| Emissary to a God A Story of Ancient Sumeria by James W. Bell © 2001 |
| Master trader Eshim stopped working and looked up when Tukit-An entered. Tuk could see the waiting had made him impatient. “Well, well,” the master trader said, “you finally made it.” “I was in Shurrupak. I had a long way to come.” “Sit down, sit down.” The master trader waved at an empty chair. “We’re facing a hell of a problem in Chaldea.” “Kaldees?” Eshim shook his head. “Worse. Sin, their god. Somebody’s got him worked up. The rumor is he’s going to close Kaldee quays to our ships. Maybe exile what few traders we have in Chaldea.” “That’s a disaster. We need those quays for loading dates.” Eshim nodded again. “You don’t need to tell me. That’s why I summoned you.” Tuk eyed the master trader. “You have something in mind. What is it you’re expecting me to do?” Eshim looked him right back. “Go down to Ur and call on the Moon God. In his temple where he spends his daytimes. Praise him. Bribe him, if necessary. I know you have the touch. We have to keep those quays open.” “But if he’s already closed them?” “Then get them reopened. Our exports – our profits – depend on them.” “Just me? You’re matching me, a mortal, against a god? Am I to have no help?” “Tuk, you’re Kaldee and you’re experienced. Of all traders, you’re best to handle the situation. One man will pose no threat. So I’m sending you there—alone. Your boat’s at the quay, waiting for you. It’s ready to leave.” * * * Trader Tuk stood in the bow of the ship as it entered the harbor of Ur. Except for the new ziggurat, the city was as he remembered it, low lying, filled with one-storied, whitewashed buildings, their flat roofs punctuated here and there by towering date palms. Dressed as he was, in woolen kilt and leather sandals, he felt like the prodigal son returning and anticipated no problem. But he kept a sharp lookout as the boat crossed the harbor bar and neared the quay. He noticed the harbor master coming out to meet them. “You!” the official shouted at Tuk’s boat. “Turn back! The Divine Sin has closed the quay of Ur to all trader commerce.” “We have no goods on board,” Tuk called back as his boat edged to the quay. “There’s no need to turn us back. We’ve not come to trade.” The harbor master’s face showed surprise. “Then, why have you come?” “For an audience with the Divine Sin. I seek nothing more.” “An audience for what reason?” “With all respect, harbor master, that is for the ears of the Divine Sin alone.” “I see.” The official pondered a moment before responding. “I will station guards by your boat while I escort you to the Ekishnugal, home of the Divine Sin. I will let him be the judge.” “So be it,” Tuk said. “I’m ready when you are. Lead the way.” * * * The harbor master led Trader Tuk through the dark halls of the Ekishnugal into its sunlit courtyard. There, for the first time, the trader saw the Moon God close at hand. His skin was chalk white and his hair silvered. He wore a tunic of bleached linen and sat on a throne of Lapis-lazuli before which a globe of shimmering silver hung motionless in the air. Trader Tuk approached cautiously and genuflected. “My Lord,” he said. “Approach, mortal,” the Moon God commanded, “and state your business.” “Luminous Sin, the harbor master informs me you have closed the quay of Ur to the ships of the traders.” “Ah.” The moon god leaned forward. “You must be a trader.” “Yes, My Lord. I am Tukit-An, a native of Chaldea. I am called Trader Tuk.” The Moon God grimaced. “A barbarous name.” Tuk shrugged. “I can no more help what people call me than you.” The Moon God arched a silvered eyebrow. “I mean, My Lord,” Tuk hastened on, “your name has become synonymous with those acts which are most often done under the cover of darkness.” “Take care, trader, that you not demean my name. Many things occur under the cover of darkness—the act of creation and the beginning of life both start within its cocoon. Darkness is where dreams and piety come from. Darkness provides the cover beneath which gods and mortals alike rest, it is darkness that soothes the heart and heals the strife of day.” “My Lord, does not darkness also conceal evil?” “The divide between evil and piety, mortal, is as narrow as that which separates lust and love. Oftentimes, one blends into the other as with the young man who forces the young maiden and then takes her to wife. But I can see by the expression on your face that you’re not seeing what all this has to do with the closing of the quay of Ur.” “My eyes, My Lord, are mortal eyes, which fail to see the connection.” “Then, listen, Tukit-An. You and your fellow human mortals were created to be our servants, as were sheep and goats.” “Yes, My Lord, I was taught all earth creatures were created to serve the gods.” “Good. When we put animals to pasture, they are content. They do not try to change their natures, a sheep remains a sheep and a goat remains a goat. They accept the pasture as their lot and everything remains exactly as we wish.” “I can see that, My Lord.” “But you human mortals are different. Like sheep and goats, you were put on the Earth to be our servants. But you and your fellow humans have not accepted your lot.” “My Lord, we’ve tried very hard.” “Tried very hard?” The voice of the Moon God rose. “The Land is crisscrossed with a multitude of canals and ditches dug by you and your fellow humans.” “We dug them to bring water to the fields, My Lord. To irrigate the crops so more food would be produced for you.” “So you say, but I note you sail your ships up and down the canals.” “We sail ships on the larger canals, My Lord, such as the Iturungal. Our freighters enable us to bring produce to you more quickly, while it is still fresh and tasty.” “So you say, but I see you sail your freighters out onto the Lower Sea and across to foreign lands.” “To find new spices and exotic flavors to bring back to you, My Lord.” “So you say, but I see that you profit handsomely along the way.” “We make modest profits here and there, My Lord.” “So you say, but you compete with our temple merchants with prices that undercut theirs.” “My Lord, we try not to.” “You try not to!” The Moon God was almost beside himself. “I take it you traders restrain yourselves so as not to harm the devotees of a god.” “Yes, My Lord, that is so.” “Impudence!” Sin shouted. “Sheer unbridled impudence! Don’t you realize it makes no difference at all what you traders do? Don’t you know that the gods are all powerful?” Tuk bent his head. “Yes, My Lord. We know the gods are all powerful. We only try to help the gods make the Earth a better place on which to live.” “To make the Earth a better place? By the gods, trader! If we had wanted the Earth different, we would have made it different in the first place! You human mortals have done nothing but introduce Chaos. You brought on the Flood which almost destroyed the Earth.” “My Lord, I believe it was the Mighty Enlil who unleashed the Flood.” “Only because you mortals provoked him so. You drove him to it.” “As you say, My Lord.” “You’re still not understanding me, are you?’ “My Lord, you must forgive me. I am only a mortal.” “I have two daughters, trader. Both have been led astray by you traders. One of my daughters is named Inanna, for whom you humans designed and built a grandiose temple. She has used that temple to lure Anu down from Heaven, causing him to abandon his poor wife. My other daughter is Ereshkigal, Queen of the Netherworld. A young trader persuaded her to open the doors of her domain to the fires of the Underworld. Now, because of you, there’s Chaos in the Great Below as well as in the Great Above and my daughters are engaged in a bitter contest to see which becomes Queen of the Earth. What do you think of that, trader?” “My Lord, I think that is a thing between the gods.” “Would it were so. Ah,” Sin reflected, “we gods were one happy family until Enki created you human mortals. Ever since, we’ve had nothing but trouble and pain.” “My Lord, I will speak to the other traders. I promise. We will try to be more careful.” Again, Sin’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “Stop speaking to me like that! It’s patronizing!” “My Lord, a thousand pardons.” “Well, trader, I’m putting a stop to it here in Chaldea. Even if you and your fellow traders can’t understand our divine wishes and continue your ungodly behavior, it will no longer affect me or my people. I’ve closed the quays at Ur and Kuara to your ships.” “And our donkey trains, My Lord? Have you also shut the gates of your cities against our donkey trains?” “By Nin, trader, I hadn’t thought of that! But I will. The gates of Kaldee cities will be shut against your donkey trains. I want nothing more to do with you or your fellow traders.” Tuk nodded. “Then, My Lord, let it be as you wish. Our ships will no longer visit the quays of Chaldea, our donkey trains will no longer call at the gates of your cities. My Lord, I speak for the Karum. It shall be as you wish.” * * * When he returned to Uruk, Trader Tuk reported back to the master trader. “By the time I got there, Eshim, the Moon God had already closed the quays to traders. But as I had brought no goods, he granted me an audience. I found him determined that the quays should remain closed. So I tricked him into also closing the city gates against our donkey trains. You won’t believe it, Eshim, but the Moon God has cut Chaldea off from the rest of the world.” The master trader smiled. “Very clever, Tuk. Well done. How long do you think this self-imposed isolation of his will last?” “I don’t know,” Tuk answered. “In part, it will depend on what the other gods do. We’ll have to wait and see.” * * * Weeks passed and then months. The city of Ur sat isolated amidst the date palm plantations of Chaldea. No ship hailed its quay, no donkey train approached its gates. The Kaldees and their god ate their stores of bread and beer, neither a product of Chaldea. Finally, the day came when the storehouses were empty and there was no more bread and no more beer. It was then that the people had to learn to subsist on what they produced, dates from the plantations and fish from the waterways. The Kaldees quickly tired of their restricted diet, crying out that they wanted bread and beer. When they prayed to the Moon God, they begged him for bread and beer. But Sin remained stubborn. He kept their quays closed and the gates of their cities stayed shut. The Kaldees grew irritable and became angry at their god. They ceased singing his praises. They quit bringing him offerings. They forsook the Moon God, leaving him to sit alone in silence in his courtyard and feel his power ebb. Worse, even Sin tired of the monotonous Kaldee diet. He yearned for the heady smell of hot bread and the sharp bite of cool beer. When he beseeched his fellow gods for them, they knew what he had done and laughed at him for his foolish stubbornness. “It is you who enhance the power of human mortals,” he accused them. “Nonsense,” his fellow gods told him. “They are our servants. Why not yours? What ill have they done you? Why close your quays to their ships or shut your gates against their donkey trains? Let them serve you as they were created to do.” Sin remonstrated. “Regardless of what I say, or what I ask for, they do as they wish.” “That’s nonsense,” the other gods said. “Have they not always honored you and brought you offerings? Are they not now obeying your command? They do not visit your quays. They do not call at your city gates. Wherein lays the fault you say you find in them?” * * * In the end, Sin could stand it no longer. He summoned his sukkal and sent him to Uruk. “Seek out a trader, the one called Trader Tuk. Tell him to come to Ur that I might grant him another audience.” * * * Trader Tuk sailed into the harbor at Ur. The city looked as it had before. Again, it was the harbor master who came down to meet the boat as it pulled alongside the quay. “Remember me?” Tuk asked. “I am Tukit-An. I’ve returned at the request of the Divine Sin.” The harbor master nodded. “The Divine Sin so informed me when he reopened the quay. He also asked me to escort you to the temple. Have you brought an offering?” “Indeed,” Tuk replied. “My ship is filled with barley flour and jars of beer. I will leave most of it here to be unloaded, but I’ll have some of my men accompany us to bring along a few jars of beer. Let us go to the temple.” * * * As soon as Trader Tuk stepped into the temple courtyard, the Moon God rose and came forward to greet him. “Tukit-An! How glad I am to see you!” Tuk genuflected. “My Lord, I’ve brought a ship filled with jars of beer and hampers of barley flour ready to be made into hot bread. I have several jars of beer with me.” “Ah,” Sin said and licked his lips. He turned to an acolyte beside and ordered him to fetch straws and bring them at once. Then he turned back to Trader Tuk. “Let us unseal a jar of beer now and drink together.” “My Lord, this is a greater honor than I expected.” The Moon God grinned. “You’ve earned it, trader. Your trickery has taught me a lesson. I wonder why I hadn’t noticed before. The Earth is our creation. It is a beautiful world but, without you mortals, it lacks zest. You and your fellow humans provide the spice – the hot bread and cool beer – that flavor it. I must admit, I found it hard to do without you.” “My Lord,” Tuk replied, “the Earth you created is indeed a beautiful world. Your magnificent creation inspires us and continues to drive us onward. But as evidenced by the godless bandits who rampage throughout the mountainlands, we humans likewise find it hard to do without you.” The acolyte arrived with the straws. Taking them and handing one to Tuk, the Moon God said, “Let us drink together to celebrate our need for each other.” Simultaneously, they sat down and each stuck his straw into the jar. Tuk looked to Sin and the god said, “Drink.” “So be it,” Tuk responded and took the first sip. Together, mortal seated on one side and immortal on the other, they drank from the jar between them. The End |