Chapter 1 – The Lucky Dagger
In the 37th year of the reign of Hammurabi, King of Babylon (1763 B.C.)
Tired from his moon-lit trek down the mountainside, Sam stumbled into Susa just before dawn. His grumbling stomach and the scent of fresh bread led him to the back of a bakery shop. Arriving before it opened, Sam slumped behind a group of tall jars and dozed off.
“You! What are you doing behind our shop? Shoo!” Someone shouted.
Disoriented from last night’s ordeal and his lack of sleep, Sam found it hard to focus. After rubbing his eyes, the form of a bushy-haired boy took shape.
“Are you deaf? You must leave at once!” With raised fists, the boy stepped closer.
Not finding his walking stick, Sam scrambled to his knees. He bumped into one of the large clay jars, almost knocking it over.
“Please.” Sam’s voice came soft and small as he eyed a bag of bread slung over the boy’s shoulder. “Could you spare a small piece of bread?” When was the last time he’d eaten? He’d walked all night from the Zagros foothills to the city of Susa. His stomach growled as loud as two wolves ready to pounce upon their prey.
“Ack! A beggar, eh? By the gods!” The boy wagged his finger. “My parents don’t approve of strays. You’d better leave before they see you. They might have you arrested.”
In the dim light of the early morning, Sam peered more closely into the boy’s large brown eyes. The lad looked about his own age, perhaps thirteen. “I’m not a beggar,” Sam said. Grabbing his walking stick, he stood and limped closer. “A cheetah attacked me last night while I watched my sheep, so I came to the city to find my uncle. Surely, you could spare a small morsel of bread.”
The tightness in the boy’s face slackened. He began to remove a loaf of bread from his bag but stopped when tiny chirps sounded nearby. “Gilgamesh, is that you?”
Sam followed the boy as he searched behind the jars. Finally, the young man stopped in front of the tallest jar. On the ground lay a small brown and white bird.
Sam leaned on his stick and took a closer look. “There’s a tiny gash on his belly.”
The bakery boy crouched and stroked the small bird’s beak. “Gilgamesh, what happened to you?”
Sam eyed the bag of bread still dangling from the boy’s shoulder. His empty stomach growled again. If he treated the bird, maybe he’d get food in return. He glanced up at the boy. “Once while shepherding my sheep, a wolf snatched one of my lambs. I chased the wolf off, but the wolf left severe bite marks on the lamb’s back. I treated wounds with an ointment I discovered, and they healed quickly. If we take Gilgamesh inside, maybe I can help him too.”
The boy nodded, gently scooped up the injured bird, and led Sam through a side door of the Bakery Shop.
“Just as my parents don’t approve of strays, they also don’t approve of pets.” The boy laid the bird on a low wooden table. “I found Gilgamesh near the marshes a week ago when a fox raided its nest. I scared the fox away. When I saw the bird couldn’t fly, I brought it home. My parents don’t know I’ve been taking care of it, and I hope to keep it that way. By the way, I’m Enlil.”
Sam pulled out a bronze knife from beneath his tunic.
Enlil stepped back.
“Don’t worry,” Sam said. “I’m just going to put some medicine on Gilgamesh’s wing.” Sam withdrew a brownish-green nut from his leather pouch and cut a hole in it. He then scraped a gummy green substance out of the nut and spread it on the bird’s wing. After limping outside and searching the weeds, he returned with an insect and placed into Gilgamesh’s beak.
“That might make him feel a little better.” Sam left the gall nut on the table and reached out his hand. “Enlil, I’m glad to meet you and Gilgamesh. My name’s Samsuluna. You can call me Sam.”
Enlil removed a round loaf from his cotton sack. “Thanks for helping me with Gilgamesh.” He motioned for Sam to sit on a nearby mat next to the table. He tore off a large chunk of bread and handed it to Sam.
“So, Sam, you were attacked by a cheetah last night?”
Sam chewed his bread and swallowed. “Yes. My sheep scattered after the attack, so I walked all night to reach the city. Since my parents are dead, I’m now looking for my uncle.” After finishing his bread, he glanced around the room to avoid Enlil’s gaze.
“This used to be my older brother’s bedroom,” Enlil said. “He got married last year and moved to Babylon.”
Sam’s chin trembled. “Do you miss your brother?” His voice came low and soft.
“Yes, I miss him something awful. Whenever I feel lonesome, I come into his room and think about all the good times we had together. My parents never come in here. They say it will bring bad luck if they do, and then something bad might happen to Lurs. That’s my brother, Lurs. He serves in one of King Hammurabi’s top battalions in Babylon. Now that Lurs is gone, I have twice the chores I used to have.” Enlil widened his eyes. “May the gods have mercy! I’m late for my deliveries! Sam, rest in my brother’s room if you’d like. My parents won’t know you’re here if you’re quiet. I have to deliver these loaves to the Grog Shop. And thanks for taking care of Gilgamesh.” Enlil moved toward the door. “I’ll return after my errands and then we can talk more.”
After Enlil left, Sam brushed the remaining breadcrumbs closer to Gilgamesh. He hid his dagger beneath a corner of the sleeping mat and stretched out. He tried to sleep but couldn’t.
How could he, after what happened last night? Like letters carved onto a clay tablet, every moment seemed permanently etched in his memory.
A rustling came from the bushes. Not seeing anything, he threw a rock, hoping to scare away whatever was there. As he prepared to throw a second rock, a snarl emerged from the bush. He froze. A small cheetah leapt out and pounced on his favorite lamb. Without thinking, he beat the cheetah with his staff. The cheetah turned to face him. It snarled once more, bared its teeth, and attacked him.
“Sam!” someone shouted.
Yasmah had returned!
His older brother dove into the cheetah with a dagger, saving him from the animal’s claws. The cat, now wounded, turned on Yasmah. In the flickering firelight, he only saw the back of the cheetah’s head and Yasmah’s occasional lunges with the knife. Locked in a macabre dance, the two tumbled for a few moments. Then it ended. The cheetah lay dead, blood trickling from its neck.
He hurried over to where Yasmah lay. Blood oozed from his brother’s side. His tattered tunic revealed where the cheetah had ripped into his chest and arms. Yasmah’s breathing came hard and fast.
Sam whipped off his own cloak, pressed it against the wounds, and locked his gaze onto Yasmah’s.
“Sam.” Yasmah gasped for air. “I don’t think I have much time. Listen carefully.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Sam’s voice cracked. “I’m good at fixing wounds.” Tears mixed with dirt flowed down his checks. He didn’t bother to wipe them.
Yasmah gripped his arm. “Listen, little brother. I went to Abzu’ house to steal back our daggers. The ones Uncle Zim gave us before he left. I could only find one.” Yasmah grit his teeth. He lifted the red-stained dagger still clutched in his hand. “Take this and find Uncle Zim. He’s all you have now. May the dagger bring you good luck.”
No! Don’t say that.” Sam grabbed Yasmah by the chin as he leaned over him. “We’ll go to Uncle Zim together. You’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you.”
Pain flooded Yasmah’s eyes. He shook his head. “Reach inside my tunic.”
Sam reached inside his brother’s cloak and pulled out a small leather bag.
“It has jewels inside.” Yasmah grit his teeth again. “I couldn’t find our other dagger, but this bag was nearby, so I took it. The jewels will buy you food and passage to Tyre. Fate has decreed it. Go now, leave me.” Yasmah squeezed his eyes shut.
“No, brother!” Sam shook Yasmah, hoping he’d open his eyes once more.
He didn’t. Yasmah never moved or spoke again.
Sam moaned and turned onto his side. He imaged himself floating on a raft down the Tigris River. A cool breeze caressed his cheek as he watched the sun’s reflection shimmer off the water. Without warning, clouds formed overhead. The sky darkened and lightning flashed. Rain pelted his raft. He struggled to stay afloat. A large wave washed over him, tossing him into the river’s icy waters. As he went down for the third time, a paralyzing fear gripped him. No one would save him. He would die alone.
By the time Sam awoke, the Mesopotamian sun had risen to the middle of the early autumn sky. Its warm rays filled the room as it filtered in through the linen cloth covering the window.
Trembling, Sam tried to shake off the dream. He rose to check Gilgamesh. The bird now hopped around the tabletop, pecking at the breadcrumbs.
Enlil emerged from behind a curtain on the other side of the room. He balanced a cup of tea in each hand. “I thought I would let you sleep.” He placed the cups on the low table and sat on a mat. “You looked as if you needed to rest, but, now that you’re awake, you can join me in a cup of barley tea.”
Sam sat on a mat across from his new friend and gratefully sipped the warm brew.
“So, where in Susa does your uncle live?” Enlil asked.
“I, I am not sure.” Sam wrapped his hands around his cup. He didn’t know how much he wanted to reveal. Enlil was kind, but could he trust him?
Enlil cocked his head to one side. “What does your uncle do for a living?”
“He’s a bronzeworker.” Sam hesitated. “Actually, he doesn’t exactly live here in Susa.”
Enlil’s dark eyebrows pinched together. “And your parents? You said they’re both dead?”
“Ah, the truth is, my uncle actually lives in Tyre.” Sam needed to avoid any discussion about his parents.
“I’m confused.” Enlil shook his head. “I thought you said you came to the city to find your uncle after a cheetah attacked your sheep last night. If your parents are dead, and your uncle lives in Tyre, whose sheep were you watching?”
Sam also needed to avoid any discussion about the sheep’s owner, their wicked landlord. “I didn’t really say my uncle lives in Susa. What I meant was, I walked all night from the foothills of the Zagros Mountains so that I could start my search for my uncle here in Susa.” Sam slurped his tea. “I hoped to find a caravan in Susa that I could take to Tyre.”
Enlil’s eyes narrowed. “It seems you don’t even have money for food. How do you plan to pay for passage to Tyre? It’s more than a month’s journey west.”
Clasping his cup between his hands, Sam swirled the remaining tea. “Can I trust you, Enlil?”
Enlil straightened and leaned closer. “Yes.”
“To tell you the truth, the sheep I was watching belonged to our landlord. My father pledged my brother and me to him for a year of service to pay off our family’s debts. My mother died while we were away. The landlord didn’t even let us go home for her funeral. My older brother died last night trying to save me from the cheetah, so I ran away.” Sam gulped the rest of his tea.
Enlil stared at Sam and didn’t say a word.
Sam inhaled and continued. “Before my brother died, he gave me these.” He reached inside his tunic and pulled out the pouch that hung from his neck. He emptied its contents onto the table. The facets of an emerald, diamond, and ruby glistened in the sun.
Enlil let out a low whistle. “I should say, any one of those jewels could pay your way to Tyre and back again. Several times.”
“Do you know of any caravans leaving for Tyre?” Sam put the jewels back into his pouch.
“The gods must be with you.” Enlil widened his eyes. “When I delivered bread to the Grog Shop this morning I heard that Negrel, a caravan driver, leaves tomorrow for Phoenicia. He spends every evening in the pub. You could meet him tonight and make your arrangements.”
Sam nodded. “Yes, perhaps the gods are with me.” He fingered the bronze dagger hidden under his cloak and recalled Yasmah’s words. “May it bring you good luck.”
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