Sarah Read Free Page B

the smell of sesame oil, which was used in lamps. After a moment, she noticed another smell—thicker, slightly nauseating—that she had never smelled before.
    Shadows took shape within the shadows, figures moved. The chamber of blood was not completely dark. A dozen candles in brass disks diffused a yellow, flickering brightness. The chamber was both larger and higher than Sarai had imagined, with other, smaller rooms off to the sides. The brick floor was cooled by a narrow channel of clear water. At the far end, the gentle murmur of a fountain could be heard.
    A handclap made Sarai jump. There before her were three of her aunts, and behind them, standing slightly to one side, Sililli and two young handmaids. They all wore white togas with broad black stripes, and their hair was held in place by dark-colored headscarfs. They were smiling affectionately.
    Her aunt Egime, the eldest of her father’s sisters, took a step forward. She clapped again, then folded her arms over her chest, keeping her palms open. Sililli handed her a pottery pitcher filled with scented water, and with a graceful gesture Egime plunged her hand in it and sprinkled Sarai.
    Nintu, mistress of the menstrual blood,
    Nintu, you who decide on life in the wombs of women,
    Nintu, beloved patroness of childbearing, welcome Sarai, daughter of Taram and Ichbi, Lord of Ur, into this chamber. She is here to purify herself, and to entrust her first blood to you. She is here to become pure and clean again for the bed of childbirth!
    After this prayer of welcome, the other women clapped three times, then took turns throwing the scented water over Sarai, until her face and shoulders were streaming. The scent was strong, so strong that it penetrated her nostrils and her throat, making her feel slightly intoxicated.
    When the pitcher was empty, the women surrounded Sarai, took her hands, and pulled her into one of the alcoves, where a high, round, narrow basin stood. Sililli untied her linen veil, and she was pushed naked into the basin. It was deeper than she had supposed: The freezing water reached to just below her barely formed breasts. Sarai shivered, and hugged herself in a childish gesture. The women laughed. They emptied phials into the water, then rubbed her vigorously with little linen bags filled with herbs. The air was filled with new scents. This time, Sarai recognized mint and terebinth, as well as the curious smell of weasel bile, sometimes used for smearing the feet as a protection against demons.
    The oil softened the water. Sarai became accustomed to its coolness. She closed her eyes and relaxed, and soon, the tension and the fear faded under all the rubbing and stroking.
    No sooner was she used to it than Egime was already ordering her out of the bath. Without wiping her, or covering her with even a small cloth, Egime led Sarai to another part of the room, where a brightly colored carpet had been rolled out. She made her stand with her legs apart and placed a wide-necked bronze vase between her thighs. Sililli took Sarai’s hand. Egime, her eyes fixed on the vase, started speaking in a loud voice.
    Nintu, patroness of childbirth, you who received the sacred brick of childbearing from the hands of almighty Enki, you who hold the scissors to cut the birth cord,
    Nintu, you who received the green lazulite vase, the
silagarra,
from almighty Enki, gather the blood of Sarai.
    Make sure that it is fertile.
    Nintu, gather the blood of Sarai like dew in a furrow. Make sure that it is making its honey. O, Nintu, sister of Enlil the First, make sure that Sarai’s vulva is fertile and as soft as a Dilum date and that her future husband never tires of it!
    A strange silence followed.
    Sarai could feel her heart beating against her temples and in her throat. The skin on her legs, buttocks, shoulders, belly, and forehead was beginning to prickle with heat, as though it had been stung with nettles.
    Then, in the same sharp, commanding voice, her old