Gilgamesh Immortal (Chronicles of the Nephilim) (12 page)

Humbaba brought his captives deep into the heart of his mighty wooden palace, hidden away at the point where the mountain rock met the wooden timber. It was a sanctuary, large regal tapestries hung before the mammoth cedar doors as curtains. They were probably confiscated from one of Humbaba’s slaughters of kings.

The forty warriors were hanging from the stone wall like captured game ready to be gutted and cleaned. Although
Humbaba enjoyed feeding the terror of captives as he skinned them and ate them alive one by one, he was not taking any chances with this trained team of fighters. So he had killed them all. Their lifeless corpses were like phantoms overlooking this sanctuary of death.

Gilgamesh and Enkidu were
restrained to large tree columns at their torsos. Their hands were bound before them in strong vines so they could not secretly work to release themselves. Humbaba the Terrible sat watching them with his back up against a huge terebinth tree that grew out of the ground and spanned the ceiling height like a garden atrium. Beside the tree was a cave opening into the mountain.

Humbaba
mused over them with humor, “The tall grown sapling and his angry ox stand ready for combat.”

Humbaba
followed the looks on their faces and explained, “This is a holy terebinth tree. I built my cedar house around it because it is a talisman of communication with deity. That opening leads into the very throne room of the mountain of the gods.”

Gilgamesh and Enkidu looked at each other.

Humbaba was quite talkative. After all, he lived without human or giant company for so many years, there was no telling how much he might talk their ears off before eating them.

“Your army, I will skin and stuff and add to my friends. But you, king Gilgamesh, and your ‘Right Hand,’ you are much more important. You, I will bring in to the assembly of the gods to offer as a sacrifice.

Well
, Gilgamesh thought,
It was my intent to find the assembly of the gods. I just did not think I would end up there in quite this way
.

“What are you thinking?” said
Humbaba to Gilgamesh.

Enkidu thought to himself,
what kind of monster wonders what his prey is thinking? He must have severe confidence problems.

Gilgamesh engaged the giant, “Perhaps we could strike a deal, you and I.”

Humbaba laughed. “And what could you possibly offer me that I could not take for myself?”

“True enough,” responded Gilgamesh. “Not only are you in control of our lives, but you have everything you want and need right here in your domain. It is
your
kingdom. You rule above all things. No one can compare to you. No one dares to come near your greatness. They leave you alone,
all alone
in your mighty pre-eminence and solitude. Your appetite is that of a mighty king, insatiable, unquenchable. There is nothing that can fill these hollow halls with meaning. Nothing that can satisfy the eternal desire.”

Enkidu watched Gilgamesh with admiration. He was not only a warrior of courage, he was a master of the tongue.
He was using flattery to uncover the emptiness and misery of Humbaba’s soul. It sounded so insightful of the human condition to Enkidu.

It was
insightful because Gilgamesh had been speaking of himself.

Humbaba
said, “I find you interesting. We kings have much in common.”

“
Then consider an offer of royal marital alliance.” It was not unusual. It was quite common for kings to marry their family members to vassal kings they have subdued in order to maintain the continued allegiance of the vassal king. But this was a gutsy move. Gilgamesh was the vassal making the offer. His bet was on distracting Humbaba by exploiting his loneliness.

“
I have two sisters,” said Gilgamesh. “Enmebaragesi and Peshtur. Very beautiful. Very tall. I am from a family of giants after all.”

Gilgamesh used a tone of sumptuous memory, as if he were remembering the most pleasant meal he had ever eaten.

Humbaba got impatient. “What about them?”

“Well,” replied Gilgamesh. “I think they would be perfect for you. They are large, well proportioned, and beautiful of face. You could have one as your wife and the other as concubine. They are obedient, provide splendid company, and they are quite the conversationalists.”

Humbaba was actually tempted by the offer. He had been so lonely for so long. He was actually a sociable creature who needed the company of others, but had been made to dwell alone by the gods for the purpose of focused guardianship. He often thought his bitterness and hatred came from this deficit. He thought he had gotten used to it. But he really had not. Always in the back of his soul, lurked a loneliness and despair that he could not shake. And at some moments it so overwhelmed him that he had thought of killing himself. But he did have a responsibility that always brought him back from the brink. He was Guardian of the Great Cedar Forest, and more importantly, Guardian of the abode of the gods.

Enkidu was impressed with the wisdom and insight of his king. He had sized up their captor’s psychological weakness with great cunning. It was uncanny. It was like he knew
Humbaba as he knew himself and was simply sharing his own soul.

Gilgamesh threw in, “And let me just add, I taught them myself how to fulfill the peculiar sexual hunger of giants as well.”

Enkidu could see Humbaba was aroused at the picture painted by Gilgamesh. Which was impressive storytelling since he knew Gilgamesh had no sisters.

The giant considered the offer. He stroked his tusks as one would a beard.

Gilgamesh threw in, “I swear by the life of my mother, the goddess Ninsun and my father the holy Lugalbanda, we would be kinsman. You would receive flour for baking bread, cool beer for your belly, large sandals for your feet, and many sparkling gemstones of precious value.”

Enkidu thought Gilgamesh was talking a bit too much, filling in nervous silence, when he should be letting
Humbaba chew it over.

Humbaba
said, “Unfortunately, your offer is problematic as I would have to let you go in order to get your sisters. This is unacceptable as I do not put much value in oaths.”

“Hold
the bodies of my men as a surety,” said Gilgamesh.

Humbaba
laughed. “Warriors are expendable. Certainly dead ones. Do you take me for a fool, cedar smiter?”

Gilgamesh said, “Enkidu is not expendable. He is not merely my Right Hand, but my adopted brother and my only true friend in all the world.”

Humbaba looked at Enkidu. He could indeed see that Gilgamesh was not exaggerating. A creature of loneliness could spot the intimacy he longed for a mile away in those who had it.

“I would come back for him,” said Gilgamesh.

“This, I believe,” said Humbaba. “and with an army ten thousand strong no doubt.”

“But with Enkidu as your hostage,” said Gilgamesh. “My very life would be in your hands. Surely, you understand that for him to die in my place while I lived would be a fate worse than my own death.”

Enkidu watched Gilgamesh and knew that now he was not speaking words of deceit to trick the Rapha. He was speaking the truth. Gilgamesh was making his last desperate attempt: Pure undefiled honesty.

Humbaba
looked at Enkidu and again knew it was the truth. He could see these two men had a bond so close, it was unbreakable.

“Well in that case,” said
Humbaba. “I will send Enkidu in your place, and he should be capable of bringing back your sisters as well. And if he brings with him an army, he will have the distinct privilege of watching his king burned alive in a fortress of cedar.”

It was a fate worse than death for Enkidu. And a brilliant tactical move by
Humbaba who had nothing to lose because he had nothing to live for. Going up in blazes holding the mighty King Gilgamesh of Uruk would insure his miserable pathetic existence a place in history, or better yet, a place in mythology. And he would get his revenge on Enkidu by the same act.

“No!” barked Gilgamesh. “I beg of you. Do not do this,
Humbaba.”

Humbaba
grinned. He knew he had the upper hand now.

Gilgamesh blurted out, “Enkidu cannot be trusted with my sisters! Remember his past! He is still a sexual
Wild Born!”

It was too late.
Humbaba released the cords around Enkidu to set him on his way.

And that is exactly what Gilgamesh wanted.

Enkidu had been raised by lions. And lions go for the throat and the eyes.

Enkidu was about one third the size of
Humbaba. But he was stronger of bone than Gilgamesh, had a past as a Wild Born, was a skilled warrior,
and
he had a score to settle.

He sprung. He clawed the giant’s eyes. Enkidu’s fingers dug deep and had
Humbaba not been of extraordinary constitution, would have popped them right out of his head.

Humbaba
screamed and moved to protect his eyes.

Enkidu then went for his throat. His teeth sunk in deep.

But Humbaba was one of the mighty Rephaim. He tore Enkidu from his throat and slammed him into a cedar pillar. The house shook like an earthquake.

Humbaba
was dazed and choking, blood pouring from the open wound on his neck.

Enkidu spit out the chunk of flesh.
Humbaba would have his senses back any moment, so Enkidu only had that moment to dive for the pile of confiscated supplies and find the serpentine sword called Rahab in the pile. It was rolled up and sheathed in a leather case that would have been overlooked by Humbaba as a tool of some kind, not the death wielding whip that it was. He only found a dagger. A small human-sized dagger at that.

Humbaba
rose to his feet with a roar. When he spoke, it was with difficulty as his windpipe received part of the damage of Enkidu’s bite.

“Enkidu! Why have you betrayed me?”
Humbaba gurgled. “Would you betray your own birthright?”

Enkidu
did not answer. He threw the dagger at Humbaba, who dodged it with ease. But Enkidu was not aiming for Humbaba. It hit the wooden pole inches above Gilgamesh’s head. It would have hit him in the forehead had Gilgamesh not ducked. He reached up, grabbed the blade out of the wood with his bound hands and began to saw at the bonds around his torso.

Humbaba
swatted Enkidu with brutal velocity and he flew into the mountain wall. The stone cracked at the force. Rocks crumbled down upon Enkidu’s spinning head.

Enkidu immediately stood up. The blood rushed to his head and he almost passed out. He fell back down to the ground on his rear. He
was not returning to the fight any moment soon.

Humbaba
turned to take care of Gilgamesh. But he was gone, cut free from the pole. Humbaba jerked around looking for the king. He could not find him.

At twenty feet high, the giant
was not thinking of looking way down at his feet, where Gilgamesh was on his hands and knees. Gilgamesh stood up and jammed the dagger into Humbaba’s groin. The blade was only a human sized blade, but it was enough to pierce with significant harm.

Humbaba
screamed and instinctively grabbed the blade and Gilgamesh. Seizing the king tightly by the shoulders, he lifted him up to his face.

Humbaba
said, “You will not be returning to the city of the goddess who bore you.”

He threw him against the rock wall and Gilgamesh hit one of his comrades chained to the wall. The blow was cushioned by the captive who was crushed by the force. But he was already dead. Gilgamesh slid down dazed at the feet of the hanging victims of
Humbaba’s wrath. The crash had also loosened one of the torches on the rock wall. It fell to the ground.

Gilgamesh picked it up and threw it at
Humbaba. The giant swatted it away.

Humbaba
reached down at his feet and picked up an iron mace. It was a pear-shaped club honed by years of war for efficient bludgeoning of the enemy.

He limped over to Gilgamesh and raised it high. It would be all over for Gilgamesh in a second.

But that second never came.

A voice boomed out from behind
Humbaba, “HO, HURRAH!”

A flexible metal blade wrapped around
Humbaba’s hammering hand. With a mighty jerk, it was sliced from Humbaba’s arm and fell to the ground. Humbaba screamed in agony and grabbed his stump that was now gushing blood.

Enkidu had found Rahab.

Gilgamesh stood and approached Humbaba. Enkidu stayed behind him with Rahab ready.

They were so intent upon their combat that no one noticed the torch that
Humbaba had swatted over to the entrance of the sanctuary. It had started the entrance curtains on fire.

Humbaba
wept, “Mercy, O mighty Gilgamesh. Spare my life!”

Gilgamesh looked down upon
Humbaba with contempt. Then the giant prostrated himself at Gilgamesh’s feet.