Trade winds to Meluhha
Vasant Davé
Published by Vasantrai P. Davé
Electronic format ISBN: 978-81-922506-0-1
Copyright 2012 Vasant Davé
Cover design: Neelkant Choudhary
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Table of Contents
Glossary of Sumérian and Tamil words
14. Baffling glyphs of Dholavaram
23. Night in Muenduru cemetery
24. Samasin's exciting discovery
27. Elati finds explosive truth
28. Secret of a bronze fish-hook
35. Velli faces the bitter truth
36. 'Merchant Urbat' visits Gudea's court
38. Sumérian 'croc' gets his due
39. Little Muruku in big trouble
40. Mystery of the stone shroud
41. Twists and turns at the ziggurat
How this Pre-Historic Novel was written
Dedication
To my father Purushottam Magan Davé
who – when he was just out of the teens –
sailed over 3,300 Kilometres on the high sea
seeking destiny like the hero of this narrative.
~~
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the following for their help:
Dr. Shereen Ratnagar who offered valuable comments on veracity and plausibility of the past situation as constructed in the novel;
Website Harappa dot com which facilitated discussing various points with experts on Indus Valley Civilization;
Dr. Michael C. Anderson who addressed queries about Mesopotamia;
Dr. Mahendra J. Davé, Nilesh Oak and Sujata Shukla who read the manuscript and offered helpful suggestions;
Ms. H. C. Davies, A. Bullock and Bhailal C. Patel, my school teachers in Mombasa-Kenya during 1962-66, who taught me English, and
My family members Bharti, Swati, Sachin and Nitasha who encouraged me to pursue my dream of writing a novel.
~~
Preface
This novel is set in Mesopotamia and Indus Valley civilizations of the Bronze Age. We possess good knowledge about Mesopotamia from thousands of excavated tablets and success in deciphering the Cuneiform script etched on them. On the other hand, artefacts carrying Indus Valley script are miniscule in number and therefore its decipherment is still a matter of conjecture.
As a result, contradictory viewpoints prevail on the location of Meluhha, the sudden disappearance of a flourishing culture, the language in use, the relation to ancient Hindu literature and the existence of the river Saraswati and that of horses. I have selected one of the possibilities in each case and moved on to create the plot. Some of my assumptions could be wrong. As far as possible I have followed archaeological evidence to recreate the life in the two ancient civilizations.
I hope that you enjoy reading it.
VASANT DAVÉ
January, 2012
~~
Map of Samasin's Voyage
Place names in the narrative
Cast of Characters
Each name is linked to that character's first appearance in the narrative in order to aid recall.
Main characters as they appear:
Samasin - Babilian youth
Nergal - Man whom Samasin served
Elati - Nergal's divorced wife
Siwa Saqra - Merchant of Meluhha
Velli - Siwa's daughter
Paravar - Captain of Meluhhan ship
Anu - Sumérian woman in Meluhha
All characters' names arranged alphabetically:
Bel - Elati's father
Cokkan - Trader in Alatinam
Gazkir - Junior goon of Urim
Hili - Elati's daughter aged five
Jittan - Agent in Chendur
Kaiyal - Siwa's right-hand man
Kulali - The Cokkans' baby
Luzid - King Gudea's minister
Morasi - Merchant of Gandhara
Muruku - Siwa's son aged seven
Ovaru - Head sailor on Paravar's ship
Puli - Anu's toddler
Qwoco - Sailor on Paravar's ship
Ribba - Elati's son aged nine
Tanatti - Cokkan's wife
Yali - Skipper of small crafts
Zibigi - Senior goon of Urim
~~
Prologue
A deep mark on the Sumérian's rugged face turned darker. Uneasily he watched an old man in alien attire conversing with two pretty passengers on a ship sailing to Meluhha. Few days ago the man had delivered him a parcel and he had put someone on the visitor's trail. The spy had informed that he had met King Gudea's minister in Lagas and was leaving for Babili. Each of the foreigner's innocuous actions held the potential to hurt the Master. The Sumérian decided it was time he acted.
And that was to set off a string of events which sucked into their vortex men and women in two distant lands.
~~
Chapter 1
Fate strikes Samasin
On a sweltering afternoon in Babili, Samasin the stable-boy hurried out of his master's mansion unaware that he would never return. An orphan from childhood, he worked for a wealthy and powerful man named Nergal. It was the 12th year of King Shulgi's reign and Babili was yet a small town, three centuries away in history before the emergence of its great King Hammurabi.
Samasin had been summoned by Asu, the priest-physician, to reward his year-long assistance in treating animals at the palace. The royal family possessed several exotic animals presented by traders visiting from the distant lands of Tawi and Meluhha.
Round the corner, his attention was attracted by a dark elderly man. Despite his age, there was spring in his feet and whistle on his lips. He donned a blue headgear too big for his shrivelled head and firmly clutched a large black leather purse that hung heavily from his shoulder. From the stranger's features, Samasin guessed that he hailed from Meluhha, a prosperous country far in the east beyond the Lower Sea. Looking like a trader, he seemed to be searching for somebody.
Normally the youngster would have enquired if he could help, but at that moment he was so excited to reach the temple of Marduk that he desisted. Reaching there, he was delighted to receive a date-leaf package for his services. The priest-physician smiled benignly, suggesting that he open it after reaching home.
On his way back, he longed for a drink and walked in a tavern serving liquor. Built in a date-palm grove, it was laid with several tree trunks with space in-between, creating a congested seating arrangement. The keeper was a stocky man with heavy eyelids. Samasin had often wondered how he always managed to appear as if he had been disturbed from deep slumber. Crammed behind his seat stood large clay jars, from which he dispensed the drink. It used to get crowded in the evening when men came to hang out after work. It was still early and there was only one person resting in its cool comfort.
Slouched in a corner was the Meluhhan who he had seen earlier. He had lost his happy disposition and seemed worried. The leather purse lay in his lap. He threw a cursory glance at Samasin and continued meditating on something that he held between fingers.
Samasin paid for a flask of beer and found a comfortable seat. Sipping the cool drink and letting it fizz around his tongue, he could not stop his fingers from unravelling the package. His eyes lit up when they beheld a flint dagger inside. He drew it out as if he were stealing an egg from a hen, and studied it with a loving gaze. It had a carefully chiselled, half a šu-du-a long blade and a carved handle with two holes for firm grip. He had wanted one since long and now he possessed it. So preoccupied was he in his thoughts that he missed noticing a man sneaking into the bar.
The newcomer carried a small head on a tough body. His nose was distorted, probably as a result of a skirmish in the past. He approached Samasin rather unsteadily but with the playfulness of a fox towards a baby rabbit peeping out of its burrow. "That's a nice little toy you got there, boy!" snorted the hood, his red eyes staring at the dagger. "Let's see," he said wrenching it away.
The mix of soft words and rough action confused Samasin about how to respond. His first thought was to fly at the ruffian and disfigure his snout further. But seeing the tavern-keeper slipping behind the jars, he had second thoughts about retaliating at the armed man.
By then, the man with the crooked-nose had sauntered half way across the bar and was addressing the Meluhhan: "Hey, you! Where's the bartender?" The old man gauged him from head to foot and smiled. "I'm asking you!" rebuked the goon, pointing a thick finger at his face. "D'you think I'm joking?" The Meluhhan turned serious and fumbled for words.
Samasin straightened up and hastened to speak, "Excuse me, he –"
"Sh..sh!" said Crooked-nose glaring at him. Holding the dagger in one hand and patting its blade on his own cheek, he jabbed at the Meluhhan's turban with another. "Can't you hear, you scarecrow? Does that 'anthill' make you deaf?" The poor man raised a hand in a feeble attempt to keep the headgear from falling off. And that proved to be just the spark needed to flare up the hoodlum's temper. "You want to fight, do you?" he asked embellishing his question with an expletive at either end.
A scream hit Samasin's ears. To his horror he saw the dagger flashing into the foreigner's chest and heard a screech. A moment later Crooked-nose had snatched the leather purse and melted away, as suddenly as he had materialized.
The old man slumped back gasping and his head hit hard on the log seat behind, tossing off his turban to the ground. His eyeballs bulged and the entire body shook with spasms. Thick blood gushing out from his wound started forming a red pool on the floor. Samasin shouted for help as he bounded over the logs to reach the injured man.
Unable to decide what to do, he sank besides him and tightly held his trembling hands. The alien pleaded with his eyes. Pressing something sharp in Samasin's palm, he whispered: "Give Hiwa Haqra." Samasin nodded. The man's chest heaved like a bellow as he laboured to continue: "Tell 'Amma nacciyar aru perum ha…hara…' "
A gargling sound emanated from his throat and he vomited blood. Then he convulsed violently and dropped lifeless in Samasin's lap.
~~
Chapter 2
Dilemma of two women
As Velli dipped again in the cool chortling Sindhu, she got an odd feeling that she was being watched. In Meluhha, pretty girls learnt two lessons early in life. One was to take voyeurism on the river bank as granted. Other was to carry a sling and egg-like pellets of baked clay, to pay back the culprit. Compared to other girls of her age, Velli had faced far too many occasions which had compelled her to use her skills. All that practice had contributed towards making her sling attack faster and more precise than a voyeur ever anticipated.
Pretending that she was unaware of someone's presence, she waded out of the water. Slanting rays of the setting sun caressed her dark nude figure and dragged a long shadow behind. A gold necklace laced with colourful beads rested upon her full bare bosom, making its heaving appear more intensive. While there were only a couple of silver bangles on the wrist and upper right arm, they entirely covered her left arm from the elbow to the armpit. The lower left arm was adorned with shell bangles. The silver tinkled as she thrashed dry her long flowing hair and strutted towards her clothes like a peahen.
From the corner of her eye she sensed some movement behind a bush far to the left. Whoever was spying was anxious to obtain a closer view in the waning twilight. She took her time in wrapping varati, a long piece of coarse cotton cloth, around herself as she judged the distance to the intruder's hideout. With a foot, she checked that the sling was well under the previous day's varati that she had dropped to the ground before stepping into the water.
She perceived the peeping tom's head rise behind the bushes like sun from the mountains. Casually picking up and placing a pellet in the sling, she revolved it round and round over her head. Before her victim could make out what was happening, she swung around and shot at him. The sharp whiz of the sling was followed by a nasal yelp and a portly middle-aged man staggered out in the open, pressing hard his balding temple with both palms.
"Morasi!" cried Velli as she recognized her father Siwa's trading associate from Mundigal. A long shining piece of cloth like silk was tightly bound by a leather belt on his girth and it gently flowed down caressing his fleshy legs.
"I wanted to speak with you alone," whimpered Morasi, labouring to steady himself. He had arrived in Muenduru only that morning. He had offered to marry his daughter to Siwa whose wife, Velli's mother, had died about a couple of years earlier. In return, he had sought Velli's hand. To the disdain of both matrimonial aspirants, she had flatly refused to toe their line.
"What's there to talk?" she demanded, waving a hand in dismissal. She was taken aback to see his demeanour of a hare transforming into that of a lion.
"I'm the only one that you'd marry, you rude lass," he bragged, slapping his bare flabby chest upon which hair had started turning grey. She did not reply but her lips pouted as she bent down to pick up another missile. "I studied your anatomy and discovered what you're hiding," he smirked. The sling fell from her hand and the sparks in her eyes seemed to be fizzling out as she stared at him. "So now you know what's best for you, silly girl." She felt her throat parch. His high-pitched voice stung her again. "I'll meet Hiwa tomorrow to finalize the wedding."
~
Just as Velli stood at the threshold of a critical period in life, so did another woman far away in a different part of Meluhha. Dusk was setting in at the port town of Dholavaram, cattle were returning from pasture raising a fog of dust, and people were preparing to dine before it turned dark. Born a Sumérian, Anlil had landed in Dholavaram by a quirk. Only about a year earlier, she had considered herself as one of the most unfortunate women on earth. Not any longer. She had adapted the name 'Anu' and had started clipping and setting hair for a living. At that moment she was being courted by Yali, a tall brawny man in his thirties. He owned a couple of sailing crafts.
He considered it crazy wooing a damsel who squatted before him, mashing bamboo shoots on the stone floor with a roughly cylindrical rock. But Anu continued doing just that till he proposed. Then she put it down, brought her palms together in a loud clap and laughed heartily. "I tend to agree with your sister-in-law," she said. "She believes you aren't practical in life." He raised his brows. "You aren't ignorant about my past," she continued. "More suitable women than I would happily marry you."
"I care a cowrie about that, Annie. I want to share your future," he said. "I swear to bring up Puli as if he were my own son."
"I have neither silver, nor land, nor a rich father."
"None of that counts to me."
"I think you're enamoured by my skin. I know several girls in Dholavaram who might not be fair, but are better than I."
"It's you as a person that I admire. Were you as dark as a cuckoo, I'd love you all the same."
"Have you consulted your elder brother and his wife? Both have given me a new life. I'd be the last person to hurt them."
"They'd jostle to welcome you in the family."
She put down the crushing stone. "I won't beat about the bush, Yali. I haven't given any thought to marriage yet, and am not going to do so for some time."
"Why?"
"'Cause I can't rest till I've finished some important work. That might take a couple of years, or even longer.
"May I know what's it?"
"Keep it to yourself," she said lowering her voice. "I plan to avenge two men – the rogues who prosper from ruining gullible Sumérian women."
"I guess one of them is Jittan of Chendur?"
"He's but one link in the chain, a pulasa fish. I'm after the crocodiles – one from your country, one from mine."
"Would you make out their mugs?"
"No, but I know the name of one. The other's voice I'd recognize even under the seventh layer of the earth."
He rolled his eyes and said, "I hope you're aware about the risk." He watched her smiling, her eyelids closing a tad longer than usual. "Can't you put it out of your mind like a bad dream, Annie? I mean, simply carry on with your life?"
"Of all the women lured to Meluhha, God was kind to me alone. Perhaps I'm the only one He has saved from their clutches. Therefore I believe, rather I'm convinced, that He wants me to sweep away their diabolical web."
"And you consider me impractical!" he observed. She did not reply. She had harked back to the time she was fifteen. It was then that her father's sister, who had looked after her since her parents' death over a decade earlier, passed away. Her aunt ran a hairdresser's saloon in Urim and Anu had learnt the trade as she grew up. Her uncle remarried and that had started all her miseries. Suddenly she started. Yali was speaking to her: "Is there any way I could chip in?"
"Not now. I'll tell you when I need help."
"Should I assume that we'll be mates after a year?"
"No, I suggest that you forget me and settle with another girl."
"I won't. I'd opt to hang around."
"Then it's likely that you might die a bachelor."
"Or if luck's on my side, by the time you reach sixty!" he smiled, getting up to leave. She followed him to the door.
"By the way," she said, "have you heard of any person named Siwa Saqra?"
"No, I'll try to find out in my next trip to Alatinam." He turned at the threshold and faced her. "Is he one of your two 'crocs'?"
"Good evening," she said and pushed the heavy teak wood door after him. As smoothly as a crocodile taking to water, her mind slipped into the past again. Silently she bore her step-aunt’s malice for several years till she met and drew close to a kind looking dowager. The lady said it was a matter of prestige for rich young Meluhhan merchants to marry Sumérian girls, and suggested that all her difficulties would disappear were she to settle in Meluhha.
One day, after being bruised in body and psyche by the step-aunt's outrage, Anlil left home for good. She boarded a ship sailing to Meluhha where she was escorted by a woman in her forties, friend of the matron who had encouraged her to run away. Another hopeful young lady came aboard at a port known as Magan. Anlil hated its very name as that was where she had been orphaned.
During several days' sailing, they had nothing to do except watching the waves. Their companion laboured to teach them rudimentary Meluhhan, a prerequisite to understand the men they married. When the ship reached Sutantoru, the Sumérian escort transferred the girls' custody to a Meluhhan hag and left. A couple of days later, they were joined by several men and they all travelled in a well-armed caravan for two or three weeks.
While the two girls had started suspecting the Meluhhans' intention, they realized their helplessness in an alien country among people who spoke a language that they did not understand fully as yet. Reaching a town called Chendur, they stayed at the house of a local leader named Jittan. Within a few hours, the girls found that all others had deserted. That night, a drunken host raped his timid wards from Sumér.
The following day, they were displayed before a crowd of raucous males as if they were animals in a cattle market. The buyers pressed and poked them lewdly, and haggled with Jittan. Finally the men settled for the other girl and silver and flesh changed hands. Anlil lost the only contact from her homeland.
That evening, she heard Jittan talking with someone in the adjoining room. The other person possessed a husky voice and his pronunciations were different from those of the Meluhhans. While she could not understand much of what they spoke, she could make out bits and pieces.
"Why the hell didn't you sell the other too?" demanded the hoarse voice.
"They offered only half more than the usual price. She's worth double."
"Jackass! Your 'double' could land us all in trouble if we're caught. These lasses are vipers in your hand."
"Sorry, I won't hold them for long again. I assure you."
"Sell her fast and pass on the silver to Siwa Saqra," commanded the gruff voice. "I'm leaving tomorrow, and I want you to pay him by the weekend."
It made her shiver but she was not one who succumbed to circumstances. Towards the evening she conveyed that she had to answer the nature's call. Cursing her bowels, Jittan ordered a woman servant to accompany her to the outskirts of the town. A male guard followed at a little distance.
Reaching the woods, her companion considered to relieve herself too. Anlil grabbed a rock and aimed hard at the woman's head. She toppled over with a cry that was hardly audible over the screeching of crickets around. The frustrated girl rushed to her and hit the rock again and again on her head before retreating deep inside the forest. The male guard might get suspicious only after some more time. In the meanwhile, she had to put as much distance between them as possible. Sharp pebbles and thorns in the way pierced her skin. It was jet dark and at another time she would have hesitated to venture. However, the mere instinct of escaping from an equally dark future made her squarely face fear as well as obstacles.
She might have run, fallen, got up and run again for twenty mu-eš or so when she saw a flicker of light in the distance. She could discern silhouette of a solitary hut amidst the trees. Drawing nearer, she saw that the light emitted from a dying fire. Whoever lived there had cooked a meal and retired. Drawing nearer to the hut, a whiff of fresh barley bread and raw onions sailed to her nose. Suddenly she felt hungry. Peeping inside, she saw an aged couple taking a simple dinner. As the weary girl stood in the door, the woman saw her. The couple listened to her woeful tale as they shared the meal with her.
"I am afraid," said the man, "that your captors would mount an intensive search as soon as the day breaks. They would be riding and could catch up in no time."
"This afternoon while I was foraging for firewood in the jungle," said the woman, "I saw pug-marks and moist dung there. In all probability it was a caravan."
"Then it might have halted for the night at the village," said the man.
"How far is it?" asked Anlil with concern.
"About half a da-na away."
The man lighted a torch and led Anlil through the thick woods down to the village. They met the owner of the caravan, a serene man in late fifties, in his tent and told him everything. He was the elder brother of Yali, the man who had later started pursuing her as a dogged lover. Gauging the situation, he summoned two of his guards to leave post-haste with Anlil on three of his sturdiest donkeys. They trotted throughout the night, and at dawn reached a shallow river. They rested for some time and then the animals laboriously waded through the waters to the opposite bank.
She was so exhausted and asked if they could rest at the village on the bank. But the guards said that would be risky. So they continued the journey. After putting the river half a da-na behind, they came to another village. The guards met the headman and made arrangements to hide her among their womenfolk. The women lent her a dress and applied henna paste all over her face and feet to camouflage her light complexion.
The men returned on foot, assuring to collect her and the animals after the danger blew over. They pitched a tent outside the village to await the pursuers. Fortunately Jittan's men decided to give up the search when they came across the river. A day later, the rest of the caravan reached there and they continued the journey together.
Finding the name 'Anlil' unfamiliar as well as difficult to recall, the womenfolk shortened it to 'Anu' which meant 'affection' in their language. Incidentally the word also existed in Sumérian, meaning 'heavenly'. Since both words generated positive feelings, she adapted it whole-heartedly.
Several weeks later the caravan reached the 'lake town' of Dholavaram. She decided to start anew and strive to earn and save enough to undertake a journey back home. The caravan owner's wife, Yali’s sister-in-law, took an immediate liking for the brave girl. That was when Anu fell very sick and the lady looked after her with all the motherly care that she had missed since her aunt's death. The sickness was a precursor of motherhood. And that changed her entire outlook. All her anguish receded in the background as bearing a healthy baby became her sole concern. Her mentor advised that melodious music greatly benefited baby in the womb. So Anu commenced learning Meluhhan music from her. She spent hours after hours practicing the notes Sa Ri Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni Sa and their combinations.
However, besides having sharp memory like an elephant, Anu also possessed its vengeful attitude. Now that the baby was almost six months old, she had started thinking about how to pay back the men who had wrecked her life.
~~
Chapter 3
Elati's suspicion
Samasin pleaded innocence but a man with a prominant mark on his face swore under a mutilated lip that he had witnessed the accused quarrelling with the Meluhhan trader and stabbing him. Samasin failed to understand why a person whom he had never met before was bent upon proving him a murderer.
Declaring him guilty, the Council of Elders sentenced that he be locked out in an arena with a wild bull for one full mu-eš. The Ordeal meant certain death, being gored by an irritated beast. It was to be meted out on the following day, which happened to be the New Moon in the month of Aaru. Nobody in Babili imagined that the date was destined to go down in the annals of their history.
Samasin had been driftwood in the human sea of Sumér. Till that day he had never succumbed to obstacles because throughout a difficult childhood he had seen the most obstinate problems melting against Hope and Faith. However, things were different now. He was holed up in a death cell and neither Hope nor Faith provided any solace.
As he whiled away time, subconsciously he recollected the previous day's happenings. Alone in the tavern with the dead Meluhhan in his lap, a strange feeling had swept over him. It was his dagger that had taken the stranger's life. Traumatized, he had broken into a loud wail when his tearful eyes were drawn by something tucked inside the dead man's upturned turban. Sparkling in the shady light around, it was an exquisite necklace with golden pendant and beads of gold and precious stones. That was when he had seen a long broad shadow entering the tavern. The man had a deep mark across his left cheek, indicating that his profession was probably not different from the one who had left a little while earlier. Relieved, Samasin was about to seek help when Cheek-mark spotted the jewellery and swooped upon it.
"Put that back," he had advised, grief giving way to the matter at hand. "It could help them find who he was."
"That's a good idea,” said Cheek-mark in a gruff voice. He reached for his pocket again. Samasin saw in his hand not the necklace but a small clay object shaped like a bird. He put it to his lips and blew hard. A shrill whistle pierced through the desolate afternoon air.
"Put back the necklace," insisted the youngster.
"What necklace, sonny?"
For a moment, he was stunned. Then gently laying the Meluhhan's head on the ground, he jumped to his feet and full of fury, swayed a power-packed fist at the thug. Missing his nose, it landed a little below with a thud. As they exchanged blows, all hell broke loose. A crowd burst into the tavern, targeting Samasin, and he fought them till a couple of officials arrived on the scene.
"The assassin absconded that way – he'd a jagged nose," he informed under breath. "And that chap there has stolen the dead man's necklace."
"Mulla Xul, dhi Evil Devil!" cried Cheek-mark through bleeding lips, "Dhi – dhi – lad is lying." He appeared to be alarmed at his suddenly distorted speech. Samasin too noticed the change and rejoiced that he had dislodged a tooth or two from the hoodlum's gums. Immediately the officials conducted a search but did not find anything on him except some silver. Then he heard the goon again. "Dhat boy’s an expert weaver of stories. He’s accusing me because I saw him murdering dhi poor old foreigner."
Thereupon the officers had pounced upon him and despite earnest pleas, marched him away.
A question popped up in Samasin's mind. What was it that the dying man had pressed in his palm? He reached into his pocket and something stung it like a scorpion. Withdrawing the hand in pain, he saw a tiny bronze fish-hook hanging from a finger dripping with blood. He recollected having seen three similar fish-hooks exhibited during the trial. They had been found on the dead man's body during post-mortem. The only difference between them and the one with him was that they were not bronze but made of gold, silver and copper respectively.
Just then he heard heavy footsteps on the stone floor. Looking up, he saw the jailor approaching, accompanied by his master Nergal's divorced wife Elati. He had not seen her since he left her mansion six months earlier with his master and entourage. For long, the servants were aware of the storm brewing between the couple and no one was surprised when the kind Mistress finally broke down and approached the Council of Elders for a divorce. For Samasin, the break-off had also meant an end to his pursuit of knowledge. Elati had imparted him a cursory knowledge of reading and writing between his chores of horse caring.
From afar, she had noticed Samasin crouching in a corner of his cell, distraught and scared. One of his legs was tied with a thick bronze chain rooted into the wall. Coming nearer she found that he had not touched the food that had been served earlier in the evening.
As the warden withdrew, she sat on a nearby stool and said, "I'm sorry to hear your sentence, Sam. While I might not be able to help, I'd like to seek answers to some questions that have been nagging me." He tried to smile, but his facial muscles rebelled. Seeing strange twitching on one side of his face, she spoke with concern, "If you'd like to be left alone, I'll go. I understand."
"No, lady," he said, pulling himself as near to her as the chain permitted. "Perhaps God has sent you to hear me and judge for yourself. I don't care about others, but I don't wish that you misunderstood me."
"How's it that all who were present there accused you of the murder? Not a single person had seen the queer-nosed culprit that you mentioned!"
"Besides me, only the tavern-keeper saw it happen – but he told the Council that he'd gone out and wasn't present."
"Not even the man who stood witness against you – what was his name?"
"The sly Cheek-mark? Zibigi is his name. He came in after the Meluhhan trader died."
"Then why did he give false witness?"
Samasin jerked his shoulders. "In fact I met him for the first time that day."
"Might have been sent by some adversary of yours, I guess."
"I don't have enmity with anyone," he said and then added as an afterthought, "Except perhaps Zibigi himself, whose teeth I broke in the scuffle that ensued in the tavern."
"I think they made you a scapegoat. What do you think could be the purpose of the murder?"
"That too I don't know. It all happened so fast, as if planned.."
"As if planned!" mused Elati. "You also stated that the Meluhhan possessed a necklace and Zibigi stole it?"
"Yes, and he got away."
"How did it look?"
" A big pendant and gold beads. Also gold-capped stone beads."
"What colours?"
"Mostly red and blue. Also grey and olive green."
"Jasper, agate, steatite, green stone. Was the pendant made of gold?"
"Yes, and there were some beads in it, placed alternately in colour."
"I thought so." She had surmised that unless the old trader had stolen the necklace from somebody, he was in Babili to deliver it. "It seems to be one of the three that my father ordered on a merchant of Meluhha."
"I saw only one."
"Perhaps all three might not be ready, although it's about a year and a half since Abi placed the order." There was a long silence. At last she spoke again. "I wished to ask you some personal questions which have nothing to do with your current problem. I'd always wondered where your master went for seven nights at a stretch every fortnight, coming home only the next morning."
"Why – to the storehouse."
"His so-called karum in the outskirts?"
"Yes."
"Have you been there?"
"Several times."
"What do they stock there?"
"Mostly small yellow sachets."
"Sachets? What do they contain?"
Shaking his head to express ignorance, he searched his robe and fished out a soiled yellowish packet. "I've often seen some men taking them away in bulk."
"D'you know any?"
"No," replied Samasin. He thought for a while and continued: "I could recognize a few of them though."
"How's that?"
"They're owners of taverns and inns on the country roads. By the way, lady, this is one of those sachets. I'd picked it up to hold silver."
"I see," she said studying it closely. Then she asked, "May I keep it?"
"Of course," he said, reflecting that he would not require that sachet, those clothes, in fact anything that he possessed, after a day.
She scrutinized him from head to foot. "Those appear to be the clothes you wore when it happened."
"They are. The jail hasn't provided me any to change."
She drew nearer to him and spoke in a low tone: "I think there's more to the murder than meets the eye. There's a motive behind it, and behind eliminating the only witness – You, Sam. Unfortunately you were present there at a wrong time –"
"And will have to pay with my life!" sighed the youngster, tears welling up in his eyes.
Elati got up with a heavy heart and left. As she was coming out of the building, her ex-husband Nergal accosted her. "You? Here? At this odd time?" he shot the questions.
"I visited Samasin in his cell," she replied, desperately trying to hold irritation from surfacing on her face.
"Oh! The stable boy!" said Nergal with a mischievous glint in the eye. He had cultivated a smile that camouflaged, and a voice that obscured. "Samasin. Sam!"
She was perplexed why he sounded ironic. Unruffled, she looked straight at him. "You didn't do anything to help someone who served you faithfully for so many years!"
"As if there were something to be done," he sneered. "And in that case, Chief Bel's daughter, you could have done it with a better outcome!"
Not bothering to reply, she resumed walking. "Chief Bel's daughter!" she sighed. "That's why my involvement would be construed as interference."
She heard a guffaw behind her and hoped that the sketchy information she had just elicited from his employee could help her have the last laugh.
~
In a tavern near the docks in Urim, there sat a man whose nose appeared to have been moulded in clay by a playful child. Gazkir – 'Crooked-nose' to Samasin – had returned to his base after stabbing the old turbaned Meluhhan. He had to lie low till matters cooled down in Babili. His senior colleague Zibigi who had marvellously screened him from suspicion, had been instructed by the Master to stay put in Babili till the matter was closed by the Council. For several days, Gazkir was in-charge of the operations in Urim. Not that there was any regular work there, but all the same it was a matter of great satisfaction.
He took a sip from the third flask of beer that was about to drain empty and started thinking, which he rarely did. He had sent a message with a cock-eyed sailor to someone on a Meluhhan ship that was being treated with a fresh coat of bitumen. His expected guest was an expert at creating obstacles for the Master's adversaries and was a respected man in the group.
While Captain Paravar of the Meluhhan ship was away in Lagas to meet a client, and his head sailor Ovaru was in Agade to follow-up with some suppliers, Qwoco, the next sailor in seniority and experience was in charge of the vessel. The captain had instructed him to remain on board all the time and not permit more than two sailors to go on land at any instance. He had also been asked to check regularly for mail at the port office, and redirect as necessary.
Qwoco's features gave an impression of a rodent – the forehead sloping out all the way to the nose and the lower portion of the face receding inside to a small chin. His eyes placed rather near to each other added to the effect. He tied a jungle of hair on his head with a narrow headband. He wore a loin-cloth and under them possessed a pair of curved legs which made his walk appear peculiar. When the cock-eyed sailor reported to him that a couple of messages lay at the port office and a friend awaited him at the drinking hole, he took the same boat back to the shore.
Upon landing, he hurried to the office and found a missive – a tablet from the deputy Ovaru addressed to the Captain. It informed that he was held up in Agade as the suppliers were unable to deliver the required quantity of silver ingots. They were shortly expecting several consignments from Purushattum as well as Elam, from which they promised to address the captain's requirements. Qwoco redirected the message to Captain Paravar in Lagas and hobbled to the familiar pub.
"Master has sent this," said Gazkir handing him two packages of date-palm matting. They were identical except that one was bound in red string and another in green. As Qwoco examined them, he continued: "As usual, the one marked by green is real. You're to deliver it to Siwa Saqra in Muenduru. Tell him that his man fell ill in Babili and died, but that Siwa's assignment had been executed."
"What assignment, Gajkir?"
"I don't know – that's what the Master wants to be conveyed. Tell Siwa that the man had requested you to return the purse." Qwoco listened intently. "By the way, the Master also provided a titbit that might help you to locate his house quickly. It's in a by-lane on the main road, on one corner of whose entrance is a potter's workshop and on another a tavern." Gazkir produced a small sealed packet from his robe and passed over.
"Got you," replied Qwoco, shaking it and breaking into a smile as he heard tinkling sound inside. He was eager to dive in any cesspool, were he promised of silver at its bottom. He returned to the ship, planning how he would forsake one master mid-way in order to carry out another's bidding.
~~
Chapter 4
Defiant daughters
Siwa sat in the foyer upon a wooden cot woven with tree bark. A robust man with a combed beard and shaved upper lip, he donned gold bands on forehead and arms. Finishing snacks of ripe mangoes, he washed hands in a clay bowl as daughter Velli poured water from a spouted jar.
Gathering the leftovers she went to the entrance. As she fed them to a colt that her father had brought from Gandhara on his last visit, she heard a loud snort sounding like that of a bull approaching a herd. She perceived the 'peeping tom' Morasi's rotund apparition materializing up the street. His head was bandaged and he carried a small fibre sack upon round shoulders.
Overcome with fear, she threw the mango skins towards the colt and returned in a hurry. A seed flipped to the entrance but she did not notice. Nor did Morasi. Smiling broadly at Velli's retreating figure, he stepped on the little yellow object and slipped. A shrill cry 'e…e…e…' escaped him, and he hit the floor with a loud thud. The flap of the sack gave way under the tremendous impact and a large sealed package shot out of it.
The shriek and the bang got echoed. "Shut up, Caru," Siwa scolded, looking in the direction from where the sounds had emanated. Following his gaze Morasi found that it was but a caged parrot that had imitated him. Not taking any notice of its master's discomfiture, Caru played the audio reaction of the incident again. A low spontaneous giggle escaped Velli and Siwa heard it.
"Sloth!" he shouted at her as he hurried to give a helping hand to his anguished guest. "See what you did."
"But Anna," she implored, "I wasn't aware –"
"That's crass carelessness," snarled Siwa as he laboured to get the fat man on feet. "I'm so sorry about the girl's behaviour, Morasi," he apologized earnestly. "I hope you aren't hurt."
Red in face and mumbling incoherently, Morasi picked up the parcel, hobbled to where Siwa had sat and lowered himself to the ground sighing. Velli's cheeks inflated just like her colt's. She mopped the floor and withdrew, still cross with her father. After her mother's sudden death, his once pleasant nature had cracked. He used to get annoyed on the slightest pretext. He forgot all too frequently and slogged throughout the day till he dropped exhausted in bed at night.
She was lost in thoughts when she heard her father calling, and hurried to the foyer. "Come, my dear," said Siwa motioning her to sit beside himself. "I understand that you don't have any objection to marry my friend now?"
Not knowing what to say, she was only aware of blood rushing to her head. Gazing at a crack on the floor, she sensed that they were watching her expectantly. Her mind debated with itself. She could say 'yes' and resolve an issue that had lately been keeping her sleepless at night. On the other hand, it was difficult to imagine how anyone could spend a lifetime with a bore like Morasi. She could not control her toes from squirming.
"That's my daughter," said Siwa as if he were celebrating already.
Morasi fondly stroked his paunch and observed, "She's feeling shy."
"Anna?"
"Yes dear?"
"I don't wish to marry so soon," she managed to say with a great effort.
"Don't worry, dear," assured Siwa. "Wedding won't be held before the next monsoons, that's over a year from now."
"Right now we'll announce the engagement – that's all," added Morasi, trying to be helpful.
"Anna," Velli mumbled, "could we speak alone?"
"Is that really necessary?" he asked.
"Please?"
Siwa thought that she looked at him like a cow being led to a slaughter house. "Excuse me," he said immediately getting up, "I'll be back in half a mu-eš." As they left the foyer and came in one of the back rooms, he growled: "Yes?"
"I – I don't want to marry him."
"Why?"
"Anna," she said trying to suppress a sob, "I don't like him."
"There's no question of your likes and dislikes," he said bringing down a fist on a palm. "You're too young to know what's good for you." She did not speak. Siwa was aware that she had inherited from her grandmother, an uncanny ability to judge people and respond appropriately in difficult situations. "Give me one good reason why you don't like him," he said, delving deeper into his offspring's rebellious mind.
"Anna, why do you wish to give me away to someone who's even older than yourself?"
"Men never age." Seeing that the ancient wisdom of Meluhhan males did not convince her, Siwa added, "I've checked that everything's adequate to make you happy, dear. It's a good family. I've met Morasi's wife – wives – three to be sure, as well as his daughters." Velli was astonished. He continued without noticing: "They all are nice ladies. You'll be happy in a large prosperous family."
"But Anna, he is – he's cun– he's so different from you."
"I know he's a good man. I've committed to him, and I can't go back on my word."
"I won't marry –" She had hardly finished when a resounding slap landed on her soft cheek. She broke into a stifled wail. Never had her father treated her in such a manner. Her mother's memory flooded her mind.
Just then her seven-year old brother Muruku's excited shouts of "Auntie, Auntie" came piercing from the gate. She rushed out crying. A radiant woman aged about sixty was precariously getting down from a donkey-cart. She drew the boy in embrace.
'Auntie' was elder sister of the children's mother and lived far away in a town called Sutantoru on the sea. With Velli facing the problems associated with early womanhood, Aunt had become her close friend, guide and protector. Siwa always felt cornered when she confronted him with an argument ending with pursed lips which looked like (__).
Velli had come up and was clinging to her like a creeper on a tree. Unmindful of the visitor sitting in the foyer, she howled: "Anna's forcing me to marry an old man, Aunt!"
Upon hearing his appraisal from the prospective bride, Morasi staggered to his feet. "Thiru Hiwa Haqra! I want to tell you something about that daughter of yours," he addressed Siwa whose anger had turned to angst. "But before I do it, I would say that I've seen many hen-pecked husbands, but never a chick-pecked father!"
All of a sudden something happened that Velli had never thought her gentle father was capable of doing. She saw the sealed parcel that Morasi had brought flying across the street. It landed with a loud crash, the second time within a short period, and could not hold together any longer. It tore open and a few small pieces of a dirty brown substance spilled out of it. Even amidst her misery, she could not help thinking poetically, "Bye-bye to stone dye."
"Morasi!" came Siwa's deep voice. "Will you leave or shall I throw you out?"
Immediately Caru echoed, "Throw you out?"
The man moved quite swiftly for his bulk and started collecting the brown pieces with surprising urgency. When he had finished, he walked back to Siwa. "I'm sorry for what I blabbered in anger," he said soothingly. "Please Hiwa, calm down and don't take my words seriously."
"I don't care about anybody's opinion," said Siwa. "Whatever it is, I stand by my daughter." Morasi nodded. Siwa thrashed one palm with another a couple of times. "I don't want to continue the contract that we entered. I'll introduce you to my client's man in Chendur so that you can supply him directly."
"Come on, Hiwa." Morasi laughed uncomfortably. "Let's not mix up personal and work matters. You've put so much efforts in developing this new gainful –"
"But –"
"No 'but's and 'if's in matters of mutual interest," interrupted Morasi. "I'll get the material repacked and sent to you tomorrow." He turned and quickly departed before Siwa could speak again.
"Don't worry my child, I'm here!" whispered the aunt patting her niece. She could feel the girl's warm tears upon her shoulder and recollected her assurance: "Just send me a message whenever you need me, Velli. I'll leave everything and be with you."
Unknown to Siwa, it was precisely why Aunt had descended upon them.
~
Chief Bel had finished impressing a cylindrical seal on all but one of a load of official documents that had remained unseen when it was time to call it a day. After dinner he took up the unfinished work. He was one man who had the well being of every Babilian in his heart.
Before him lay a document that was written on tree-bark. He was labouring to read it under the lamplight when Elati entered. "Take a seat, Ela," he smiled. "I'll go through this request from destitute women’s home and be with you in a mu-eš."
She sat down and squirmed. She was aware that the body, attached to the temple of Marduk, was run by a team of citizens. It was led by her ex-husband Nergal. A couple of heavy clay tablets by the side of Bel’s worktable attracted her attention. She knew that they made ideal reading material for her father after dinner. He had been finding it increasingly difficult to read bark documents under lamplight. However, reading the Cuneiform script etched on tablets was easier as he could also feel them with his fingertips. She got up to examine them and found that they were part of the Epic of Gilgamesh that she had seen in the town library that morning.
At last, pressing his seal on the manuscript, Bel looked up: "Nergal’s team is commendably serving the society." He picked up the lamp meant for official work and walked to a niche in the wall saying, "It wanted permission to send an inmate to Meluhha to marry a nice, settled man there." He took out an unlighted lamp that he kept for personal work, lighted it and snuffed off the first lamp. "I see that something’s on your mind, Ela," he said, returning. "What's it?"
"Abi, Father, tomorrow an innocent man will die because your Council erred," she said without any introduction. Once convinced of a cause, she chased it with the determination and the swiftness of a cheetah.
"Are you talking about the recent murder, Ela?" he asked.
"Yes, I think that the culprit and the witness are hand in glove and they presented you a scapegoat."
"Two matters went against the accused," said the Chief pushing the tablets aside. "One, he couldn't produce a single witness to back his claim; and Two, the priest-physician recognised the instrument of murder as one which he had presented to the boy earlier in the day."
"I've visited the tavern where the Meluhhan was assassinated," said Elati, "and noticed blood marks on the floor, the log seats and even the wall. I also went to the jail and besides meeting the accused, saw the clothes that he had worn on the day of the crime."
"Well?"
"I saw blood stains on the lower portions of the robe of the accused – much below the waist. Wasn't the old man stabbed in the chest?"
Chief Bel seemed to recollect. "You're right. Then a murderer would have got most of his robe splattered with blood, wouldn't he?"
"Yes Abi."
"Then why didn't anyone point it out?"
"Who would be interested in speaking for an orphan? When I found that, it was too late." She noticed that her father was disturbed. "I've a sneaking suspicion that the presence of the Meluhhan in Babili posed a threat to someone," she said. "And that person, I doubt, has something to do with the necklaces that you ordered on the Merchant of Meluhha."
"Necklaces? Could the necklace that the boy mentioned be one of ours?"
"I'm convinced that it was."
"How?"
"I asked him about it. His description matched with all those precious stones we'd ordered to be included."
"That's a hasty inference, Ela." She saw that his lips appeared smiling but the eyes were sad. "I think the accused made up the stories of the necklace and the black leather purse to save his skin. The tavern-keeper didn't see either."
"He didn't see even the odd-nosed murderer!"
"Precisely."
"Why would he stick his neck out when he foresees the axe falling on it?" she asked. "Doesn't your law say that 'If conspirators meet in a tavern, and if they are not captured and delivered to the Council, the tavern-keeper shall be put to death.'?"
Chief Bel contemplated awhile. Then he spoke. "Ela, I too suspected but.."
"But?"
"Had I expressed it, people would've accused –"
"If you fear criticism," protested Elati, "Babili would be better off without you in the Elders' Council." She rose and left the room in a huff. Chief Bel sat there for a long time, lost in thoughts.
At last he got up, lifted the lamp and strode to the stable.
~
All other members of the Council of Elders were perplexed to see Chief Bel at their door, requesting them to gather at the ziggurat where they passed laws and dispensed justice. The Chief briefly explained to them how he thought they all had erred and suggested that they make further enquiries in the Meluhhan trader's murder before punishment was meted out to the accused. The Council unanimously decided to get Nergal's properties searched immediately, and to postpone the Ordeal till the matter was reviewed in the light of any new evidence.
When the officials reached Nergal's mansion in the midst of the night, he stretched out his arms and yawned. "Go ahead! As long as her father is the Chief, my ex-wife wouldn't let me rest."
A thorough search did not yield any indiscriminating evidence, and the officials left in embarrassment. What they missed noticing was the absence the horse in the stable. At that moment, it had almost reached the storehouse outside Babili carrying a cloaked figure.
~~
Chapter 5
A rare New Moon day
Throughout Sumér, contracts were signed in the temples of Šamaš – the omnipresent Sun god – only on the seventh day of the week. In Lagas, Minister Luzid was about to wind up the weekly task of placing purchase orders. Only one remained to be thumb-impressed and sealed – a long-term contract for the entire timber requirement of an imposing temple that was under construction in the capital city of Ngirsu.
Sample consignment of ebony and teakwood brought by a certain Captain Paravar from Meluhha had been approved. The captain was dressed in a piece of speck-less cotton vesti that flapped from his muscular waist down to the ankles. His broad chest was bare and Luzid had always thought that Nature had pulled up a fast one on the poor man. It seemed that all the hair that once populated his head had migrated to his chest and arms. He had travelled three days and nights from Urim to reach Lagas and was anxiously awaiting the successful culmination of hard work that had spread well over the past one year.
Just when the young minister and the captain prepared to put their seals on a clay tablet that recorded the terms of agreement, the heavenly witness waned and it turned so dark that stars could be spotted in the sky. Neither had seen such an occurrence earlier and both reasoned that Šamaš was signalling to postpone the matter. Even as the sun reappeared and Captain Paravar wished that they could complete the unfinished work, the royal clients stuck to their view.
"As Šamaš took off a moment from His job, we believe He wouldn't like to conduct any major activity today," said Minister Luzid. "All those contracts which could not be sealed would be taken-up on priority next week."
Captain Paravar looked around and catching the eye of an apprenticing attendant, signalled for water. Throwing back his head, he raised the flask over his mouth and trickled the cool water into it. While the boy marvelled at that magnificent feat of the bald Meluhhan, the man himself was deeply worried. They were already in the month of Simanu and the return journey to Meluhha against the advancing monsoons was being jeopardized more and more as the departure was delayed. However, he decided to take a calculated risk and stay back for a week.