Work in progress

Leaving the Garden of Eden

Hear me, city of Ur! For I tell you: today your queen has returned.

No Shulgi, I am fine. Let go! Holding my arm like that will only give your grandmother a bruise. Of course they will stare. I want them to stare. What do you fear, that one of these priests, pretending to minister a shrine that was carried off to the Zagros mountains, will take word about me to king Icbi-Erra? Let them do it; I challenge the great traitor to punish me for treason. Or perhaps they'll tell his daughter. Have you heard what they say about her? That she has never known a man, that the month after her first blood she was placed in the sacred enclosure at Nippur and Enlil himself came down from heaven to beget her son. Such a lie!

What? Never mind, I will explain soon enough. Come look over the wall with me. Properly, you silly coward, what does it matter you've never been this high up? Be more like your great-grandfather, your namesake. He was a man at ease near heaven, in command near earth. For this is the gods' view, Shulgi. Their all-seeing eyes reside at the top of every ziggarut to survey the monuments of their glory. First there is the mound built up with river mud, then the city on the mound, and finally the ziggarut rising from the summit of the city: a mountain atop a mountain atop a mountain.

Isn't it beautiful? And lush, though only because those stupid monkeys of Elam kept our gardeners. All Sumerians are planters; every household grows something. The poorest woman has pots of thyme and basil in her doorway to take away the smell of the street, and lemon trees to perfume the inner courtyard.

That's it, see for yourself. See the gardens of the temple, how many different types of palm there are? In the north we get only three kinds of dates; here they have six and the market will sell more. The trees are arranged in circles so the cucumbers and melons grow in their shade. Over there is the olive grove, and there are plum and apricot trees. The pool surrounded by pomegranates was for bathing; the one planted round with figs and apples used to fill with water lilies.

I see it's empty now. But for all the flaws, this place remains paradise. Haven't I always told you? And today my prayers have been answered; I have brought you here so you could know Ur as I do. Strange though, that I should worry. But time and time again I have wondered how different you might have been if you'd walked in these gardens every day, as I did. No, don't whine - didn't say I was ashamed of you. If I was I'd put you out of my sight. Instead I have returned you to the foundation of the world, the first city the gods created -

I am well aware what the people of Erech say. But they are wrong.

The first city the gods created. Does it stir anything within you? That building, the one guarded by alabaster lions, that is the royal palace. Your great-grandfather commissioned the sculptures. And he carved the doorposts with his seal, but they've been taken. The Elamites were too brutish to know the importance of writing so we must blame Icbi-Erra. That king has used up his good fortune, don't you think? Very soon his face will change.

Shulgi, when we visit the palace - yes, yes, we will, I know I haven't mentioned it but just let me finish. When we are led into the audience room and presented to the great traitor, I want you to claim ownership of that house. I said let me finish!

Naturally, the king will protest, and you must tell him that your claim can be proven; your name is written within the walls. He will ask what you mean. You will request the services of a mason, and with any luck