Part Five
Chapter Eighteen
Nut is pacing back and forth in the palace scullery. Ganj leans against a wall, tuning the strings of his lyre. Beyond a curtain a crowd clamors.
Clusters of garlic bulbs dangle from the rafters. Bunches of dried thyme, coriander, basil, and mint hang from the walls. Long tables fill the room and are overflowing with hefty platters of roasted mutton, pork, duck, and sun-dried fish, alongside bountiful trays of lentils, cucumbers, chickpeas, carrots, beets, and leeks, not-to-mention a profusion of bowls brimming with dates, olives, almonds, and pistachio nuts, as well as copious baskets of pomegranates, figs, grapes, plums, quince, peaches, pears, apples, and apricots. Loaves of barley-sesame bread are stacked everywhere.
“I do not remember,” says Nut, “whether he wanted beer or wine.”
“Who?” asks Ganj.
Nut tugs the curtain aside and points. “Him. Wearing the yellow tunic and turban.”
“Him?” says Ganj with a smirk. “It does not matter. You could serve him burning oil. He pours it out and pretends to be drunk. He is a spy for the King.” Ganj sets down his lyre and picks up an apple.
“What is a spy?”
“A person you should not talk to,” says Ganj. He tosses the apple to Nut. Then he asks, with a wink, “Have you seen the new girl?”
“Yes,” says Nut, frowning. “She is strange. Where does she come from?”
“Far to the west. She will be attending the harem. She is called Ester.” Ganj picks up another apple and takes a bite. “She is still a virgin.”
“How do you know these things?”
“I have my ways,” says Ganj with a grin.
Nut gasps. “Do you desire her?! Would you have your manhood cut off?!”
“I am not doing anything important with it.”
“But her skin is so pale! Her lips are thin! Her nose is tiny!”
“Imagine that?” says Ganj, taking another bite.
“She looks like she is dead! Her skin is like alabaster!”
“Well, you know what they say? ‘It is all jasper on the inside.’”
* * *
Ganj and Nut scramble up onto the roof of the palace, and from here they have a splendid view of the multitude that is cramming into the plaza surrounding the temple. The feast is concluded and it is time for the Ceremony of the Wedding of Inanna.
Atop the temple, high above the throng, the King stands naked, his arms outstretched. Four priests flank him, one each for the Four Corners of the World. Each priest holds an earthen jug, which they raise up over the King’s head. With a fanfare of ram’s horns and the banging of copper gongs, the priests pour milk all over the King.
The King shakes his head and presents himself to the crowd below, eliciting a roar from the masses.
Then the priests each are handed a leather whip. A signal is given and the priests, in turn, enthusiastically lash the King across his naked back. The crowd screams for more.
“He is King,” says Nut. “Why does he let them do that?”
Ganj shrugs. “Pour milk on him? Who would not want that? This is Ninkhursag’s sacred milk, the milk that nourishes those whom Enlil has chosen to be King.”
“No. Why does he let those men beat him?”
“Oh, that. The priests represent the Goddess Inanna. And you know what they say — ‘Immortals swarm like flies above those who offer sacrifice.’”
“What is sacrifice?” asks Nut.
“Excellent question.” says Ganj. “The King shows Inanna that he loves her because he lets her beat him. Sacrifice. Perhaps this is what love is. I do not know.”
* * *
Chapter Nineteen
A procession of priestesses is leaving the temple, each one wrapped from head to toe in white linen. Nut is waiting.
He falls in behind her. Her face is almost completely covered, but her green eyes shine through. Nut follows close behind. “Inni,” he whispers.
She does not respond.
“Inni,” he whispers again. “Remember?”
She does not respond.
“The paradise to the west? The King’s minstrel sings of it!” He takes her arm. She turns. She looks at him with terror and flees, knocking aside several shrieking priestesses. He runs after her, yelling her name. He catches her and pulls away her veil.
* * *
Chapter Twenty
“You have defiled a priestess of the temple!” shouts Ben-jah. He is furious.
Nut is bewildered. “I uncovered her face,” he says. “I did not know it was evil. I did not know she was not Inni.”
“That means nothing to the law!” shouts Ben-jah.
“What is law? What will happen to me?”
“You will be whipped!” shouts Ben-jah. “Severely. This is the best that I can arrange. It could be much worse.”
“But I did not flee!” pleads Nut.
“The next time, you might consider that opportunity. I will deny that you heard these words from me.”
Nut looks at Ben-jah. “Why do you stay?”
“I have been given a trust. If I betray that trust and they catch me, they will not just whip me. They will slowly flay the skin from my flesh. Then pour on salt. Then they will bury me alive. I have seen it done. It spoils the appetite.”
* * *
In a neglected courtyard, Nut is taken before the King’s assembled servants. He is stripped naked and his hands are tied to a post. He looks down at his feet. The sand is stained with dried blood.
Ben-jah leans close to Nut’s ear and whispers, “It is necessary. It will pass.”
Ben-jah does not hold back on the lash.
* * *
That night Nut cannot sleep for the pain. Ganj suggests that they sneak into a storeroom and get some beer, but Nut cannot even stand up.
Nut finally convinces Ganj to venture into the gardens and gather the roots of a certain plant to make a poultice. Ganj returns much later, drunk.
Nut is sleeping fitfully. He wakes, barely, then nods off. Ganj crushes the roots into a pulp, which he carefully smears on Nut’s wounds.
After a while, Ganj sits back. He picks up his lyre and sings.
“Sleep young lion
Tonight there is no sun
Tomorrow you may run
Run to the islands in the west
Swimming in the sands
Run to islands where the sun
Sleeps in his own home land.”
Nut begins to snore.
Ganj leans back on his pallet. “And now, perhaps a song about strange men who come from the mountains.” He stares up at the round moon shining through the small window. “And souls who have no happy place to die.”
* * *
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[Go to Part Six​]