Enheduanna: The First Author - Wattys Winner 2021

13. Be Still My Heart

My eyes were open, although I didn't know why. My heart was pounding, my breathing shallow, but my mind was empty. I didn't recall falling asleep, as if a black void swallowed everything that happened after last night's ceremony. I strained into the light of dawn, steading my breathing.

Unlike yesterday, I was alone. Not Kituzda nor any other priestesses were here in the Giparu. Thankfully.

Running the bejewelled comb through the knots in my hair, I took in the silence of the morning.

Here within these walls it was just me, and that was enough. But as soon as I would step outside, I had to put on my mask again. Whether it was the mask of a high priestess or a princess, I wasn't sure anymore. All I knew was that it wasn't me.

Heavy breathing announced Shula's presence, before the stout woman entered the Giparu, tray in hand. "Your meal, En-priestess," she huffed, beats of sweat dripping down her face.

"Please, take some, " I pressed, holding out the bowl of milk. Shula hesitated until her thirst won her judgement and she drank the cool liquid eagerly.

"Thank you, Enheduanna."

"As my mother always used to say; I will give everyone a drink, even though they are an outcast." I said, breaking the bread.

"Your mother, is she Sumerian?" Shula asked, taking a skirt covered with tiers of fringe and a richly embroidered linen cloth from a chest.

"She is, why do you ask?" I wonder as she helped me into the skirt, securing it around my hips with a tightly bound knot. She wrapped the embroidered linen around me in such a way that the fringed edges could rest upon my arms and cross around my torso.

"What you just said is a Sumerian proverb, or at least a part of it." Shula answered, looking me in the eye for the first time.

"What is the other part?"

Her round cheeks glowed as she replied, "I will feed you, even though you are an outcast. I will give you a drink even though you are an outcast."

"It is a matter of hospitality," I said, following Shula to the table where I had combed my hair.

"Indeed. Sumerians are - or rather were - generally very hospitable people, but that sentiment has soured over the year. In Nuzi we had a different saying; guests and fish will both start to smell after three days."

I chuckled, "Your hospitality has limits."

"Everything has its limits," Shula corrected, reaching for the comb that wasn't there.

"Perhaps I misplaced it," I said as I ran through my movements of that morning. Checking off each place that turned up empty until I there were none left.

"Has anyone else been in here?" Shula asked, after turning over every part of the Giparu. I shook my head, no I had been alone, right?

With no time left, Shula bound a silver breastplate inlaid with lapis lazuli studs around my chest, my oiled hair flowing freely from under the horned band of silver as we made our way down to the first tier of the Ziggurat.

The priestesses all met in the Pillared Hall behind the Great Court. They sat in a row, seven of them, wearing cream robes and gold breastplates. Behind them, on a raised dais, I was placed by Shula. In my left hand, I held the eagle-headed staff of Ur. Flanking me were Idal and Kituzda. One holding the sword of Nanna, the other his statue.

Holding my head high, I felt the mask of the high priestess stiffening my expression.

First, a farmer presented twenty bushels of grain as his fall offering. Followed by a sheepherder, bringing in fifteen skins, instead of the usual ten. Of the finest quality, he added, before requesting protection from the savage tribes in the northern fields. Apparently, they had been stealing his cattle. Kituzda seemed to be aware of the situation, explaining to him that the northern fields have already been patrolled regularly since last winter, and whatever happens to the cattle if they go beyond the borders of Ur can't be helped.