Word Fulfilled, The (21 page)

“Go. All of you. Two days. Be back.” The king flinched at another pang and raised a weak hand to his steward. The aide leapt forward and doused the cloth in the bowl. He pressed it to the king’s forehead and squeezed another stream of cool water down his face and neck.

The audience was over.

Twenty-six

Kal
ḫ
u

The Second Day of Du’ûzu

akir and Urdu hurried from the observatory at the last possible moment before the appointed time to appear at the palace. Nothing in their past two days of observations revealed anything extraordinary in the heavens—that is, what they could see of the heavens. What was extraordinary was the weather.

This time of year the Assyrian skies were normally clear and provided no relief from Shamash’s withering heat. These skies during the past day and a half, though, were overcast. The clouds blocked Shamash’s direct onslaught, but they trapped the heat low and engorged the land with humidity. Life in the observatory was insufferable. No breeze stirred the air, and the two
tupsharri
could scarcely breathe in the confined space, let alone concentrate on their calculations. Soaked with sweat, their tunics clung to their bodies like sodden shrouds. The cloud cover prevented them from any further observations of the skies, which pushed their moods even further downward. Urdu complained incessantly, and Zakir wondered if he might not kill his apprentice before the heat did.

When the cloud cover finally broke, they went fairly giddy. They stood in the doorway, flapping their arms in the renewed draft that coursed through the opening. Zakir slapped his assistant on the back and confessed how close he had come to strangling him. Urdu replied he’d been so miserable, he probably would’ve let him. They worked in haste to make up for lost time, but to no avail. The heavens had nothing further to say.

Zakir and Urdu hurried into the palace courtyard and stopped to catch their breath before they reported to the vizier. Once revived, the two astrologers crossed to Ahu-duri’s quarters at the side of the main palace entrance. The Senior Scholar met them at the doorway.

“There’s no hurry. You’re the first to arrive.”

“Good. We were not sure when the king would be ready to receive us.” Zakir took another deep breath.

The three men walked toward the king’s chamber. Ahu-duri confirmed they would gather in the same anteroom they had two days prior.

Urdu spoke up. “I hope the king feels better.”

Ahu-duri nodded. “The ache subsided yesterday evening. The residual pain should have passed by now.”

“Does he get these headaches often?”

The vizier shook his head. “Not often. This one was particularly bad, though.”

Zakir glanced at his friend. “Another
ittu
, you think?”

Ahu-duri returned a tight smile. “I’m just a political advisor. To read the
ittu
is your job.”

The astrologer laughed. “Point taken.”

The men met up with the
muhhu
seers when they reached the door to the anteroom. Nurzani looked uncomfortable.

Ahu-duri nodded his greeting. “Are you ready for our audience?”

Nurzani glanced at his associate, then shook his head at the vizier. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The gods are silent. We performed several rituals, and just when it seemed the lots began to fall in a meaningful array, everything came apart. Neither were there any patterns in the herbs. It’s as though the gods toy with us.”

Ahu-duri shrugged. “Well, the king’s health is better. Perhaps he’ll give you more time.”

“It’s our only hope,” Nurzani muttered.

When Ahu-duri reached the antechamber, he turned and squinted into the sunlight over their shoulders. “Where is Kasiru?”

Zakir shrugged. “He will be along.”

The vizier narrowed his eyes. “He better be. You don’t keep this king waiting.” Ahu-duri signaled the group to remain and knocked twice. At the king’s reply, he opened the door and slipped in.

 
After a few moments, the Senior Scholar reappeared in the doorway. “He’s nearly ready.” He scanned the outer courtyard once again for the
baru
, but there was no sign of him. Ahu-duri shook his head.

“Enter!” The king’s voice rang stronger than it had two days earlier. The vizier pulled the door open, threw one more glance over his shoulder, then herded the group into the king’s presence.

King Adad-nirari looked up from the waxed board on the table. “This is a good report, Ahu-duri. Keep me apprised on these repairs.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The king straightened and sized up the group of advisors huddled by the door. His eyes stopped on the senior
muhhu
. “Well, what do we have, Nurzani? What say the gods of these events?”

Nurzani stepped forward. “My lord, I—”

A sharp knock interrupted the diviner’s report. Ahu-duri frowned. He caught Zakir’s eye and muttered, “It’s probably Kasiru.”

The king’s voice was harsh. “Enter!”

The door swung open and a temple priest stood on the threshold, a palace steward at his side. The priest stumbled forward as the steward pushed him into the room and closed the door.

King Adad-nirari narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

Dirty sweat streaked the priest’s puffy face, and his chest heaved. “I am . . . Sasi, my lord. A priest at the Temple of Marduk.”

Ahu-duri frowned. “Where is Kasiru?”

Sasi’s eyes went vacant. “He’s dead.”

Lll

“What do you mean ‘dead’?” Ahu-duri stared at the priest.

“There is really only one thing he can mean by that, eh?” Zakir murmured to his friend. He walked over to Sasi and clasped his shoulder. “Collect yourself, man. How did this happen? Kasiru was with us only two days ago. He seemed well enough.”

Sasi took a deep breath. “Yesterday morning I came across him outside the temple where he interviewed a new candidate apprentice. He complained of aches. Then, around midday, he came to the altar as I was preparing for the evening rituals. He said he felt feverish, and that he decided to take to his quarters early.” The priest hacked a rattled cough.

Zakir patted him on the back. “Did he attend the evening ritual?”

Sasi shook his head. “No, but that’s not unusual. There was nothing that demanded his attendance. His rite takes place after the sacrifice.”

“And then . . . ?” Ahu-duri appeared at Zakir’s side.

“He didn’t meet with his new apprentice at the appointed time this morning. The boy found me and asked what he should do, so I had him clean the instruments. I thought Kasiru would be along shortly and I had duties to perform, so I went about my business. I forgot all about it until just a short while ago. I went to check back on the boy. When I found no one in the
baru
work area, I went to see if Kasiru was still at his quarters. He didn’t answer my knock, so I peered though his window. That’s when I saw him. He was dead.”

“You could tell he was dead through the window?” Ahu-duri cocked his head.

“I saw him on the floor beside his sleep mat. I called to him, but he didn’t move. So I went back around to the door and went in. He was face-down. His eyes and mouth were open. There was a red stain on the floor by his nose.” Sasi shuddered at the memory.

Zakir spoke softly. “You’re sure then, Sasi?”

He stared wide-eyed at Zakir and stammered, “I didn’t touch him, but I’ve seen death before, Zakir. Yes, I know death.” Sasi wiped the sweat from his upper lip.

King Adad-nirari’s voice came over his vizier’s shoulder. “Excuse the priest, Ahu-duri. Send him home.”

“Yes, my lord.” Ahu-duri glanced at Sasi and gestured toward the door.

When Sasi left, Zakir turned to Urdu. “Go back to the observatory. Prepare another observation for tonight.”

His apprentice stared at the closed door. “Yes. Uh . . . certainly.”

“I’ll be along soon.” The senior astrologer raised a sympathetic eyebrow. “Try to forget this.”

Urdu turned his eyes toward his master. “You can’t be serious—”

“Urdu . . .” Zakir jerked his head toward the door.

His apprentice nodded and hurried out.

At Adad-nirari’s hint, Nurzani dismissed his assistant, too, and the king was left alone with his senior advisors.

The regent edged around the table and settled onto his chair. He propped his forearms onto the table and surveyed the small group. “I want your impressions on what has happened. We will start with you, Nurzani.”

The news of Kasiru’s death hung heavy in the air, and the
muhhu
took a moment to respond. “My lord, the gods have been silent. I wish I had something to report, but I do not.” He shrugged and glanced over at Ahu-duri.

“Is that normal?” The king was thoughtful.

“No, my lord. Not at all. There has been no discernible pattern in the lots or the leaves.”

Adad-nirari raised his eyebrow at the seer. “Perhaps that, then, is the answer.”

“My lord?”

“Clearly the gods are disquieted. We do not know why, and they have apparently chosen to withhold that information.” The king turned to Zakir. “Two days ago you spoke of a connection between the earthquake and the dimming of Sin. That means Nin Ur and Sin are active. The diseased ram is further sign of discontent among the gods. Do we have any idea which?”

Zakir furrowed his brow. “Only from the ancient records. Ea, the God of Wisdom, has the ram as his symbol.”

“You say ‘the God of Wisdom’ . . . but that is Nabu, the god whose temple I have just finished restoring in Nineveh. He is the patron god of my family.” The king begin to pale.

Ahu-duri stepped up. “My lord, I’m sure—”

“How can you be sure of anything?” Adad-nirari was hoarse. “Have I angered Ea by honoring Nabu?”

“The cult of Ea is ancient,” interjected Zakir. “Nabu is Ea’s grandson.”

“Is that good or bad?” The king shook his head. “This is too complicated.”

The astrologer hesitated. “We need to determine the relationship between Nabu, Sin and Nin Ur, my lord. Unfortunately, my records are at the observatory.”

“Get them. I want an answer by sunset.”

When the door closed behind Zakir and the
muhhu
seers, Adad-nirari slumped in his chair. “I do not have a good feeling about this.”

“My lord, we must not assume too much until Zakir—”

“Look at the signs, Ahu-duri! Sin, Nin Ur, Ea, perhaps Marduk, and who knows what other gods are upset at me.”

“It may not be you, my lord.” Ahu-duri was unnerved. He had never seen the king fret like this.

“Who else could it be? This is not a lesser god who grumbles at some commoner’s misstep. These are the high gods, whose favor or displeasure determines the fate of the realm.” Adad-nirari slammed his hands on the table. “The kingship lives or dies by the pleasure of the gods, Ahu-duri, you know that.”

Ahu-duri opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped. The king was right. The vizier had no argument, nothing to comfort his master.