Sarah Read Free Page A

this hiding place for a long time. Since the first time you came here! Did you think you could escape your old Sililli? In the name of almighty Ea, what possessed you? Did you think you could hide from the sacred laws of Ur? To go where? To remain at fault your whole life? Oh, my little girl! Why didn’t you come to see me? Do you think you’re the first to be afraid of the bridal blood?”
    Sarai wanted to say something to justify herself, but Sililli placed a hand on her mouth.
    â€œNo! You can tell me everything later. Nobody must see us here. Great Ea! Who knows what would happen if you were seen like this? Your aunts already know you’ve become a woman. They’re waiting for you in the chamber of blood. Don’t be afraid, they won’t scold if you arrive before the sun goes down. I’ve brought you a pitcher of lemon water and terebinth bark so you can wash your hands and face. Now throw your soiled tunic under the tamarisk. I’ll come back later to burn it. Wrap yourself in this linen veil. Make sure you avoid your sisters, or nobody will be able to stop those pests from going and telling your father everything.”
    Sarai felt Sililli’s hand stroking her cheek through the cloth.
    â€œDo what I ask of you. And hurry up about it. Your father must know nothing of your escapade.”
    â€œSililli.”
    â€œWhat now?” Sililli said.
    â€œWill you be there, too? In the chamber of blood, I mean.”
    â€œOf course. Where else should I be?”

    WASHED and scented, her linen veil knotted over her left shoulder, Sarai reached the women’s courtyard without meeting a soul. She had gathered all her courage to approach the mysterious door she had never gone anywhere near.
    From the outside, the chamber of blood was nothing but a long white wall with no windows that took up almost the entire space below the quarters reserved for the women: Ichbi’s wife, sisters, daughters, female relatives, and handmaids. The door was cleverly concealed by a cane portico covered with a luxuriant ocher-flowered bignonia, so that it was possible to cross the women’s courtyard in all directions without ever seeing it.
    Sarai went through the portico. Before her was a small double door of thick cedarwood, the bottom half painted blue and the top half red: the door of the chamber of blood.
    Sarai had only a few steps to take to open this door. But she did not move. Invisible threads were holding her back. Was it fear?
    Like all girls her age, she had heard many stories about the chamber of blood. Like all girls her age, she knew that once a month women went and shut themselves in there for seven days. During full moons, they would gather there to make vows and petitions that could be said nowhere else. It was a place where women laughed, wept, ate honey and cakes and fruit, shared their dreams and secrets—and sometimes died in agony. Occasionally, through the thick walls, Sarai had heard the screams of a woman in labor. She had seen women go in there, happy with their big bellies, and not come out again. No men ever entered, or even tried to peer inside. Anyone curious or foolhardy enough to do so would carry the stain of their offense down with them to the hell of Ereshkigal.
    But in truth, she knew very little of what went on there. She had heard the most absurd rumors, whispered by her sisters and cousins.
Unopened girls
did not know what happened to those who entered the chamber of blood for the first time, and none of the
munus,
the
opened women,
ever divulged the secret.
    Her day had come. Who could go against the will of the gods? Sililli was right. It was time. She could not remain at fault any longer. She must have the courage to open that door.

    HER eyes, dazzled by the bright daylight outside, took some time to accustom themselves to the darkness. A mixture of strong odors floated in the enclosed air. Some she recognized: the scent of almond and orange peel oils,