of Enlil. And just as historical,
physical Nippur was a place of pilgrimage in actuality, it also is in
myth, as we see in the story of Nanna’s journey to that city to visit his
divine father, Enlil.
In addition to creating connections between the human world and the
divine, Sumerian myths explain how the world came to be in the first
place. These myths establish the cosmic order, which places the
greater gods, or Annunaki, at the top of the hierarchy, with the lesser
gods, or Igigi, below them. Below the Igigi are human beings, who,
according to the Sumerians, were created to do the work of building
and farming that the Igigi originally had been assigned to do, thus
making human beings responsible not only for their own sustenance
but for that of the gods. Other stories tell how some of the lesser
deities came to be, often as the result of both rape and incest. We
see this in the story of Enki and Ninhursag, for example.
Heroic strength capable of bringing mountains to their knees is the
province of both male and female deities in Sumerian myth. The god
Ninurta does battle with the evil Asag and rearranges the mountains
to allow the Tigris and Euphrates to flow, while the goddess Inanna
brings down Mount Ebih in revenge for the mountain’s refusal to do
the goddess reverence.
Less lofty human concerns are also encapsulated in two other myths
that explain something about the interactions of differing cultures.
The story of Dumuzi and Enkimdu is a mythologized version of the
potential conflicts between pastoral and agricultural peoples, while
the story of Martu’s marriage explains the merging of the nomadic
Amorite people with more settled, urbanized cultures.
The original Sumerian texts of these stories are poetic in nature and
often contain a significant number of repeated phrases. For the
purposes of this book, I have rendered the stories in prose and have
smoothed out the repetitions in order to make the language flow as
such. I have also included a glossary of names and places for
modern readers who may not be familiar with Sumerian
mythography. But however these stories are transmitted, they will
always tell us how this ancient people understood their world and
their place in it, as well as about the customs and relationships they
found to be most important.
Part I: Tales of Gods and Goddesses
Enki and Ninmah
This creation myth is both unusual and important in that it deals not
only with the establishment of cosmic order and how humanity came
to be but also directly with the issue of human disability. Here Enki
challenges Ninmah (the mother goddess also known as Ninhursag)
to create a being with a flaw that cannot be fixed, but each time
Ninmah presents Enki with one of her disabled creations, Enki
decrees a place for them in society. After Ninmah makes several
attempts to best Enki and fails, Enki declares it to be his turn to
create something. When Enki creates a being that is so disabled that
Ninmah cannot find a solution, the contest comes to an end,
although the final portion of the story is fragmented, and it is unclear
exactly what happens to Enki’s creation or how Enki’s apparent
victory over Ninmah is decided.
In her dictionary of Near Eastern mythology, Assyriologist
Gwendolyn Leick has a somewhat different interpretation for the
character of Umul, the creature made by Enki. Based on the list of
Umul’s characteristics, Leick suggests that rather than being a
severely disabled adult, this creature is, in fact, the first baby.
When the heavens and the Earth were first created, there were only
the gods and goddesses to dwell in it. The goddesses became the
wives of the gods, and the gods did the work of fashioning the Earth.
The Annunaki acted as planners and supervisors, determining what
was to be done. The Igigi did the labor according to the Annunakis’
commands. The Igigi dug the beds of the rivers, they heaped up the
mountains. It was ponderous toil, and the Igigi were discontented.
While that work was going on, Enki, the god of wisdom, had retired
to his chamber in the Apsu, where he took his rest. As the Annunaki
planned and the Igigi toiled, Enki slept. The Igigi said amongst
themselves, “It is Enki’s fault that we must labor like this.” But Enki
slept on and did not hear their complaints.
Finally, Namma, great mother of the gods, went to Enki and woke
him. “Arise from your bed, Enki. The gods are discontented with their
labors and have begun to rebel. Arise from your bed, and help them.
Create a substitute for them, one who can do this labor in their
stead.”
Enki arose from his bed and went to his council chamber, where he
thought long about what should be done. Finally, he created two
birth-goddesses. Then he summoned his mother Namma and said,
“Take you a measure of clay and mix it with drops of my blood. When
it is well mixed, cut it into portions, and with the help of your fellow
goddesses, shape the pieces of clay into beings.”
And so it was that Enki and the goddesses created men and women.
The new beings were given life, and when the men and women saw
one another, they desired to be married. Each man married one of
the women, and soon they were having children of their own. Enki
and the goddesses placed the new beings on the Earth and gave to
them the labors that the Igigi had done before. Relieved of their
tasks, the gods fell at Enki’s feet and praised him for his wisdom.
Then they declared a great feast to celebrate the works of Enki.
At the feast, Enki and Ninmah drank beer together. Ninmah said to
Enki, “I have the power to decree the fate of human beings. I can
make their bodies well or ill. This is a power I hold.”
Enki answered, “Well, then, whatever fate or fashion you decree for
human beings, I can change it to its opposite.”
So, Ninmah took a piece of clay and fashioned it into a man with
weak, withered hands that could not grasp anything. Enki looked
upon him and decreed that he should be a servant to the king.
Ninmah took another piece of clay and fashioned it into a blind man.
Enki gave to the blind man the gift of music and set him to sing in the
presence of the king.
A third man Ninmah made, one with malformed feet. Enki gave the
man with malformed feet the gift of silversmithing and set him to
work making beautiful things for the king.
Then Ninmah made an incontinent man, whose urine constantly
leaked from his body. Enki took the man and bathed him in water
that he had blessed, and the man was cured.
Ninmah made a woman who could not bear children. Enki gave to
the woman the gift of weaving and sent her to make beautiful cloth in
the house of the queen.
Another person Ninmah made, one that was neither male nor
female. Enki decreed that this being should be called a eunuch and
that they should work as a servant in the household of the king.
Ninmah was wroth, for Enki had bested her every time. She took the
last remaining piece of clay and threw it to the floor. The gods saw
this, and the feasting chamber fell silent.
“You have made six beings, and I have given them gifts that they
might live,” said Enki. “Come now, let me create a being, and you
must decree its fate.”
Enki created a new being, and it was called Umul. It was weak and
shriveled. All its ribs were showing. It could not hold up its head. It
could neither walk nor speak. It could neither eat nor drink. Then
Enki said to Ninmah, “I gave gifts to all of your creatures that they
might live; now you must do the same for mine.”
Ninmah went to Umul and spoke to him, but he did not answer. She
offered him food, but he could not take it. She tried to help him
stand, she tried to help him sit, but Umul could not do those things.
Ninmah went to Enki and said, “I do not know what to do. This being
seems to be neither alive nor dead. Certainly he cannot work and will
not be able to support himself.”
Enki replied, “Come now. For each flawed being you created, I
decreed a fate. I gave each one a gift.”
[The remainder of the story is fragmented, but the surviving pieces
seem to indicate that Enki won the competition. It is unclear exactly
what fate was ultimately decreed for Umul, although in W. G.
Lambert’s translation, Enki says of Umul, “May he make my house.”]
Enlil and Ninlil
Enlil was the primary god of the Sumerian pantheon. The main cult
center for his worship was in the city of Nippur, where the temple
dedicated to him was known as the E-kur. Enlil was the firstborn son
of the great god An, and as such, he was usually thought of as a god
who dispensed judgements and decreed fates. He is often
associated with wind and air, and he was thought to bring both
prosperity and calamity alike.
Ninlil was the consort of Enlil, and her name is actually an honorific
referencing her husband’s name. One version of the story of the
wedding of Enlil and Ninlil states that Ninlil’s name originally was
Sud and that she received her new name when she married Enlil.
The primary function of the myth of Enlil and Ninlil is to explain the
origins of Nanna, Nergal, Ninazu, and Enbilulu, the gods of the
moon, of war and the Underworld, of boundaries, and of canals,
respectively. It also positions Ninlil as a mother goddess. But as
scholar Gwendolyn Leick observes in her book about the sexual and
erotic aspects of Mesopotamian literature, we also can see some of
the values that ancient peoples placed upon social standards for
young men and women when they came of age to have children
together. Leick notes that Enlil is cast out of the Ki-ur because he
has had intercourse with Ninlil before marrying her.
Although we know what the E-kur was and what it was for in both its
physical manifestation in ancient Nippur and in its mythical sense,
the meaning of “Ki-ur” remains obscure. Assyriologist Samuel
Kramer discusses the word in some footnotes to his article on the
Sumerian flood myth where he suggests that it means something like
“countryside,” apparently referring to rural areas that, while
inhabited, exist in opposition to populous cities. In the myth of Enlil
and Ninlil, the “Ki-ur” appears to refer to some sort of place where
the gods reside, a place that is both outside the city and that requires
those who enter it to be ritually pure.
Once in the city of Nippur, there lived a young woman named Ninlil
and a young man named Enlil. The young woman was very
beautiful, and the young man was strong and brave. Ninlil lived with
her mother, a wise old woman named Nunbarshegunu. Now, there
was nothing that Ninlil liked better than to go down to the river and
stroll along its banks. But Nunbarshegunu did not want her daughter
to go down to the river because the young Enlil also liked to walk
along the riverbanks and sail on the water.
“Stay away from the river,” said Nunbarshegunu, “and you must
never bathe in it! That young Enlil is always there. What if he sees
you walking along the holy river or bathing in it? What if he sees you
and desires you, and what if he has his way with you? What will you
do then?”
Ninlil did not listen to her mother. Every day, she went down to the
river and walked along its banks. One day, Enlil happened to be at
the river at the same time as Ninlil. Enlil saw how beautiful Ninlil
was, and he was entranced. Enlil went up to Ninlil and said, “You are
so beautiful! Please let me kiss you, let me lie with you! Do not turn
me away, for I love you!”
But Ninlil would not let Enlil lie with her. She said, “I am too young to
kiss any man and certainly too young to lie with him. What if you get
me with child? What will I do then? Besides, if my mother and father
found out what we had done, they would be wroth with me.”
And so, Ninlil went away, and Enlil did not get his desire.
Enlil did not know what to do next, so he went to speak to Nuska, the
Master Builder of the E-kur, the House of the Gods. “Nuska,” said
Enlil, “do you know that young woman who walks along the river
every day? Her name is Ninlil, and she is very beautiful. Tell me,
does she have any other suitors? Has anyone ever kissed her
before?”
For answer, Nuska said, “Get into my boat, O Enlil, and I will take
you to her.” Nuska sailed them down the river, and all along the way,
Enlil thought to himself how delightful it would be to finally kiss Ninlil
and to finally lie together.
Soon enough, Enlil found Ninlil. He kissed her and poured his seed
into her womb, and Ninlil was got with child. And thus it was that
Ninlil bore Nanna, the god of the moon.
Then Enlil went to the Ki-ur for he had a mind to wander about there.
But the gods had seen what he had done with Ninlil, and they had
him arrested. The gods told Enlil that for his deed he was to be cast
out of the city for he was now impure.
Enlil went to the gates to leave the city. Ninlil saw him go and
followed behind him. Enlil knew that Ninlil was there and did not want
Ninlil to follow him. He did not want her to know where he was going.
When Enlil arrived at the city gates, he went to the gatekeeper and
said, “Do you see the beautiful Ninlil who follows me? If she asks
where I have gone, you must tell her that you do not know.”
Ninlil arrived at the gate. She asked the gatekeeper where Enlil had
gone. But the gatekeeper was not there; Enlil had taken his form and
taken his place. In the form of the gatekeeper, Enlil said, “I have not
seen him at all, my lady. I do not know where he is.”
“Well,” said Ninlil, “if that is the case, then you must come and lie
with me once I have had my child. For this is Enlil’s child, and since
he is your lord, that makes me your lady.”
The gatekeeper and Ninlil lay together and delighted in one another.
Enlil poured his seed into her womb, and Ninlil was got with child.
And thus it was that Ninlil bore Nergal, the god of war and the
Underworld.
Then Enlil went to the Id-kura, the river that flows between the land
of the living and the Underworld, and Ninlil followed him. Enlil went to
the man who dwelt beside the Id-kura and said, “Do you see the
beautiful Ninlil who follows me? If she asks where I have gone, you
must tell her that you do not know.”
Ninlil arrived at the river. She asked the man who dwelt beside the
river where Enlil had gone. But the man was not there; Enlil had
taken his form and taken his place. In the form of the man who dwelt
by the Id-kura, Enlil said, “I have not seen him at all, my lady. I do not
know where he is.”
“Well,” said Ninlil, “if that is the case, then you must come and lie
with me once I have had my child. For this is Enlil’s child, and since
he is your lord, that makes me your lady.”
The man who dwelt by the Id-kura and Ninlil lay together and
delighted in one another. Enlil poured his seed into her womb, and
Ninlil became heavy with child. And thus it was that Ninlil bore
Ninazu, the god who sets the boundaries of the fields.
Then Enlil left Ninlil and went walking along the river, and Ninlil
followed him. Enlil went to the ferryman and said, “Do you see the
beautiful Ninlil who follows me? If she asks where I have gone, you
must tell her that you do not know.”
Ninlil arrived at the river. She asked the ferryman where Enlil had
gone. But the man was not there; Enlil had taken his form and taken
his place. In the form of the ferryman, Enlil said, “I have not seen him
at all, my lady. I do not know where he is.”
“Well,” said Ninlil, “if that is the case, then you must come and lie
with me once I have had my child. For this is Enlil’s child, and since
he is your lord, that makes me your lady.”
The ferryman and Ninlil lay together and delighted in one another.
Enlil poured the seed of Enbilulu into her womb, and Ninlil was got
with child. And thus it was that Ninlil bore Enbilulu, the god of canals.
Enki and Ninhursag
This story is set in the land of Dilmun, a place that is synonymous
with peace and plenty in Sumerian literature. An actual historical
Dilmun did exist; scholars have located it on the eastern side of the
Arabian Peninsula along the Persian Gulf. Dilmun likely included
what is now the island nation of Bahrain and the peninsula that is
now the state of Qatar, and it was an important trading partner for
Mesopotamian peoples. Over time, however, Dilmun became
mythologized in Sumerian literature as a kind of paradise where
there was neither sickness nor violence.
Enki, one of the main characters in this myth, is a creator god, a
trickster, and is particularly associated with water. Enki also seems to
have been conceived of as a sort of opposite to Enlil. In her
dictionary of Near Eastern myth, Assyriologist Gwendolyn Leick
notes that the name Enlil may be translated as “Lord Air,” while Enki
can be rendered as “Lord Earth.” Whereas Enlil’s primary cult center
was in Nippur, Enki’s main temple was in Eridu, a city in what is now
south-central Iraq, to the west of the Euphrates River.
“Ninhursag” is but one of the many names of the Sumerian great
mother goddess. Ninhursag is particularly associated with Enki, and
according to Leick, the goddess’ name is actually a title meaning
something like “Lady of the Wild Hills,” a name that is given to her by
her heroic son, Ninurta, in the myth of his battle against the evil Asag
creature.
This story explains the origins of several lesser deities. First are
Ninsar, Ninkura, and Uttu, who were associated with plants,
mountain pastures, and weaving, respectively. As is common in
ancient mythology, divine beings in Sumerian tales are often the
products of incestuous relations, and this story participates in that
tradition. Enki first has relations with Ninhursag and then with Ninsar,
the daughter who is produced by that union, and then with her
daughter Ninkura, and so on, until the fourth generation is reached
with Uttu, whereupon Ninhursag puts a stop to the pattern by
removing Enki’s seed from her great-granddaughter’s womb and
uses it to create plants instead. When Enki consumes the plants
without asking, Ninhursag departs in a rage and does not come back
until a fox is sent by the Annunaki to fetch her. The story ends with
Ninhursag healing Enki from the illness caused by her absence, and
several more minor deities are named and possibly created in the
process.
The original tablets containing this story are broken in places, as is
common with these very ancient and very fragile documents. In
some places it is possible to imagine what might have transpired in
the parts of the story that are missing based on context, when there
is enough material to make a guess at what happened. However, the
portion of the story that shows how the fox brought Ninhursag back
to the Annunaki is too scantily preserved to be recreated with any
accuracy. I have noted this in the text of the myth at the appropriate
point. Likewise, in the section where Ninhursag heals an ailing Enki
piece by piece, some of the words for the affected body parts are
missing or untranslatable and cannot be guessed from context. I
have therefore replaced these with ellipses.
Far, far away, there is a land called Dilmun. Dilmun is a pure land, a
land of peace and of plenty. Beasts of prey hunt not, carrion birds
feed not. In Dilmun there is no sickness and no fear, there is no slow
decline into agedness, and there is no death and no mourning. Toil
and travail are known not. All is young, all is peaceful, all is pure, and
there in that land of Dilmun did Enki lie with his consort in great joy.
One day, Ninsikila went to her father Enki and said, “O my father, all
is well in Dilmun, all is peaceful and pure, but our city has no water.
We have no river upon which to build a quay or sail boats. We have
no canals to water our fields. There are no ponds that the beasts
may drink from. Our wells are dry, and the people have nothing to
drink. Give to us water, that we might live.”
Enki thought upon Ninsikila’s request and said, “When Utu the sun
god appears in the sky, then shall Dilmun have water.”
And so it was that when Utu the sun god rose in the sky, water
began to flow in Dilmun. A great river wound its way through the city,
a river on which to build a quay, on which to sail boats, and Dilmun
was able to trade with other peoples. Water flowed through the
canals, watering the fields, and the crops grew in abundance. Ponds
filled with good, sweet water, and the beasts drank their fill. Wells
filled with good, sweet water, and the people drank their fill.
Then Enki invited the goddess Ninhursag to lie with him. “Come,” he
said, “let us delight in one another.”
Ninhursag lay with Enki, and he poured his seed into her, and she
was got with child. For nine days did Ninhursag carry that child, and
each day was like a month. After nine days, the child was born, a girl
named Ninsar.
One day, Enki went down to the riverbank, and there he saw Ninsar,
who was walking along the river on the other side, Ninsar who had
grown into a beautiful, young woman. Enki went to his counselor,
Isimud, and said, “Is Ninsar not of an age to be kissed? Is she not
ready to know a man?”
Isimud answered, “Yes, indeed, she is of an age. Come, get into my
boat, and I will sail you over to her.”
Enki crossed the river in Isimud’s boat. He went to Ninsar and kissed
her. Enki took Ninsar and laid her on the ground and poured his seed
into her. He poured his seed into her, and she was got with child. For
nine days did Ninsar carry that child, and each day was like a month.
After nine days, the child was born, a girl named Ninkura.
On another day, Enki went down to the riverbank, and there he saw
Ninkura, who was walking along the river on the other side, Ninkura
who had grown into a beautiful, young woman. Enki went to his
counselor, Isimud, and said, “Is Ninkura not of an age to be kissed?
Is she not ready to know a man?”
Isimud answered, “Yes, indeed, she is of an age. Come, get into my
boat, and I will sail you over to her.”
Enki crossed the river in Isimud’s boat. He went to Ninkura and
kissed her. Enki took Ninkura and lay her on the ground and poured
his seed into her. He poured his seed into her, and she was got with
child. For nine days did Ninkura carry that child, and each day was
like a month. After nine days, the child was born, a girl named Uttu.
When Uttu came of age, her great-grandmother Ninhursag took her
aside and said, “Uttu, you are now of an age where men may begin
to look upon you and desire you. You must be very careful when you
walk down at the river’s edge. Be careful, because Enki often stands
on the opposite bank and watches the young women as they go by.
If Enki approaches you, do not give him what he wants right away.
Tell him that he must first bring to you cucumbers and grapes and
apples, all ripe and sweet and juicy, and that when he does so, he
will have what he desires.”
And so it was that one day Uttu went walking along the riverbank,
and she was very beautiful to behold. On the other side of the river,
Enki watched Uttu, and he desired her. Once again, Enki’s counselor
sailed him to the other side of the river, and Enki made known his
desire to Uttu.
Uttu remembered Ninhursag’s instruction and said, “You will have
what you desire only when you bring me cucumbers and grapes and
apples, all ripe and sweet and juicy.”
“How shall I do that,” said Enki, “when all the fields are dry and
dusty, and the gardener weeps under his withering trees?”
“I do not know how you are to do those things, only that you will not
have what you desire without them.”
Enki went to the garden, where all was dry and dusty. He made
water flow into the canals. He made water flow into the channels. He
made water flow into the furrows. Soon, the garden was bearing all
manner of good things, and the gardener danced in his joy. The
gardener gave cucumbers, grapes, and apples to Enki, all ripe and
sweet and juicy. The gardener heaped cucumbers, grapes, and
apples into the lap of Enki, as thanks for the water that made his
garden flourish.
Enki took the cucumbers, grapes, and apples to the house of Uttu.
He knocked upon her door. From within, Uttu said, “Who is there?”
“It is I, the gardener, bearing cucumbers and grapes and apples,”
said Enki.
Uttu let him in with great joy. Enki gave to her the cucumbers,
grapes, and apples, all ripe and sweet and juicy. And in Uttu’s house,
they lay together and delighted in one another. Enki poured his seed
into Uttu’s womb, but Uttu lamented having lain with him. Ninhursag
then took the seed from Uttu and planted it in her garden. From
Enki’s seed grew eight plants with their fruit, and Ninhursag tended
them.
One day, Enki said to his counselor Isimud, “Tell me, what of the
plants that grew from my seed that Ninhursag planted? Are they
grown? Have they fruited? Go to Ninhursag’s garden, and see what
is growing there.”
And so, Isimud went to Ninhursag’s garden. He looked over the wall
and saw the eight plants growing there, the eight tall plants with their
fruit. He saw that the fruit was good to eat and thought that his
master might wish to taste of it. So, Isimud cut down the eight plants.
He cut them down with their fruit and brought them back to Enki.
Enki tasted of their fruit, and it was very good.
When Ninhursag found out that Isimud had cut down the plants and
taken them to Enki that he might eat of them, she flew into a rage
and cursed Enki. “Never again shall I look upon you!” she said, and
then she went away and did not come back.
The Annunaki waited and waited for Ninhursag to return. When she
did not, the Annunaki became despondent. They sat in the dust and
mourned the loss of Ninhursag.
A fox trotted past and saw the Annunaki and their sorrow. The fox
said, “Why is it that you sit in the dust in mourning?”
The Annunaki answered, “We mourn because Ninhursag has left us,
and she does not return.”
“What will you give me if I return her to you?” said the fox.
Enlil replied, “If you bring back Ninhursag, I will plant a garden for
you. I will plant an orchard for you, and your name will always be
remembered of the people and the gods.”
[The next portion of the story is missing from the tablets. From what
little remains, we can gather that the fox disguises himself in some
way and is able to get Ninhursag to return to the Annunaki, where
she finds them still sitting in the dust in mourning.]
Ninhursag went to Enki where he sat despondent in the dust.
Ninhursag said to him, “O my brother, what is it that hurts you?”
Enki said, “My … it is that hurts me.”
Ninhursag said, “I gave birth to the god Abu for you that you might
be healed. What else is it that hurts you?”
“My jaw it is that hurts me.”
Ninhursag said, “I gave birth to the god Nintul for you that you might
be healed. What else is it that hurts you?”
“My tooth it is that hurts me.”
Ninhursag said, “I gave birth to the goddess Ninsutu for you that you
might be healed. What else is it that hurts you?”
“My mouth it is that hurts me.”
Ninhursag said, “I gave birth to the goddess Ninkasi for you that you
might be healed. What else is it that hurts you?”
“My … hurts me.”
Ninhursag said, “I gave birth to the goddess Nazi for you that you
might be healed. What else is it that hurts you?”
“My arm it is that hurts me.”
Ninhursag said, “I gave birth to the goddess Azimua for you that you
might be healed. What else is it that hurts you?”
“My side it is that hurts me.”
Ninhursag said, “I gave birth to the goddess Ninti for you that you
might be healed. What else is it that hurts you?”
“My … hurts me.”
Ninhursag said, “I gave birth to the god Enshagag for you that you
might be healed.”
Then Ninhursag said, “And now let us say what is to become of
these gods and goddesses I have birthed. Abu shall be lord of the
plants. Nintul shall be the lord of Magan. Ninsutu shall marry Ninazu,
son of Enlil and Ninlil. Ninkasi shall satisfy all desires. Nazi shall
marry the god Nindara. Azimua shall marry Ningishzida, son of
Ninazu. Ninti shall be queen of the months, and Enshagag shall rule
over Dilmun as lord.”
The Exploits of Ninurta
The hero-god who slays the monstrous beast is a commonplace
figure in world mythology. In the ancient Middle East, this role was
played by the god Ninurta. Ninurta is the son of Enlil and Ninhursag
and was originally associated with agriculture and fertility. He also is
posited as a judge who rules upon points of law.
In this story, Ninurta must fight the Asag, a type of demon or dragon
who is going about the land fomenting rebellion against the gods.
The Asag recruits stone warriors to help him, and none but Ninurta
has the strength to defeat the Asag and his army.
Besides being a tale of heroic deeds and dragon-slaying, this story
also explains the origins of irrigation and agriculture as practices
initiated by Ninurta in the wake of the Asag’s death and assigns the
title “Ninhursag,” which means something like “Lady of the Wild
Hills,” to the goddess Ninmah. The myth of Ninurta’s exploits also
explains the uses and qualities of several different types of stone.
While the names of some of the stones have been translated, the
identification of most others remains obscure. The section of the
myth in which Ninurta declares the fates of the stones is lengthy and
somewhat abstruse; here it has been telescoped for a modern
audience.
The hero Ninurta sat among the Annunaki at the feast that was
called to honor him. Everyone was rejoicing, especially Ninurta, who
drank and drank. Even more than An, even more than Enlil did
Ninurta drink. And while they were feasting, Bau, goddess of healing,
brought before him petitions and Ninurta, son of Enlil, gave his
rulings upon them.
As Ninurta decided and the Annunaki feasted, the Sharur, the mighty
battle-mace of Ninurta, suddenly cried out, saying, “O my master, O
Lord Ninurta, O Ninurta, hero who is the mightiest of all and whom
none may withstand, I tell you that the Asag has come forth and is
wreaking havoc upon the land. The Asag is a warrior, a fell creature
who has no father and who grew and was nourished despite never
suckling at the breast. He is arrogant and ambitious, and he comes
forth to challenge all.
“The Asag lives in the mountains, and its offspring are many. Even
the plants count him king among them. He has called the stones to
him. He has called emery and diorite, flint and alabaster, and many
more besides, and made an army of them, and with that army, he
raids cities far and near. Even the gods of those cities bow before his
might, and now, the Asag sits in majesty and metes out justice,
usurping the place of the gods. The people live in terror of the Asag,
and even the mountains make offerings to him.
“Listen to my words, O mighty one! Listen to what I have to say, for I
bring you the pleas of the people. They ask you to come to them and
to rid them of the Asag, for none may stand against it but you, O son
of Enlil! Be swift in your decision, for day by day your power among
the people wanes. They say that if you will not help them, then you
will no longer be king over them, and the Asag in his arrogance
believes that he can take your place. Day by day he moves into new
places and conquers them. Soon, all the Earth will be in his thrall if
you do not act!
“But you are the raging bull, you are the swift antelope, and surely
you will conquer the Asag. You will conquer the Asag even though
his armies are too numerous to be counted, even though no hero
has yet been able to defeat the Asag, even though no weapon has
yet been able to wound the Asag. What say you, O mighty one?
What say you to the insolence of the Asag, to his conquest of cities
that rightfully belong to the gods?”
Ninurta heard the words of the Sharur, and he rose out of his seat,
crying, “Alas!” He cried with such a great voice that the Earth shook
and the heavens trembled. Enlil and the other gods also were
shaken and left the E-kur. Mountains fell down before Ninurta’s cry,
and the Earth was darkened. Ninurta raged in his anger against the
Asag, and the Annunaki fled before his anger. Then Ninurta took up
his mace and his lance and readied himself for battle. Evil winds he
summoned to his aid, winds that brought down a rain of hot coals
that consumed all they touched, winds that toppled every tree in their
path, winds that made waves upon the Tigris and stirred up her
sediments so that her waters were muddied.
Ninurta went to the quay to take a ship on his way to meet the Asag.
At the riverside, all the people quailed at the rage of Ninurta. They
ran away, blinded by their fear. The birds tried to flee, but the winds
of Ninurta made their wings useless. The fish tried to flee, but the
storms of Ninurta flung them up onto the shore, where they lay
gasping and drowning in air. The cattle and sheep tried to flee, but
the fire of Ninurta’s anger roasted them where they stood. Even the
mountains could not withstand Ninurta’s rage, for the floodwaters
rose up their banks and washed away everything in their path.
Striding into the lands held by the Asag, Ninurta laid waste their
cities; he made captives of their people. He slew the messengers of
the Asag; he caused a flood of poison to run through the land, killing
all it touched. The rage of Ninurta engulfed the land, and none could
withstand his onslaught.
Rejoicing in battle, Ninurta turned to the Sharur and smiled upon it.
The Sharur flew away by itself, bringing down mountains for Ninurta,
taking prisoners for him, and flying high above the Earth to see what
might be seen. Those who saw it flying would give it news to take
back to its master, news about the Asag and his armies. When all
the news had been gathered, the Sharur returned to Ninurta and
said, “Lo! O mighty Ninurta, whose strength none might resist, you
have conquered the rebellious places, and already you have slain
many of the Asag’s warriors. But do not go yet into the mountains to
meet the Asag! Verily you are well made and well born, verily you
are most beautiful, verily you are greatest in strength and all tremble
before you, but do not meet the Asag yet! Do not take your army into
the mountains! The time is not yet ripe, and you will not be
victorious!”
Ninurta heard the wise words of the Sharur, but he did not heed
them. Instead, he marshalled his armies and marched them into the
mountains. The Asag saw the approach of Ninurta and armed
himself for battle. He pulled down the sky itself and fashioned it into
a club. The Asag slithered along the ground like a serpent, ravening
like a mad dog. The Asag fell upon Ninurta, howling its rage with a
voice that was heard in every corner of the Earth, and none could
withstand the passage of that fell beast throughout the land. The
waters dried up in their courses, and the trees toppled onto the
ground. The reeds were set aflame at the riverside, and the Asag’s
body carved great furrows into the ground, leaving the Earth gaping
with wounds. All the people fled before the Asag as the sky turned
red as blood and the crops rotted in the fields. An himself was
overwhelmed, Enlil himself fled and hid from the approach of the
Asag, and all the Annunaki trembled and sighed with fear.
Enlil cried out, “Who is there to protect us now that Ninurta has gone
away to war? Who will keep us safe while the great hero is gone
away?”
[The next section is fragmentary, but apparently, the Sharur goes to
speak with Enlil about the Asag. Enlil makes a statement
encouraging Ninurta to battle fiercely, and the Sharur returns to
Ninurta with its report.]
The Sharur returned to its master and said, “O my master, Enlil has
spoken, and this is what he says: ‘Go forth, O mighty Flood! Go forth
and take the Asag. Grip him by the shoulder, impale him on your
spear. Take him captive, and drag him here to the E-kur. Do this, and
you will never want for praise from all the peoples.’
“Go forth, O my master!” said the Sharur. “Go forth and assail the
Asag, for he has built himself a rampart. He has built himself a
fortress that cannot be breached, and his lust for destruction never
abates.”
Ninurta took heart from the words of the Sharur and of Enlil. Ninurta
let forth his battle cry, and the day darkened as though it were night.
The Sharur flew into the heavens, raising a great wind that scattered
the people like dry leaves. The great mace went to the mountains
and set them ablaze. It went through the ranks of the enemy and
crushed their skulls. Ninurta’s mighty lance flew through the air, and
wherever it landed, it opened a crack in the earth. The cracks filled
with blood, and the stray dogs licked it up. Ninurta’s weapons
wrought great destruction throughout the land, and the Asag saw it
but was not dismayed.
The Sharur returned to Ninurta and said, “All we do is to no avail! My
lord, do not bring battle to the Asag, for he is the foul stench of a
festering wound and the pus that flows from it. No matter what you
command him to do, he will not obey. Wherever he goes, the land is
laid waste and barren, and no one can capture him or withstand his
approach. The Asag has dried up all the waters and blows through
the lands like a whirlwind. The people cower in their homes, for none
may stand against the Asag.”
But Ninurta would not stand aside. He faced the mountains and let
out a full-throated battle cry, a cry of an entire army calling for death.
Ninurta strode about the country, dealing death to all his enemies.
The great hero raged about, and from his mountain perch, the Asag
saw the fury of the hero Ninurta. Soon enough, Ninurta rampaged
his way up the Asag’s mountain, and the Asag quailed at the fury of
the great hero’s approach. The Asag was scattered like drops of
water; he was uprooted like weeds from a field. Ninurta flew at the
Asag, and in his fury, he crushed the Asag like a grindstone crushes
grain in a mill. And not until the foul creature lay dead at Ninurta’s
feet did the rage of Ninurta begin to subside.
The sun finally set at the end of that terrible day. Ninurta went to the
river and washed his weapons in the flowing water. He washed the
blood from his clothing and armor, and he washed the blood from his
own body. And when all had been cleansed, he stood astride the
body of the Asag and sang a victory song.
In the calm that followed the battle, the Annunaki came to where
Ninurta stood over the body of the Asag. The gods saw the broken
body of that huge monster and marveled at the strength of Ninurta.
They prostrated themselves at the feet of the hero and gave him
praise for his deeds. The Sharur also praised Ninurta, saying, “None
can compare to you, O Ninurta! None can match your strength or
your valor! Behold how the gods prostrate themselves at your feet!”
Ninurta addressed the assembled gods. “From this day henceforth,
the name of this creature shall not be Asag. Instead, we shall call it
Stone, and its entrails shall become the Underworld.”
Then Ninurta rested from his labors. He set aside his club, and he
rested from his battles.
It was at that time that the land began to dry up. The streams and
wells went dry. The Tigris itself shriveled up, and its waters did not
reach the sea. Workers went out with shovels and hoes, they went
out to dig canals to bring water to the fields, but there was no water
to be had. The crops withered in the fields, and the farmers had
nothing to bring to market. Famine settled upon the land. No one had
the strength to till the fields, and the grain sat scattered upon the soil.
Ninurta looked upon the people in their drought and famine and took
pity upon them. He went into the mountains and made a great pile of
stones and put into it a sluice gate. He gathered together the waters
of the mountains and then let them flow through the sluice into the
Tigris. The waters flooded into the riverbed and then up over the
banks and into the fields. Soon everywhere there was enough water,
and the barley grew heavy with grain in the fields, and the trees in
the orchards grew heavy with fruit. The people rejoiced in this. They
traded their harvest with peoples of other nations, and they gave
great thanks to Ninurta and his father.
Now, at this time, the goddess Ninmah looked upon what her son
Ninurta had wrought in the mountains, and she sorrowed because
the mountains were no longer a place where she could go. So,
Ninmah made a song of lament and went to Ninurta and sang it.
Ninmah sang, “I sing ‘alas’ for the mountains, for they have bowed
before the might of Ninurta. I sing ‘alas’ for the mountains, for they
could not withstand his strength, the strength of the mighty hero I
bore for the god Enlil. The son of Enlil will not turn his gaze to me,
but I shall go to him and gaze upon him. I shall go to him with my
lament, and he will see my tears.”
Ninurta hearkened to the lament of Ninmah, and he said to her,
“Lady Ninmah, well do I remember that when I went into the dangers
of battle, you were always there with me. Behold, I have made a pile
of stones here, and let this become a new mountain, and you shall
be Ninhursag, which is ‘Lady of the Mountain.’ And I decree that your
mountain shall become fecund and a place of great joy. It will bring
forth herbs and grasses and fragrant cedars. It will bring forth fruit
trees heavy with fruit. In its heart will be gold and silver and all
manner of gems. On its sides, the wild beasts and birds will multiply.
And you shall have no rival there on that mountain, not even the god
An shall approach your queenly splendor. This is my gift to you, O
great lady. Rejoice, and be exalted!”
When Ninurta had finished decreeing the fate of the mountains, the
lady Aruru, the eldest sister of Enlil, came to him and said, “My lord,
you are the greatest hero of them all. You have decreed the fate of
the mountains, but what of the fate of those you slew in your battle
with the Asag?”
And so, Ninurta addressed the fate of the stone warriors who had
sided with the Asag. To the emery stone, flint, and others who had
turned against him, Ninurta pronounced punishments. To the
alabaster, diorite, hematite, and other stones who had fought on
Ninurta’s side, he gave great honors.
When all the fates of the stones had been assigned, Ninurta made
his way out of the mountains and across the desert. Whenever he
came across a village or a city, the people gathered to rejoice over
him and sing his praises. On and on he strode, until he came to the
river where his own barge was moored, and there the boatmen
bowed down before him and sang a song praising him for his deeds.
“Who is like Ninurta? Who has his strength or his skill? No enemy
can stand against him! Praise to the son of Enlil!”
Then Enlil looked upon Ninurta and gave him a blessing. “O Ninurta,
great is your courage and your strength! It was wise to send you to
meet the Asag, for none other could have defeated him. All of your
enemy’s cities have been reduced to ruins, and their rulers made
captive. As your reward, you shall receive a heavenly mace and
power to rule over all, and eternal life besides.”
And so it was that Ninurta killed the Asag, gathered up a pile of
stones, and brought the waters down into the fields to make them
bear grain and fruit in their seasons. So well had Ninurta healed the
land that great mounds of grain were harvested and placed into the
granaries. Ninurta gave the grain and the granaries into the care of
the lady Nisaba, she who makes green things grow upon the Earth.
The Journey of Nanna to Nippur
One subgenre of Sumerian myth is that of a god’s journey to the
Sumerian city of Nippur, the primary cult center of the god Enlil, who
stood at the head of the Sumerian pantheon. Such journey myths
are extant for the gods Enki and Ninurta, in addition to the myth
about Nanna presented here. In this story, the moon god Nanna
(also known as Nanna-Suen, Suen, or Sin) determines that he
should leave his home city of Ur, where his own primary cult center
was located, to go to Nippur to visit his mother, the goddess Ninlil,
and his father, the god Enlil. Nanna therefore causes a barge to be
constructed and lades it with all manner of goods to take home as
gifts.
The barge’s progress along the river from Ur to Nippur has a ritual
aspect in that at every city along the way, the local goddess comes
out to greet Nanna and make offerings and grant well wishes, but the
barge tells each one that it cannot stop for it is bound for Nippur.
Assyriologist Jeremy Black notes that the list of bypassed cities likely
reflects actual places one might have expected to encounter along a
river journey between Ur and Nippur in ancient times. Further, Black
notes that the myth of Nanna’s journey reinforces Nanna’s function
as a god of both fertility and agriculture, especially in his causing an
increase in his flocks and herds so that he can give the young
produced by his animals as gifts.
There came a time when the god Nanna decided to make a journey
to Nippur. Nippur was the city of his father, Enlil, and of his mother,
Ninlil. “I shall journey to Nippur,” Nanna said, “for I have a mind to
visit my mother and my father. I have a mind to visit the lovely city of
Nippur and its beautiful sanctuary. I have a mind to visit the strong
city of Nippur where the palm trees grow, where palm trees grew
even before Dilmun existed. I have a mind to visit the city of my
mother who dresses always in the finest linen garments.”
It was a long river journey from Nanna’s city of Ur to Nippur, and so,
Nanna would need a barge, for he wished to take many good gifts to
his mother and father. Nanna sent far and wide for the materials to
make his barge. Reeds came from Tummal, and pitch from the Apsu.
Cypress and cedar, pine and juniper came from the forests and the
mountains. When all the needed things were assembled, the
workmen began to build the barge.
While the barge was being constructed, Nanna assembled all the
gifts he wanted to bring to his parents. Nanna chose fine bulls and
sheep from his flocks. He gathered up turtles and birds and fish.
Nanna filled many baskets with fresh eggs to take to Enlil’s house in
Nippur.
Nanna turned loose the rams among his flock of sheep, and six
hundred of his ewes dropped fine lambs as gifts for Enlil. Nanna
turned male goats loose among his herd of goats, and six hundred
female goats dropped fine kids as gifts for Enlil. Nanna did the same
with his herds of cattle, letting the bulls loose among the cows, and
six hundred cows gave birth to fine calves to be taken as gifts for
Enlil.
When the barge was made well and sturdily, and when it was all
laden with the gifts of Nanna to Enlil and Ninlil, it set sail along the
river. The barge departed Ur and sailed along the river toward
Enegir. As the barge approached Enegir, the goddess Ningirida
came out of her house and set out an offering of flour. She brought
with her a great vat of oil, and she cried out, “Let me anoint you with
this fine oil! May you ever have wine and all good things in
abundance!”
But the barge did not stop at Enegir. It sailed past, crying out, “I
cannot stop! I am bound for Nippur!”
The barge departed Enegir and sailed along the river to Larsa. As
the barge approached Larsa, the goddess Sherida came out of her
house and set out an offering of flour. She brought with her a great
vat of oil, and she cried out, “Let me anoint you with this fine oil! May
you ever have wine and all good things in abundance!”
But the barge did not stop at Larsa. It sailed past, crying, “I cannot
stop! I am bound for Nippur!”
The barge departed Larsa and sailed along the river to Uruk. As the
barge approached Uruk, the goddess Inanna came out of her house
and set out an offering of flour. She brought with her a great vat of
oil, and she cried out, “Let me anoint you with this fine oil! May you
ever have wine and all good things in abundance!”
But the barge did not stop at Uruk. It sailed past, crying, “I cannot
stop! I am bound for Nippur!”
The barge departed Uruk and sailed along the river to Shuruppag.
As the barge approached Shuruppag, the goddess Ninunuga came
out of her house and set out an offering of flour and bran. She
brought with her a great vat of oil, and she cried out, “Let me anoint
you with this fine oil! May you ever have wine and all good things in
abundance!”
But the barge did not stop at Shuruppag. It sailed past, crying, “I
cannot stop! I am bound for Nippur!”
The barge departed Shuruppag and sailed along the river to
Tummal. As the barge approached Tummal, the goddess Ninlil came
out of her house and set out an offering of flour and bran. She
brought with her a great vat of oil, and she cried out, “Let me anoint
you with this fine oil! May you ever have wine and all good things in
abundance!”
But the barge did not stop at Tummal. It sailed past, crying, “I cannot
stop! I am bound for Nippur!”
At last, the barge departed Tummal and sailed to Nippur. Nanna
sailed the barge to the quay that belonged to Enlil, and there he
docked. Nanna called out to the porter who kept the gates of Enlil,
“O Kalkal! O porter of my father’s house! Open the door to me! Open
the gates of my father’s house!
“Behold, I, Nanna, have come with a barge laden with many gifts. I
have bulls and sheep and goats. I have turtles and small birds. I
have fish and I have eggs. Open the door to me!
“I, Nanna, on my journey did bring the lambs that were dropped by
the ewes of my flock and the kids that were dropped by the goats of
my flock and the calves that were dropped by the cows of my herd.
All of these I gave as gifts as I sailed along the Surungal Canal, and
my barge is heavy yet with gifts to be given to Enlil and Ninlil. Open
the door, Kalkal! Open the door of my father’s house!”
Kalkal heard the cry of Nanna, son of Enlil, and in great joy, he
opened the gates to him. And there, in the house of Enlil, did Nanna
give his gifts to his mighty father, and joyously did Enlil receive them.
“Welcome, my son!” cried Enlil. “Welcome again to my house! Let us
eat together! Let us eat of sweet cakes together and of bread and
beer!” Enlil called to his servants and commanded them to bring
cakes for Nanna to eat. He commanded his servants to gather bread
and beer from the E-kur to be given to Nanna to eat.
Nanna ate all the good food Enlil put before him and drank all the
good drink, and he said, “O my father, O mighty Enlil, truly I am
content with this good food and this good drink. Truly you are the
god who gives all in abundance!
“Now it is time for me to return home to Ur, but first I ask you to fill
my rivers with good fish. I ask you to fill my fields with barley heavy
in the ear. Give me reeds along the rivers and wild sheep in the hills.
Give me good trees in the forest and fruit for syrup and wine in the
orchards. And give to me a long life, for it is time for me to return
home to Ur!”
Everything Nanna asked for, Enlil gave him. He filled the rivers with
good fish and the fields with barley heavy in the ear. Enlil gave
Nanna reeds along the rivers and wild sheep in the hills. Enlil gave
Nanna good trees in the forest and fruit for syrup and wine in the
orchards, and to Nanna himself, he gave a long life.
Praise be to Enlil where he sits on his throne, and to Ninlil, mother of
Nanna!
Inanna and Ebih
Male deities such as Ninurta are not the only ones who go forth to do
battle with monstrous creatures in the mountains. In this story, the
goddess Inanna girds herself for war to get revenge on Ebih, a
mountain that refuses to bow down before her in worship. We see
here the more violent of the two sides of Inanna, who in addition to
being the goddess of love and procreation was the goddess of war,
which is often referred to as “the game of Inanna” in Sumerian texts.
Inanna was one of the more powerful goddesses of the Sumerian
pantheon, bearing the title “Queen of Heaven.” She later became
identified with the Akkadian/Babylonian goddess Ishtar. One myth
that explains the origin of Inanna’s might says that she stole some of
Enki’s me, a Sumerian word denoting power or authority, after Enki
had too much to drink at a banquet. Inanna sails with the me back to
her city of Uruk, fending off the attempts of Enki and his demons to
retrieve the stolen powers.
The myth of Inanna and Ebih retold below, which shows Inanna
wielding her powers of vengeance and destruction, names several
places that Inanna visits in her wanderings, specifically Elam, Subir,
and the Lulubi Mountains. Elam was a region on the northeastern
shore of the Persian Gulf, in what is now Iran, while Subir was far to
the north of Sumer, in Upper Mesopotamia. The Lulubi Mountains
are an area within the Zagros range, in a portion that now lies on the
border between Iraq and Iran. In her retelling of this myth, author
Betty De Shong Meador notes that Mount Ebih “has been identified
as the modern Jebel Hamrin,” a mountain ridge that runs along the
western side of the Zagros Mountains.
This myth also has special importance as part of the first piece of
written literature for which we have the author’s name, since it forms
part of a longer work called “The Exaltation of Inanna” by a woman
named Enheduanna. Enheduanna was the daughter of Sargon of
Akkad, founder of the Akkadian Empire, and was high priestess of
both Inanna and Nanna in the Sumerian city of Ur in the 23rd century
BCE. “The Exaltation of Inanna” functions both as praise of the
goddess and as a semi-autobiographical work, since it references
Enheduanna’s expulsion from Ur by her brother, Rimush, and her
reinstatement in the temple there.
Great was the goddess Inanna, daughter of Nanna the god of the
moon, and great her power. Fearsome in battle was she, clad in
armor, laying waste to armies with her weapons and the strength of
her arm. For her strength was that of the wild bull, and her fierceness
in battle that of the lion, her glory was that of the sun shining down
upon the Earth, and all the people bowed down before her in fear
and praise.
One day, Inanna went forth into the mountains. She went to Elam
and Subir. She went into the Lulubi Mountains. She went into the
Lulubi Mountains, and there, in the midst of them, was the greatest
peak, which was called Ebih. As Inanna passed, all the mountains
bowed low before her and did her honor, but Ebih would not bend.
Ebih did not bow down to the ground before her; Ebih did not kiss
the dust at her feet. This greatly angered Inanna, and she swore she
would have vengeance on Ebih for its disrespect.
“Truly shall I make Ebih know my wrath! Truly shall I make it know
how it has wronged me! Ebih did not bow down before me, and Ebih
did not kiss the dust at my feet. I shall bring battle to the mountains. I
shall bring my battering ram and my bow and quiver of arrows. I shall
bring my lance and my shield. Fire will I bring to the forests of the
mountains and an axe to the boles of its trees. All the mountains
shall quail before my rage, and never more shall Ebih hold its head
up with pride.”
And so, Inanna, daughter of Nanna, put on her garments of battle
and her radiant crown whose brilliance was terror to all who beheld
it. She took up her seven-headed weapon and put on her sandals of
lapis lazuli. When the sun had set, she went to the Gate of Wonder
dressed in all her battle array. There she made an offering to An and
prayed to him.
An saw Inanna and saw that she was arrayed for battle. He heard
her prayer, and he smiled upon her. An sat on his divine throne, and
then Inanna came forth to speak to him. “O my father, greetings! You
have given me many gifts, and so it is that none can rival me in
heaven or on Earth. I am terrible to behold, and none may best me in
battle! I am sword and arrow, lance and shield! Kings call upon me,
and I answer, and with my aid, they slay their enemies, and thus I
bring glory to the name of An.
“Today I went forth into the mountains, and the mountain Ebih did me
no honor. The mountain Ebih did not fear me. It did not bow down
before me and kiss the dust at my feet. And so it is that I come
before you, O Father An, to say that I shall go into the mountains
and bring battle to them. I shall use my battering ram and my bow
and arrows. I shall use my lance and my shield. Fire will I bring to the
mountains and an axe to the boles of its trees. All the mountains
shall quail before my rage, and never more shall Ebih hold its head
up with pride.
“Let me go forth in battle array. Let me lay low the mountain that
refused me the honor I am due. Let me vanquish it, and teach it to
respect the goddess Inanna.”
An heard the words of Inanna and said, “So you wish to destroy this
mountain. Very well, but do you know what task lies before you?
What do you really know of this mountain? Let me tell you what task
lies before you, this task against a mountain that even the Annunaki
have cause to fear. The forests of this mountain are thick, and its
orchards heavy with fruit. Under the trees dwell lions, on its flanks
dwell wild rams, and stags run through its meadows, where herds of
wild bulls graze. This mountain is most fearsome, and you will not be
able to vanquish it.”
The lady Inanna did not heed the words of An. She strode away from
him and pushed open the great gate of the House of the Gods. She
strode through the gate in her battle array, her weapons in her
hands, and her wrath was terrible to behold. Her wrath was like a
great flood, and she called up a whirlwind to rage alongside her.
Inanna went into the mountains, and she brought battle to Ebih. The
mountain fought fiercely, but Inanna gave no quarter. She grabbed
the neck of Ebih and roared like a lion as she stabbed its vitals with
her dagger.
The body of Ebih split and crumbled. The stones of Ebih’s body
cracked and rolled down its flanks. The serpents who lived in its
caves and crevasses spat out venom.
Inanna cursed the forests of the mountain and brought a great
drought upon them. She set the forests alight, and the smoke of their
burning blotted out the sun. And so it was that Inanna showed that
she alone had the power and that she alone was due honor and
praise.
Then Inanna spoke to the mountain she had conquered, saying, “O
Ebih Mountain, you thought yourself divine because of your height.
You thought yourself divine because of your beauty. You thought
yourself divine because your peak brushed the very heavens, but
you did not know your place. You did not bow down before me and
kiss the dust at my feet. And so it is that I have vanquished you and
taken all your beauty and might.
“I have vanquished you as I would have done a wild bull. I have
conquered you as I would have done an elephant. Behold, now your
eyes can do nothing but weep, and your heart can do nothing but
mourn, and the birds that nest in what is left of you shall sing songs
only of grief.
“I brought to you the terror that was the gift of Enlil to me. I brought
you battle with the weapons that were the gifts of Enlil, and with my
strength and my weapons, I have brought the mountain down. A
palace have I built for myself, and I have given ritual objects to those
who carry out the cults of the gods.
“It is I who conquered the mountain. Like a flood, I washed it away.
Like a raging wind, I blew it down. I am the victor over Ebih.”
Praise be to Inanna, daughter of Nanna!
Praise be to Nisaba!
Dumuzi and Enkimdu
In this myth, the sun god Utu wishes his sister, the goddess Inanna,
to marry the god of shepherds, Dumuzi. Inanna herself prefers
Enkimdu, the god of farmers. (Enkimdu the farmer is a character
distinct from Gilgamesh’s friend Enkidu.) Dumuzi is insulted by
Inanna’s preference; he wants to be Inanna’s husband. What follows
is a kind of contest between Dumuzi and Enkimdu for the hand of
Inanna, in which each god states what they might bring to the
marriage.
Many scholars have noted the parallels between the myth of Dumuzi
and Enkimdu and the biblical story of Cain and Abel, since both
stories involve a quarrel between a shepherd on the one hand and a
farmer on the other, encapsulating age-old conflicts between
pastoral and agricultural peoples. Unlike the biblical story, however,
the Sumerian myth of Dumuzi and Enkimdu ends with the two gods
becoming friends and agreeing to exchange the products of their
labors with one another. Inanna eventually agrees to marry Dumuzi,
but that is not shown in this story.
There was a time when the sun god Utu went to his sister Inanna
and said, “O my sister, it is time that you were married. It is time that
you chose a husband. I think that you should marry the god of
shepherds, Dumuzi. He has many fine sheep, and his ewes drop
healthy lambs in their season. The milk of his goats is the best in the
land, and the butter and cheese of his sheep cannot be rivaled. He
would be the best husband for you.”
“I’ll not wed a shepherd!” cried Inanna. “I’ll not wed a shepherd and
wear garments of wool. I’ll not wed a shepherd, no! A farmer shall be
my husband. A farmer who grows grain that waves in the wind and
bows down low when it is heavy in the ear. A farmer who grows good
flax for fine linen. Him will I wed!”
Dumuzi heard the words of Inanna, and he said to her, “Why? Why
do you prefer the farmer over me? What does the farmer Enkimdu
have that I lack? He might have a good black robe, but he can trade
that to me for a black ewe. He might have a good white robe, but he
can trade that to me for a white ewe. He might brew good beer, but
he can trade that to me for some of my goats’ milk. Bread he can
give to me in exchange for milk, and lentils he can give me in
exchange for cheese. He can come and dine with me, and I will even
give him extra butter and extra milk!”
Then Dumuzi took his sheep down to the riverbank to graze, and he
was happy there with his flock. While Dumuzi watched over his
sheep, Enkimdu came to him and said, “Why do you compare
yourself to me, O shepherd? What reason have we to quarrel? Your
sheep graze happily here by the river; I will also let them graze on
the stubble after my crops have been harvested. Your sheep drink
water happily from the river; I will also let them drink from the canal
that waters my land.”
Dumuzi listened to the words of Enkimdu, and then he said, “O
farmer, let me count you as my friend. I think we should be friends,
you and I.”
“That is well,” said Enkimdu, “and I shall share with you my barley
and lentils. And also I shall bring barley and lentils to the lady
Inanna, or whatever else shall be her pleasure.”
The Marriage of Martu
Martu is the Sumerian name for the Akkadian god Amurru. The
name “Amurru” also refers to a nomadic people who lived in the hills
rather than in the more urbanized river valleys. Modern readers may
know the Amurru people as “Amorites,” a Semitic-speaking nomadic
tribe mentioned in the Old Testament who originated in what is now
modern Syria. The Amorites did not always live in peace with
Sumerian and Akkadian peoples; from time to time, the Amorites
would conduct raids on settlements in the Mesopotamian lowlands.
City-dwelling Sumerians and Akkadians thought of the Amorites as
barbarians, but it was the Amorites who flooded into and eventually
took over large parts of southern Mesopotamia starting in the 22nd
century BCE and who eventually founded the first great dynasty of
the city of Babylon, which became one of the most important urban
centers in the ancient world.
In the myth retold below, the god Martu is a member of a nomadic
tribe who find themselves in the vicinity of a city called Inab, where a
festival to honor the god Numushda is about to be held. Martu
wishes to marry, and when he wins a wrestling competition held in
honor of Numushda, he declares that his prize will be none other
than the god’s own daughter, Adgarkidu. One of Adgarkidu’s friends
is horrified over the match, since in her eyes Martu is an unwashed,
unlettered barbarian not worthy to wed the city-dwelling Adgarkidu,
but Adgarkidu declares, “I shall marry Martu!” This story, therefore,
represents the merging of two cultures, that of the nomadic hill-
dwelling Amorites and that of the agricultural and urban settlements
of the Tigris and Euphrates Valleys.
Once there was a fine city called Inab. It was well built and well
appointed, and its people were prosperous. In the lands around Inab
lived tribes of nomads. These nomads lived by capturing gazelles
with nets, and every evening, the men would go to the center of their
camp to receive their rations. By the law of their god, unmarried men
received a single ration. Men with a wife but no children received
double, and men with a wife and a child received triple.
Among these people was a man named Martu, who was brave,
handsome, and strong. He went to receive his ration, but every time,
he received a double portion, even though he was unmarried. This
troubled Martu, for it meant that he was receiving more than his
friends, even those who were married, since they had to share their
double portion with their wives.
Martu went to his mother and said, “It is not right that I should
receive a double portion even though I am unmarried. It is not right
that I should receive more than my married friends do. I have a mind
to take a wife. What should I do?”
Martu’s mother said, “If you wish to marry, choose the woman
carefully. Choose a woman you can love and cherish. Take a woman
you can choose for yourself.”
Martu decided to follow his mother’s advice. He started looking for a
woman to marry, but he found none among his own people. But soon
there was to be a great festival in the city of Inab, a festival in honor
of the god Numushda. Martu rejoiced at this, for he could both
participate in the festival and look for a wife. “Come,” Martu said to
his companions, “let us go to the festival together. We will enjoy
ourselves and honor the god, and perhaps I shall find a wife.”
And so, Martu and his friends went to Inab for the festival. There
they saw the god Numushda, who was there with his wife, Namrat,
and his daughter, Adgarkidu. The celebrations were very joyous.
Musicians played loudly upon drums all throughout the city, and in
the temple of Numushda, the young men gathered to compete in
wrestling competitions in his honor.
Martu went to the temple and entered the competition for he loved to
wrestle, and he desired to honor the god as was right and proper to
do. In every bout, Martu was the victor. No one could match him for
strength or skill. Every one of the men who wrestled against him was
defeated. Many went home wounded, and a few died, for they could
not withstand Martu’s great strength.
Numushda watched the wrestling competition, and he marveled at
the strength and skill of Martu. When he saw that Martu had
defeated all the other wrestlers, Numushda rejoiced greatly. He went
to Martu and said, “Lo, you have brought me great honor this day!
Let me reward you as you deserve. I shall give you much silver as
your reward.”
Martu bowed to the god and said, “The lord Numushda is most
generous, but I do not desire silver.”
“What, then?” said Numushda. “Will you accept gold? Jewels? I am
rich beyond compare, and I will share my wealth with you.”
“Neither gold nor jewels are my desire. I wish to marry your
daughter, Adgarkidu, for I have seen her there with you, watching the
competition, and my heart is given to her.”
“Very well,” said Numushda, “but if you are to marry her, you must
pay a bride price worthy of the daughter of a god.”
“Name your price, and I shall pay it,” said Martu.
“My price is calves. Many calves, with their mothers to give milk, and
a bull to breed with.”
“That price I can pay,” said Martu.
“My price also is lambs. Many lambs, with their mothers to give milk,
and a fine ram to breed with.”
“That price I can pay,” said Martu.
“My price also is kids. Many kids, with their mothers to give milk, and
a fine he-goat to breed with.”
“All of your price I can pay,” said Martu, “and more besides.”
Martu paid the price to Numushda as he promised, and he gave
many fine gifts of gold and silver to the people of Inab. Also he gave
them fine garments to wear, of many colors, and shawls for the old
women.
The days went by, but still the marriage feast had not been held.
Adgarkidu’s friend watched the preparations and saw how Martu
paid his bride price, but she thought very little of Martu, despite his
generosity, his strength, and his good looks. The friend went to
Adgarkidu and said, “Why are you marrying that Martu? He really is
not worthy of you. Don’t you know that he and his people live out in
the open, in tents, with only the hide of goats to keep out the wind
and the rain? They roam everywhere in the wilderness, like animals.
I’ll wager Martu doesn’t even know how to honor the gods properly.
He probably knows none of the prayers and none of the rituals. I’ve
even heard that people like him eat their meat raw! Surely you
cannot think to marry Martu!”
But Adgarkidu simply looked at her friend and said, “I shall marry
Martu!”
Part II: Tales of Kings and Heroes
Enmerkar and the Ensuhkeshdanna
Enmerkar was the legendary first king of Uruk, who was deified and
the subject of several myths. Enmerkar is credited with having built
the city of Uruk, one of the principal ancient Sumerian cities situated
between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers in what is now southern
Iraq. Enmerkar also is described as the father of Lugalbanda, the
legendary second king of Uruk and the grandfather of Gilgamesh, an
actual historical personage whose exploits became mythologized in
the ancient Epic of Gilgamesh.
Tales about Enmerkar often state that he is the son of Utu, the sun
god, which also makes him a nephew to the goddess Inanna, the
tutelary goddess of Uruk. In the story retold below, Enmerkar is
engaged in a rivalry with Ensuhkeshdanna, the lord of Aratta, a
mythical city that is described in various tales as beautiful and
supremely wealthy. Here Enmerkar and Ensuhkeshdanna are
fighting over which one of them is more entitled to the favors of
Inanna. The two kings undertake their fight for supremacy by means
of contests between their chief sorcerers.
Once there were two cities, Uruk and Aratta. Enmerkar, son of Utu,
was lord over Uruk, and Ensuhkeshdanna was lord over Aratta. One
day, Ensuhkeshdanna had a mind to begin a rivalry with Enmerkar,
and so he summoned his messenger and said to him, “Go you to the
city of Uruk, and take this message to Enmerkar. Tell Enmerkar that
he should submit to me because although he might enjoy the favors
of Inanna on a beautiful bed, I enjoy her on an even more splendid
bed. And although Enmerkar might see her while she sleeps at night,
I see her during the day and hold converse with her. Enmerkar might
have a fine flock of geese, but mine is even better, and if Enmerkar
does not submit, he will have to beg me to have geese from my
flock.”
The messenger ran to Uruk with the swiftness of a hawk in flight and
went before Enmerkar to deliver his message. “My Lord Enmerkar,
Ensuhkeshdanna, lord of Aratta, begs me to tell you this: ‘Enmerkar
should submit to me because although he might enjoy the favors of
Inanna on a beautiful bed, I enjoy her on an even more splendid bed.
And although Enmerkar might see her while she sleeps at night, I
see her during the day and hold converse with her. Enmerkar might
have a fine flock of geese, but mine is even better, and if Enmerkar
does not submit, he will have to beg me to have geese from my
flock.’”
Enmerkar heard the words of the messenger from Aratta, and he
said, “Take this message back to your master. Tell him that while he
might lie with Inanna on his own beautiful bed, I lie with her on her
own bed that is carved with figures of lions. Enlil himself made me
king. When I was a baby, the mighty Ninurta dandled me on his lap,
and I nursed at the breast of Aruru, sister to Enlil. Inanna might pay
visits to Aratta, but it is in Uruk that she makes her home. And what
of your flocks of geese? You have none. Any geese you have will be
gotten from me, Enmerkar, King of Uruk.”
The messenger ran swiftly back to Aratta and delivered Enmerkar’s
message to Ensuhkeshdanna. When Ensuhkeshdanna heard
Enmerkar’s words, he was downcast. “What reply ought I to make to
Enmerkar? I tested him, and he bested me for sure.”
Ensuhkeshdanna’s counselors said, “It was you who first sent a
boastful message to Uruk. You need not worry about what he will do;
you need to control yourself. Stop vying with Enmerkar; you will
achieve nothing good by doing that.”
Ensuhkeshdanna scoffed at the advice of his counselors. “Enmerkar
might raze my city to the ground, and yet I will be one piece of brick
amongst the rubble. I will never submit to the King of Uruk.”
Word of the contest between Ensuhkeshdanna and Enmerkar came
to the ears of a sorcerer named Urgirinuna, a man from Hamazu. He
had come to live in Aratta after his own city was destroyed.
Urgirinuna went to Ensuhkeshdanna’s vizier and said, “I have heard
what passed between Ensuhkeshdanna and Enmerkar. Tell your lord
Ensuhkeshdanna that I am a sorcerer and that I can make Uruk
submit to Aratta. I can make Uruk and all of its territories bow before
the might of Aratta. Enmerkar and the people of Uruk will come here,
and instead of living in their own city, they will have to work for us.”
The vizier told Ensuhkeshdanna what the sorcerer had said. “This is
excellent!” said Ensuhkeshdanna. “Bring the sorcerer to me, that I
may give him gold and silver for his journey, and tell him that if he
succeeds, he shall have nothing but the choicest food to eat and
nothing but the finest wine to drink for the rest of his days.”
The sorcerer accepted the money from Ensuhkeshdanna and set out
toward the city of Uruk. When he arrived at Uruk, city of the goddess
Nisaba, he went into the cow byre. The cow trembled when she saw
the sorcerer. “Who drinks your milk and eats your butter?” said the
sorcerer, who had the power to speak to animals.
“Nisaba it is who drinks my milk and eats my butter. My cheese
graces Nisaba’s table,” said the cow.
“May your milk go into your horns,” said the sorcerer. “May your milk
go into your back.”
Next the sorcerer went to the pen where the goat was kept. The goat
trembled when she saw the sorcerer.
“Who drinks your milk and eats your butter?” said the sorcerer to the
goat.
“Nisaba it is who drinks my milk and eats my butter. My cheese
graces Nisaba’s table,” said the goat.
“May your milk go into your horns,” said the sorcerer. “May your milk
go into your back.”
When the cowherd went to milk the cow, he found that she had no
milk in her udder, and her calf was crying loudly in hunger. When the
goatherd went to milk the goat, he found that she had no milk either,
and her kid was crying also. The cowherd and the goatherd wept in
despair. They fell down on the ground and prayed to Utu. “O mighty
Utu,” they said, “the sorcerer from Aratta came here and made the
cow and the goat stop giving milk. The animals have no milk to feed
their young, and we have no milk to give to the people. Utu, grant us
your aid!”
At that time, there was a wise woman named Sagburu who lived in
Uruk. She heard what the sorcerer had done to the cow and the
goat. “This cannot stand,” she said to herself. “I must do something
about that evil sorcerer.”
And so Sagburu went to speak to Enmerkar. “I know who it is who
has made the milk dry up,” Sagburu said to the king, “and I shall
make him pay for his crime.”
“What will you do?” said Enmerkar.
“I shall have a contest of magic with him,” she said. “I shall defeat
him, and then he will pay the price for his misdeeds.”
“Very well,” said Enmerkar. “Your reward will be very great if you are
successful. Go and challenge the sorcerer with my blessing!”
Soon enough, Sagburu found the sorcerer, who was sitting in the
shade of a tree near the river. “Sorcerer!” she said. “I have heard
what you did to the cow and the goat of Nisaba. Surely you shall pay
for your misdeeds.”
The sorcerer stood and faced Sagburu and said, “I will do no such
thing. I am the mightiest sorcerer in the land, and I answer to no one,
save that they can defeat me in a contest of magic.”
“What if I were to accept that challenge?” said Sagburu.
“You? Accept my challenge? I think you will lose,” said the sorcerer.
“But if you choose defeat, that is your business. So, this is what I
propose: we should each throw fish spawn into the river and make
animals arise from it. If my animals defeat yours, then I win. If your
animals defeat mine, then you win.”
“I accept your challenge,” said Sagburu.
The woman and the sorcerer each took a handful of fish spawn and
threw it into the river. The sorcerer’s fish spawn changed into a giant
carp that leapt out of the water. The woman’s fish spawn turned into
an eagle that swooped down upon the carp and caught it in its
talons. Then the eagle flew away into the mountains with the carp.
Again, the woman and the sorcerer threw fish spawn into the river.
The sorcerer made his fish spawn turn into an ewe and its lamb. The
woman made her fish spawn turn into a wolf. The wolf leapt upon the
ewe and its lamb and dragged them away into the desert.
A third time they threw fish spawn into the river. The sorcerer made
his fish spawn turn into a cow and its calf. The woman made her fish
spawn turn into a lion. The lion leapt upon the cow and its calf and
dragged them away into the reed beds.
A fourth time they threw fish spawn into the river. The sorcerer made
his fish spawn turn into an ibex and a wild sheep. The woman made
her fish spawn turn into a leopard. The leopard leapt upon the ibex
and the wild sheep and dragged them away into the mountains.
A fifth time they threw fish spawn into the river. The sorcerer made
his fish spawn turn into a gazelle kid. The woman made her fish
spawn turn into a tiger and a lion. The tiger and the lion leapt upon
the gazelle kid and dragged it away into the forest.
The sorcerer saw how the wise woman had defeated him every time,
and he quailed. Sagburu said to him, “Sorcerer, you do have some
power, but what did you think you would achieve by challenging a
wise woman of Uruk? What did you think you would achieve by
challenging a wise woman of the city of Nisaba, the city beloved of
Ninlil, whose destiny is decreed by none other than Enlil and An?”
“Have mercy on me,” said the sorcerer. “I knew nothing of this when I
came to Uruk. You have won our contest; I grant that you are the
more powerful magician. Please do not harm me. Let me return
home to Aratta, and there I will sing your praises to all who will
listen.”
Sagburu replied, “You came to Uruk, and you frightened the animals.
You dried up the udders of the cow and the goat, so that now we
have no milk and no butter. You took away the milk, and now we
have no cheese to grace our tables. There is no pardon for this
offense in Uruk; the law commands it so.” Then Sagburu threw the
sorcerer into the river and killed him. When Sagburu was sure the
sorcerer was dead, she returned home to her city.
When Ensuhkeshdanna found out what had happened to his
sorcerer, he sent a messenger to Enmerkar. The messenger came
before Enmerkar and said, “Ensuhkeshdanna, my master, bids me
tell you this: ‘Surely Enmerkar is the favored of Inanna, and you are
the first in all the lands. I am not your equal and will never match
you.’”
Lugalbanda in the Mountain Cave
This tale is part of a longer narrative detailing deeds of Enmerkar’s
heroic son, Lugalbanda, who in turn was the father of the great
Gilgamesh. The pretext for this story is Enmerkar’s desire to wage
war on Aratta. During the march of Uruk’s army through the Zabu
(Zagros) Mountains on their way to Aratta, Lugalbanda is paralyzed
by illness, and his friends make the heart-wrenching decision to
leave him behind in the hopes that he will recover and rejoin them.
Lugalbanda’s companions leave him well provisioned with many
kinds of food and drink, as well as his axe and dagger. The
translators of this story from the Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian
Literature note that while Lugalbanda’s friends hope he will get well
again, they are in fact hedging their bets and also preparing him for
burial, since the kinds of items they leave with him were part of
Sumerian burial traditions. The story also shows the importance of
the sun, the moon, and the planet Venus within Sumerian religion,
since Lugalbanda prays to each of them for healing once he
recovers enough to be able to pray at all. A further point of the story
is to show how important and favored Lugalbanda is, since in
addition to the three deities who heal him, he is visited by Zangara,
the god of dreams, and by four major deities (An, Enlil, Enki, and
Ninhursag), who come to eat the offering feast he prepares for them.
There came a time when Enmerkar, King of Uruk, decided to mount
a campaign against the city of Aratta. Aratta would not submit to
Uruk, and so Enmerkar marshaled his army and prepared for an
assault against that strong and beautiful city. The number of men in
Enmerkar’s army was so great that it was like a flood in numbers and
in strength.
When all was ready, Enmerkar led his army on the road to Aratta.
Enmerkar marched at the head of his army, and his armor and
weapons glinted in the sun. So brightly did they shine that all who
saw him did not wonder in the least that this was the very son of Utu.
The army of Uruk marched over hills and across plains. For five
days, they marched toward Aratta. On the sixth day, they stopped to
rest, and on the seventh, they began to march into the mountains.
Now, the captains of Enmerkar’s army were seven warriors,
champions and heroes all, sons of Urash, the earth goddess, and
raised in the very house of An himself. The eighth captain was
Enmerkar’s son, Lugalbanda, a man both strong and crafty. But
while the army was marching through the mountains, Lugalbanda fell
gravely ill. He fell to the ground and could neither move nor speak,
although he still breathed and his heart still beat. Enmerkar’s and
Lugalbanda’s friends all tried to help him, but nothing they did made
any difference.
“We should bring him back to Uruk,” said one soldier.
“We cannot,” said Enmerkar, “for it is too far to go, and we can spare
no one.”
“Let us bring him back to Kulaba then,” said another.
“We cannot,” said Enmerkar, “for it is too far to go, and we can spare
no one.”
Lugalbanda’s friends looked about the place where they had
stopped, and they spied a small cave in the side of the mountain.
“Let us leave him there,” said one, “let us leave him there with
provisions and coverings, and maybe the gods will smile upon him
and heal him, and he will rejoin us when he is well.”
Enmerkar agreed that this was a good plan. The soldiers placed
Lugalbanda inside the cave and wrapped him well to keep him
warm. They left him a good number of provisions, dates and figs and
cheese, bread and butter, wine and beer, all packed into leather
bags. Then they prepared some incense in a dish and suspended it
from the roof of the cave above Lugalbanda’s head. Then they
placed his good tin axe and good iron dagger next to him, and during
all these preparations, Lugalbanda’s eyes were open. He watched
what his friends did, and tears flowed down his cheeks, but he was
still unable to move or speak.
Lugalbanda’s friends said to him, “If you should get well, there is
food and drink here to make you strong again. May Utu make you
well and bring you home safe to your city of Kulaba. But if Utu should
call you to the afterlife, we shall stop here when our business in
Aratta is done, and we will bring your body home for proper burial.”
Then Enmerkar’s and Lugalbanda’s friends left the cave, and the
army marched on without him, shedding bitter tears all the while, for
they all were sure that they would never see the mighty Lugalbanda
alive again.
For two days did Lugalbanda lie in that cave, unable either to move
or to speak. On the afternoon of the third day, he was able to move a
little and speak a little, but he was still very weak and very ill.
Lugalbanda raised his hands to the heavens and with many bitter
tears prayed to Utu. “O Utu, O shining one, you are ever blessed! I
beg you, let me be well again. Let me be well so that I can leave this
cave and rejoin my friends. I do not wish to die here, alone and
untended by any who care for me. I do not wish for my companions
to return here only to find my dead body. O Utu, O shining one, let
me be well again!”
Utu heard the prayers of Lugalbanda and spoke to him with words of
encouragement, but still Lugalbanda was weak and ill.
When Utu had gone to his rest, Lugalbanda looked out into the sky,
and there he saw the brightness of Inanna. Lugalbanda raised his
hands to her, and with many bitter tears, he prayed. “O Inanna, O
shining one! Here I am in this cave, when I should be with my
friends. Here I am, alone and friendless, when I should be in my own
beautiful city. Let me be well again! I pray you, O shining one, do not
let me die here, alone and friendless!”
Inanna heard the prayers of Lugalbanda. She came into his cave
and gave him the gift of healing sleep and the gift of peace in his
heart, and then she returned to her own city.
Lugalbanda slept for a time, and when he woke, it was deep night.
Lugalbanda looked out into the sky, and there he saw Nanna shining
brightly. Lugalbanda lifted his hands to Nanna and with many tears
prayed to him. “O bright Nanna, O shining one! Truly you love justice
and despise evil! You are mighty in justice and wrathful against those
who do evil! Let me be well again, O bright Nanna!”
Nanna heard Lugalbanda’s prayers and saw his tears, and he gave
to him the movement of his limbs. Once again, Lugalbanda was able
to stand.
In the morning, Lugalbanda saw the brightness of Utu as he rose
above the horizon. The light of the sun god poured into Lugalbanda’s
cave, and the evil god who had struck Lugalbanda down departed
from him. When Lugalbanda realized he was well again, he said a
prayer of thanks to Utu, praising him greatly.
Lugalbanda walked out of the cave, and there he saw healing plants
growing and a stream flowing with life-giving water, the gifts of the
gods to him. Lugalbanda ate of the plants and drank of the water,
and all his strength returned. Rejoicing that he felt well again,
Lugalbanda ran through the mountains, swift and surefooted. Then
he returned to his cave and packed his weapons and the provisions
his companions had left for him, and he set off to find Enmerkar and
his army.
After walking for some time, Lugalbanda decided to stop and make
camp. He made a fire and baked good bread in the embers. He ate
the bread with date syrup. While Lugalbanda was eating, he heard
the sound of a great beast tearing at the grass. He looked about him,
and there he saw a huge wild bull, eating the grass and drinking from
a nearby stream. Lugalbanda lay in ambush for the bull. He seized it
by the horns and subdued it, then he tethered it in a place near his
camp. Next a herd of goats passed near to Lugalbanda’s camp.
Lugalbanda went out and captured two fine goats. He seized them,
subdued them, then tethered them in a place near his camp.
His meal eaten, the bull and the goats captured, Lugalbanda felt
overcome with weariness. He made himself a bed of fresh mountain
herbs. Then he took a drink of the good beer his friends had given
him, and he lay down to sleep.
While Lugalbanda slept, he had a dream. Zangara, the very god of
dreams himself, appeared to Lugalbanda in the guise of a great bull.
Zangara bellowed to Lugalbanda, saying, “Who will sacrifice the wild
bull for me? Who will sacrifice the wild goats for me? Who will pour
out their blood in sacrifice? The one who must do this is he who
wields the axe of tin. The one who must do this is he who wields the
dagger of iron. Let him make an offering to the gods. Let him offer
the bull and the goats to the gods at the break of day.”
Lugalbanda awoke from his dream, shivering. He sat for a time in
awe at the god’s apparition to him. Then he took up his axe and his
dagger and did as Zangara commanded. He sacrificed the bull and
the goats at the break of day, pouring out their blood into a pit.
Lugalbanda prepared the offerings in a banquet for the gods, and lo!
Enlil, An, Enki, and Ninhursag came to dine upon the freshly roasted
meat. Lugalbanda fed them well on the roasted meat and on the
beer and wine he had on hand, and for a libation he poured out fresh
water.
Then Lugalbanda set up altars to Nanna and Utu, and he decorated
them well with lapis lazuli. For Nanna and Utu, Lugalbanda set out
fresh cakes.
[What remains of the story is fragmentary, and the end of the story is
lost. The parts that remain depart from a narrative about Lugalbanda
and launch into what the Electronic Corpus of Sumerian Literature
says is a description of demons. These descriptions pair the demons
(or whoever else is being described) with various attributes that are
connected to the relevant god or goddess. For example, one line
calls them “gazelles of Suen,” while another calls them “fine smooth
cloths of Ninlil.”]
Lugalbanda and the Anzu Bird
This story of the heroic exploits of Lugalbanda continues the
narrative of the rivalry between Uruk and the mythical city of Aratta.
It also continues the epic of Lugalbanda, explaining how he rejoins
the rest of Enmerkar’s army after he recovers from the illness that
caused his companions to leave him behind in a cave in the Zabu
(Zagros) Mountains in the hope that he might recover.
The Zagros is a range that runs from west to east along the southern
edge of Turkey, turns southeastward to run along the border
between Iraq and Iran, and then farther south along the eastern
shore of the Persian Gulf. The Zagros range was both distant from
Sumerian lands and home to peoples who occasionally were hostile
to the Sumerians; thus, in Sumerian myths, these mountains are
painted as a dangerous place that one might enter but not leave
alive, as well as a home to strange and fantastic creatures.
One such creature that Lugalbanda encounters in his wanderings is
the Anzu Bird. The Anzu Bird or, more simply, “Anzu,” is a formidable
creature that appears in many Sumerian and Mesopotamian tales,
having aspects that are either good or evil depending on when the
particular story about the bird was created. The story retold here
leans toward presenting the Anzu Bird as vain and fearsome but
basically good. Some representations of Anzu in ancient art show
him as a lion-headed eagle and others as half-man, half-bird. The
Anzu Bird was associated with thunder and storms in ancient
Sumerian myths, and although considered a powerful being, it
seems to have not enjoyed its own worship cult.
There came a time when Lugalbanda was on campaign with the
armies of the cities of Uruk, going out to fight the city of Aratta
alongside King Enmerkar, son of Utu, the sun god, and Lugalbanda
became separated from his companions. Lugalbanda was lost in the
Zabu Mountains and had no one to turn to for advice. As Lugalbanda
walked along a mountain path, he spied the nest of the Anzu Bird, a
monstrous creature with enormous talons and a serrated beak like
the mouth of a shark. The nest was in a great tree, the crown of
which spread out even over the highest mountain peaks, and its
roots were buried in the mouth of a great river belonging to Utu, god
of the sun.
“I know what I shall do,” said Lugalbanda. “I shall go to the bird and
speak to him graciously. I shall provide good beer and sweet cakes
for him and his family. Maybe if I treat him well, he will tell me where
my brothers in arms have gone, where I might find the troops of my
city Uruk.”
Lugalbanda made cakes, sweetening them with golden honey. He
went to the Anzu Bird’s nest and found inside it a young chick.
Lugalbanda fed the sweet cakes to the chick, and also some meat
and good sheep’s fat. Then he beautified the chick, painting its eyes
with kohl and perfuming it with oil of cedar. He decorated the nest
with bright flowers and shavings of cedar. Leaving behind some
salted meat, Lugalbanda went and hid himself, waiting to see what
would happen.
While Lugalbanda fed the chick and decorated the nest, the Anzu
Bird was out herding his cattle. When his work was done, he
captured one of the bulls and killed it, and he laid it across his back.
Then he picked up a live bull in his talons, and with his burdens, he
flew home. The Anzu Bird arrived at his nest but could not see his
chick inside it. When the Anzu Bird’s wife arrived and looked inside
the nest, she also saw the chick had gone missing. The Anzu Bird
and his wife both sent up a cry of mourning. “Where has our chick
gone? Oh, this is a most terrible thing. Who has taken away our
precious child?”
The Anzu Bird looked more closely at his nest, and he saw that it
had been decorated with bright flowers and cedar shavings, and in
the midst of this was the chick, its eyes painted with kohl and its
down anointed with oil of cedar. The Anzu Bird saw this and rejoiced.
“Look and see! Look what has become of my nest! Surely it is now a
palace for a great king. Who has done this? Come, show yourself!
Enlil is my father, and I have the power to decide fates and destinies.
Show yourself, and I shall make a path for you clear of all enemies
and strife!”
Lugalbanda came out from his hiding place and bowed low before
the great bird. “O mighty Anzu Bird, your eyes sparkle like a heaven
full of stars. Your wingspan is so great the sky can barely encompass
it. The sharpness of your talons is beyond compare and is the bane
of bulls and cows, sheep and goats. Your feathers are more beautiful
than the freshest, most well-tended garden. I came here yesterday,
hoping to put myself under your protection; I greet you well and ask
that you decide my fate for me.”
“Your fate shall be to take away a great gift,” said the Anzu Bird. “You
will have a great barge full of all good things, grain and cucumbers,
apples and gold. That shall be your fate.”
“O great Anzu Bird,” said Lugalbanda, “that is most generous, but it
is not what I desire.”
“Take then these arrows,” said the bird. “They will always strike their
target. You will be the greatest archer in the whole world!”
“O great Anzu Bird,” said Lugalbanda, “surely that is a great gift, but
it is not what I desire.”
“Then take the mighty helmet of Ninurta and his golden breastplate.”
“Ah,” said Lugalbanda, “you tempt me with great honor, but alas, that
is not what I desire.”
“What of the butter churn of Dumuzi? It never empties, and it never
tires of churning out the sweetest butter,” said the bird.
“Indeed that is a fine gift,” said Lugalbanda, “but it is not what I
desire.”
“Now, then, Lugalbanda, it is not good that you should refuse all of
my gifts. But I owe you a debt, and so, I will give you whatever you
ask of me.”
“O great Anzu Bird,” said Lugalbanda, “give me the power of
running. Let me run and run and never tire! Let me run swift as the
lightning, swift as the howling wind. If I look toward the place I wish
to go, let me arrive there in no time! Give me this, and I shall
command a statue to be made of you, more beautiful than any other
statue in the world. All of Sumer shall hear of your beauty and your
power, and great praise shall come to you and to the gods thereby.”
And so it was that the Anzu Bird gave to Lugalbanda the power of
running. He gave to him the power of running without tiring; he gave
him the swiftness of the lightning and the howling wind. “And lo,” said
the bird, “my statue shall be the most beautiful, and my name
proclaimed throughout all of Sumer!”
Lugalbanda thanked the bird well for his gift and then asked if the
bird knew where his companions were. “I know not,” said the bird,
“but I will see whether I can find them.”
The Anzu Bird spread his great wings and flew aloft. After circling for
some time, he spied the troops of Uruk. He returned to his nest and
said, “I have found them, Lugalbanda, and I will tell you which way to
go, but first you must listen to my words. When you find your
companions, do not tell them of the gift I gave you, for one never
knows when a gift may turn out to be a curse in disguise. And do not
return here to my nest. You stay with your friends.”
Lugalbanda took up his weapons and set out to find the troops of the
city of Uruk. When he arrived in their camp, they were surprised and
happy to see him. “Lugalbanda!” they cried. “Where have you been?
We looked for you everywhere but could not find you. We had given
you up for dead! No one ever comes back from those mountains
alive!”
“Well, I forded the rivers on my own two legs and drank up all their
waters,” said Lugalbanda. “I ate of what I found in the meadows and
of the acorns beneath the trees.” All the men of Uruk flocked around
Lugalbanda to hear his story, to press food and drink upon him, and
to rejoice that he had returned to them unharmed.
The next day, the armies of Uruk marched to the city of Aratta, and
they made their encampment outside the walls. The men of Aratta
hurled javelins and stones at the men of Uruk. The men of Aratta
hurled so many javelins and stones that it was like rain falling from
the sky.
For a long time, the men of Uruk fought to take Aratta, but they did
not succeed. They tried for many months, and soon the months had
turned into a year, and still Aratta did not fall. In front of them, the
men of Uruk had a storm of javelins and stones, and behind them
they had mountains full of thorns and fell beasts, and no one knew
how they might return to their city alive.
King Enmerkar, brave as he was, began to think that maybe this was
where he would meet his doom, alongside his army. He asked
among his soldiers who would go back to Uruk to find aid, but none
would go. He went to his elite soldiers, heroes every one of them,
and asked who of them would go to Uruk, but none would go. Again,
he asked the regular soldiers, and again, they refused. Once more,
Enmerkar went to the elite soldiers and asked who of them would go
to Uruk, and this time, Lugalbanda stood forth and said, “O King
Enmerkar, I will do this errand, but I must do it alone.”
Enmerkar said, “Very well. Go you to Uruk, and go without
companions. Take with you the standard of Uruk. Go in haste!
Return soon! Guard the standard with your very life!”
Then Enmerkar, son of Utu, said to Lugalbanda, “This is the
message you shall bear. Go to my sister Inanna and say: ‘O Inanna,
my sister! Your wish it was that I raise the city of Uruk from out of the
marsh of Uruk. The mighty Enki helped me drain the marsh, and
there I built my city, and the building of it took fifty years. And now I
find myself here on campaign, and my holy sister has abandoned
me. You have fled back to the city of Uruk, leaving me here to lead
these armies alone. If you are going to abandon me, at the very least
see to it that I return home, so that I might lay aside my spear. And
when I return, you may split my shield asunder.’ That it what you are
to say to my sister Inanna.”
Then Lugalbanda left the presence of the king and went to collect
what he needed for his journey. Word had spread throughout the
camp that Lugalbanda was leaving on the king’s errand, and
everywhere he went his comrades shouted for him not to leave.
“Why must you go?” they said. “Find someone else to do this errand!
Do not leave us!”
“I must go,” said Lugalbanda. “I made a solemn oath to the king, and
I must go alone.”
“If you leave you will never return,” said his companions. “You must
cross those mountains, and no one ever comes down from them
alive!”
“I must not tarry,” said Lugalbanda. “I must go, and no one must
come with me.”
Lugalbanda took up his weapons and provisions, and he left the
camp. He walked into the mountains and across the plains. He
arrived in the city of Uruk by midnight and went before the lady
Inanna. Lugalbanda said to her, “O Lady Inanna, greetings. I come to
you with a message from your brother, Enmerkar, who bids me say
this: ‘O Inanna, my sister! Your wish it was that I raise the city of
Uruk from out of the marsh of Uruk. The mighty Enki helped me
drain the marsh, and there I built my city, and the building of it took
fifty years. And now I find myself here on campaign, and my holy
sister has abandoned me. You have fled back to the city of Uruk,
leaving me here to lead these armies alone. If you are going to
abandon me, at the very least see to it that I return home, so that I
might lay aside my spear. And when I return, you may split my shield
asunder.’”
Inanna listened well to the message of Lugalbanda, and she said to
him, “I thank you for bringing me my brother’s words. Here is the
message you must bring back to him. Tell him that he must go to the
holy river of Inanna. On its banks grow the sacred tamarisk trees.
One tamarisk stands alone there. Enmerkar must cut down that
solitary tamarisk and make from it a bucket. Then he must clean the
riverbank of its reeds and catch the holy suhurmash fish that swims
in those waters. He must cook the fish and season it well, and then
he must offer it to the holy war weapon of Inanna. When that is done,
Enmerkar shall have the strength he needs to defeat the city of
Aratta. And when he has taken the city, he must take from it its metal
and metalworkers and its stones and stonemasons. He must rebuild
the city and make it his. Enmerkar must do what I command, and
then the city of Aratta shall belong to him.”
The Sumerian Gilgamesh
Part I: Inanna and the Huluppu Tree
The Sumerian version of the Gilgamesh epic shares certain
episodes with the later and more well-known Babylonian version, but
other aspects of the Sumerian collection of tales are distinct. The
story retold below is one of these distinct myths, telling of events that
happened right after the creation of the world. In this story,
Gilgamesh is said to be the brother of the goddess Inanna, who has
planted a huluppu tree—possibly a willow, according to Assyriologist
Samuel Kramer—from which she wishes to make some furniture.
But the female demon Lilith, a serpent, and the Anzu Bird are
occupying the tree, preventing Inanna from cutting it down, so she
enlists Gilgamesh to help her.
Although Gilgamesh was an actual historical personage who ruled
Sumer some time before circa 2300 BCE, here we see him as a
mythologized hero and divine figure who can easily banish such
powerful creatures as Anzu Birds and who can uproot whole trees
with his bare hands. In gratitude for her brother’s help, Inanna uses
the branches and roots of the tree to make for Gilgamesh a mikku
and a pukku, two objects that are thought to have been the stick and
the ball, respectively, that were used in some sort of ancient
Sumerian game, the rules of which are now lost.
Long, long ago, in the first days of the world, in those first days after
all had been created by the gods, a huluppu tree grew by the banks
of the Euphrates River. But one day, a great storm arose, a storm
with a great southerly wind, and the wind uprooted the tree and sent
it toppling into the water.
The tree floated along down the river. Holy Inanna was walking along
the banks of the river, and she saw the tree being carried along by
the current. Inanna thought to herself, “If I take this tree home and
plant it in my garden in Uruk, it will grow well, and I shall use it to
make a fine chair for me to sit upon and a fine couch for me to lie
upon.”
And so Inanna plucked the tree from the river and then planted it in
her garden. Inanna tended the tree well and carefully, waiting for it to
grow large enough that she could use it to make her chair and her
couch.
After many years, the tree had grown tall, and its trunk had grown
thick, and so Inanna thought to cut down the tree, for now it might
make a fine chair and a fine couch. But when Inanna tried to cut
down the tree, she found that she could not do it. Inanna could not
cut down the tree, for a serpent that no magic could touch had
twined itself around the trunk at the roots, and the Anzu Bird had
made a nest for its young in the branches, and the demon-woman
Lilith had made her home inside the trunk.
Inanna saw the serpent and the bird and the woman who had made
their homes in her tree, and Inanna wept. She wept many bitter
tears, this woman who had known only joy until now. She wept
because she could not cut down her tree and make either her fine
chair or her fine couch.
Inanna went to her brother, Utu, the god of the sun. She told him all
that had happened, how she plucked the tree from the river and
planted it in her garden, how she wanted to make a chair and a
couch from its wood, but that now she could not cut down the tree
because of the serpent and the Anzu Bird and the demon-woman
Lilith.
Utu did not listen to his sister. He refused to help Inanna.
Inanna went to her brother, Gilgamesh, the mighty hero. She told
him all that had happened, how she plucked the tree from the river
and planted it in her garden, how she wanted to make a chair and a
couch from its wood, but that now she could not cut down the tree
because of the serpent and the Anzu Bird and the demon-woman
Lilith.
The mighty Gilgamesh helped his sister, Inanna. Gilgamesh
strapped on his armor and took up his mighty axe that he had
wielded against many enemies, the armor and the axe that no other
man had the strength to bear or wield. Then Gilgamesh summoned
his companions from the city of Uruk, and together with his
companions, Gilgamesh went to the tree his sister had planted in her
garden.
Gilgamesh went to the tree, and he smote the serpent that could not
be charmed by magic that had twined itself around the base of the
tree. When the Anzu Bird saw what Gilgamesh had done to the
serpent, she called to her young, and they all flew away to a far-off
land. When the demon-woman Lilith saw what Gilgamesh had done
to the serpent, she fled the tree and ran far, far away into the
wilderness.
Then Gilgamesh uprooted the tree using nothing but his bare hands
and the strength of his arms. Then the companions of Gilgamesh
stripped the tree of its branches and tied them neatly into bundles.
The trunk of the tree Gilgamesh gave to his sister, Inanna, and from
that wood Gilgamesh made her chair and her couch. The roots and
the branches of the tree Gilgamesh kept for himself. From the roots,
Inanna made for Gilgamesh a pukku, and from the branches, she
made a mikku, the ball and the stick that Gilgamesh used to play his
game.
Part II: Enkidu in the Underworld
The greater part of this section of the myth is devoted to a detailed
explication of the Sumerian understanding of the afterlife. In the
Sumerian Underworld, the fortunate dead are the ones who had
many children, especially sons (seven is the perfect number), while
those who refused or were unable to produce children become
trapped in loops of trivial annoyances. Other fortunate dead are
those whose living relatives make offerings to them, as well as the
stillborn children, who enjoy a sort of paradise. The lepers, on the
other hand, receive no relief from their sufferings, and the warriors
killed in battle must exist without comfort, knowing that their loved
ones weep for them.
This section of the Sumerian Gilgamesh also varies highly from the
Babylonian version in the character of Enkidu. In the Babylonian
epic, Enkidu is a hairy wild man sent to kill Gilgamesh but who ends
up becoming Gilgamesh’s companion in arms and best friend;
together, the pair share many heroic adventures. Here in the
Sumerian version, however, Enkidu is just as human and just as
civilized as his noble master is, and instead of being a heroic figure,
he is simply a servant, albeit one whom Gilgamesh loves very
deeply.
Gilgamesh took up his mikku and pukku that he made from the wood
of Inanna’s huluppu tree and then went into the town square and
began to play at ball with them. The young men of the town joined
him at his game. Together they played, up and down the square.
Gilgamesh did not treat the young men kindly. He hit them with the
ball; he struck them with his stick. When the widows came to bring
food to their sons, the young men complained that Gilgamesh had
used them very roughly. When the maidens came to bring water to
their brothers, the young men complained that Gilgamesh had hurt
them with the violence of his play.
At sunset, Gilgamesh took his stick and marked the last spot where
the ball had fallen, thinking to resume the game the next day. He
took his stick and ball home, where he had a meal and retired for the
night. The next morning, Gilgamesh went back to the town square to
play at ball. But the widows and the young maidens had been crying
to the gods about how their young men had been treated, and so,
Gilgamesh’s stick and ball fell out of his hands and went down,
down, down into the very Underworld itself.
Gilgamesh tried to get his stick and ball back. Down, down, down he
stretched his hand, but he could not reach them. He tried with his
foot. Down, down, down he stretched his foot, but he still could not
reach his stick and his ball. Gilgamesh went down to the Gate of the
Underworld. He sat himself down in front of the gate and began to
weep. “Oh, how my heart sorrows for the loss of my stick! Oh, how
my eyes weep for the loss of my ball! How will I ever get them
back?”
And so it was that Gilgamesh sat before the Gate of the Underworld
and mourned the loss of his mikku and pukku.
Enkidu, the servant of Gilgamesh, heard his master weeping. Enkidu
went to Gilgamesh and said, “O my Master, why do you weep so?
What has happened that you are in mourning?”
Gilgamesh answered, “My ball and stick have fallen into the
Underworld, and I cannot get them back.”
“Never fear,” said Enkidu. “Weep no more. I will go to the Underworld
myself. I will bring back to you your stick and your ball.”
“Very well,” said Gilgamesh. “Go and fetch them for me. But you
must listen to my instructions, and heed them well. Do not wear
clean garments. The dead will know you do not belong among them.
Do not anoint yourself with oil. The dead will smell the scent and
surround you. Do not hurl a throwing stick in the Underworld. Those
whom you strike also will surround you. Carry no staff, for that will
frighten the spirits and anger them. Neither wear sandals upon your
feet, nor speak with a loud voice. Embrace not the wife and son you
love. Do not strike a blow upon the wife and son you hate. If they cry
out, you will never be allowed to leave!
“The mother of Ninazu is there, the mother of the god of the
Underworld. She is a most fearsome creature, one to be avoided, for
she wears neither bright garments nor fair linen shifts, and her nails
are as long and as sharp as the head of a pickaxe, and she uses
these to pluck out her own hair, which grows from her head as leeks
grow in a garden!”
But Enkidu did not heed the commands of Gilgamesh. He dressed
himself in clean garments and anointed himself with oil. He put his
sandals on his feet. He took with him his throwing stick and his staff.
And there in the Underworld he hurled the throwing stick and struck
some of the dead with it. He spoke with a loud voice. He embraced
the wife and son he loved, and he struck the wife and son he hated.
Oh, how the cry went up in the Underworld that an intruder was
among the spirits of the dead and was using them ill!
Seven days went by. Gilgamesh waited for seven days for his
servant Enkidu to return to him, but Enkidu did not return. Gilgamesh
began to weep. “Woe, woe, woe! My beloved servant Enkidu has
gone into the Underworld and cannot get out.”
Gilgamesh went to the E-kur, to the home of the great god Enlil.
Gilgamesh knelt before the great Enlil and said, “Woe! My beloved
servant Enkidu has gone into the Underworld to fetch me back my
mikku and pukku, but they will not let him out. They will not let him
leave the Underworld. Enkidu has ridden through the rage of battle
and did not die, yet now he is in the Underworld and cannot leave.
He went into the Underworld through its own gate of his own accord.
He was not brought there by Namtar, god of fate, or by the demon
Asag, or even by Nergal, the god of the Underworld. Enkidu went of
his own accord and now cannot leave!”
But Enlil would not hear the prayer of Gilgamesh. Enlil would not
release Enkidu from the Underworld.
Next Gilgamesh went to Eridu, the home of the great god Enki.
Gilgamesh knelt before the great Enki and said, “Woe! My beloved
servant Enkidu has gone into the Underworld to fetch me back my
mikku and pukku, but they will not let him out. They will not let him
leave the Underworld. Enkidu has ridden through the rage of battle
and did not die, yet now he is in the Underworld and cannot leave.
He went into the Underworld through its own gate of his own accord.
He was not brought there by Namtar, god of fate, or by the demon
Asag, or even by Nergal, the god of the Underworld. Enkidu went of
his own accord and now cannot leave!”
Enki listened to the plight of Gilgamesh, and he heard his prayer.
Enki turned to his son Utu and said, “You will help Gilgamesh get his
servant back. Use your power to make a crack in the Underworld.
Bring back Enkidu through this crack.”
Utu did what Enki commanded. He caused a great crack to form in
the wall of the Underworld. Utu sent a strong wind through the crack.
The wind searched out Enkidu and brought him back to the land of
the living through the crack Utu had made.
When Enkidu came back to Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh embraced him
heartily. Enkidu embraced his master heartily. They both wept tears
of joy that Enkidu had come back alive from the Underworld.
“Tell me,” said Gilgamesh, “tell me all you saw and heard in the
Underworld. Tell me what it is like there, in the land of the dead.”
“I can tell you these things,” said Enkidu, “but you should sit down
first, for surely what I have to tell will make you weep.”
“Very well,” said Gilgamesh, “I shall sit and weep, only tell me all.”
“The organs of generation, the male member and the woman’s
secret place, are all rotted and turned to dust.”
“Oh!” cried Gilgamesh, and then he sat down and began to weep.
“But what of the man who has one son?” said Gilgamesh. “Tell me
how it goes with him in the Underworld.”
“He looks at the peg that is in the wall next to him, and it makes him
weep.”
“And the man who has two sons? What of him?”
“He sits on some bricks and eats bread,” said Enkidu.
“What of the man who has three sons? How does it go with him?”
“He drinks water that is kept in a waterskin, the sort one hangs on
one’s saddle,” said Enkidu.
Then Gilgamesh asked, “And the man who has four sons, what
happens with him in the Underworld?”
“Oh, that man rejoices, just like a man who owns four fine asses to
work for him.”
“What of the man who has five sons?” asked Gilgamesh.
Enkidu answered, “That man is like a good scribe. He is tireless and
always may enter the palace with great ease.”
“How does it go with the man who has six sons?”
“That man rejoices as does the farmer who has good land to till,”
said Enkidu.
“And the man who has seven sons,” said Gilgamesh. “How does it
go with him?”
“Oh, that man is most blessed,” said Enkidu, “for he has leave to sit
among the gods and listen to their speech.”
“What of the man who has no sons at all?” asked Gilgamesh.
Enkidu replied, “That man must eat bread so hard that it is like a clay
tile.”
“And the eunuch who serves the king, what of him?”
“He stands in the corner like a useless stick.”
“What of the woman who never bore children? How does it go with
her?” asked Gilgamesh.
“She is cast aside like an empty pot, and no man ever approaches
her.”
“And the man who never had relations with his wife,” said
Gilgamesh. “What of him?”
“He makes a rope, and when it is done, he weeps over it,” said
Enkidu.
“What of the wife who never had relations with her husband?” asked
Gilgamesh.
“She makes a reed mat, and when it is made, she weeps over it.”
“And the lepers, how do they fare in the land of the dead?”
“They twitch like oxen do under the sting of flies,” said Enkidu.
“What of the warrior who was slain on the field? What becomes of
him?”
“His mother cannot comfort him, and his wife weeps without
ceasing.”
“The dead ones who receive no offerings,” said Gilgamesh. “What
becomes of them?”
“They live by gleaning crusts of bread thrown into the street by
others.”
“The little children who are stillborn and have died without even
being named, what becomes of them?”
“Oh, they live very well, eating milk and honey off a golden table.”
“And the man who was burned to death,” said Gilgamesh, “what
becomes of him?”
“His spirit is not in the Underworld. It went up into the sky like a wisp
of smoke.”
Part III: Gilgamesh and Huwawa
Despite his semi-divine nature, Gilgamesh is aware of his own
mortality, and here in this story, he wishes to ensure that his name
will be known after his death. In his quest to achieve this, he goes to
the Mountains of Cedar to cut down trees and there disturbs a
powerful and mysterious creature known as Huwawa. Huwawa is not
described in the Sumerian version of the myth, but in the Babylonian
version—in which he is called Humbaba—he is drawn as a kind of
grotesque lion-faced giant whom the god Enlil has charged with
protecting the cedar forests.
In this story, Huwawa finds the noise of Gilgamesh’s logging
activities to be unbearable and thus puts the hero and his
companions into an enchanted sleep, which angers Gilgamesh
greatly once he awakens and realizes what Huwawa has done.
Gilgamesh decides to have his revenge, first by tricking Huwawa into
giving Gilgamesh some of his powers. Then Gilgamesh assaults
Huwawa and takes him captive, after which Enkidu kills him. In the
end, Gilgamesh learns a hard lesson about vengeance and the thirst
for power; when Enlil finds out what Gilgamesh and Enkidu have
done, he strips Gilgamesh of Huwawa’s powers and distributes them
throughout the world.
One day, Gilgamesh looked toward the mountains. He looked toward
the mountains where the Living One dwelled and thought to himself
that he ought to make a journey there. Gilgamesh said to his servant
Enkidu, “I have a mind to make a journey to the mountain of the
Living One, for death comes to every man regardless of his station. I
shall make a journey to that mountain and there shall I establish my
name. In places where others have established their names, I also
will establish mine. In places where no names have yet been
established, I will establish the names of the gods.”
Enkidu said, “My lord, a journey to the mountain surely is a good
thing, but first you should tell Utu what you purpose to do. Tell Utu,
the god of the sun, that you purpose to go to the Mountains of Cedar
because all that concerns the mountains concerns Utu. Tell him what
you purpose to do.”
Gilgamesh saw the wisdom of Enkidu’s words, and so, he took up a
kid goat and held it to his breast. He took up his sacred staff and
held it before his face, and then he spoke to Utu, who dwells in the
heavens: “O Utu, O shining one, I purpose to go to the Mountains of
Cedar. O Utu, who dwells in the heavens, I am going to the
mountains, and I ask your aid!”
Utu replied, “What would you do there in the mountains? In your own
land you are a king and a nobleman, but what station would you
have in the mountains?”
“O shining one, I have given thought to this. I have given thought to
my journey, and I wish you to attend to my thought. I look about my
city, and every day people are dying. People die, and then the living
mourn them, and all hearts are heavy. I looked over my city wall, I
looked at the river, and lo! it was swollen with corpses. I looked over
my city wall and saw that, and I know that one day I will be as one of
those dead who float in the river. No man may escape his fate, for no
man is great enough to achieve this.
“I know that I will die someday. I will die and I will go from this world,
but before I do, I wish to establish my name in the mountains. I will
establish my name in all places it can be established, and in places
where no man’s name may be established, I shall establish the
names of the gods.”
And so it was that Gilgamesh told Utu what he proposed to do,
shedding many tears all the while. Utu heard the words of Gilgamesh
and saw his tears and accepted those tears as a gift, as one with a
compassionate heart always ought to do.
“Let me tell you what I shall do,” Utu said to Gilgamesh. “I will help
you in your quest. Seven warriors there are, all sons of the same
mother. Great and strong are they, one and all! The eldest has a
lion’s paws and an eagle’s talons. The second is a venomous
serpent. The third is verily a dragon. The fourth is all made of flame.
The fifth is yet another serpent. The sixth is a flood that washes all
before him. The seventh is lightning, and none may turn him aside.
There is no place on Earth that they do not know, no way or path that
is unknown to them, and they will help you on your journey to the
Mountains of Cedar.”
Gilgamesh rejoiced greatly at the words of Utu. He went into the
center of his city and blew a great blast upon his horn. The blast was
so great that all who heard it wondered how one man could make
such a sound, for it was so loud it sounded as though two men were
blowing their horns together with all their might.
Then Gilgamesh said to the people of his city, “I require fifty men to
aid me in my quest! Let them be young men and strong, who have
not yet married!”
The people followed the commands of Gilgamesh. Fifty young,
strong, unmarried men came forward to be the companions of
Gilgamesh.
Gilgamesh led the band of fifty to the forge. There he had weapons
cast for his men, long knives and battle axes. Then he led his band
of fifty to the forest. There they cut down trees of ebony, apricot, and
box, and they used the wood for the shafts and hilts of the weapons.
When all was ready, Gilgamesh set out for the mountains. He went
to the mountains looking for the perfect cedar tree to use. He
crossed the first mountain range, but the perfect cedar was not
there. He crossed the second mountain range, but the perfect cedar
was not there. He crossed the third mountain range, and the fourth,
but the perfect cedar was not there either. He crossed the fifth
mountain range, and the sixth, but the perfect cedar was not there.
Finally, he came to the seventh mountain range, and there was the
perfect cedar, the one Gilgamesh had been seeking.
Gilgamesh took up his mighty axe and felled that great cedar. Enkidu
took up his axe and lopped off the branches. The fifty men of
Gilgamesh’s band picked up the branches and set them neatly in a
pile.
The felling of the tree and the lopping and stacking of the branches
made a great deal of noise. The noise disturbed Huwawa in his lair.
Huwawa was frightened by all the noise, and so, he sent forth his
power against Gilgamesh and his men. Suddenly Gilgamesh and his
men were overcome with sleep. They all fell to the ground and were
insensible.
For a long time they slept, and the first to wake was Enkidu. Enkidu
looked about him. He rubbed his eyes and looked about, and
everywhere was nothing but silence. Enkidu went to Gilgamesh and
touched him, but Gilgamesh did not wake. “O Gilgamesh, O my lord
and king, will you yet sleep? Look, the day is nearly ended! Utu is
ending his journey and goes to his rest; will you yet sleep? The fifty
who came with you, they should go back to their city. Their mothers
are waiting for them. Will you yet sleep?”
But Gilgamesh would not wake, so Enkidu took a cloth and soaked it
with precious oil. He rubbed the oil over the chest of Gilgamesh, and
when this was done, Gilgamesh woke and jumped up on all fours
like a great bull. He bent his neck downward and roared, “By the life
of Ninsun, the goddess who bore me, and by my father, the great
Lugalbanda, how is it that I slumber like a babe, like the babe I was
at the breast of Ninsun? I swear that until I find the one who did this
to me, I shall not return to my city, and I care not whether that one is
mortal or divine!”
Enkidu tried to soothe his master, saying, “My lord, you have not
seen the one who did this, but I have! Oh, I have seen him, and he is
fearsome to behold. He is a great warrior, with teeth like a dragon. I’ll
wager he even feasts on man-flesh as do the lions in the desert.
“Go you up into the mountains, but let me return to our city. What
shall I tell your mother? Surely she will rejoice if you yet live, but if I
must tell her you have died, she will mourn and weep.”
“Never fear, Enkidu,” said Gilgamesh, “never fear, for we will go
together and we will not die, for who will stand against us? Let us go
and look for the one who did this. Never fear; let us go and find him!”
But Huwawa never let anyone come nearer to him than sixty pole-
lengths, and so fearsome was that creature, that whoever he set his
eye upon would die. Huwawa knew that Gilgamesh and Enkidu were
approaching, and he said very plainly, “I know you are there! Never
shall you return to your city! Never shall you return to your mother!”
Gilgamesh heard the words of Huwawa, and a great wave of terror
rose within his body, and he found he could not move. Gilgamesh
was filled with fear, and he stood as one rooted to the spot.
Huwawa looked upon Gilgamesh and said, “Look at you, so well
made in your body. A beautiful son you are to your mother! A tall tree
you are, noble and brave, and the apple of the gods’ eyes! Put your
hands on the ground, then, don’t be afraid!”
Gilgamesh did as Huwawa told him to do, and with his hands on the
ground, he said, “By my mother Ninsun, the goddess who bore me,
and by my father, the great Lugalbanda! I think you and I should
make a pact together. Let me give you my big sister Enmebaragesi
to be your wife. Let me also give you my little sister Peshtur to be
your concubine! They are yours if you give me your power of fear,
and we shall be bound together as kinsmen.”
And so, Huwawa gave to Gilgamesh his first power of fear.
Gilgamesh’s companions took it and stripped off the branches from
it. Then they stacked the branches neatly and bound them in
bundles and took them all to the foot of the mountain, where they
laid them down.
Then Gilgamesh went a second time to Huwawa and said, “By my
mother Ninsun, the goddess who bore me, and by my father, the
great Lugalbanda! I think you and I should make a pact together. Let
me give you [text lost]. It is yours if you give me your power of fear,
and we shall be bound together as kinsmen.”
And so, Huwawa gave to Gilgamesh his second power of fear. The
fifty men in Gilgamesh’s band lopped off all of its branches. They
stacked the branches neatly and bound them in bundles and took
them all to the foot of the mountain, where they laid them down.
A third time Gilgamesh went to Huwawa and said, “By my mother
Ninsun, the goddess who bore me, and by my father, the great
Lugalbanda! I think you and I should make a pact together. Let me
give you some of the finest flour there is and the freshest, coolest
water in a waterskin. They are yours if you give me your power of
fear, and we shall be bound together as kinsmen.”
And so, Huwawa gave to Gilgamesh his third power of fear. The fifty
men in Gilgamesh’s band lopped off all of its branches. They stacked
the branches neatly and bound them in bundles and took them all to
the foot of the mountain, where they laid them down.
Again, Gilgamesh went to Huwawa and said, “By my mother Ninsun,
the goddess who bore me, and by my father, the great Lugalbanda! I
think you and I should make a pact together. Here I have some
beautiful big sandals for big feet. They are yours if you give me your
power of fear, and we shall be bound together as kinsmen.”
And so, Huwawa gave to Gilgamesh his fourth power of fear. The
fifty men in Gilgamesh’s band lopped off all of its branches. They
stacked the branches neatly and bound them in bundles and took
them all to the foot of the mountain, where they laid them down.
A fifth time Gilgamesh went to Huwawa and said, “By my mother
Ninsun, the goddess who bore me, and by my father, the great
Lugalbanda! I think you and I should make a pact together. Here I
have some beautiful small sandals for small feet. They are yours if
you give me your power of fear, and we shall be bound together as
kinsmen.”
And so, Huwawa gave to Gilgamesh his fifth power of fear. The fifty
men in Gilgamesh’s band lopped off all of its branches. They stacked
the branches neatly and bound them in bundles and took them all to
the foot of the mountain, where they laid them down.
Yet again Gilgamesh went to Huwawa and said, “By my mother
Ninsun, the goddess who bore me, and by my father, the great
Lugalbanda! I think you and I should make a pact together. Here I
have some semi-precious stones, chalcedony and lapis lazuli, and
some rock crystal besides. They are yours if you give me your power
of fear, and we shall be bound together as kinsmen.”
And so, Huwawa gave to Gilgamesh his sixth power of fear. The fifty
men in Gilgamesh’s band lopped off all of its branches. They stacked
the branches neatly and bound them in bundles and took them all to
the foot of the mountain, where they laid them down.
A seventh time Gilgamesh went to Huwawa. A seventh time
Gilgamesh traded goods for Huwawa’s power of fear. And so it was
that Gilgamesh captured all seven of Huwawa’s powers, and each
time Gilgamesh took one, he would step a little closer to Huwawa,
until he was standing right in front of him. When he was close
enough, Gilgamesh made as if to give Huwawa a kiss but instead
took his fist and punched Huwawa hard, right in the face, knocking
him down.
Huwawa scowled and bared his teeth at Gilgamesh, but before he
could rise, Gilgamesh threw a rope about him just as if Huwawa
were a wild bull. Gilgamesh tied Huwawa up with the rope.
“You have played me false!” cried Huwawa. “You have tricked me,
and you do me wrong by binding me thus!”
Gilgamesh took the end of the rope and dragged Huwawa out of his
lair. “Sit down!” said Gilgamesh.
Huwawa sat down and began to weep. He wept and pleaded with
Gilgamesh. “Let me go! Oh, please, set me free! Let me speak to
Utu, god of the sun! O Utu, O shining one, well you know that I never
knew my mother or father. Well you know that I was born here in the
mountains and that you were the one who reared me. Well you know
that Gilgamesh took an oath to me, swearing by heaven and by
Earth and by these mountains.”
Huwawa went on his knees before Gilgamesh. He prostrated himself
before Gilgamesh, begging for his mercy.
Gilgamesh saw the wretchedness of Huwawa and took pity on him.
Gilgamesh turned to Enkidu and said, “Let him go! We should not
keep him captive. Let him go!”
But Enkidu replied, “What is this you say, O noble Gilgamesh, my
king and my lord? What is this you say, O Gilgamesh, raging bull of
battle, beautiful son of your mother? What is this you say, O
Gilgamesh, beloved by all the people of your city of Uruk? How is it
that you could be so fortunate and so noble and yet understand
nothing? If you let him go free, you will never again see your beloved
city! If you let him go free, he will see to it that you never return
home!”
Then Huwawa said to Enkidu, “Why do you say these things? Why
do you speak ill of me to him?”
When Enkidu heard this, he was overcome with rage and cut off
Huwawa’s head. They put Huwawa’s head in a leather bag and went
before Enlil with it. They prostrated themselves before Enlil and
kissed the ground at his feet then upended the bag so that
Huwawa’s head spilled out.
Enlil saw the head of Huwawa and was displeased. “Why have you
done this thing? You had no orders to kill him. You should have
treated him well. You should have shared your bread and your water
with him. You should have held him in honor.”
Enlil took the seven powers of fear away from Gilgamesh. The first
one he gave to the fields. The second one he gave to the rivers. The
third went to the reeds in their beds beside the rivers. The lions
received the fourth, and the fifth Enlil gave to the forests. The sixth
Enlil gave to the palace, and the seventh he gave to Nungal,
goddess of prisoners. All the rest of Huwawa’s powers of fear Enlil
kept for himself.
Part IV: Gilgamesh and Aga
If the wrath of Gilgamesh is on full display in the story of his
encounter with Huwawa, here we see his mercy. When Aga, King of
Kish, decides to attack Uruk, Gilgamesh defends his city well, as a
king ought to do. But of course no army is strong enough to take on
Gilgamesh and win, and the outcome of Aga’s siege is the defeat of
his army and Aga’s own captivity. However, Gilgamesh remembers a
time when Aga took him in and gave him hospitality, so instead of
retribution, Gilgamesh gives Aga his freedom, as repayment for
Aga’s kindness.
Like Gilgamesh, Aga seems to have been a historical personage.
Enmebaragesi, Aga’s father, has been identified as an actual King of
Kish, suggesting that Aga likely existed as well, and the father and
son were the last two kings of the First Dynasty of Kish. (This
apparently is not the same Enmebaragesi that Gilgamesh mentions
as his sister in the story of Gilgamesh and Huwawa.) Enmebaragesi
and Aga seem to have ruled Kish around 2600 BCE, although
stories about them entered into the realm of myth sometime after
their reigns ended. Kish was located between the Tigris and
Euphrates Rivers in what is now central Iraq.
There was a time when Aga, son of Enmebaragesi, was king in Kish,
and Gilgamesh, son of Lugalbanda, was king in Uruk. Aga sent his
envoys to Uruk, demanding that Gilgamesh submit to him.
Gilgamesh called together the elders of the city and the advisors to
the king that he might have counsel of them. “We have yet work to
be completed here,” said Gilgamesh. “There are wells yet to be
deepened and others yet to be dug. We should not submit to Kish.
Let us bring battle to them instead.”
But the elders and advisors all said, “Yes, we have work yet to be
completed. We have wells yet to be deepened and others yet to be
dug, but this is all the more reason to submit to Kish. We should not
bring battle to them.”
Gilgamesh was displeased with the words of the elders and
advisors, so he went before the men of his city and said, “Envoys
from Kish have come and demanded we submit to them. But we
have yet work to be completed here. There are wells yet to be
deepened and others yet to be dug. Never have we submitted to
Kish. So, I ask you, should we bring battle to them instead?”
The men of the city answered, “Who wants to dance attendance on a
foreign lord? Surely we do not. We should never submit to Kish! We
should bring battle to them instead! Uruk was fashioned by the gods
themselves, and Gilgamesh is its king. Gilgamesh is king and
warrior, beloved of Father An! The armies of Aga have no hope of
victory. They have not enough warriors, and those they do have lack
courage. They shall never stand against us.”
When Gilgamesh heard the reply of the men of the city, he rejoiced.
Gilgamesh went to his servant Enkidu and said, “Make ready for
battle! Forge weapons, construct armor! You will take up your mace,
and I shall put on my radiant battle gear! Aga stands no chance
against us. He will see us and quail, and we will be victorious!”
And so it was that not even five days had passed before Aga brought
his armies to Uruk and laid siege to the city, and it went hard with
Uruk. Gilgamesh spoke to the warriors of Uruk, saying, “An emissary
we must have, someone to go to Aga. Who has the courage?”
Bihartura, one of Gilgamesh’s royal guards, spoke up. “I will go! I will
go to Aga, and because of me, he will quail before Uruk, and we will
be victorious!”
The gate of Uruk was opened, and Bihartura passed through. But he
did not get far; the men of Kish were waiting there for him. They
captured Bihartura and beat him soundly from head to toe. The men
of Kish bound Bihartura and brought him before Aga. Bihartura
spoke with the King of Kish, but before he could finish, Aga pointed
to the walls of Uruk and said, “Who is that there on the ramparts? Is
that your king?”
Bihartura looked and saw that one of the officers of the army of Uruk
was on the ramparts.
“That is not my king,” said Bihartura. “If it were my king, you would
know it. If it were my king, you would quail in fear before him. If it
were my king, a multitude would fall before him and yet another
multitude arise to greet him. If it were my king, all nations would bow
before him, and Aga, King of Kish, would be bound and brought
before him as a captive.”
At these words, the men of Kish beat Bihartura again from head to
toe. While they were thus beating him, Gilgamesh went to the top of
the walls of Uruk and stood upon the rampart. All in the city who saw
him marveled at his glory. Gilgamesh ordered that the men of the city
be given maces, and then he placed them at the ready behind the
city gate. The gate opened, but Gilgamesh held the men back,
sending Enkidu through the gate alone.
In the camp of Kish, Aga saw Gilgamesh upon the ramparts, and he
said to Bihartura, “Is that man your king?”
“Yes,” said Bihartura, “that is my king.”
And so it was that what Bihartura had said of Gilgamesh came true.
A multitude fell before him while yet another multitude rose up to
greet him. The nations bowed before him, and Aga, King of Kish,
was bound and brought before Gilgamesh as a captive.
Gilgamesh looked upon Aga and said, “You treated me with
kindness when I was in need. You took me in and kept me safe
when I was a fugitive. I therefore repay that debt, here in the sight of
Utu.” And with that, Gilgamesh set Aga free to return to his own
country.
When the army of Uruk saw the way Gilgamesh treated Aga, they
cried out, “Praise to the lord of Uruk! Praise to the one who keeps
fast the walls built by An himself!”
Sargon and Ur-Zababa
Unlike Lugalbanda and Enmerkar, who cannot be proven to have
been actual kings of Sumer, Sargon of Akkad was a historical
personage and the founder of the first empire in Mesopotamia, often
called the Akkadian Empire. Sargon’s exploits are well attested in
history, but he also became the subject of legends. One such legend
has to do with the mystery of his origins: like the biblical Moses,
Sargon supposedly was set adrift on a river in a basket of rushes
and then raised as a son by the man who found him.
Among Sargon’s conquests was the land of Sumer, and so tales
about Sargon exist in Sumerian as well as Akkadian sources. The
Sumerian story retold below explains Sargon’s initial rise to power as
the successor to Ur-Zababa, who was King of Kish, a Sumerian city-
state located between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers in what is
now central Iraq. In this tale, Sargon has already achieved the high
status of cupbearer to the king. But the fall of Ur-Zababa has already
been decided by the gods, An and Enlil, and so Sargon receives
divine assistance from the goddess Inanna in his rise to power. As
such, this story is part of a greater ancient tradition of mythography
as a tool of propaganda legitimizing a leader’s rule.
One important part of the story’s plot has to do with Ur-Zababa’s
attempt to get rid of Sargon by sending him to a blacksmith on an
errand that is supposed to lead to Sargon’s demise. The means by
which Sargon was to be killed is not immediately clear to modern
readers; in the collection of Sumerian literature translated by
Assyriologist Jeremy Black and others, Ur-Zababa orders that
Sargon and a bronze mirror are to be thrown “into the mould [sic] like
statues.” I have taken that description to indicate that Sargon was to
have been put into a mold used to cast bronze and then killed by
having molten metal poured on top of him.
The great city of Kish was ruled by Ur-Zababa. A beautiful city was
Kish, and a prosperous one, surrounded by fertile fields watered by
many well-tended canals. But the reign of Ur-Zababa was about to
come to a close, for An and Enlil had decreed that he should no
longer rule over the city.
One of the workers at the royal palace of Kish was a man named
Sargon. His duty was to oversee deliveries of goods to the palace.
He did his duties thoroughly and well, so well, in fact, that the king
appointed Sargon as the royal cupbearer, a position of great trust
and importance.
There came a time when Ur-Zababa went to his rest. He slept in his
royal bed, and while he was sleeping, he had a dream. When he
woke, he understood what the dream was about. It troubled him, but
he did not tell anyone about it. Five days passed after the dream, but
not more than ten, and King Ur-Zababa became frightened and
unwell. He became afflicted with a disease of the bladder. He could
not contain his urine, and what passed had blood and pus in it.
While Ur-Zababa was thus afflicted, Sargon went to his bed one
night, and he also had a dream. He dreamed of the goddess Inanna.
In Sargon’s dream, the goddess took King Ur-Zababa and drowned
him in a river of blood. The goddess said to Sargon, “I am doing this
for you.” It was a terrifying dream, and Sargon writhed and groaned
in his sleep.
Other people in the palace heard Sargon’s groans, and they told the
king about them. The king then called Sargon into his presence and
said, “Why were you groaning in the night?”
“I was having a bad dream, O mighty Ur-Zababa,” said Sargon.
“Tell me of this dream,” said the king.
“As you wish, my king,” said Sargon. “I dreamed of a young woman.
She was the most beautiful I had ever seen. She was so tall her
head reached to the heavens. She was so strong she was like the
great wall of a city, broad and immovable. The woman drowned you
in a river of blood. She told me she did that for me.”
Ur-Zababa heard the dream of Sargon and became even more
frightened than before. He crafted a plan to rid himself of Sargon.
First, he called to himself Belishtikal, the chief smith. Ur-Zababa said
to the smith, “That cupbearer of mine has had a dream of ill omen.
He dreamed that the lady Inanna drowned me in a river of blood. I
want to rid myself of Sargon. I shall send him to your smithy on an
errand. I shall give him my bronze mirror and tell him to take it to you
at your smithy in the E-sikil, the House of Purity, to be repaired.
When Sargon arrives, throw him and the mirror alike into a mold for
casting bronze. Pour molten bronze on top of them. Make a statue of
it. Then no one shall be the wiser about the death of the cupbearer.”
Belishtikal returned to the E-sikil and made the mold as the king had
commanded him. Then Ur-Zababa called Sargon to him. He handed
Sargon the small bronze mirror and said, “Take this to the smith
Belishtikal at the E-sikil. It needs to be repaired.”
Sargon took the mirror and left the palace to do the king’s bidding.
But on the way to the E-sikil, the goddess Inanna appeared to him
and blocked his way. “You must not go into the E-sikil! The E-sikil is
the House of Purity, and you are stained by blood! Do not enter that
House!”
And so it was that when Sargon arrived at the E-sikil, he would not
enter but rather waited at the gate for the smith to come to him.
Sargon delivered the mirror and returned to the palace unharmed.
He resumed his duties as cupbearer, and the king said nothing to
him of what the errand to the smith was intended to accomplish.
Five days passed, but not more than ten, and again, King Ur-Zababa
had a frightening dream. He understood what it foretold, but he did
not tell anyone else about it.
Now, in the days of Ur-Zababa, writing had been invented for some
time. Scribes would write with a stylus on soft clay, and when the
clay was dry, the tablet could be stored or delivered. It was common
for people to exchange writings in this way, but as of yet, they did not
put the tablets inside envelopes. One day, Ur-Zababa sent Sargon
on a mission to deliver a tablet of writing to Lugalzagesi, the King of
Uruk. The message on the tablet asked Lugalzagesi to kill Sargon.
[Here the story breaks off, and the few lines about Lugalzagesi that
remain are fragmented. Presumably the rest of the story would have
told us how Sargon evaded being murdered a second time and how
he came to take Ur-Zababa’s throne and thus begin the foundation
of his empire.]
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Glossary
Abu God created by Ninhursag
Adgarkidu Daughter of the god Numushda and the
goddess Namrat; wife of the god Martu
Aga King of the city-state of Kish; ruled c. 2600
BCE
Amorites Ancient nomadic people from what is now
Syria
An God of the sky; supreme Sumerian deity; son
of Apsu and Namma; one of the Annunaki
Annunaki The greater or elder gods
Anzu Bird Mythical lion-headed bird creature
Apsu, the Dwelling-place of Enki; also refers to both
groundwater and the freshwater marshes of
Sumer
Aratta Mythical city that was very wealthy; rival to
Uruk and Kulaba
Aruru Another name for Ninhursag
Asag, the Monstrous demon-creature defeated by
Ninurta
Azimua Goddess created by Ninhursag; wife of
Ningishzida
Babylon Ancient Mesopotamian city in what is now Iraq
Bau Goddess of healing and consort of Ninurta
Belishtikal Bronze-smith in the story of Sargon and Ur-
Zababa
Bihartura Soldier in the army of Gilgamesh
Dilmun In Sumerian myth, a type of earthly paradise;
 in actuality was a region and culture on the
eastern edge of the Arabian Peninsula along
the Persian Gulf
Dumuzi Shepherd-god who becomes the husband of
Inanna
E-kur Mythical house of the god Enlil in Nippur;
also refers to the physical temple built by the
Sumerians for the worship of Enlil
E-sikil Temple mentioned in the story of Sargon and
Ur-Zababa
Ebih Mountain in the Zagros Range; in myth it
refuses to bend the knee to Inanna and is
punished for it
Elam Ancient country on the northeastern shore of
the Persian Gulf in what is now Iran
Enbilulu God of canals; son of Enlil and Ninlil
Enegir City mentioned in the myth of the journey of
Nanna to Nippur
Enheduanna Daughter of Sargon of Akkad, high priestess
of Inanna and Nanna in Ur, first named
author in history
Enki “Lord Earth”; creator god and trickster,
primarily associated with water; lives in the
Apsu; son of An and Namma; one of the
Annunaki
Enkidu Companion and servant of Gilgamesh
Enkimdu One of several Sumerian agricultural gods
Enlil “Lord Air”; chief god of the Sumerian
pantheon; lives in the E-kur; one of the
Annunaki
Enmebaragesi (i) Sister of Gilgamesh
Enmebaragesi Historical king of the city-state of Kish and
(ii) father of Aga
Enmerkar Pseudo-historical king of Uruk; supposed
father of Lugalbanda; supposed grandfather
of Gilgamesh
Enshagag God created by Ninhursag; given Dilmun as
his domain
Ensuhkeshdanna Mythical king of the city-state of Aratta; rival
to Enmerkar
Ereshkigal Goddess of the Underworld
Gilgamesh Mythical hero; likely based on a historical
Sumerian king who became deified and
mythologized; supposed son of Lugalbanda
and grandson of Enmerkar
Hamazu Place mentioned as home of the sorcerer
Urgirinuna in the story of Enmerkar and
Ensuhkeshdanna
Huluppu Tree Mythical tree rescued from a river by Inanna;
possibly a willow tree
Huwawa Mythical being sent to guard the Mountain of
Cedar by Enlil; captured by Gilgamesh and
slain by Enkidu
Id-kura The river that separates the land of the living
from the Underworld
Igigi The lesser or younger gods
Inab City mentioned in the story of the marriage of
Martu
Inanna Goddess of fertility, procreation, and war;
often identified with the planet Venus; one of
 the Annunaki
Isimud Adviser to Enki
Kalkal Gatekeeper of the E-kur in Nippur
Ki-ur Place mentioned in the myth of Enlil and
Ninlil
Kish Ancient Mesopotamian city between the Tigris
and Euphrates Rivers in what is now Iraq
Kulaba Another name for Uruk
Larsa City mentioned in the story of the journey of
Nanna to Nippur
Lilith A demon-woman who inhabits the huluppu
tree
Lugalbanda Pseudo-historical king of Uruk and mythical
hero; supposed father of Gilgamesh and son
of Enmerkar
Lugalzagesi Last king of Sumer before the conquest of
Sargon of Akkad
Lulubi Mountains Part of the Zagros range, now on the border
between Iraq and Iran
Magan Place mentioned in the story of Enki and
Ninhursag; may have referred to Upper Egypt
Martu God who represents the Amorite people
mikku Stick used in an ancient Sumerian ball game
Mountains of Mythical place where the creature Huwawa
Cedar lives
Namma Mother goddess; wife and mother of An;
mother of Enki
Namrat Wife of the god Numushda
Namtar God of fate; vizier to Ereshkigal
Nanna God of the moon; son of Enlil and Ninlil; one
of the Annunaki
Nazi Goddess of justice and commerce; daughter
of Ninhursag and Enki
Nergal God of war; consort of Ereshkigal; son of
Enlil and Ninlil
Ninazu “Lord Healer”; son of Enlil and Ninlil; god of
boundaries
Ningirida Goddess of Enegir
Ningishzida “Lord of the Good Tree”; god associated with
the Underworld
Ninhursag “Lady of the Wild Hills”; creator goddess and
consort of Enki; one of the Annunaki
Ninkasi Goddess who fulfills wishes
Ninkura “Lady of the Land”; daughter of Enki and
Ninsar
Ninlil “Lady Air”; consort of Enlil; mother of Nanna,
Nergal, Enbilulu, and Ninazu
Ninmah Another name for Ninhursag
Ninsar Daughter of Enki and Ninhursag
Ninsikila “Lady of Purity”; daughter of Enki; associated
with Dilmun in the story of Enki and
Ninhursag
Ninsun “Lady of the Wild Cows”; mother of
Gilgamesh and wife of Lugalbanda
Ninsutu Goddess created by Ninhursag; consort of
Ninazu
Ninti Goddess created by Ninhursag; associated
 with calendars
Nintul God created by Ninhursag; lord of Magan
Ninunuga Goddess of Shuruppag
Ninurta Hero-god of agriculture; associated with legal
judgement; son of Enlil and Ninhursag;
slayer of the Asag and bearer of the Sharur
Nippur City in ancient Sumer between the Tigris and
Euphrates Rivers in what is now Iraq
Nisaba Goddess associated with grain; also seen as
a patroness of scribes
Numushda God mentioned in the story of the marriage of
Martu; father of Adgarkidu and consort of
Namrat
Nunbarshegunu Mother of Ninlil
Nuska Adviser to Enlil; titled “Master Builder of the
E-kur” in the story of Enlil and Ninlil
Peshtur Sister of Gilgamesh
pukku Ball used for an ancient Sumerian game
Rimush Brother of Enheduanna
Sagburu A “wise woman” of Uruk who defeats the
sorcerer Urgirinuna
Sargon of Akkad Historical king and creator of the Akkadian
Empire
Seven, the Divine warriors each having different attributes
Sharur, the The sentient battle mace belonging to Ninurta
Sherida Goddess mentioned in the story of the journey
of Nanna to Nippur; consort of Utu
Shuruppag City in ancient Sumer mentioned in the story
 of the journey of Nanna to Nippur
Sin Another name for Nanna
Subir Region in Upper Mesopotamia
Suen Another name for Nanna
Tummal City in ancient Sumer mentioned in the story
of the journey of Nanna to Nippur
Umul Creature created by Enki in his contest with
Ninmah; either a severely disabled adult or
the first baby
Ur Ancient Sumerian city on the south bank of
the Euphrates in what is now Iraq
Ur-Zababa King of Kish
Urgirinuna Sorcerer who tries to help Ensuhkeshdanna
win his contest with Enmerkar
Uruk Ancient Sumerian city; home to Enmerkar,
Lugalbanda, and Gilgamesh; rival to Aratta
Uttu Goddess of weaving; daughter of Enki and
Ninkura
Utu God of the sun
Zabu Mountains Ancient name for the Zagros Mountains,
which run across the southern part of Turkey
and then turn southeast to run between Iran
and Iraq and from there along the eastern
shore of the Persian Gulf
Zangara God of dreams
Translations of names taken from Gwendolyn Leick, A Dictionary of
Ancient Near Eastern Mythology (London: Routledge, 1991).