Chapter 46 - Holy War
Gardens of Babba. SW Asia
The barbarian army of Gishirgal has reinforced the might of Anna. This holy alliance advances onto the wheat gardens of a Sun-god. Two litters held high by supporters to carry two mascot princesses of the Moon forward as their standard. Both NinEriš and Ittidu, loudly urge the men to war. Far behind at a safer distance, Merkar and his harimtu, Šamkat are carried forward on thrones. Slowly the mass moves closer to Babba. Two idols of immortals remain guarded on higher ground, to enjoy this spectacle.
Cautiously the Moon alliance enters a flat countryside. Communal gardens of long, hand mown wheat stubble stretch across fertile alluvials. These fields intersected by the straight cut lines of irrigation channels and sheep droves. A few cattle to be abandoned in this countryside are diffused across pastures centering on water holes. Above this agrarian landscape, the mighty sun of Utu, rises over a township, coalescing around his sanctuary on Earth. While the Moon of Nanna diminishes in the brightening sky.
One old hag sees this and cries out with foreboding, ‘Utu rises to crush us for the folly of desecrating his house in Babba’.
This prophecy distresses the fighters of Anna, their own priests run forward to counter this propaganda as false.
One sanga of Inanna retaliates, ‘Utu rises in favour, for our divination heralds astounding victory this day. The gods salute our princesses of the Moon!’
Before this day, battles have been fought resolving territorial wrangles, or as a solution to disputes of natural justice. Here today, War has mutated into a fight between gods.
Hands tremble, hiding behind masks of anticipation. Black faces advance onto killing fields, to discover where the defenders have chosen to fall. From behind a wide cut irrigation channel, rows of defender warriors await the Army of the Moon. These hardened guardians of Babba stand shoulder to shoulder, jeering loudly at the aggressors. The water isn't deep, it awaits fresh floods of Spring. This linear reservoir has been depleted to a low level of stagnant fluid, coated with a mosaic of green algae.
The Moon Alliance nears the improvised defence, met with the first undisciplined flurry of sling shot and arrows. Behind the defenders of Babba, the priests of both Utu and Abzu encourage fighters. They taunt attackers with a promise of dirty death.
The advance of the Moon Alliance’s guruš stalls, fearful of both missiles. From behind, their own priests, goad them to form a regular line out of reach of all but a few stone-tipped arrows. Further back, Merkar stands up and cries for war,
‘For Inanna, and against foul Engur. For Nanna and against the dogs of Babba. For sweet water and against drought. For immortal glory, and away from obscurity. Advance brave sons and daughters to win divine favour. Protect our sanctuaries from deprivation by these foreigners. Honour our temples and enjoy the plunder of victory!’
With a terrible roar the black-headed citizens of the Moon Alliance rush forward. They brave onslaughts of missiles pouring into the wide ditch to disturb an emerald mosaic. Mud sucks their feet still as defenders throw down rocks and spears from a high bank. The invaders are pressed to advance by the sheer weight of those who continue to rush from their rear. Soon, the muddy quagmire has been bridged by the quaking bodies of fallen Moon warriors. The green algae is broken into islets by streams of crimson.
The attackers pay the price to cross the ditch. Survivors advance up the sides of the defenders’ bank. Stabbed with sharp spikes, flayed by oily whips of reed. They press forward for glory. A weak spot breaks within the defences of Babba. Brave Moon warriors butcher their way out of the ditch of death. The guruš of Anna and Gishirgal edge forward. Their bare feet contact with the shattered faces of their fallen comrades. Breakthrough consolidates as a bridgehead to carry close combat across the tall stubble fields of Babba’s wheat gardens.
NinEriš is carried by her supporters across the channel. Nanna’s priests carry the carriage, stepping onto torsos of the dead, like stepping stones across the crimson stream. More gore squeezes from the corpses. They reach the opposite bank, holding onto her carriage as they climb up to the arena of the wheat gardens. NinEriš, glorious in her armour, lifts her mace high and screams at the enemy,
‘Death to our oppressors, Gishirgal will prevail. Honour to Nanna’s brave fighters’.
Watching this spectacle, Ittidu urges her own supporters to carry herself over the channel of bodies. Brave priests of Inanna press forward entering the ditch before they rise up into the gardens. Horror greets Ittidu’s senses. There are no firearms, no cutlasses or swords in this prehistoric arena of war. Men and women fight hand to hand, stabbing and bludgeoning. They batter one another to death, using clubs and maces. Bones crack and fracture. Chipped teeth land in the wheat stubble. Other killers stab wildly with spears and spikes, while more resort to punches and kicks.
One combatant falls, his face slashed by a seashell blade. Ittidu sees a black faced son of Anna use his own teeth to bite off the earlobe of a defender. Blood sprays from the wound of a screaming man. Another lays in beaten stubble, his own blood spilling from a cut throat. He gargles for his mother. Ittidu tries to block out these horrors. She holds up her oryx horn, and cries out,
‘Victory will be ours, Stamp on the faces of these menaces of Uguli’
She catches sight of her mentor NinEriš, leaping the limits of her carriage, swinging her ceremonial mace at any fool of Babba who comes close. One gang of Engur guruš form a block to rush the carriage of the high priestess, These defenders lance the leopards, then stab at her priests, forcing her platform to collapse. NinEriš is too proud to fall and leaps to the ground, swinging her weapon in defence of her own clergy.
The guruš of Babba learn this lesson, and join together to attack the carriage of Anna’s lion slaying princess. Ittidu’s priests come under assault. She spikes at the enemy with her spear of sharp horn. A captain of this assault, clad in thick pig skin, and brandishing a long spear comes forth. He calls her name with a degree of disrespectful familiarity,
‘Ittidu? Ittidu of Nammu, is that you? I’d heard the stories but couldn't bring myself to believe them. You, the lion slayer of Anna! Ha, more like the feeble whore daughter of a blasphemer’.
She glowers at this captain. Memories of an earlier more peaceful life flood her with emotions. For Ittidu recognises him as her ex fiancé, Dugala, son of Niginna. Last time she'd seen this rogue, he was setting house dogs onto her. She sees beneath a pigskin helmet, Dugala sneers with hatred. He lifts up his great proboscis and bares his ugly gnashers.
Ittidu defiantly retorts, ‘it is Big Nose of Babba, spoiled brat of a bitter old miser. Do you not hide in your mean father’s shadows?’
This insult fuels his rage. Dugala had known Ittidu as a nervous, frail girl, and not as a warrior. He shouts out to his men,
‘Attack the carriage of this heretic girl. Bring Anna’s whore down from her heights’.
The warriors reach her carriage stabbing and bludgeoning priests. The litter topples then falls at an angle. Ittidu rolls into the stubble.
Dugala senses a hasty victory, and cries for his brothers to stand back,
‘I'll claim this skinny little girl and then share her arse with you as spoil’.
In response, Ittidu leaps back to her feet, lifts up her shield and oryx pike, shouting to her own supporters,
‘Brave warriors defend yourselves while I dispense of this foul, honker-nosed brat’. Despite her show of fortitude, her hands tremble.
Dugala calls her bluff to swipe his long spear at her pike. The horn shocks her hands and clumsily Ittidu drops it into the stubble. Dugala laughs, stabs his long spear into the soils, and pulls a stone knife from his belt. The pig-skinned citizen of Babba taunts,
‘I promised your arse to my men, but I shall take your head to my father and I'll waggle your tongue to apologise to him’.
Camp of Oma, Leva soils. SE Britain
Bright colours fused with a darkening vision. Ur’salla swayed opposite Amaia. The world of Oma fades away.
The Plain of Babba. SW Asia
Ur’salla’s eyesight restores. Once more her spirit shares Ittidu’s frame. They’re on a field of slaughter. A pig-skinned aggressor grins as he menacingly produces a stone knife. Ur’salla can fight his kind.
Ittidu may have dropped the oryx pike, but she still holds onto the leopard skin shield. That is all her Moon sister needs to win. She jumps forward at Dugala and smacks him hard into that nose using the boss of her shield. So hard, the cartilage shatters. Dugala reels back and drops his knife, collapsing back into the stubble. He’s too stunned by the ferociousness of a frail girl’s counterattack. He holds his bloody proboscis, gazes up pitifully, and sees something has changed within Ittidu,
Is it her eyes? His lips part to ask, but before the words of this question can be released by tongue, the Moon sister brings down the sharp edge of her shield so hard onto his face, that his jaw is severed from skull. Poor Dugala.
This first foe smashed, the possessed Moon sister retrieves Dugala’s own spear from where he'd foolishly planted it. She moves onto a fresh opponent. A proud citizen who wears a dandy ostrich feather on his leather helmet. The swarthy fighter swings a stone headed axe at her. A weapon Ur’salla has become familiar with in her own world. She reacts by ducking beneath its lethal reach. As the axehead swings past her tortoise-shelled head, she thrusts Dugala’s long spear deep into the fat belly of her enemy. He groans in pain as a stone spearhead penetrates his liver, then violently rips back out. The Moon sister swings around to slam her shield into his plumed head.
Blue eyes see another woman nearby engaged in battle. She knows this big sister is an ally of her other, a sorceress named NinEriš. The high priestess fights impressively well and corpses of the enemy lay at her feet. Blood is splattered across her ample flesh. Ur’salla wishes to fight at the side of this ally. In her other’s body, she battles towards the high priestess. The Moon sister needs to sway in order to avoid a javelin cast at her. The missile lands instead in the chest of a black faced man by her side. He collapses to join others who wriggle within the stubble.
A heavy bearded Semite charges at her. She batters him hard in the face with her bloody shield. A heavy club swings close to her features. She stabs back and her spearhead jams into a ribcage. The spearhead refuses to release, and she drops the weapon to allow her victim to fall. Devoid of a primary weapon, the Moon sister bends down and picks up the man’s war club. This she swings, leaping high into the air to bring it down onto the head of another son of Babba.
NinEriš swipes her mace at another enemy and fails to see his comrade crawling towards her through the stubble. The sly assassin prepares to hamstring the high priestess with a seashell blade. This cowardly act is prevented, when it's the Moon sisters’ warclub that comes down to end his life. NinEriš hears the crack of his skull, and twists around to see Ittidu as she pulverises a snake in the grass. NinEriš sees Ittidu’s eyes have changed from hazel to blue. She alone knows the bloody moon sister is two.
A citizen-soldier of Babba, grabs hold of Ittidu’s lion-hide cape pulling it as an attempt to floor the princess of Anna. But Sagmi had pinned the cloak only lightly and it ripped away from shoulders. The Moon sister swings around with a twirl, to shatter the face of her latest assailant. She repositions herself as NinEriš’s rearguard. Together the princesses of the Moon alliance swing around, taking on all opponents.
They need not sustain for very long, it becomes clear that the Alliance of Sun defenders is fading away. The point of the battle where one side can be seen losing has been reached. The Defenders of Babba flee from the gardens of War. The trickle of vanquished breaks into a flood of surrender as chased, deserters surrender, to run for distant hills beyond the plain.
Exhausted but victorious, NinEriš clutches her bloody mace, turns to face her comrade. Ittidu has lost her lion skin. Her long hair hangs free, clotted by the blood of others. Two ghouls stand facing each other, drenched in gore and sweat. Rivets of gold still sparkle from the high priestess’s leather as crimson drips from metals. All around these two Amazons, victorious allies raise fists and spears to salute the heroines. The battle has been won, NinEriš watches as Ittidu’s eyes flicker from blue back to hazel. The high priestess rushes to catch Ittidu as she collapses.
Camp of Oma, Leva soils. SE Britain
A blur of bright colours, dizziness and nausea. Focus returns to eyesight. Once again, Ur’salla is back in Amaia’s lodge, in her own world of cold forests. From behind the smoke of a reduced hearth, a young witch covered in butterfat and ash, grins knowingly.
Plain of Babba. SW Asia
Ittidu regains conscious control. She lays in the stubble of a victorious field, cradled in the chubby arms of NinEriš, who whispers into her ear,
‘Ittidu you've returned. You and your wind ghost fought valiantly, the battle has been won’.
Two huge men approach them. They’ve been selected to lift the two princesses of the Moon Alliance, high onto their shoulders, for entry into the spoils of Babba. The tall citizens kneel down and offer themselves as mounts. NinEriš laughs, and selects the strongest. Her fat thighs straddle the poor man’s neck. The herculean grunts as he raises back up to his feet. NinEriš lifts her mace with one hand, and strokes the head of her two legged beast with the other. She calls out,
‘Come my sister, I’ve chosen the largest giant, and now you must mount the runt’.
The kneeling man is no runt, but a full bearded warrior of Inanna. Ittidu holds onto his broad forehead, as he rises up, relieved not to have been first chosen. The two princesses elevated, guruš sound approval. From her vantage point, Ittidu briefly surveys the scene they leave. Once tall fields of stubble have been flattened. She sees the carnage of broken bones. Ivory jutting from torn limbs. Inners of the dead and dying have been spilled. This stink attracts millions of invasive flies. Thieves lean down to steal trophies from the defeated. Some of the fallen survive to cry out in nightmare pain.
There’s madness in the Gardens of Babba. Crazy faced sufferers who screech out with trauma. Blackened faces of torn skin stare with crazened white eyes. Vultures descend to join the crows who peck eyes from the slain. A pack of pariah dogs gingerly feast on human flesh. A solitary lion makes his show on high ground. He sniffs at the scent of flesh torn by fools.
With their heroines at the head of the victorious army, they leave this madness to advance into the township itself. They find other aggressors have already beaten them to the spoils. Smoke rises, and screams resound from its streets. The guruš of the Moon streak wildly through the winding avenues eager to rob and to hurt others. Citizens of Babba desperately torch the rope bridges between islands, hoping to stall the violence. As aggressors climb into punts of reed to cross the channels, the mothers of this township poison their daughters, sparing them shame.
Horrified by this drama of victory, Ittidu dismounts her two legged ox. Drawn to wander the streets as a liberator, witnessing the peaceful mercy promised to the losers. Ittidu does not see gratitude, neither does she find any clemency for the defeated.
She’s attracted to familiar streets of compounds, where Dugala lived with his family. Ittidu has to step aside to permit noisy, drunken victors to pass by as they celebrate this destruction. These soldiers have made an ox out of one wealthy citizen of Babba. The old grey bearded man dressed in conservative, woven robes, is forced to crawl down the middle of the street on all fours. The guruš ripped off clothes from his back, kicking the old man naked. As he crawls forward on hands and knees, the soldiers take turns to bullwhip their victim’s buttocks. Guruš recognise their heroine, and hail,
‘Praise be Ittidu our warrior princess, chosen by the gods!’
She cannot respond to their admiration. Because she recognises the crawling victim of these brutal soldiers. It’s Niginna who they taunt. He sees Ittidu and begs,
‘Please help me, please!’ She turns the other way, making her way towards his ransacked house. She hears one of Niginna’s torturers demand of their victim,
‘I said, like an ox!’ Crack comes the whip onto Niginna’s arse, and he screams out in anguish before crying,
‘Moo, moo’.
Niginna deserved little forgiveness, but Ittidu feels shame for not rescuing him. His wife is more deserving of help, so she enters their compound. The doors are all open or broken down.
The cold rooms are dark and howl only with distressed ghosts. Ittidu cannot continue in her search for Dugala’s kind mother. She senses she'll only find more cruelty, and she’s seen too much today. She retreats back out into the streets.
Unexpectedly, she hears the voice of Sagmi call out her name,
‘Miss Ittidu, the guruš told me they saw you here, we’ve been searching Babba for you, and had feared the worst’. Sagmi is accompanied by more of Šamkat’s servants.
‘Sanga Merkar and our Mistress await your presence inside the E-babba, Utu’s own house on Earth. Please Miss Ittidu, return with us’.