Mesopotamia - The Redeemer (47 page)

In Eo's eyes, there was no one
better or more beautiful than Kishmi. The feeling intensified over
the years, whenever he used to see her sitting at the entrance of
her parents' hut as a young girl, helping her mother sort peas, he
dreamt of her gleaming teeth that flashed through her coy smile. No
man was happier than he when her parents agreed to his parents'
request to arrange an engagement between them. He learned to
appreciate her intelligence over the years.

He stood up. Kishmi wrapped the
traditional wraparound skirt around his small belly, fastened the
skirt and laced his sandals that he reserved for special occasions.
Eo examined himself in the polished copper mirror and studied his
high forehead, flat nose and dark skin. A tangled plume of hair
sprouted from his collar. 'This is how an oil healer favored by the
king ought to look,' he tried to convince himself. He looked at his
jewelry, the gold earrings adorning his ears, the bone bracelets
hugging his forearms, the chain with the blue seal around his neck
and the golden serpent pin that was a testament to his position as
a healer.

“You look very respectable,” said
Kishmi, standing behind him as her image dimly took shape in the
mirror.

He scrunched his thick eyebrows so
that his sharp gaze appeared even more penetrating. 'This is the
soul-penetrating gaze of an oil healer,' he tried to flatter
himself, but the thought only brought a smile to his lips and the
dour wrinkles on his forehead vanished.

“At least I look like a healer,”
said Eo sheepishly.

He loaded the goose, whose legs
were bound together, onto one shoulder and with his other arm he
pulled the sheep, which was tied to a rope woven from palm fibers.
The couple touched noses in farewell. He left the dimness of the
hut through the low doorway and emerged into Shamash's blinding
light, on his way to the temple.

At the edge of the broad palm
avenue, before the red temple reserved for the king, rose the
ziggurat tower, the white temple, called such after the tens of
thousands of white engravings made of baked clay that were embedded
in the building's mortar and that lent it its color. Here and
there, blue engraved lines highlighted the whiteness of the walls.
Eo headed anxiously and excitedly toward it, greeting passersby’s
with a touch of his hand to his nose. He apologized to those who
wanted to stop and consult with him about their ailments and
hurried along on his way. In exchange for a few flakes of copper
paid at the foot of the white step pyramid, he quenched his thirst
with some bitter pomegranate juice.

The priest was delighted to receive
the goose. After slaughtering it in accordance with all the rules
and customs, he offered the roast goose to the idols of An, God of
the Sky, and his daughter Inana, Goddess of Uruk. The Gods ate
their meal in private from behind a screen. They ate very little,
an almost imperceptible amount of the food. Afterward, when Eo
visited and prayed with the icons who prayed for him and Kishmi,
the priest ate what remained of the Gods' offering. When he
finished, he wiped the goose fat from his beard and blessed Eo and
the sheep in the name of the Gods of heaven and earth. Eo tugged
the sheep's rope and continued on his way, down the broad road that
stretched from the temple to the palace.

The chief guard called him: he must
not wait in line with the commoners. He led Eo around the pool at
the entrance, past the gilt statues of winged lions into a small
waiting room.

Eo waited a long time. The
minister’s slaves served him chilled water, roasted pistachios and
dried figs. He ate until he was content and almost fell asleep in
the warmth of the day when one of the guards finally invited him
into the minister’s chamber.

“Seruf, the respected and sublime
minister of slaves, who serves King Meskiagasher, may his glory be
exalted, ruler of the Middle World, will see you now,” announced
the erect doorman. Eo followed him through a maze of corridors
until he reached the chambers of Minister Seruf. The minister's
bottom filled the wide couch and the many folds of his chins
overflowed out onto his blood-red robe. The robe covered an
enormous belly that settled somewhere between his knees. His black
eyes were lined with dark kohl and his cheeks were smeared with
rouge in the manner of the Egyptians.

“The oil healer Eogulades!”
announced the sentry.

The eunuch continued to file his
long fingernails on a stone, and without even raising his eyes to
Eo, inquired in a shrill and obsequious voice, “How are you and how
is your wife... healer?” he added with a touch of sarcasm.

“I am well and my wife is well, my
master.” Eo felt chills crawling up his spine in the eunuch's
presence.

“And if you are doing so well, then
to what honor do I owe this visit?” The eunuch glanced sideways at
Eo and blinked seductively.

“I wish to acquire a slave to act
as an apprentice to my craft, my master.”

“Of course, of course, a
distinguished healer such as yourself is deserving of an apprentice
to safeguard your precious knowledge. Indeed I am the officer of
slaves, but why have you turned to the king's court? Why do you
bother us with such trivial matters?

“Well... Even though I find myself
in the king's favor, my wages are still meager, and... I am unable
to purchase a slave,” stammered Eo shamefully.

“So you feel that King
Meskiagasher, may his glory be exalted, does not pay you properly
for your toil?”

Eo felt webs of intrigue grasping
his ankles and creeping up the length of his body, pushing all of
his blood up into his flushed face. He twisted the sheep's rope
nervously around his fingers. “No, my master. I am grateful to the
king and his officers for all compensation for my craft. I am
merely asking for a loan.”

“Please, come closer, my dear
Eogulades. Why do you stand so far from me? Come sit by my side.”
The eunuch's lips curled into a greasy smile and he patted a
cushion next to the couch.

Eo reluctantly sat down on the
cushion and the eunuch rested his hand naturally on his thigh.

“How much do you need?”

“Four donkey loads of barley and
two autumn months’ worth of water rations, my master.” Intense cold
crept from his thigh and spread to the rest of his body. The eunuch
did not hurry to reply. He pressed his weight more heavily on Eo's
thigh while staring at him and said, “Of course you are a talented
healer.”

“Many people are satisfied with my
work.” Eo hoped that that was the correct answer.

“And what do you think? Is this
indeed the case?”

“I have been able to harness the
Gods to help my patients more than once, if not every time.”

“Tell me, are you good at what you
do?”

“Yes...” he replied hesitantly.

“Yes, I also imagined that was the
case, otherwise the king would not have invited you to see him.
King Meskiagasher, may his glory be exalted, wisest of men in the
Middle World, makes no mistakes, as opposed to some of his
ministers. I want to help you because I know how great your
contribution is to the kingdom, a contribution that far outshines
that of his most senior viziers, is it not?”

“Your servant is not an expert in
the laws and processes of the kingdom. Who am I to open my mouth
and give my opinion on the king's ministers?” Eo quickly considered
if he should continue talking and came to the conclusion that it
would be better for him to continue to do so. Even if the eunuch
did not approve of his answers, Eo could defend himself against any
eavesdroppers. “The king who is wisest of men has been endowed with
the understanding to choose his advisors and ministers.”

“Of course, of course,” the eunuch
immediately retracted his hand from Eo's thigh and hurried to
unravel the webs of trickery that he had woven. A man such as him,
however, does not relent so easily. “Indeed, the king, may his name
be exalted, chooses those faithful to him. But even he needs eyes
in all places. Even though he is the son of Gods, he has only two
eyes in his head. Tell me a bit about your work, oil healer.”

“Gladly. What would you like to
know, my master?”

“For what reasons do your patients
come to you?”

“When they think that a demon or
spirit is the cause of their illness, they turn to me.”

“And how do you work?”

“I try to clarify cases in which
dwellers of the Netherworld and the Heavenly World are indeed
involved with human affairs, that is, the men and women who live in
the Middle World.”

“And if it turns out that this is
the case?”

“I try to negotiate with the demons
and spirits to see what they want and why they are trying to attain
this through humans of the Middle World.”

“If so, you could say that it is
part of your job to try to help both humans as well as dwellers of
the other Worlds?”

“Yes...” he stammered hesitantly
and tightened the rope around his fingers again.

“And you are able to intercede with
the dwellers of other Worlds on behalf of human beings?”

“I can try.”

“Wonderful, wonderful, Eogulades my
friend, simply wonderful.”

Eo gave him a puzzled look.

“The involvement of otherworldly
beings may be extremely helpful in a certain matter. You need not
carry on any longer without an apprentice slave to bear your
knowledge, if you can help me as well. I am a person, if not
exactly a man nor exactly a woman.” He batted his eyes again.

“And how can I be of service to
you, my master?”

“Wonderful, Eogulades, how nice it
is that you are willing to help me. I assure you that you will not
regret the donkey loads you shall receive.” From his disappointment
to his finger, which had turned slightly pale under the tight rope,
Eo could hide nothing from Seruf's eyes. Part of his devious scheme
had been to treat Eo as if he had already agreed to help so that he
could no longer refuse. “The matter is quite simple, and as a slave
owner, it will interest you as well. But first, let us drink young
and refreshing wine together.”

The table was set with clay plates
and cups, wooden spoons, a chunk of bread and pitcher of cool
water. A stew of pork with cherries, apricots and date honey
bubbled on the stove. The sweet scent of saffron filled the house.
The brooding Eo ignored the lavish feast. “Why did you bring the
sheep back, my dearest Eo? And why has your face fallen?”

“It's better to continue with no
slave at all or to cut back our expenses and buy the slave in two
or three years' time than to fall into Seruf's web. Bring me cold
water to settle my nausea from that scum.”

Kishmi poured water into a ceramic
cup and remained silent until Eo finished formulating his thoughts
into words.

“Minister Seruf, chief of slave
affairs, outwitted me with his smooth talking. He manipulated me in
such a way to make me look like a worthless fraud who is unable to
negotiate with the dwellers of the other Worlds, and then while
trying to prove my abilities I had to agree to grant his request so
I could be worthy of his trust. To grant his price far exceeds the
cost of a number of slaves.”

He swallowed the entirety of the
cup's contents.

Kishmi waited silently for him to
continue his speech and refilled his cup from the pitcher.

“I must deliver a curse against
Vizier Murdoch by summoning Ereshkigal and Nergal, rulers of the
Netherworld, to take him.”

“Seruf wants you to kill Murdoch,
the chief vizier?” asked Kishmi in astonishment.

“Shh...” whispered Eo, “the excuse
that he gave me was that Vizier Murdoch treats the slaves too
mercifully. If he continues to make their lives easier, we will
face a slave revolt that will threaten the very existence of this
kingdom. He asked me to assist him in saving the kingdom.” His
mouth contorted. “Seruf has increased the severity of the slaves'
punishments and now he wants to make their lives even harder. He
claimed that, as a slave owner, I should also take interest in
this. He even offered me many gifts so that I'd be able to buy more
slaves. He refused to accept the sheep.”

“His real intentions are to rule,”
said Kishmi. “The vizier is the most powerful man in the kingdom
after the king, and if he dies, Seruf accedes to his position.”

“Even the royal throne is at stake
then.”

“And his successor as well, Prince
Enmerkar.” Kishmi poured a cup of water for herself as well.

“If his plot is revealed, I will be
executed as a traitor to the kingdom and I will bring great shame
on all oil healers. If I don't expose this plot and even aid him in
its execution, I can expect some heavy retribution in the
Netherworld when I die.”

The sheep, whose neck had been
released from the rope, went out to the courtyard.

“Kishmi, my wise one, what shall I
do?”

“You must approach Vizier Murdoch
and tell him everything.”

“How?”

“Don't worry, we'll find a
solution. Now eat.”

The guardsmen surrounded the six
burly slaves who were on the verge of collapse under the weight of
the litter. Inside sat the gargantuan slave minister, Seruf. The
slave at the back right corner of the litter stumbled on a stone.
His friend rushed over from his position supporting the center of
the litter to take his place, even if doing so meant breaking his
back. The slaves tried to cover for each other as best as they
could. If one of the slaves supporting the litter stumbled, all of
them would be sent back to the slave pit unless they were able to
stabilize the litter in time. This time, they succeeded. The one
who stumbled quickly got back to his place. Seruf, hidden within
the litter's canopies, felt nothing. His attention was currently
devoted to the roasted sesame and honey balls that he was eating
greedily and the raisin wine he was emptying down his throat. They
continued toward the slave pit under the eunuch's palace.