Dark Tales Of Lost Civilizations (24 page)

Bruce L. Priddy

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One of the earliest known works of literature is
The Epic of Gilgamesh
, a series of poems and legends from Mesopotamia, which follows the eponymously named character. Gilgamesh, a tragic hero much like Hercules of Greek lore, travels the land amongst both men and gods. His exploits are great and, so too, are his tales. Bruce L. Priddy brings us his own contribution to the lore of Gilgamesh, written in its traditional verse-narrative. Balancing passionate prose and vivid storytelling,
Gilgamesh and the Mountain
continues the epic of the King of Uruk.

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From apocryphal tablets discovered by Hormuzd Rasam in the palace library of Ashurbanipal at Nineveh, 1856. Inscribed in Akkadian and found to be written in the traditional verse-narrative of the Epic of Gilgamesh. Translated by George Smith, 1872; tablets and translation suppressed by the British Museum, same year.

In those strange ages, in those far-off strange ages,

Gilgamesh, king of Uruk,

mourned his friend Enkidu, whom he loved so dear.

Gilgamesh wandered the wild places,

forsaking that he was a man and king.

He had become as an animal, he dressed in their skins,

he slept on the bare ground, nose to tail.

To Sin, the lamp of the gods, he howled his grief.

Like the night-beasts, our king howled.

Ninsun became concerned and bent down.

To Gilgamesh she spoke,

“My son, why have you forsaken your kingship?

My son, why do you live as an animal?”

Gilgamesh wailed,

“My friend, whom I loved so dear,

he is gone! The Netherworld has seized him!

Shall the Doom of Mortals fall on me?

“Shall I become the clay that has become Enkidu,

my friend, whom I loved so dear?

I am afraid of the Doom of Mortals,

of what my friend has shown me.

“A House of Grays, a House of Ashes,

a thirst that can never be sated,

that is what dear Enkidu has shown me.

These dreams and visions have made me afraid.

I wander the wild places, to seek an escape from the Doom of Mortals.”

Far east did our king roam.

He walked a land no man had walked,

he saw a mountain no man had seen.

A dream came to Gilgamesh.

The mountain walked,

the mountain stumbled,

the mountain spoke and said to Gilgamesh, “Come.”

Gilgamesh walked toward the mountain.

Every night he dreamed.

The first night the mountain spoke in an infant’s sigh,

the second night a harlot’s gasp,

the third night a jackal’s laugh,

the fourth night as men in battle.

On the fifth night the mountain spoke in thunder.

Gilgamesh walked toward the mountain,

and Ninsun became concerned.

She bent down and said to Gilgamesh,

“My son, why do you go to that mountain?

No man was meant to walk it,

No man was meant to see it.”

Gilgamesh spoke to Ninsun and said,

“In my dreams, I saw the mountain walk.

In my dreams, I saw the mountain stumble.

In my dreams the mountain spoke to me and said ‘come’.”

Ninsun spoke to Gilgamesh,

she said, “Turn back.

No man was meant to walk it,

no man was meant to see it.”

Gilgamesh said to Ninsun,

“Are those not men I see in the distance?

Are those not men who cavort and dance around bonfires?”

Ninsun said to her son Gilgamesh,

“Those are not men you see,

who cavort and dance around bonfires,

but demons who pretend to be men.

Men do not have the legs of ewes.

Men do not have the horns of rams.

Men do not have the mouths of hyenas.

“They bay when Sin, the Lamp of the Gods, is high,

but do not serve him.

Frog-demons who crawl through the hair on the back of his head

receive their songs.

They will not welcome you in this land.

No man was meant to walk it,

no man was meant to see it.

They will be like wolves on you, they will be like lions,

your flesh they will consume, your remains will go to their masters.”

Gilgamesh said to Ninsun,

“In my dreams I saw a mountain walk.

In my dreams I saw a mountain stumble.

In my dreams the mountain spoke to me and said ‘come.’

To the mountain I shall walk.

The Doom of Mortals I fear but if it be mine,

I shall face it with ax and knife in hand,

not in bed, not in fever, as the gods cursed Enkidu.”

Ninsun pleaded with Gilgamesh,

“Turn back.

The gods cannot follow.”

Gilgamesh opened his mouth to speak.

“I weep bitterly for my friend Enkidu,

whom I loved so dear,

but no god helped me.

I fear the Doom of Mortals,

but no god helps me.

So, I shall ask the mountain.”

Our king walked toward the mountain.

He saw Ninsun and the gods shudder.

He saw Ninsun and the gods flee.

As he approached the fires of the demons who pretend to be men,

Gilgamesh kept a league’s distance.

When the demons who pretend to be men approached him,

Gilgamesh kept a league’s distance.

The demons who pretend to be men sniffed the air.

But Gilgamesh had not bathed in water or anointed himself in oils,

so they did not fall upon him.

The demons who pretend to be men looked at him.

But Gilgamesh, dressed in the skins of animals, did not resemble a man,

so they did not fall upon him.

The demons who pretend to be men danced and cavorted.

Gilgamesh danced and cavorted like them,

so they did not fall upon him.

The demons who pretend to be men sang to the frog-demons who crawl in Sin’s hair.

Though it made his throat bleed, Gilgamesh sang with them,

so they did not fall upon him.

Gilgamesh was as the demons who pretend to be men,

until their bonfires were but stars on the horizon.

Gilgamesh came unto the mountain and saw it was not a mountain,

but an alive thing that was not alive.

Not alive but not dead.

Not dead but dreaming.

The face was one thousand plus one thousands of snakes,

each one a hundred rods and half again long,

dancing and cavorting like the demons who pretend to be men.

The eyes were night-oceans, the gulfs above,

but not moon nor stars shown in them.

Gilgamesh saw only the Deep.

The mountain spoke to Gilgamesh,

though it had no mouth to speak.

The words were as a night-insect who sings, “
azif! azif!
”

Birds fell from the skies,

cedars uprooted to crawl away.

Gilgamesh’s ears could not understand the words,

but heard them as he would his own thoughts.

“You have come.”

Gilgamesh forgot he was a king,

he lost his bowels.

Gilgamesh forgot he was a man,

he wet his legs.

“Are you a demon?” Gilgamesh asked the mountain.

And the mountain laughed.

“Are you a god?” Gilgamesh asked the mountain.

And the mountain laughed.

The mountain spoke to Gilgamesh and said,

“Those who pretend to be gods are but parasites,

lice in the hair, ticks in the skin,

flies that lay eggs in the flesh.

“Usurpers to the throne,

servants who play at being king

while their lords sleep.

That is what those who pretend to be gods are.

“I am they who slumber in beds

the gods turned into graves.

I am they who in sleep

have conquered death.

“I am they who dream

and give the gods torments in their night-beds.

I am they who the gods fear will wake

and bring upon them Doom.”

Gilgamesh fell before the mountain and cried out,

“Why did you touch my dreams?

Why did you speak and say ‘come’,

and bring me to a land no man was meant to walk, no man was meant to see?”

The mountain spoke to Gilgamesh and said,

“I saw a heart hollowed by sorrow,

as worms burrow through the dirt.”

Gilgamesh wept.

“Yes! I weep bitterly for my friend Enkidu,

whom I loved so dear.

He is gone! The Netherworld has seized him!”

The mountain spoke to Gilgamesh and said,

“I saw a mind heavy with fear,

as one burdens a slave.”

Gilgamesh wept.

“Yes! I am afraid the Doom of Mortals,

that I shall become the clay that has become Enkidu,

whom I loved so dear.

“You, who are they the gods fear,

can you bring back to me Enkidu, whom I loved so dear?

You, who are they that in sleep have conquered death,

can you teach me to escape the Doom of Mortals?”

The mountain spoke to Gilgamesh and said,

“Release us from our binding,

and you will be as a god.

Release us from our false prison,

You will be as a god.

None shall stand before you,

we will teach you new ways to revel and kill.

Every desire shall be yours to have.”

Our king asked of the mountain,

“How did you come to be in this false prison?”

The mountain spoke to Gilgamesh.

“Long ago, before the moon was set in the sky

we who dream were the lords of this earth,

we who dream were the lords of every earth.

Through blood and fire we conquered.

“We who dream were as to the gods as men are to vermin.

Mice and roaches in our palaces,

scavenging in our refuse,

that is what those who pretend to be gods were.

“Then the heavens changed.

The sky broke, the stars went black.

The earth flipped over twice and flipped twice more.

The earth split. Mountains were set ablaze, fell and rose.

The land became the ocean.

“We who dream could not sustain our lives.

In slumber we would conquer death as we conquered earth.

In slumber we would conquer death as we conquered the gulfs between stars.

We who dream would sleep until the sky healed, to awaken and claim our thrones.

“Those who pretend to be gods

huddled and cried in terror of the Cataclysm.

From the ruins of our palaces they crawled,

into a world made anew.

“Famished, starved,

they gathered around the first fool who lit incense.

Those who pretend to be gods

were as flies that cling to rotting meat.

“Those who pretend to be gods

conspired against the true masters of this earth.

They stole our knowledge, they stole our magics,

they sealed our beds, made them into tombs!

“They are liars, they are thieves.

They claim to have created the heavens and the earth.

They are fattened on your worship.

They sealed our beds, made them into tombs!

“We who dream cannot wake,

condemned to watch the world from our graves.

Usurpers to our thrones,

they sealed our beds, made them into tombs!

“Across the land are the locks that keep we who dream in deathless sleep.

Push aside the gravestones and you, Gilgamesh,

you shall be as a god.

None shall stand before you.

We will teach you new ways to revel and kill.

Every desire will be yours to have.

“Release us so that we who dream may tread once more.

Through blood and fire we shall cleanse the earth,

and storm the heavens, to tear down the palaces of the usurpers,

so that you, Gilgamesh,

can take your revenge on those who pretend to be gods.”

Gilgamesh stood before the mountain and spoke,

“If you, who are they the gods fear,

can bring back to me Enkidu,

whom I loved so dear,

and if you, who in sleep have conquered death,

can teach me to escape the Doom of Mortals,

I, Gilgamesh, shall call you master,

I, Gilgamesh, shall call you god.

“Tell me, my master,

where I will find the locks that keep you who dream in your graves.

Tell me, my god,

how to undo the seals that turned your beds into tombs.”

The mountain spoke to Gilgamesh

and told him where to find the locks.

The mountain spoke to Gilgamesh,

and taught him new ways to revel and kill.

The mountain spoke to Gilgamesh,

and whispered to him the secrets to undo the seals.

Gilgamesh heard the secrets,

and black fled from our king’s beard.

Gilgamesh heard the secrets,

and his heart lost a beat with every word.

Gilgamesh heard the secrets,

and our king forgot his vows to the mountain.

Gilgamesh heard the secrets,

and he ran.

Our king never spoke aloud the secrets.

Not to his wives,

when the secrets plagued his dreams and woke him with screams.

Not to the Council of Elders,

when his hands would tremble at the memory.

Gilgamesh ran from the mountain,

the secrets so maddened him.

He ran through the land

of the demons who pretend to be men.

They fell upon Gilgamesh.

Like wolves, like lions, they fell upon him.

Gilgamesh fought as a wild-beast, the secrets so maddened him.

He tore at them with his teeth, he tore at them with his finger-nails,

and Gilgamesh escaped the land no man was meant to walk, no man was meant to see.

Gilgamesh returned to Uruk, he returned to his sheepfold.