Twilight in Babylon Read Free Page B

South was the direction that the rivers, when they stayed in their beds, flowed. Marsh birds were plentiful, and fish swam in the shallows. She didn’t have fire, but she ate well.
    The sun was hot on her body, and eventually she found mud and covered her skin so the mosquitoes wouldn’t bite. She watched for crocodiles as she walked, and stopped walking when the sun went to sleep. At night she made noise, to frighten the hungry hyenas away. When she could, she climbed up the rough bark of a palm tree and stayed in the fronds, safe enough to sleep in.
    The vision of the god with the golden eyes faded in her mind. She talked to herself, nonsense words, like a child’s. These words comforted her, but had no meaning. “Mimi. Home. Love. Chef. Tu. God.” Her tongue didn’t fit around them easily, and they had no meaning, but they made her feel good. The gods hadn’t found her yet; and she was still the only one left.
    Baaing woke her in the night; a sheep, as lost as she was. She called to it, then heard another. They ran out of the marshes toward the tree where she stayed. Behind them she saw eyes that glowed with hunger and teeth that were bared. She scampered down the trunk and swung out at the predators with her oar. She made contact, and they ran crying into the night. “It’s okay,” she told the trembling sheep. “You’re safe. You’re found.” They cuddled next to her, against the palm tree, and she slept warmly for the first time.
    When she woke in the day, it was there.
    “That must be Dilmun,” she said to the sheep. Far to the south, an island rose up. Part of it was red. She gathered her belongings, herded the sheep, and walked faster. All day long the red island hovered on the edge of the world. By night it had grown.
    So had her flock. Now she walked with seven sheep, two lambs, and a gamboling goat. No sign of other humans yet, but the sheep were glad for her company. She sang to them and spoke her nonsense words, and they bleated happily as they grazed.
    Dilmun got larger.
    The river was almost completely in its bed now, and she saw irrigation channels and canals cut through the greening fields. Winter barley; in its second irrigation. For barley to grow as big as the gods allowed, it must have four irrigations. On the last, it would add another tenth of its size. The river hadn’t overflowed here; the humans, if there were any left, would not starve.
    Her flock continued to grow; she watched over them during the night from her perch in a tree. In the dawn, from her high roost, she saw Dilmun. It must be Dilmun, for nothing else could be so beautiful. Green fields surrounded it, and trees, tall like date palms, but with different leaves, grew in neat rows. As though it were a giant vegetable garden.
    The island, with a tall center in blocks of blue and green and red and yellow, rose up into the sky. Little white boxes and blocks clustered around it, like a peafowl with her chicks. The girl crawled down the palm tree, washed the mud off her face and hands, tied the cloth around her womanhood, then folded up the animal skin and balanced it on her head.
    With the knife slipped into her waist sash, she walked down to Dilmun, the oar her goad. Common grazing fields stretched out from the gate to the city. The walls were taller than palm trees, and painted blue and yellow. The rest was left the ocher color of clay. She’d never seen anything so impressive, never imagined it. It was no wonder Ziusudra lived here. The gods visited here. After the sheep had fed she looked for a toll taker, for she was sure there would be a charge. Water wasn’t free. But she didn’t see one. Squaring her shoulders and straightening the parcel on her head, she marched her flock to the open gate set within a deep, shadowy archway.
    “Welcome to Ur, welcome, welcome,” a man cried from the shade. “You must be a survivor of the flood. Come in, come in. It’s dry here, safe.”

Chapter Two
    She had never seen a man