Knowing he was doomed, Humbaba cried out, “I curse you both. Because you have done this, may Enkidu die, may he die in great pain, may Gilgamesh be inconsolable, may his merciless heart be crushed with grief.”
Gilgamesh dropped his axe, appalled. Enkidu said, “Courage, dear friend. Close your ears to Humbaba's curses. Don't listen to a word. Slaughter him! Now!”
Gilgamesh, hearing his beloved friend, came to himself. He yelled, he lifted his massive axe, he swung it, it tore into Humbaba's neck, the blood shot out, again the axe bit flesh and bone, the monster staggered, his eyes rolled, and at the axe's third stroke
he toppled like a cedar and crashed to the ground. At his death-roar the mountains of Lebanon shook, the valleys ran with his blood, for ten miles the forest resounded. Then the two friends sliced him open, pulled out his intestines, cut off his head with its knife-sharp teeth and horrible bloodshot staring eyes. A gentle rain fell onto the mountains. A gentle rain fell onto the mountains.
They took their axes and penetrated deeper into the forest, they went chopping down cedars, the woods chips flew, Gilgamesh chopped down the mighty trees, Enkidu hewed the trunks into timbers. Enkidu said, “By your great strength you have killed Humbaba, the forest's watchman. What could bring you dishonor now? We have chopped down the trees of the Cedar Forest,
we have brought to earth the highest of the trees, the cedar whose top once pierced the sky. We will make it into a gigantic door, a hundred feet high and thirty feet wide, we will float it down the Euphrates to Enlil's temple in Nippur. No men shall go through it, but only the gods. May Enlil delight in it, may it be a joy to the people of Nippur.”
They bound logs together and built a raft. Enkidu steered it down the great river. Gilgamesh carried Humbaba's head.
W
hen he returned to great-walled Uruk, Gilgamesh bathed, he washed his matted hair and shook it over his back, he took off his filthy, blood-spattered clothes, put on a tunic of the finest wool, wrapped himself in a glorious gold-trimmed purple robe and fastened it with a wide fringed belt, then put on his crown.
The goddess Ishtar caught sight of him, she saw how splendid a man he was, her heart was smitten, her loins caught fire.
“Come here, Gilgamesh,” Ishtar said, “marry me, give me your luscious fruits, be my husband, be my sweet man. I will give you abundance beyond your dreams: marble and alabaster, ivory and jade, gorgeous servants with blue-green eyes, a chariot of lapis lazuli with golden wheels and guide-horns of amber, pulled by storm-demons like giant mules. When you enter my temple and its cedar fragrance, high priests will bow down and kiss your feet, kings and princes will kneel before you, bringing you tribute from east and west. And I will bless everything that you own, your goats will bear triplets, your ewes will twin, your donkeys will be faster than any mule, your chariot-horses will win every race, your oxen will be the envy of the world. These are the least of the gifts I will shower upon you. Come here. Be my sweet man.”
Gilgamesh said, “Your price is too high, such riches are far beyond my means. Tell me, how could I ever repay you, even if I gave you jewels, perfumes, rich robes? And what will happen to me when your heart turns elsewhere and your lust burns out?
“Why would I want to be the lover of a broken oven that fails in the cold, a flimsy door that the wind blows through, a palace that falls on its staunchest defenders, a mouse that gnaws through its thin reed shelter, tar that blackens the workman's hands, a waterskin that is full of holes and leaks all over its bearer, a piece of limestone that crumbles and undermines a solid stone wall, a battering ram that knocks down the rampart of an allied city, a shoe that mangles its owner's foot?
“Which of your husbands did you love forever? Which could satisfy your endless desires? Let me remind you of how they suffered, how each one came to a bitter end. Remember what happened to that beautiful boy Tammuz: you loved him when you were both young, then you changed, you sent him to the underworld and doomed him to be wailed for, year after year. You loved the bright-speckled roller bird, then you changed, you attacked him and broke his wings, and he sits in the woods crying
Ow-ee! Ow-ee!
You loved the lion, matchless in strength, then you changed, you dug seven pits for him, and when he fell, you left him to die. You loved the hot-blooded, war-bold stallion, then you changed, you doomed him to whip and spurs, to endlessly gallop, with a bit in his mouth, to muddy his own water when he drinks from a pool,
and for his mother, the goddess Silili, you ordained a weeping that will never end. You loved the shepherd, the master of the flocks, who every day would bake bread for you and would bring you a fresh-slaughtered, roasted lamb, then you changed, you touched him, he became a wolf, and now his own shepherd boys drive him away and his own dogs snap at his hairy thighs. You loved the gardener Ishullanu, who would bring you baskets of fresh-picked dates, every day, to brighten your table, you lusted for him, you drew close and said, âSweet Ishullanu, let me suck your rod, touch my vagina, caress my jewel,' and he frowned and answered, âWhy should I eat this rotten meal of yours? What can you offer but the bread of dishonor, the beer of shame, and thin reeds as covers when the cold wind blows?' But you kept up your sweet-talk and at last he gave in,
then you changed, you turned him into a toad and doomed him to live in his devastated garden. And why would
my
fate be any different? If I too became your lover, you would treat me as cruelly as you treated them.”
Ishtar shrieked, she exploded with fury. Raging, weeping, she went up to heaven, to her father, Anu, and Antu, her mother, as tears of anger poured down her cheeks. “Father, Gilgamesh slandered me! He hurled the worst insults at me, he said horrible, unforgivable things!”
Anu said to the princess Ishtar, “But might you not have provoked this? Did you try to seduce him? Or did he just start insulting you for no reason at all?”
Ishtar said, “Please, Father, I beg you, give me the Bull of Heaven, just for a little while. I want to bring it to the earth, I want it to kill that liar Gilgamesh and destroy his palace. If you say no, I will smash the gates of the underworld, and a million famished ghouls will ascend to devour the living, and the living will be outnumbered by the dead.”
Anu said to the princess Ishtar, “But if I give you the Bull of Heaven, Uruk will have famine for seven long years. Have you provided the people with grain for seven years, and the cattle with fodder?”
Ishtar said, “Yes, of course I have gathered grain and fodder, I have stored up enough-more than enoughâfor seven years.”
When Anu heard this, he called for the Bull and handed its nose rope to the princess Ishtar. Ishtar led the Bull down to the earth, it entered and bellowed, the whole land shook, the streams and marshes dried up, the Euphrates' water level dropped by ten feet. When the Bull snorted, the earth cracked open and a hundred warriors fell in and died. It snorted again, the earth cracked open and two hundred warriors fell in and died. When it snorted a third time, the earth cracked open and Enkidu fell in, up to his waist, he jumped out and grabbed the Bull's horns, it spat its slobber into his face, it lifted its tail and spewed dung all over him. Gilgamesh rushed in and shouted, “Dear friend, keep fighting, together we are sure to win.” Enkidu circled behind the Bull,
seized it by the tail and set his foot on its haunch, then Gilgamesh skillfully, like a butcher, strode up and thrust his knife between its shoulders and the base of its horns.
After they had killed the Bull of Heaven, they ripped out its heart and they offered it to Shamash. Then they both bowed before him and sat down like brothers, side by side.
Ishtar was outraged. She climbed to the top of Uruk's great wall, she writhed in grief and wailed, “Not only did Gilgamesh slander me-now the brute has killed his own punishment, the Bull of Heaven.”
When Enkidu heard these words, he laughed, he reached down, ripped off one of the Bull's thighs, and flung it in Ishtar's face.
“If only I could catch you, this is what I would do to you, I would rip
you
apart and drape the Bull's guts over your arms!”
Ishtar assembled her priestesses, those who offer themselves to all men in her honor. They placed the Bull's gory thigh on the altar, and began a solemn lament.
Gilgamesh summoned his master craftsmen. They marveled at the gigantic horns. Each horn was made from thirty pounds of lapis lazuli, each was as thick as the length of two thumbs, together they held four hundred gallons. He called for that much oil to anoint his father's statue, then hung the two massive horns in the chapel dedicated to Lugalbanda.