Enheduanna: The First Author - Wattys Winner 2021

4. Leaving The Nest

Somewhere in the fast darkness, that was the desert, a wolf howled. The sound echoed through my room like a drum of warning. Birds of prey cackled beyond the walls. Laughing at the prey that was too inexperienced, too sheltered, or simply too young to stand a chance against them.

I looked up from the clay tabled in my hands and shivered, though the fire kept my room snug and warm in even the coldest of nights. Something about those laughs took me right out of my room, leaving me stranded in the darkened desert, running from the dangers of the unknown.

The creaking of hinges made me jump, and for a moment, mother must have seen my fear. "I'm sorry to frighten you. Were you already asleep?"

"No, I was just lost in thought. What did father say?"

Mother looked at me like the fire in her eyes had been dowsed with ice water. With a heavy sigh, she moved over to the edge of my bed and slumped down onto the covers. I was not used to seeing her like this, and it unnerved me. Yet, my mouth was too dry to speak, so I waited.

"Nanna has chosen you," she started with tears in her eyes. "No mortal, not even your father, can change the fact that Nanna chose you."

For just a moment, a childish glee overtook my senses, spreading my lips into a broad smile until my mother's gloom weighed it down. "Did you not persuade father?" I asked.

Mother shook her head, her umber hair falling tiredly from its meticulous hairdo. "If I could beg Nanna himself to pick another, I would. My sweet daughter, I know this is what you desire, but you are still so young, and the world is so cruel."

"How young were you when you wedded father?" I argued.

"Younger." Mother answered as her hands wrapped around mine with frailty and caution. In her movements, there was still so much of the woman she once was. Her hands were warm and gentle, rubbing circles on my skin. Sitting there, it was the first time I realized how vulnerable she was and how much of a toll the years of motherhood had taken on her.

"I was younger than you are now when my father received a message from a foreign king. Sargon of Akkad, he called himself." Mother recalled, rising with pride at the mention of father's name. "He demanded to be sent a wife, one fit to be his queen. She had to be educated, well-mannered, and above all, beautiful."

"And you were the most beautiful woman in the world," I recalled.

"According to men. Sargon also heard the tales about me, the princess of Lagash, a woman more beautiful than Inanna herself. You can imagine the tall tales men tell around the campfire. And even if the tales were a mere mirage of men lost in the desert's embrace, our city was a prosperous one, so my father knew that this foreign king would come eventually."

"So he chose to sacrifice you," I finished, wanting to take the sting out of her words.

"No," mother responded, much to my surprise, "he was willing to fight with all his might if it meant I didn't have to leave with this stranger."

We sunk knee-deep in the silence. The torch was flickering its last rays, each one dancing erratically across the walls, yet neither of us blinked or moved to replace it. Outside, the wolves were no longer howling nor the birds singing.

"I still see him sitting there," mother mumbled, "on his knees in the temple of Nanna, begging for a flood wave to swallow Sargon's army. He broke down when I told him I would not let him slaughter thousands of men in battle when my hand in marriage could save them. I thought him foolish for not seeing things the way I did. Until now."

Mother turned to me, smiling through her tears. "My child, you hold a piece of my soul in your heart, and my heart is forever with you. There is nothing I won't do to let my children live a carefree life, to learn, and to love. For there is no rule that can contain such a sacred thing."

Her hug was stronger than anything I've ever felt. As if merely holding me wasn't enough. In that moment of being so close to my mother's heart, I felt her feelings flow through my veins. All my wishes to fly free were swirling besides the yearning to be safe within her arms, protected, like a butterfly in a cocoon. Resulting in frustration and fear running down my cheeks.

"My sweet child, you have my support for always, and my guidance should you ever wish to ask. Know that I would walk through the gates of hell to keep you safe, and giving you up to a world capable of endless cruelty is more painful than I can describe. For every child is a sacred gift, and only a parent knows the pain of parting with such a gift." Mother whispered in my ear, rocking me slowly. My tears stained her Tyrian dress, and for what felt like forever, we remained that way, rocking side to side until the dawn turned today into tomorrow.

"Get some rest. I'll have the servant pack up your belongings. We'll leave tomorrow at dawn for Ur."

Her legs cracked stiffly as she eased them down off the bed. Mother massaged some life back into them and limped to the dying torch, taking the last light with her as she left my room. I glanced at the tablet on which I had concentrated before mother came—the Life Of Gilgamesh. Stories of a man who sought immortality, only to end his life as an accomplished mortal, never achieving his goal yet accomplishing so much through his strength and might. Reunited with the other clay tablets, the dark oak trunk held many more stories of battles fought by noble kings who were supposed to teach us the accomplishments of our ancestors. But what about the achievements of their queens? Where were the tales that told us of the sacrifices brought by the women who stopped the fighting or offered themselves up in order to save hundreds?

And what of me? My faith as a high priestess was now sealed in stone, and that somewhat frightened me. What would await me in Ur? How would the other priestesses receive me? And would I really be able to serve Nanna? The uncertainty made me dizzy, to the point where the ceiling was spinning even as I lay on my back. Had I made a mistake? Was I too brazen when I offered myself up for the position? But it felt so right in that moment. My heart and soul had been united in my choice to the point where even the gods agreed with me. If the gods agreed with my decision to become a high priestess, then that couldn't have been a mistake, right? They had gifted me that which I desired most of all; a purpose. So, why did the prospect of leaving tomorrow steal all the air from my lunges?