The Diviner's Chronicle

By Frank DuPont

Enlil-Bani stood up from the royal palanquin and looked over the crowd, his wrist discreetly shackled to the seat. His head buzzed from deep sorrow, weariness and lack of sleep, yet he was concerned that he might be recognized by anyone he knew. He also felt ashamed to have been substituted for the king, destined to be hung at the end of the day as a murderer. His face and scalp itched from the false wig and beard he wore, designed to make him resemble the genuine king of Isin city.

The year is about 1860 B.C.E., Sumeria. If the soothsayers predicted that a calamity would happen to the real king, it was a common practice to create a substitute king in his place. By executing the substitute, the gods would be fooled and the prediction would come true.

This day was unique, because Enlil-Bani is known to have survived and remained on the throne for twenty-four years.

Called a real page turner, and a total immersion in Sumerian life, The Diviners Chronicle is based on history, and reveals a range of emotions, including ambition and avarice, jealousy and revenge, lust and love, plus loyalty and compassion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491835616

Frank DuPont

Frank lives in Blacksburg, Virginia with Marilyn, his wife. He is a student of history with a doctorate in psychology and social science minors. After writing his first novel, The Diviner’s Chronicle, he continued to research both Sumerian and Harappan cultures to develop the current book, which continues the story of Enlil-Bani, king of Isin, and his family.

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© 2013 Frank DuPont. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/09/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-3563-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-3562-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-3561-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013920960

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Names Of Characters

Places And Gods, Titles And Objects

References

Chapter 1.  A Break In The Routine

Chapter 2.  Lessons Taught, Lessons Learned

Chapter 3.  Unwelcome Memories

Chapter 4.  Foundation Of Resentment

Chapter 5.  Recovery And Exploration

Chapter 6.  An Open Portal To A Closed Mind

Chapter 7.  The Market At Isin

Chapter 8.  Death And Connections

Chapter 9.  In The Presence Of The Divine

Chapter 10.  Feast Of The Lesser Light

Chapter 11.  A Bend In The River

Chapter 12.  An Uneasy Truce

Chapter 13.  Creating The Present And The Future

Chapter 14.  Losses Small And Great

Chapter 15.  Changing Seasons, Changing Plans

Chapter 16.  Leavetakings Great And Small

Chapter 17.  Light And Shadow

Chapter 18.  A New Year

Chapter 19.  Status And Identity

Chapter 20.  Growth And Guidance

Chapter 21.  Obligations And Expectations

Chapter 22.  Developments And Decisions

Chapter 23.  Preparation For The Future

Chapter 24.  A Day Bright And Clear

Chapter 25.  Sorting The Barley From The Straw

Chapter 26.  The Loss Of Hope

Chapter 27.  Negotiating Justice

Chapter 28.  Uproot Weeds, Plant Seeds

Chapter 29.  Promises And Covenants

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I WANT TO THANK those who helped me with this, my first novel. First, and foremost, for the encouragement and literary suggestions made by my wife, Marilyn, who was gentle but persuasive. She was the first to read it in its first form, and her suggestions were inval uable.

Second, several of my family members gave me insights and criticisms which I took to heart even when I didn’t agree at first, but accepted after further consideration.

Third, the staff at the reference desk of the library on the campus of Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in Blacksburg, Virginia was always available and helpful in guiding me to the areas I needed for research materials.

I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the contributions to content and structure made by Ms. Amy Vance, M.F.A. She led the writing group at the Blacksburg Public Library that afforded me the opportunity to have other writers critique my work, and her critiques made my work better. Further thanks go to Morton Nadler and David Warner, friends.

Nevertheless, The Diviner’s Chronicle is my own responsibility. I admit to selecting from the works of serious scholars those features that, in my opinion, enhanced the story and characters.

Gratefully offered,

Frank DuPont

NAMES OF CHARACTERS

PLACES AND GODS, TITLES AND OBJECTS

REFERENCES

Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles (1975) translated by A.K. Grayson

Sumer and the Sumerians (1991) Harriet Crawford, Cambridge University Press

Civilization Before Greece and Rome (1989) H.W.F Saggs, Yale University Press

The Timetables of History (1963) Bernard Grun, Based upon Werner Stein’s Kulturfahrplan, English edition, Published by Simon and Schuster

The Atlas of the Ancient World (1992) Margaret Oliphant, Simon and Schuster

Mesopotamia (2007) Eyewitness Books, D.K. Publishing, Inc.

Ancient Mesopotamia (2004) Virginia Schomp, Scholastic, Inc.

The Sumerians: Their History, Culture, and Character (1963) Samuel Noah Kramer, University of Chicago Press

Splendors of the Past: Lost Cities of the Ancient World (1981) National Geographic Society

The Oldest Cuisine in the World (2004) Jean Bottero, translated by Teresa Lavendar Fagan, University of Chicago Press

Handbook to Life in Ancient Mesopotamia ((2003) Stephen Bertman, Oxford University Press

National Geographic Magazine (January 1951) Ancient Mesopotamia: A Light That Did Not Fail; E.A. Speiser

The Literature of Ancient Sumer (2004) Translated by Jeremy Black, Graham Cunningham, Eleanor Robson and Gabor Zolyomi, Oxford University Press

DISCOVERY OF THE CHRONICLE

(Tehran, Iran; June 1956) Iranian archeologists have reported the discovery of a large collection of inscribed clay tablets in the Zagros Mountains, South of Daneh. Written in cuneiform script and purportedly dating from the 19th Century B.C.E., the find is considered amazing due to its good condition and because the cave in which it was found was hand dug. It seems to be far from its Mesopotamian origin.

It was in Mesopotamia that such human inventions as monumental architecture, writing, the plow, the potter’s wheel, and even a form of democracy were invented and developed. Metallurgy was refined here.

Cities had populations exceeding 20,000, with large-scale agriculture and husbanding of large herds of animals producing a substantial surplus. Agriculture on such a large scale was only possible by the creation of a massive system of canals and tributaries for irrigating fields of grain and date palm orchards, and to manage the annual floods of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. These demanded constant maintenance by large crews of laborers.

As a medium for trade, flax, wheat and barley were exported long distances, into the Indus Valley and to the north and south, from whence came stone, hardwood, precious metals and gems, all of which were absent from southern Mesopotamia. What Mesopotamia had was abundant water and fertile soil.

Early reports from an unidentified source indicate that the collection is a narrative history, the first of its kind that has been discovered. The events recorded occurred in the city-state of Isin, which had become the seat of power in Sumeria some two centuries earlier. The founder of the dynasty, Isbi-Erra, established a system of uniform laws, now considered barbaric, many of which were included in the Code of Hammurabi, and also noted in the Hebrew bible.

The tablets chronicle a commoner’s sentence to be a ‘substitute king’ for a day, a practice that usually resulted in the execution of the man at the end of the day. The man of whom this chronicle is concerned is known to have survived and reigned for another twenty-four years.

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I am writing this tablet myself. I am now known as Enmerkar. I am an ummia, a teacher of student scribes in a civil school, an edubba. I was not born to this role, but earned it by excelling when I was learning the system of writing as a student. Within my family I became known as a diviner of future events, and was called to the service of the royal family on occasion.

No one has seen all of the events of which I speak. This accounting tells of things I know and have seen, and some I believe from what has been revealed to me by others. My best students in the edubba prepared all of the tablets found with this one; no one has read all of the texts except me, as I had them prepared over time by a series of accomplished scribes as they completed their final exams. Under my direction, the texts have been removed far from our land to preserve them; no city remains ascendant forever, and even mine, Isin, will fall eventually. The pride of conquerors leads them to erase the memories of prior kings. My king, like the immortal gods, should be remembered forever. I expect this chronicle to remain hidden for longer than the city walls will stand.

The set of tablets just below this one tells the beginning of the story.

Signed: Enmerkar, the Diviner.

CHAPTER ONE

A Break in the Routine

Our land has only water, soil and clay, but the people are treasured by the gods.

THERE WAS NO one at fault.

The citizens of Isin, in the sixth year of the reign of King Erra-imitti, were already awake and active, using the relative coolness of the early spring morning to pursue their work. The air was already hot with the temperature rising, and an arid breeze blew across the land from the massive desert to the west as the sun rose above the horizon, dissipating the foundling mists from the grain fields nestled within the irrigation network.

The early morning throng of agricultural workers, most of them dressed in plain-spun work skirt around their waist, a shawl or robe over one shoulder and tool bag over the other, filled the greatest part of the hard packed dirt roadway as they walked southeast away from the main gate of the city, scattering the ubiquitous dusty silt as they went. The men created a constant murmur of sound, walking and chatting, as they proceeded toward their assignments in the fields, orchards, gardens or canals, some close by the city walls and others at a considerable distance. The men were unmindful of the cacophony of sounds from animals being driven toward the city in addition to the buzz of people within the walls. The effect was a muted but unceasing din like an orchestra tuning up, more brass than strings, some percussion.

Enlil-Bani, a lead grounds man and gardener for the temple of goddess Ninisina, was in front of his crew of workers, and had just caught sight of his best friend and assistant, Dagan, who had been working in a separate area of the trenches for several days. He had been walking with his fifteen year old son, Bani-mur, but left him and hurried ahead to speak with Dagan.

Dagan, wait for me. I have our assignment to tell you about.

A two-wheeled donkey cart carrying clay jars filled with newly-winnowed grain was approaching the gate close by the exiting crowd, since the roadway narrowed as it approached the entry. A dried-out solid palm wood wheel on the donkey cart fractured across a crack in the middle as it bounced over a rutted hump like a fat man dropping into a chair. The rupture sounded like a rotten forest tree surrendering to the earth below, and all talk ceased as men looked about for the origin.

The lower half of the wheel fell under the cart, which immediately dropped onto its unsupported right side, spilling its jars and the driver onto the road. 15-year-old Bani-mur, who was walking next to the cart, was hit by the axle just below the right knee, instantly breaking both lower leg bones and ripping his skin with a jagged tear from front to back on the outside of the limb. Some of the jars fell onto the youth but rolled away, doing no damage. The axle fell onto the lower part of the sundered wheel under the bed of the cart, or it would have severed the leg entirely.

The donkey that had been hauling the cart stopped and looked back, as the cart would no longer move. The driver had been thrown sideways off the cart, and he fell to the roadway, cursing loudly in surprise as he rolled once across the dusty path and into two workers, who shouted at him in surprise and anger.

Bright blood poured from his wound, and Bani-mur tried vainly to sit up, as he was held in place on his left side by the axle and the upper half of the wheel. His left foot was held under his right thigh. He reached for his shattered limb and felt the sticky fluid flow from his wound, running between his fingers and over his hands. Father, he screamed, his adolescent voice quaking as he fought to hold in the blood that ran into the road, mixing with the dust and gritty gray silt.

His breaths came in short spasms, and the sound of his cries broadcast the agony he felt enveloping his leg and coursing up his body. Help me! he shouted again. He twisted his body to the left again, striving to free his legs from the weight of the cart which pinned him to the ground; the movement sent new shards of raw pain up his body. The smell of blood combined with the sight of his torn limb impelled him to nausea; acid rose in his throat and his mouth filled with saliva as he swallowed hard to keep from vomiting.

Enlil-Bani heard his son scream and looked back but could not see him. Some men had stopped to gawk at the cart and the shouting youth, and they created a wall of backs between the youth and his father. His view left him unable to immediately understand what had happened, but his son’s cries spurred him to action. "Great An! he shouted, invoking one of the ancient supreme Sumerian deities. By this time in his career as a leads grounds man, he was used to giving orders and commanded those workers between him and his son, Make way! Make way!"

At 34 years of age, Enlil-Bani stood just about a thumb’s width taller than most men from Isin, with black eyebrows and dark brown eyes. He was powerfully built and quick thinking. With shaved head and face, the heat and glare of the sun had given him wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead.

He pushed his way through the onlookers, using his strength and his staff to force his way through. Dagan followed, shouting, Make room! Give us room!

You two! Enlil-Bani pointed at two young men who were close to the cart, and demanded, Take my son’s shoulders. When we lift the cart, you drag him back. Be careful with his leg! he ordered.

Using his walking staff as a lever, he along with Dagan and the driver and some workers were able to raise the cart off the damaged limb. Bani-mur was pulled from under the cart by the two designated workmen.

Bani-mur immediately fainted from the pain, which mercifully stopped his screams. His breathing continued as shallow gasps for air, and his skin color started to pale from loss of blood and shock. The injured lower portion was still attached to the rest of the limb by the skin and muscles at the back and inside of the leg and knee, and by some tendons that had not been torn loose. Blood continued to flow in a steady stream from the site where the bones poked through his skin, mixing with the dust of the road and soaking the lower edge of the well used work garment Bani-mur was wearing with a sticky wetness.

Look at his hands, Dagan. How bad are they? Enlil-Bani’s stomach clenched at the thought that Bani-mur’s hands were damaged. As a student scribe, Bani-mur needed two good hands to succeed in his profession once his training was complete. He had been a student for the last eight years, and the thought that all of the cost of his training would be lost by this one event made Enlil-Bani sick with fear. Nevertheless, he pressed on with dealing with what could be accomplished right now.

Dagan. Help me with this.

Enlil-Bani quickly pulled the rough-spun cloak from under his son’s shoulder and back, where it had lodged during the fall, and used it to carefully wrap the leg wound tightly, making sure that he did not pull or twist the lower part of the limb as he did so. He pressed the cloth against the open part of the flesh with one hand in an attempt to stop the bleeding, which became greatly reduced almost immediately. He quickly wiped the blood off Bani-mur’s hands, but found no obvious injury to them.

Here. Keep pushing the cut closed, he directed Dagan.

He searched his tool bag and found several pieces of salvaged strapping to hold the cloth against the gash. With more straps cut from his own cloak, he and Dagan tied Bani-mur’s walking staff to his leg, positioned along the outer thigh with the upper end into the armpit and secured there and at the waist.

Bani-mur was still unconscious. Knowing that his son would need the help of a healer to save the leg, if that were possible, Enlil-Bani looked around at who was still present in the crowd. He enlisted Dagan and four additional men from his crew to help him.

The men carried him in through the city gates, where the guards waved them through immediately, having witnessed the accident from their posts. The guards, of course, remained at their stations as duty demanded, but they had watched the ensuing scene with interest.

Enlil-Bani directed the way through the narrow, still shaded lanes that led to his home. He started calling out to his wife when he was within eyesight of the doorway, Lith-el! Come now! Bani-mur is hurt. Quick, come here! Several of his neighbors also came to the doors of their homes to see what was happening.

Lith-el was a short slender woman with long dark curly hair and a thin straight nose, quick and graceful of movement and decisive in her character. She recognized her husband’s voice, and instantly responded to the unusual tone of determined urgency mixed with exertion in his voice. She ran out of her doorway, kicking aside a young feral pig that was in her path, and sending it squealing.

Hurrying toward the men carrying her son, she demanded, What happened? then realized that explanations could wait. Here, right here! Bring him to this bench here by the door.

Backing into the entry room and holding the door wide, she indicated a raised structure built from clay bricks and mud located along the outside wall, about a forearm’s height above the tamped dirt floor. The floor was covered with a single layer of faded woven reed mats, and the odor of the home was a mix of disintegrating reeds and dirt, like a long shut clothing box. The bench had several dusty dun colored thin pillows made from surplus clothing pieces on it, filled with pulverized reeds and short cut straw. It was about the shape of a bed, but narrower.

As she held the door wide to help the men carrying her son, a skinny half-grown kitten bolted from the room toward the interior, selecting a path under the few pieces of wooden furniture as it escaped. The kitten, Bibi, had been given to Bani-mur’s sister Nani several weeks earlier by Iskur, their older half-brother. Iskur had rescued Bibi from its nest in a barley field which was being harvested just before a snake claimed it. Without hesitation, he had also crushed the head of the serpent with his hoe. Snakes were universally reviled.

Under Enlil-Bani’s direction, the men bearing Bani-mur managed to maneuver the limp lad carefully through the narrow doorway, being very solicitous of the injured extremity, which was still slowly dripping blood from the wound.

The men laid Bani-mur on the bench with his immobilized right leg on the outside, being careful to ease the limb down so that it couldn’t fall off the lumpy beige pillow that padded the surface. The light in the room was provided entirely by two small windows facing the alleyway, just two bricks wide and one brick high; the opening was above head height for a man, so that no one passing by could see in. It was also covered with a faded rose-colored curtain.

Nani! Lith-el called to her nearly thirteen-year-old daughter, who was eating in the courtyard of the home. The girl responded to the urgency in her mother’s tone and ran into the entry area.

"Run to the home of the a-zu, Enki-Nin. Do you know where he lives? Nani nodded that she did, her eyes large with wonder at the sight of her senseless brother; she could not see past the men in the room to observe the hastily bandaged wound itself. Bring him right back with you, Lith-el continued. Tell him your brother’s leg is hurt bad and we need him. NOW!" she ordered her daughter out with just a tinge of anger in her lilting voice.

Nani, who closely resembled her mother in build and coloring, took her short but substantial wooden cudgel from its place by the door and ran out the doorway. The weapon was sometimes necessary to threaten the dogs and even pigs that roamed the city. She ran up the hard packed dirt path that led to a more prosperous part of Isin, hoping to find the healer at home and willing to receive a young girl.

What happened to Bani-mur? Lith-el was the daughter of a Semitic trader who had settled outside the city walls decades earlier and from trading in the market had learned the Akkadian language well. By this time, Akkadian was the common language in both Akkad in the north and Sumeria in the south. Sumerian was now an official and ceremonial language.

Later, Lil. Let us get him settled.

Enlil-Bani thanked the men who had helped him after leading them from inside the home, men who were often with him when repairing or improving the ditches, but not in the date orchards or gardens where he also had responsibilities. The men lived in the same district as Enlil-Bani, but not nearby. Enlil-Bani was responsible for several fields of barley and wheat owned by the temple of Ninisina, and also the water courses that irrigated them. Most of the vegetable gardens were located closer to the city walls.

He quickly delegated his friend Dagan to oversee the work at the ditch scheduled for today’s maintenance. The men left immediately to resume their trip to the irrigation system that brought water from the Buranun (Euphrates River) to the city’s fields. The same system also diverted the river’s flood waters to several cisterns and ponds for future use.

Enlil-Bani re-entered his home and said to his wife, I didn’t see how it happened, Lil. Bani-mur got trapped under a broken cart, and I can tell that his leg is broken. We can only hope it can be saved. Prospects were few and bleak for a person with only one leg in Sumeria. Usually the only course open to such an unfortunate was to become one of many beggars near the city gates or in the market square. It was believed that cripples were out of favor with some god.

I’m more worried about his hands. Let me look. He can’t be a scribe without good hands.

Enlil-Bani did his best to wipe the blood and dirt from his son’s hands, and was so relieved to find no open wounds that his shoulders visibly lowered and his jaw relaxed.

Lith-el looked at her still-unconscious son and made a decision. She brushed past Enlil-Bani and went down the hall into the pantry area, which still held odors from this morning’s preparation of breakfast, spiced butter and dried fish wrapped in flat barley cakes. She secured a shallow tan clay pitcher from the shelf where implements not requiring heating for cooking were stored. Using a gourd ladle, she filled it close to the top from a large jar holding beer, a household staple in every home.

She picked up a drinking gourd, and returned with both to the room where Bani-mur lay on the bench, and poured just a bit of the cloudy, orange-red liquid from the gourd into his mouth; he sputtered into partial waking. Keeping his eyes closed, he moaned and started to sit up. Lith-el leaned over him, and Enlil-Bani kept him from reaching down to grasp his leg. It was not difficult, since Bani-mur’s walking staff was still secured to his body and leg, but pressure on the wound caused him to moan aloud. Bani-mur was of slight musculature compared to others of his city, as he more resembled his mother in build.

Enni, she said, using her familiar and intimate name for him. She again addressed her husband to ask, Where’s Iskur? Does he know what happened?

Iskur was well ahead of us, and Dagan will tell him about the accident, he explained. He felt no need to elaborate on the constricted level of discourse between his step-son and himself. Iskur’s avoidance of him was a source of both pain and puzzlement for Enlil-Bani as well as for Lith-el.

Bani-mur opened his eyes and again started to reach for his leg. "Your leg’s hurt, Bani-mur; I sent Nani to get the a-zu, his mother said. He’ll come soon. Have some beer. I know it hurts, she emphasized with her inflection and showing him her clenched fists. She held the gourd up to his lips again, and he drank again, slowly. He opened his eyes, searching the eyes of his parents for knowledge about the depth of their concern; he then remembered the horrible pain of the first part of the accident and became aware of the throbbing ache gaining in intensity again with each breath he took. He made another attempt to sit up and examine his injury for himself. Again, Lith-el pushed him back down. No, my son. Wait for the a-zu," she directed.

She turned to Enlil-Bani, and being inside the house, which was her acknowledged domain, she directed him, "Go to our room, Enni. Find my lightest dress. We need cloths for his leg, no matter what the a-zu decides. I’ll watch Bani-mur."

Just then, Nani ran in the door and went right to Lith-el, touching her mother’s dress at the waist. The nearly pubescent girl had curly, long dark brown hair, and lips that mirrored her mother’s, full and wide. "The a-zu says he can be here soon, Mami, and not to let anyone touch the sore before he gets here. He said for me to gather lots of cobwebs in a gourd. Why would he tell me to do that, mother?"

Just do it. This is not good day for questions. Ask later. If you need help ask your father.

Lith-el suddenly felt very tired, and sat on the bench next to her son, leaning toward his head, but taking care not to push on him or to press anywhere on the leg. She placed one hand on Bani-mur’s forehead with a slight caress, raising herself slightly to give him a tender kiss on the cheek. She returned to encouraging him to drink from the gourd.

Enlil-Bani returned to the front area with a well-worn full length yellow dress in his hands, inquiring of Lith-el if this was the one she meant. Yes, Enni. Make strips as wide as my wrist, and long. I know we’ll need them.

Enlil-Bani went to the household chapel and, after lighting several lamps, he carefully cut the dress in half lengthwise to maximize the creation of long strips. He prayed softly but out-loud to their household god, Zid-Abzu, whose altar he was using as a flat surface.

"Help me to help my son Bani-mur in this time of need, protector of our family. Perhaps an imp in the company of Dim-me and Dim-mea has caused this. (They were two evil goddesses, responsible for some accidents and illnesses.)

His steady hand worked the knife against the flimsy garment, and he succeeded in getting several strips completed, which he then rolled for ease of handling when they would be needed.

He had seen such bandage materials used after the first major battle in which he had taken part, the battle against the city-state of Larsa, in which Ku-Iskur, Lith-el’s first husband and the father of Iskur, was killed by a copper headed arrow through the throat. Enlil-Bani survived the battle with only a minor wound; the scar from that injury could still be seen, jagged, raised and pale in color, between his left shoulder and his neck. That arrow had passed through almost completely, leaving a jagged hole both front and back.

Will this be enough for now, Lil? he asked upon returning to the room where Bani-mur lay on the bench. Agreeing with just a nod of her head, she wondered with some irritation about the healer’s failure to return with Nani. Just moments later, Enki-Nin, the a-zu, arrived in the doorway. He called out and was granted entry.

Lith-el got up from the bench where Bani-mur lay and motioned for the healer to approach, then walked toward the back of the home and said to Nani, who was standing near her bedroom door holding petting Bibi, Daughter. Stay there until I tell you to come.

Now, let us see to this young man, said the a-zu. Kneeling by the boy’s hips, he examined the improvised splint that immobilized Bani-mur’s leg and said, I wonder how you managed this splint. Where did the injury happen?

Enlil-Bani explained, then said, I know his leg is bad, and we hope you can repair the damage. The bones tore through the skin, and there was much blood.

Enki-Nin who used salves, medicines, and other physical interventions, looked at the temporary bandaging over the area of the knee, which by then was soaked with drying blood, then said to Lith-el, Lady, bring me some cloths for washing him after we have this cloak off.

Next, he reached under the work skirt Bani-mur was wearing, and felt the thigh with one hand and the boy’s foot with the other; he allowed a small smile to form on his lips, as both were warm. He removed the straps that held the walking staff to Bani-mur’s body, and very carefully eased down the cloak material. Bani-mur held his eyes tightly closed but resisted moving. Good man, encouraged the a-zu.

Bani-mur raised up slightly, looking at the healer, and asked, How bad is it? I will be able to walk, yes?

Bani-mur often inserted the exclamation, ‘Yes?’ into his speech. He was by nature non-contentious, and tended to elicit agreement even when there was no dispute.

Enki-Nin stood up and motioned Enlil-Bani to come to him, and said, I will have to take off the cloth and straps you used.

Enlil-Bani produced the work knife he always carried. The flaked blade was sharp and narrow, serrated and pointed, with the handle wrapped in strips of ox leather knotted together, to keep his sweaty palm from slipping onto the blade. The knife had been formed by Enlil-Bani himself.

Under the healer’s direction, Enlil-Bani removed the straps and cloak until the only bandaging left was over the torn flesh itself.

By this time Lith-el had returned to the room with more cloth.

This is the dangerous part, the a-zu said. He removed a stick from his bag that had been tightly wrapped with leather thongs.

Here, he said to Bani-mur. Have another big drink from the gourd. He waited for Bani-mur to drink, then said, Put this in your mouth, bite down and hold still, he said sternly. A look of terror appeared on Bani-mur’s face, but he did as he was told, first folding his arms over his chest with his hands into the armpits, then closed his eyes.

The healer dripped beer from the basin onto the edge of the cut. Bani-mur concentrated on making himself breathe with shallow inhalations, never allowing his lungs to fill.

Although he did not understand the processes at work, with the salt in the drink helping to clot the blood and the mild alcohol content cleansing the flesh, Enki-Nin nevertheless had experienced good results from this method in the past. He appraised the bones sticking through the wound, and made a decision.

Young man, I want you to listen to me. Open your eyes and concentrate, he invited. Enlil-Bani and Lith-el stood behind the healer holding each other, and waited for what Enki-Nin had to say, and both watched their son’s face.

Your leg is broken and the bones are not in a good position for setting straight. The gods so chose. It will be easier on you if I cut your leg off at the knee. I can make the stump neat with less chance of the cut turning rotten. Even if the bones heal, they will probably not be straight and you may not walk correctly. You are old enough to decide; should I try to save your leg? We cannot be sure the gods will favor the outcome we desire. I know a spirit talker who will pray to Damu, my favorite god of healing and his, if you choose the second option. He stopped talking and watched Bani-mur’s face carefully, as did the boy’s mother and father.

Bani-mur rose onto his elbows to look at his leg, being careful not to move anything below his waist. The sight of the bone protruding from the skin caused him to inhale sharply. He removed the stick from his mouth with a look of distaste. Then he looked past Enki-Nin to his parents. All he saw was concern for him. He made his decision and replied.

I thank you sincerely for asking me, and not just telling me what I had to do. I might only be able to hobble around with the aid of a staff after my leg heals, but I won’t even be able to do that without a leg. I have been training for years to become a scribe. I beg you to keep my leg whole if you can. I would like to talk with the spirit healer.

I promise to do my best, the a-zu said, then turned to the parents. Call your daughter. I must send her back to my house to get my apprentice.

The healer walked Nani to the front door and outside, where he gave her instructions on what to tell his apprentice. Nani ran toward the house of Enki-Nin immediately, silently rehearsing as she went.

The a-zu said to Lith-el, I need some vinegar, and a small pot of honey. Lith-el left at once, and shortly returned to the entry of the house with the needed ingredients, silently wondering what could be the use of such things by an a-zu.

During all this time, Enlil-Bani had stayed with his son. Taking Bani-mur’s hand in his, he said to him, I think you are wise to do your best to save your leg even though I don’t believe you can return to the fields. He then left Bani-mur, who was lying with his shoulders hunched, alternately clenching and relaxing his hands. His leg was aching with a rhythmic throb.

Enlil-Bani returned shortly with a small gourd jar of date wine used mostly for ceremonial occasions. Bani-mur drank it gratefully, knowing that he would be lightheaded within a few minutes. The beer had not yet had enough of an effect to truly dull the pulsing ache.

Nani ran in the door just then, and started to go to her brother’s side, but was stopped by her father. Wait, Nani. I want to do something before you talk to him.

Enlil-Bani took an old cloak from a hook near the doorway and carefully laid it over Bani-mur’s legs, careful to put no pressure on the damaged flesh. All right, you can come now, but don’t hug him, he warned. Nani looked anxiously at Bani-mur’s face, then cautiously reached out to touch his shoulder. When Nani touched him he opened his eyes and formed a tentative smile and reached over with one hand and placed it over one of hers. She burst into tears and ran from the room.

Enki-Nin’s apprentice, En-Me, arrived in the doorway at just that time. The a-zu in training was 20 years old and already had four years of experience observing and working with Enki-Nin. He had the typical large nose of the Sumerians, and was of ordinary height and build, but his arms were unusually long as were his fingers. He walked with a slight limp, favoring his right leg. His coloring was more yellow than tan, and the whites of his eyes were chronically bloodshot; he sniffed and swallowed every few minutes.

He carried the supplies ordered by his mentor into the entry room. The largest of these was a splint made from split date-palm branches with the fronds still attached to one side. Enki-Nin called for Lith-el to re-join the men but then called out, Little girl! Stay in the back. Lith-el came right out, offering some barley cakes. As if by prior agreement, the men declined, and Lith-el put them aside.

Lady, gather whatever lamps you have and bring them, he told Lith-el. She hurried to comply, while Enlil-Bani urged his son to drink more. While the parents were busy, the a-zu quietly conferred with his helper, explaining the order in which they were to do their work.

Enki-Nin had his apprentice clean the wound. Meanwhile he removed from his bag a soft leather bag full of river turtle shell, ground almost to a powder.

En-Me studied the boy’s injury, then turned to look at the slender boy on the bench, noting particularly Bani-mur’s curly hair, sensuous lips and long eyelashes. Bani-mur had almost no facial hair yet, which gave an appearance of softness to his countenance. En-Me felt an unwelcome stirring in his loins, which he immediately tried to quell by busying himself with intense concentration on the gash itself.

He prepared the splint that Enki-Nin would need, leaving a gap over the area where the wound would need tending; he based his work on his prior observations while working with Enki-Nin.

Bani-mur by this time had become almost comfortable with the exception of a nearly constant ache below