Enheduanna: The First Author - Wattys Winner 2021

26. Closer In Misery

Kituzda's wails were the only sound that filled the night. She tore at her hair and sobbed uncontrollably as we followed the merchant out of the city and towards the steppe. When the wracking sobs passed, she cried in such a desolate way that I couldn't bear to listen for long without finding myself on the brink of tears. She had gone from prideful and gregarious to dishevelled and broken. A transformation I knew not how to reverse, nor did I ever expect it from her.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable, but needing to provide some solace for the woman, I put my arm around her. Her tears rolled down my chest plate, soaking my bindings underneath. 

"He cannot be gone, he cannot." She sobbed.

Stroking her hair gently, I tried to find the right words to comfort her. "I know it is hard to imagine, even harder to accept. But he has gone down the one-way road of which there is no return. All we can do now is make sure he is well provided for in the Underworld." 

I imagined Idal reuniting with father, the two men greeting each other as long-lost brother and that idea only soothed me. Still, I could not believe Idal died a natural death, and perhaps that was what I was mentally preparing myself for.

If he died a natural death, the idea of reunion was a comforting thought. If he didn't, it was the one positive image I had.

His grave could hardly be called a grave in comparison to that of my parents. There stood no funeral bed behind it, no priest holding a torch of holy fire, no mourning comrades or family, safe from us two. Idal lay face up within the open grave, his onyx eyes covered with two blackened seashells, his black stallion by his side, and his spear above his head.

"I've waited with the Taklimtum as soon as I found his identification seal," the merchant explained. "A soldier of his stature does not deserve a desert's grave."

"He was so much more than a soldier." Kituzda cried. "He was kind and gentle. He valued all living beings and was so protective. With him I was as a flower in the meadow for the first time after having spent what felt like an eternity living within a desert." She lowered herself into the grave, placing his seal upon his heart as she rested her forehead against his.

To lose a great love was to risk the destruction of one's own soul. I had seen what this form of bond could do to a person. Even a true king and queen could be broken when losing their great love. But could this be called love that had moved Kituzda to a weeping widow? Was it true love when Idal never returned her feelings? The sting pierced my heart like an arrow as I thought of what might have been had they met under other circumstances.

Another screech pulled me from my thoughts as Kituzda rolled Idal into his final resting position. A broken arrow pierced between his shoulder, and his entire back covered in the dried up blood. The merchant lifted the hysterical priestess from the grave and returned her to my awaiting arms. I rocked her back and forth in an attempt to get her to calm down, but she was inconsolable.

Reunion, I told myself. Idal is with father now, he is well cared for. 

With a nod, I granted the merchant permission to start filling up the grave. I tried to stay strong, for Kituzda's sake. And for my own. But when I saw Idal's hard handsome features being covered by dirt, I could do nothing but cry out in regret.

If only I had stopped him.

"Do you have something to offer, high priestess?" The merchant asked when the grave was closed.

Offerings, we had to burn some offering for Idal. But I had left in such a hurry, I had nothing on me other than the clothes I wore. Reaching for the ties that held my breast plate together, I jumped when Kituzda's hand covered my own. "No, that is sacred."

"Nanna would not want us to send Idal on his journey with empty hands."

"He won't go empty-handed." With shaking hands, Kituzda lifted the flounced garment over her head before taking off her beads of lapis lazuli and onyx. As bare as a newborn, she offered the clothes to the grave, laying them down with great care. The merchant lid them on fire, while I covered Kituzda's bare body with my cape.

"I envied your closeness to him," she confessed, her eyes never straying away from the smouldering fire. "He was always by your side, always ready to protect you."

"It was his duty. He swore to my father that he would protect me."

She shook her head. "No, it went beyond duty. He cared for you, loved you. And I hated you for it."

Being despised is not something anyone wishes for. It was a silent acceptance that we all encountered in our lives for one reason or another. But how often could one say that they understood the hate felt towards them?

"I hated you ever since I set foot in Ur and yet I wish you all the best in life." I confessed.

For the first time since we got there, Kituzda turned her head to look at me, confusion and bewilderment written all over her tear-stained face.

I swallowed a lump before continuing. "I see it all from your perspective now, how you got into those frames of mind, felt enough callousness and ice to despise me the way you did. I can imagine you wanted to throw me out of the Giparu, probably more than once. I guess I deserved it."

Her amber eyes stared at me with more intensity than the fire. "Your stubbornness is insufferable some times. But I never wanted to throw you off the Giparu. You belong there."

I cannot say if this was forgiveness or not, but those words of confirmation lid a fire within me that warmed me, body and soul.