NINSHUBUR AND THE THIEF OF NIPPUR
Outside time. Across worlds. Between rivers. Two children in ancient Mesopotamia become unwitting emissaries to heaven and the underworld, as gods and humans go to war over honour, love, and destiny. This work of historical-fantasy fiction contains period morality which may unsettle some readers.
PART ONE
OF THE SERVANT GIRL’S TRIALS ABROAD IN ACCURSED LANDS
CHAPTER FOUR
Rowing. The men rowed all day and all night, as the child lay unconscious between them. The girl had not awoken since her great fall at the Socotra pirate camp, days before.
It had taken the five survivors of the storm-wrecked ship from Punt a week to cross the narrow large but narrow island in the Arabian Sea. They had seen things on that strip of unoccupied land which they had not seen before. Strange plants and trees and birds and rodents and insects, all of which tried to sting or bite the weary group. They had felt as though they were in a dream. Then, once their nerves and strength was frayed to near-snapping point, the pirate camp came into view from the company’s position on a high peak.
After a short vote, it was decided that one of the five castaways should approach the camp and beg for safe-haven, while the others spied the encounter from above. Once a drawing of grass blades had chosen the diplomat, one of the sailors climbed down with hands held high. Much to his company’s grim lack of surprise, the sailor was immediately assaulted, bound and gagged, and prepared for selling off into slavery. The pirates then ascended the peak to capture the four remaining castaways. A battle ensued. Stones were thrown. Arms were broken. Legs were hammered. Knives were drawn. Throats were cut.
And then the child had fallen.
“Ninshubur?!” Her father had said, as he rushed from the peak to her lifeless form on a patch of merciful grass. “My darling, what has become of you?!”
But there was no response from her, except for a shallow breath and faint pulse.
The surviving two castaways had then confiscated from the camp the provisions they required for survival on the open seas, and some provisions they did not require, but that would generate some revenue once they were back on dry land. They then took a skiff from the pirates’ pathetic harbour and began sailing northeast.
All the while, Ninshubur slept, a troublesome bruise glowing dark-purple on the side of her tiny head.
After a day of serene-optimism, the winds that had, up until that point, pushed the three happily on their way, abruptly died, leaving only still waters and two pairs of oars.
“Enlil has forsaken us!” The two men had cried in chorus, as their fists waved at the barren skies.
And so the rowing began, with the mens’ limbs still in agony after their violent skirmish. The sun beat down on them. The salt in the air stung their eyes. Seagulls bore down in threatening swoops. One gull caught the side of the sailor, who then petulantly stomped his feet and ceased his rowing.
Minutes of silence passed, as the man attempted to push his impotent-rage deep down inside himself. His gaze fell on the poor child, curled up in a fragile ball. Not a single muscle moved on her body, save for the perfunctory raising and lowering of her chest. The sailor smiled sympathetically and brushed a lock of hair from the girl’s sleeping eyes.
“She fought bravely.” He said, as the two men both took a break from their work.
“She has her mother’s spirit.” Said Ninshubur’s father, wiping his sweating brow. “I sometimes wonder who really runs our household.”
The sailor laughed, as he laid his oars onto the keel and sagged, exhausted, down between his knees.
“These women will be the end of us.” He said, a mere mutter all he could summon. “They give to us, as they take from us.”
Ninshubur’s father gave a laugh, which was painfully infused with a dry-cough.
“But what they give!” He said, a sudden flame flickering to life in his eyes.
With the memory of feminine company rallying his spirits, Ninshubur’s father began rowing again in earnest. The small craft plowed through the flat expanse once again, as the sun gradually failed in the sky. The two men did not know whether their meagre energies combined would take them to dry land, but Ninshubur’s father felt encouraged that, at the very least, he had an experienced seaman with him who could navigate the alien waters.
As a cool breeze washed over the boat, a groan came from the sleeping child.
“What… what… daddy?!”
Her father dropped his oars and pulled Ninshubur up into his arms.
“My darling?! Are you awake?!” He said, tears of relief filling his eyes.
The child looked around at the infinite blue of ocean around her.
“What’s going on?” She said, spittle running down her chin. “Where’s the island?!”
Her father roared with laughter and held her close to his chest.
“Gone, my darling child! It’s gone forever!” He said, rubbing life back into her slight frame. “We are heading home, at last!”
All Ninshubur could recall from the last time she was awake, was the trek across an uncharted country. Thirst. Hunger. Pain. The how’s and why’s of boarding this vessel she now found herself in was a mystery.
“Did we find the camp?” She said, turning and eyeing the sailor seated to the stern.
The man grunted.
“We did. The pirates are all dead. So is the rest of our company!” He said, an accusing shadow passing over his battle-worn features.
“The gods!” Said Ninshubur, clasping a hand to her mouth. “What horrors befell them?!”
Her father put a consolatory hand on her shoulder and guided her down onto the bench beneath her.
“Calm yourself, my darling.” He said, continuing on with his rowing. “That is none of your concern. We must look to getting home, then we will count our losses.”
Ninshubur looked down at her feet, the faces of her departed comrades and their smiles and their laughter dancing like shadow puppets in her memory. She sobbed a miserable sob. Not a child’s sob for attention or nourishment or love, but the sob of one who curses her very life and all its cruel fortunes.
“There, there, my darling.” Said her father, in a gentle whisper. “The day is nearly done. Perhaps a wind will take our sails in the morning.”
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