Goat Boy
A story about Ancient Sumer
by James W. Bell © 2001
Humti pointed to a still-green pasture on an upper level of the mountain ahead. “Ain’t that the goat boy I see up there?”
Shettur squinted his eyes to make out details on the higher mountain terraces. “It sure is. I can make him out clear as day. Looks like he’s all by hisself!”
“Naw, he ain’t all by hisself,” Humti slapped his comrade on his back. “Look! See all them billies? He’s got his damned goats with him!” They both roared with laughter.
“Hell, let him keep his goats,” Shettur said. “All we wants is his sheep.”
“They looks like easy pickings. I only make out one dog.”
“Yeah,” Shettur said, “you’d best signal the others.”
Humti put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “That ought to get our men and dogs started.”
>>
Girgi was out of sight, on the flank of the flock when Dashan heard him start to whine. He watched the gray-haired sheepdog as it came loping back through the flock to nose his leg. “Hey, what’s the matter, boy? Are you trying to tell me something?” The dog continued to nuzzle his leg. He commanded, “Point!”
Girgi turned downhill and took up a point. Dashan let his eyes follow the direction. In the valley below, where the valley vegetation had been parched by the hot summer sun of Susa, he made out a handful of dark figures with horned helmets moving uphill. Then he noticed dark spots working their way up both sides and figured them to be dogs.
“Horned mountain men,” Dashan muttered. “With their dogs. Bandits most likely.” He reached over and put his hand on Girgi’s back to keep him silent. “I see three ... four men, maybe more.” Keeping his hand on his dog, Dashan moved behind an outcropping of limestone to conceal himself. Then he unslung the ram’s horn from around his neck, put it to his lips and blew.
The hoot filled the air and rang out across the foothills of Susiana.
>>
“What the hell’s that?” Shettur asked.
“Sounds like our goat boy’s calling for help. But we knows they’s ain’t nobody around these parts except us.”
“Yeah, he ain’t likely to get no help.”
“Not as far as I can see,” Humti said. “Except his goats. Har, har.”
Shettur chuckled. “Ain’t it a laugh.”
“Yeah,” Humti said and whistled at the dogs coming up. They watched them spread out to flank the flock scattered about on the terraced pasture above.
>>
Dashan kept an eye on the bandits’ dogs, watching them work their way up. He couldn’t see all of them but knew there were more than a few coming up on each side of the terrace. “Girgi, why doesn’t one of the gods answer my call?”
As if in answer, a clap of thunder resounded in the clear blue mountain sky and a growl came from above. Dashan looked up to see a mountain lion crouched on a precipice not far above them. The beast was licking his chops and gazing down at them.
“Have you been sent to help me?” Dashan called up to the lion in a soft voice. The animal responded to the shepherd’s question by laying its head down on its paws and watching with disinterested eyes.
“By the gods!” Dashan muttered at the beast.
Dashan turned around and watched the bandits heft their spears as they started up the incline to the terrace. He heard them whistling to their dogs, calling them in to take over his flock of sheep.
He looked up a last time and saw the lion was still placid and unmoving. What the hell? he wondered. What good have all my tithes been?
Then he turned back to face the bandits. One of them was now less than a hundred paces away. Dashan pointed at the bandit and slapped his dog on the butt. “Go, Girgi! Sic ‘em!”
His dog leapt into the air and charged down the slope, towards the lone man, barking furiously, dodging this way and that. The noise and action confused the sheep and the flock started milling.
“Goddamn!” Shettur cried and hurled his spear at the fast-dodging sheep dog. He missed and in a second the dog was on him, his teeth gripping the arm the mountain man had thrown up to protect his face. “Help!” the bandit hollered.
His companions whistled their dogs to the attack. The canines whirled around and headed towards Girgi. Girgi let go of the bandit’s arm and began racing into the middle of the seething flock.
Dashan got to his feet and went to his goats. He slapped the biggest billy on its flank and pointed at the bandits on the inclined approach to the terrace. “Hek! Hek!” he shouted at his goats. A score of awkward animals began ambling downhill in the direction of Girgi who was busy fending off the other dogs.
As clumsy as they appeared, the billies moved with surprising speed, forcing their way through the sheep and catching the bandits’ dogs off guard. One after the other, they lowered their heads and charged the dogs, butting them broadside. The dogs flew through the air, and those able to get up whimpered as they limped away. The bandits soon found themselves facing Dashan’s ornery beasts alone.
“By Nin,” one of the bandits shouted, “these damned goats are fixing to charge us!” He lunged and speared the nearest goat, running it through.
But while trying to draw his spear out, a billy butted him from behind and sent him tumbling over the animal he had just speared. The other billies began pawing the ground, closing the circle around the remaining bandits, stomping and making impatient butting motions with their heads.
“That goat boy’s magicked his goats,” Humti said. Then he shouted, “It ain’t natural!” and took off running down the mountainside. His companions hesitated only briefly before taking to their heels and following him down.
Only when he saw them reach the dried vegetation in the seared valley below did Dashan blow his ram’s horn to recall his animals. When they returned, he rewarded them, fresh sprouts of green for the goats and strips of dried deer meat for Girgi.
He hugged and told each of them, “You’ve done well.”
>>
It was that evening when Dashan was trying to start a fire of mountain-thorn to cook his barley porridge that old Ishkur strolled along, dressed in a full-length mountain robe. “Good evening,” the old god greeted him.
Dashan looked up at the mountain storm god. “Good evening yourself,” Dashan said. “The weather’s been clear. Where’ve you been keeping yourself all day?”
“Hanging around,” the god replied. “Here and there.”
“It’s about time you showed up here,” the shepherd said.
“Oh? Was there some problem?”
Dashan nodded. “By the gods, there was.”
The old god stroked his white beard and looked around. “It seems peaceful now. I see no sign of anything out of the ordinary.”
“That’s because we took care of them.”
“We?”
“A gang of mountain bandits tried rustling my sheep.” Dashan spit. “My dog and goats chased them off.”
“You seem to have your animals exceptionally well trained.”
Dashan nodded. “As you see, I am often by myself and have to make do with what I have.”
“Yes, I can see. Well, I’m glad you’ve taken care of everything.”
“Where were you while it was going on?”
“Me?” Ishkur grinned. “I was mostly up there.” He pointed up to the bare top of the mountain towering above them. “Watching,” he added.
“Watching? What kind of behavior is that for a god when one of his most loyal tithers is calling for help?”
“I have more than one mountain to oversee. Besides, I sent help.”
“Help? Where?” Dashan put his hand to his eyes and made a great pretense of looking around for it.
“Didn’t you hear that clap of thunder this afternoon?”
“That was you?”
“Of course! Who else thunders in the mountainlands?”
“If that was the help you sent, it frightened no one.”
“That was just the fanfare.” Ishkur pointed at the precipice above them. “I put that mountain lion up there.”
Dashan looked up at the ledge now bathed in sunset hues of the setting sun. The mountain lion was still there, its head resting on its paws as it had been all afternoon. “That’s the help you sent me?” he asked.
Old Ishkur nodded. “I had him there all the time.”
“I know. I saw him. I called him to help but he put his head down on his paws. I don’t think he’s moved since.”
“Don’t guess he needed to.”
“I don’t get it.”
“My son, you took care of the situation. You’re preparing to become a trader. You’ll be traveling to foreign lands where your gods won’t be around. I figured you needed to develop a little more self confidence. So I sent the lion down but told him not to intervene unless it became absolutely necessary. I thought I’d give you the chance to handle the situation on your own.”
“Thanks a lot,” Dashan snorted. “How do I know what you’re telling me is true?”
The old god grinned and plucked a long stem of mountain grass, stuck it in his mouth and started chewing on it. “I guess you’ll have to test me.”
“How about a sign?” Dashan said.
“Okay.” Old Ishkur looked around and saw the little pile of mountain-thorn Dashan had been trying to set afire. “Watch,” he said and pointed at the briars. The heap burst into flame. “How’s that for a sign?”
Dashan hesitated. “Well ...”
“You’d better put your pot of porridge on.”
Dashan lifted the pot and rested its wide bottom on stones around the burning branches. “Sometimes, I get the idea you gods are mostly show.”
“Is that so? Do you think we just put on occasional performances now and then for our followers?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, you’d better hope not.”
“Why?”
“Haven’t you noticed anything strange about that mountain lion up there on the precipice above us?”
Dashan looked up in the dusk. The lion still seemed to be there, unmoving. “Besides not moving all day?” he asked.
The old god nodded.
“No ... what?”
“He’s not attacked a single one of your sheep.”
“Oh. He’s not acting much like a mountain lion, is he? I guess he really is something special.”
“My son, that’s what I’ve been telling you,” Ishkur said. He looked down at the pot of barley porridge. “I don’t suppose you would have an extra bite or two to spare, would you?”
Dashan narrowed his eyes at the old white-haired god.
“I’ve been up there on top of this mountain all day,” Ishkur said. “Mostly because of you. I’m hungry.”
Dashan grunted.
“Except for your sheep and goats, my son, you’re out here in the mountainlands all by yourself. There’s nothing around you except mountain people. And they’re mostly bandits. There could be a next time you know,” the old god warned.
Dashan thought about that. Sure, why not? he asked himself.
“I guess I could use a little company,” he said and pointed at a grassy spot beside him. “Come, take a seat. The porridge ought to be ready soon.”
The End
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