The Pursuit of
Shugat-Nergal
A story set in Ancient Sumer
by James W. Bell © 2002 - 2004
31
On the stairs leading down to the Underworld, at the seventh landing, Nergal found the way blocked by a closed door. He knocked. “Open up, Neti.”
The door opened and the face of an aged doorkeeper peered out. “My liege, I had not expected you so soon. But I see the mortal with you is still alive.”
“For the nonce, Neti. Let us in.”
“My liege, at least the mortal’s clothes must first be removed before I can admit him. It is the way of the Underworld.”
“My good doorkeeper, I say not.”
“But it has always been the way, sire. Even when the divine Inanna descended, she had to take off every garment.”
“She was a goddess, Neti. This mortal is a virile young man. There has already been a young man who upset the Netherworld. Need I mention his name? Do you recall Magir Sin? I have no intention of introducing this one to my wife—especially in the nude.”
“But, my liege, the way of the Underworld may not be-”
“Neti, the way of the Underworld be damned! A king has as much right to determine procedure as any queen. I am not an underground Anu to be pushed around by an overbearing goddess, even if she is queen.”
“My liege, Queen Ereshkigal is also your wife.”
Nergal sighed. “Ah, yes, so she is. How well I know.”
“I shall have to inform her, sire.”
“Then do so, Neti. Inform Ereshkigal. Tell her whatsoever you will. But, by Nin, I’m commanding you to stop this quibbling and let us in!”
“My liege,” Neti said and pulled the door wide open.
Shugat followed Nergal through the opening, into a huge cavern. Its luminous ceiling vaulted high overhead, lighting the subterranean world with a shadowy fluorescing blue. To his right, a waterfall thundered down from above and gushed out into a dark lake that occupied most of the cavern’s floor.
“The water comes from the River Hubur,” Nergal said. “It replenishes the Lake of Death.”
Shugat turned his attention to the lake whose oily surface was smooth and shiny black, like a piece of obsidian. He looked across and saw, on the far shore, a massive city wall whose foundation was visible because of the flickering orange illumination between buttresses. The intermittent light lit the structure’s battlements and produced shimmering reflections on the slick surface of the water.
“That wall surrounds the city of Irkalla,” Nergal explained, “capital of the Underworld. My palace is within.”
“It is impressive, sire, and fully as high as the wall of Uruk. Those lights glimmering along its base are spectacular. Will you tell me how it’s done?”
“They are a result of the holes Ereshkigal had cut through the floor of our world. The openings let in light from the fiery Underworld beneath. Before my wife had the floor pierced, the Netherworld, as we called it in those days, was a place of quiet and solitude, sealed off from the light and heat of the fiery Underworld below and from the noise and bustle of the Great Above. Alas, it is no longer so. The queen has changed our world. I hear Inanna has become jealous of what my wife is accomplishing down here.”
Shugat started to comment but was distracted by ripples that appeared on the otherwise smooth surface of the lake. From out of the darkness, a boat made of desiccated palm frond ribs came gliding into view, with a man sitting in its rear, paddling in complete silence. “Here’s our boatman, Humut-tabel. He has come to ferry us across to Irkalla. Get in, Shugat, and sit on the first thwart. You’ll get a clearer view up there. I’ll sit behind.”
Shugat stepped in and Nergal followed. As soon as they were seated, the boatman pushed his paddle against the hard stone of the quay and pointed the bow outward.
As they glided across the lake, Shugat noticed bright iridescent glints that sparkled on the indigo ceiling overhead, points that brightened and glittered as they passed beneath. It felt like being under the open night sky in the Great Above, but quieter and more peaceful. Off to the side, in the far distance, a dull golden glow illuminated a white mist swirling up in a spiral from the pitch blackness of the lake. “Sire, what is that?” Shugat asked.
“It is the drain to the Underworld,” Nergal answered. “We periodically discharge lake water through a large opening in the floor to bank the fires that burn on the underside of the Earth. Elsewise, at night, when Shamash has to drive the sun underneath the Earth so he can come up on the other side in the morning, the sun’s fiery heat might cause uncontrollable flames that would engulf the Great Above and consume it.”
“Remarkable, sire,” Shugat said. “You gods seem to have taken infinite care in planning the workings of the Great Below. But it is feeling a trifle warm.”
“Unfortunately, it’s getting hotter. We designed the Earth the best we knew how, but, because of you mortals’ tampering and misleading some of the gods – I speak of my wife in particular – we now face a growing number of problems. But, let’s put the worries of the gods aside, Shugat, and enjoy the moment at hand.”
32
As the boat pulled up to the quay in front of a gate in the city wall, one of the pair of cedar doors opened inward, revealing a broad processional avenue leading into the city. The short bearded figure came out to meet them, a little swarthy man wearing a tunic made of heavy ox leather. “Shugat-Nergal,” Nergal introduced the approaching figure, “this is Ishum, one of the gods of Chaldea.”
As Shugat stepped out of the boat, he acknowledged the midget god. “My Lord.”
Ishum ignored Shugat and turned to Nergal instead. “You appear to have brought a living mortal down to the Underworld, one who is not yet dead.”
“It was unnecessary to slay him, Ishum. He chose to come of his own free will.”
“Sire, are you disregarding the ways of the Underworld?”
“Why should I have to bother with what’s not needed? Don’t worry, Ishum, this mortal, like all others, shall face final judgment by the Anunnaki.”
“Sire, they are gathered as you speak, seated in court session, awaiting the arrival of two women who have reportedly been prepared by Namtar.”
“Tell them to adjourn, Ishum; the women are not coming. I have canceled their deaths.”
“My king, this is most irregular! The Anunnaki will be sorely disappointed. As a consolation, should we not at least give them this man to judge?”
“Not now, Ishum. Later.”
“Sire, the Anunnaki will be most unhappy.”
“They have been unhappy ever since we allowed them to come below to escape the Flood. That’s what’s gone wrong with the Underworld, Ishum, it’s become a place of perpetual unhappiness. Even me.”
“My king, how would you have it?”
“Ah,” Nergal smiled, “if I had my way, the Underworld would be a spectral place of utter peace and everlasting repose.”
“But, sire, your wife has other plans.”
“Don’t I know. She always has to be doing something. She’s too much influenced by earth mortals and their busy ways. Especially by talkative young men. They seem able to charm her. One of them talked her into competing with her sister, Inanna. So now, my wife’s hell bent on making the Great Below a showplace, like the Great Above.”
“The queen has introduced many changes,” Ishum agreed. “She’s made this a brighter place for those condemned to spend the remainder of eternity here.”
“I tell you, Ishum, no more. I’m tired of this. For the moment, I intend to relax, to enjoy myself. That’s why I’ve brought this mortal down. Now leave us be. I will not let Ereshkigal or your mention of her interfere with one of my few moments of happiness.”
“Shall I tell the queen what you just said?”
Nergal assumed a grim look. “Tell her at your own hazard, Ishum. You’d best say no more than I plan to be out on the porch enjoying a drink with a companion.”
33
“Come, Shugat,” Nergal said as he lead the way up the broad steps into a majestic marble building, “let me show you my palace.”
“I have never seen such an amazing structure, sire,” Shugat said. “It’s so tall and all made of rock. I see it has a porch high overhead, perched in the air.”
“It’s something that could never be done with mud brick, Shugat.” Nergal walked over to one of the columns supporting the porch and rapped it with his knuckles. “Listen, that’s the sound of solid marble. Down here, everything is substantial, made of stone, something which is almost impossible to find in the Great Above. That’s why this place is eternal. It’s also why my palace is three stories high. It could have been even higher, had I wished. I tell you, Shugat, there’s no limit to what an enterprising god could do down here. Come with me. Let me show you a view of the city from the porch.”
Shugat followed the king up the stairs to the third floor. The stairway, like the building, was made of marble and centered in the building, with wide banisters on both sides. Open galleries on each floor encircled the stairwell, with railings of luxurious width. On the third floor, Nergal led Shugat across the gallery to the front of the palace and, throwing open a pair of cypress doors, ushered him out onto the porch.
Except on a ziggurat, Shugat had never been so high above the ground. He went to the railing, leaned over and looked down. Almost immediately, he experienced vertigo and hastily withdrew from the edge.
Nergal laughed. “Impressive?”
“Very, sire. For a moment, it took my breath away.”
“Look out there, Shugat – look at my city.”
The city, except for the fluttering orange lights that lit the palace foundation, was dark, a collection of marble mausoleums interspersed with tall stands of dark vegetation, all tinted by the somber wash of blue light that descended from the cavern’s ceiling. Away from the palace, the scene possessed an unbelievable ethereal quality. “It’s beautiful,” Shugat said.
“And restful. Don’t you enjoy the view? The warm palace lights below and the peaceful city out there in a never-ending repose?”
“I find it most calming, sire.”
“Then take a seat.” Nergal indicated the two marble benches on the porch with his hand. “I’ll order a pot of beer for us. We’ll sit out here and drink together.”
When Shugat sat down, Nergal went to the wall and pulled a cord. Within minutes, a servant silently appeared, dressed in a shroud of white funeral linen. “A pot of beer and two straws,” Nergal ordered.
The servant’s eyes widened when he saw Shugat, but he left without comment. Within minutes, he returned with a pot of beer and straws. “Set the pot down here,” Nergal said, “on the floor between our benches.”
Shugat and Nergal each took a straw and stuck it in the pot. Shugat sucked the first taste of beer. It was strong and he choked. “Excellent,” he said.
“Beer fit for the gods,” Nergal agreed and took a long sip. “Tell me, Shugat-Nergal, why were you so agreeable to coming below with me?”
“Did I surprise you, sire?”
“Considerably. I’d never had a healthy mortal choose to come down here. Usually, only the terminally ill or those in such deep despair that they had lost all hope came.”
“Well, my lord,” Shugat raced his mind, “I had heard many good things about you.”
“Really?” Nergal took a sip of beer. “I’m surprised. I thought mortals were afraid of me. I didn’t think I received much favorable mention in the Great Above. Tell me, what good things have you heard about me?”
“How benevolent you are, my lord. How thoughtful you are in wanting to let the dead sleep for eternity.” Shugat bent over his straw and pretended to take a long sip.
Nergal brightened. “So, they noticed that, eh?” Nergal brightened and took a long sip.
“Indeed, sire, they are thankful for your caretaking. I drink to your eternal reign,” Shugat said and pretended to take another long sip.
“And I drink to your imminent retirement from the weary world,” Nergal said and took another long sip.
“And here’s to your beautiful city of Irkalla.” Shugat pretended another long sip.
“And here’s to your eternal stay with us.” Nergal took a long sip.
“I drink to the greatness of the Underworld.” Pretended long sip.
“And I drink to all our guests.” A long sip.
“I drink to …”
On and on it went, Shugat-Nergal pretending to drink and good King Nergal taking drink after drink as he received each new compliment. After a while, the inevitable happened. King Nergal slumped on his bench, closed his eyes and fell asleep.
As soon as that occurred, Shugat-Nergal quietly got up, stole away and went inside the palace. On the third floor, he called out softly, “Queen Ereshkigal.” There was no response. The palace remained absolutely quiet.
He went down the stairs to the gallery on the second floor and called out, “Queen Ereshkigal.”
A door opened at the top of the stairs coming up from the first floor, and a beautiful woman in a gown of white linen with a gold wreath in her curly black hair peered out. “Yes? Who calls me?” Then she saw Shugat. “Who are you? How did you get in?”
“My lady, your husband brought me down from the Great Above.”
“Nergal brought you down?” Ereshkigal raised an eyebrow. “To me, you look like a mortal who still retains the breath of life.”
Shugat grinned. “That is so, my lady, I am very much alive. But your husband says it’s acceptable because I volunteered to come of my own free will.”
“Oh, you’re the one Ishum told me about. Have you been drinking with my husband? Where is he?”
“We were on the porch, your majesty. I’m afraid I wearied him with talk and caused him to fall asleep. He’s probably still there.”
Ereshkigal studied Shugat and then smiled. “You remind me of a living mortal who once visited me.”
“A young man by name of Magir-Sin?”
“Yes! Did you know him? Who are you?”
“Queen Ereshkigal,” Shugat said with a sweeping bow, “allow me to introduce myself. I am Shugat-Nergal.”
To Chapter 34
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