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NINE - SAPPHIRE
Wide scapes, endless seas of sand, duned by the wind. Labyrinths of red rockside; sculpted, jagged, steep and inaccessible, sand between the passages. A rare glimpse of hardy tenacious life refusing to abandon the desolate world they called home, before being alone again, nothing in sight with clear horizon, or enveloped in violent storms that pulled on your clothes, searing your exposed skin with blasts of sand.
The desert swallows men, and not many dare to enter, less learn to respect the desert, appreciate it, adapt to it. The lack of water cán be overcome. Sand becomes part of your life, you become part of the sand, accumulating it in your hair, in your clothes, in the creases and grooves of your skin, in your shoes and in the sheath of your dagger. You sleep in cold nights with sparse fire under bright lighted sky, the heaven so thick with stars its nearly tangible. You walk in searing heat that no longer affects you. You sweat dust, you breathe dust. Then you emerge from the land of nothing, your eyes perplexed because something is occupying your open vision. Deep within you can identify it, memories arise but they seem inaccessible. How can they be, if they are not filled with sand?
Your feet continue, a tiredness suddenly in your legs. An anxiousness and also a fear; A strange fear of leaving the open, unforgiving bosom of the desert. Whilst your mind forms a reluctance, the legs continue; they remember the path. Walls of a city grow, its distant towers occasionally disappearing and re-emerging behind the next dune.
The mounds of yellow sand decrease in height, and the ground thickens, hardens. Sand turns to dry dirt, then to barren stamped earth. You continue to the cities entrance, then you halt, suddenly opposed, blocked; a strange occurrence found in the form of a gate.
An interlocking eight pointed star marks the wood. Black granite lions flank the entrance, their open maws in roar towards the newcomer, both man and statued lion covered in dust.
***
The merchant blinked his silver-grey for a moment, not knowing how to deal with this halting of his path. He felt the sand in his upwardly curving shoes.
His legs were covered in sand-coloured pants and he wore a long loose fitting robe in the same colour. His mouth was hidden behind linen wrappings, which the merchant finally pulled down to reveal a clean shaven mouth, his skin bronzed and leathery. He had a narrow straight nose, a few dark hairs emerging from his nostrils. His head was wrapped in a dark-blue turban, the fittings on the merchant’s forehead holding a large Sapphire; the gem sparkling in the sunlight.
A bony hand, half covered under the sleeve of his robe, reached out and gently knocked on the gate. Immediately a face appeared overhead, a black beard curling up in a grin. There was a familiarity to the gatekeeper, but the merchant could not grasp his name. The sand, it seemed, had bleached his memories.
‘Mister Sapphire, I saw you shine from miles away!’ The man above yelled cheerfully.
The merchant narrowed his eyes. ‘If you saw my shine, then why is the gate not open yet?’
‘But then I wouldn’t be able to talk with you. Tell me, where is your caravan? Have you lost your camels to the sand?’
The merchant frowned. ‘I moved ahead. Losses were minimal. My caravan will arrive in my wake.’
He now recognized the man as Capeth; keeper of the western Gate. A warrior that had changed his hunting years for the comfort and luxury of the city walls. A little fat had accumulated on his cheeks, and the droplets of beer were still visible in his beard. He was looking curiously down upon the merchant, eyes searching for hidden trinkets and exotic wares.
‘Capeth…’ The merchant urged, another gust of dust blowing over him.
‘Yes?’ The gatekeeper asked, pleased the merchant knew his name.
‘Let me in.’
Capeth smiled broadly. ‘Do not worry Sapphire, I’ll have the doors opened for you. We keep the western gate closed during wartime. Not many emerging from the empty sands like you anyway.’
Sapphire nodded, his mind going back to what he had found in the dessert. The merchant’s jaw clenched, his heart rate accelerated. He was entering Uruk carrying secrets. Secrets that would have the oh-so cheerful cityguard hang him in an instant were they to find out.
‘Then how goes the war?’ Sapphire called upwards, trying to control his increasing nervosity.
The gatekeeper smiled triumphantly. ‘I hear it goes well. You have a meticulous timing, good Sapphire. Larsa has been subjugated in the way of Eneduanna’s cruelty, blessed be her name. They are already on their way back. They will be here soon.’
The doors of the gate moved, the bottoms grinding over the coarse dirt.
‘Mister Sapphire, it is good to see you again, and I welcome you back to Uruk.’ The gates opened fully before the merchant, pushed back by red robed guards.
The splash of water was the first thing Sapphire’s mind discerned, his eyes moved anxiously to its source: a wallside fountain, where water - sparse before - flowed in great amounts out of the mouth snake.
Lush vegetation greeted him, gardens hanging down from balconies. His vision was filled with green. Small brown birds chirped in the streets. The gatehouse led to a small square, this time of the day nearly abandoned save a few women washing clothes in a central well. Sapphire took a first step, and an old hand reached up. ‘A copper sir.’
Sapphire ignored the beggar sitting in the corner-shade, keeping his eyes on his new surroundings that enveloped his mind. Houses with bright painted colours greeted him. Green, crimson red, blue, yellow, all with great flower filled balconies leaning over the streets below and palms reaching up from inner gardens.
Scents of cinnamon and spice hung in the air, emerging from a kitchen somewhere, and a faint lyre was audible in the distance. A dog slept in the shadow before a door. It all seemed surreal to his eyes. He walked beyond the square, ignoring the sudden thirst incited by the incessant splashing fountain. A small street perched between high rising wooden and brick houses abruptly ended in a canal. He stared at the water flowing past.
‘Where to, mister Sapphire?’ A voice asked.
The merchant looked up, slightly startled. A young man approached, standing on a boat and pushing himself forward with a long pole. The boat moored at the side of the canal and he found himself stepping onto the wobbly deck.
‘Go to…’ The merchant hesitated, lacking direction. It had been months since he had last set foot in Uruk, but it seemed like a lifetime. An old dream, half-forgotten, bringing with it vague memories.
‘-Just show me the city. I need to reacquaint myself with this old pearl.’
‘As you wish.’ The boatsman replied, pushing the vessel forward again.
Sapphire sat down before the boatsman, adjusting his turban. They glided through the calm waters and intersected with other canals both wide and narrow. Other boats passed, stacked with cargo or holding passengers in various degrees of luxury. They saw the sparkling sapphire in his turban and greeted him heartily.
The canals divided the city into island-districts, the available land tightly filled with multi-storied houses, connected to each other by bridges.
The water was turbid, a greenish brown, the clarity forced out by the city’s filth and excrement, but the sun shone brightly today and rippled gold over the surface.
The sounds of bustling crowds filled the Sapphire’s ears. They passed a market, partly held on land and partly on flat boats fastened together. Stacks of fish, heaps of bread and coloured spices, bleating animals and the rinkle of coin. The weary traveler felt himself relax, stretching out his legs. He took off his shoes and streams of sand poured out.
The boatman steered away from the waterside market and entered a shadowy side channel. Red lanterns invited the passing boats into luxurious estates. Laughter and soft moans came from high, partly shrouded windows. A woman emerged from a balcony, sparsely clothed and excessively decorated. ‘Visit me later Sapphire!’ She showed her breasts with a smile.
The merchant sniggered as she winked at him.
‘Should I wait here?’ The boatsman asked.
‘No, no, please continue. I have not seen enough of the city.’
It was still calm in the pleasure district, but at nightfall these waterways would be filled with eager boats and the waters below diluted with wine.
They went to the wealthy white-marbled palace districts where boats delivered the fine luxuries of the city-markets, and the narrow, shadowy slums of simple brick and rotten wood - where commoners fished amongst the murky, impure waters for their next meal.
The boat glided out of the gloomy canals and entered a central lake. Here another layer of walls rose up from a central island, connected by a causeway to the rest of the city. In contrast with Uruk’s weathered outer layer of reddish brick and dust, these walls were azure-blue and reflected in the sun. Behind them a large domed structure rose. Uruk’s inner city, reserved for the High-Priestess and her servants. He heard it was filled with extensive gardens and exotic animals, but sadly he had never been able to gain entry.
‘I have seen enough.’ Sapphire said. He had seen the haggling merchants of Uruk on every corner, and his heart longed for profit. ‘-Bring me to Yayatum’s estate.’
The boatsman bowed his head. ‘As you wish.’
Stolen novel; please report.
They navigated to a reclusive part of the city, the canal’s widening and the districts becoming smaller until they finally arrived at a single estate on its personal island.
Noon has passed and the sky was gradually darkening in an orange glow. Reeds grew at the edges of the island and a pair of lanterns were already lit at the wooden dock.
Sapphire turned to the boatsman. ‘You did well. How much do I owe you?’
The boatsman shook his youthful head. ‘For you, mister Sapphire - its free.’
‘Nonsense.’ The traveling merchant reached into his dusty clothes, taking out a silver coin and flicking it towards the boatsman, who caught it dexterity mid air.
‘Good day.’ Sapphire stated, stepping out onto the small island.
A servant woman came rushing down the steps towards the small dock. She was dressed in quality cloth but her white scalp was shaven bald, showing her to be a slave. An eye was inked behind her ear.
She made a deep bow. ‘Lord sapphire, you are most welcome in my master’s estate. I have alerted my master of your arrival.’ She eyed his dusty worn clothes. ‘Would you like a change of robes before I guide you to him?’
‘I'm quite alright, thank you.’
She led him up gradually rising stone stairs, rows of well kempt hedges and flowers passing them. The wooden doors of a great, three-storied house stood open and inviting. She brought him to a dining chamber, walls occupied by large windows that looked out over the passing waters. Receding orange light entered from outside, making the panels glow.
A sole person sat at the end of a long darkwood table, his figure dark against the glow of dusk, though a few candles attempted to throw some of their flickering light on his sizable body.
The seated man was an enormously fattened being. Some form was added to his blubbery body by tight fitting red fabric woven with gold detail. His sagging body was perched on a reinforced chair. Tiny black eyes peered out from his face, almost hidden between the swollen cheeks.
Before him stretched out a great amount of dishes on silver plates. Seared duck, roasted goat, fruits, sweets, a small amount of vegetables, an enormous catfish, a whole swine, and a few loaves of bread. To compliment the mass of food a glass pitcher of wine had been placed between the swine and the catfish, alongside a pair of crystal glasses.
Thick, piggish fingers snapped and the servant escorting the merchant left, closing the door behind her as she went.
A heavy, laboured voice rumbled out of the heap of fat. ‘Sapphire...’
The small mouth, almost lost in the large expansive face, turned into a smile. His tiny chin chin jutted out of the slab of fat that was his throat. ‘-How wonderfully good to see you.’
‘Yayatum, my old friend, address me by my true name.’ The merchant replied, remaining standing at the base of the overcrowded table.
The great fattened man gave a chuckle that rippled through his entire body.
‘You are too distrusting, Sapphire. You peddle in so many secrets and illusions that you have even managed to hide your own name. Your way seems very tiresome.’ Yayatum closed his tiny eyes. ‘-But I remember. Please, Dan Sarpa, sit at my table and dine with me.’
Dan Sarpa pulled back a chair next to Yayatum. He was dwarfed by the enormous mound of flesh besides him. ‘My name is a privilege for the few, not the many. But mind you, in the right circles I prefer truth. Well Yayatum tell me, how goes the trade?’
The fat man’s thick hands grabbed hold of a silver knife. ‘Business later. First we eat, aren’t you starving? I'm starving.’
‘I concede, yes, that I might be inclined to eat something.’ Dan Sarpa replied with a gentle nod.
He took off his long traveler’s robe, revealing a simple, partly torn, shirt of the same colour. The turban with the Sapphire gem remained on his head.
Seeing his companion sit down beside him, Yayatum gleefully stabbed his knife into the duck. It was an unwieldy, yet violent thrust, skewering the little creature on his cutlery. He tossed a wing of soft pink meat on Sarpa’s plate. Loud chewing noise followed as the fat man started devouring the rest. ‘Happy I finally have someone worth sharing my meal with.’ Yayatum rumbled with a filled mouth, his tiny eyes already prowling towards the fish. The fish’s mouth hung half-open, whiskers down, and its hazy eyes had turned white by the heat of the fire.
Dan Sarpa ate with tiny, careful bites, savouring the near forgotten taste of fresh meat.
The fat man reached for the pitcher of wine, pouring himself a glass. ‘You as well?’
Dan Sarpa held his hand over his glass, shaking his head apologetically. His mouth longed for the refined tastes of Yayatum’s reserve, but he feared he might lose control over his tongue. Heavens forbid he would spill information in a moment of drunken inattentiveness. Keeping a secret in the great sands was one thing, keeping it in Uruk was something entirely different. He needed to adjust to this city incrementally.
‘Another time, friend, another time. I need to keep a clear mind as I have business to attend. So long without drink and I fear I will be like a defenceless lamb to you, and I will leave this fine estate with my blessing stamped on scrolls and tablets I will not remember.’
Yayatum squinted, then spat out bits of duck as he laughed. He pointed his knife, now holding a piece of white fish, at Dan Sarpa’s sun-weathered face. ‘You know me too well. Its why I respect you.’
Yayatum locked the fish into the bowels of his mouth and pulled on the plate that held the goat. ‘-Truly, your absence has been noted. Not many traders can stand up to you. It has been too easy for me to acquire the businesses of lesser merchants. Nothing but small fish in Uruk’s pond nowadays, and the slightly bigger flee when they spot my enormous shadow.’ Juices dripped down his tiny lard-besieged chin as Yayatum gnawed on the goat’s leg.
Dan Sarpa suppressed the repulsion he felt, as he knew within that fat encased head there was a powerful mind. Driven by gluttony and greed, ever more hungry for more, but intelligent as well. Yayatum was shrewd and merciless when attaining his goals, and also a man that had access to the more reserved and powerful contacts of the red city. In many ways Yayatum was the opposite of the slender Sapphire trader. Instead of traveling out into the world, Yayatum was a man known for having the world come to him. Not often would he leave his estate.
Despite their differences, it was also one of the few men Dan Sarpa felt he could trust, somewhat. At the very least he would prefer not having Yayatum die; He was too useful.
Dan Sarpa put down his knife as the fat man continued his feast. ‘You need to control your eating, friend.’
Yayatum smiled. ‘Friend.’ He repeated. ‘Now that's something gold cannot buy. Mister Sapphire’s friendship.’ Yayatum licked the grease from his lips, then sighed. ‘Yes, yes. I know. I would have you know that I have reduced in weight, though it may be difficult to see for you. Big is big, isn’t it?’
He pointed at a small bowl. ‘Look, see! I have even started eating those things.’ He took hold of the bowl and pushed a few green stalks in his tiny mouth.
‘Its not even that bad.’ He chewed them away and halted his eating. Yayatum leaned back, the reinforced chair groaning in protest.
‘Well, well. Tell me where you went and what you have to offer for me. Paint a picture for me will you, let me walk the road you walked.’
‘I've been to Dilmun and beyond, into the deep sands of the great desert. Establishing new trade routes, circumventing the monopoly the merchants of Ur wield over our southern trade flows. In service of the city of course.’
Yayatum’s bloated face gave a hint of anger. ‘Ur…’ He muttered, shaking his head.
‘Indeed, so I went to Dilmun. A wonderful place, very fine, almost as fine as Uruk I must say, truly. And wonderful food, exquisite tastes….’
Yayatum rose in his seat. ‘Yés? Good food?’
‘Food of the sea.’ Dan Sarpa replied. ‘-Shellfish, crabs, clams, lobster! They depend entirely on the waters, and from the depths they acquire fine trading goods. I bring pearls from the deep sea, and corals, and from the desert I have rare stones and metals.’
He allowed himself a chuckle. ‘You should have seen the faces of those Ur-fellows in their grandiose clothing, with those ridiculous high-hats they wear to have their diminutive bodies appear longer. imagine how their arrogant smirks melted away when my camels emerged from the sands. The locals were happy too, they were liberated that very moment from Ur’s suffocating grasp and their low rates. I will certainly have more caravans running in the future.’
Yayatum clapped his hands, his face in admiration. ‘How great is your work, pioneering, yes pioneering the trade.’ He gathered a moment, licking his lips again. ‘You dont bring slaves do you?’
Dan Sarpa shook his head. ‘I am afraid not this time my friend. But I have established contact with the desert tribes. Hardy people. As much against outsiders as they are against themselves. They can be approached at the right price. Future caravans might purchase a few exotic women for you, exclusively for your household of course.’
Yayatum nodded contently. ‘Boys too.’ He quickly added as he started eating again, now busy with sweet powdered pink cubes. ‘-I’ll buy the lot.’ Yayatum’s voice gained a dark, possessive edge. ‘Speaking of slaves, I have prepared a room for tonight with good selection. I assume, of course, you are starved of intimate touch. Something else than dry scorpions to lay with.’ He chuckled, contently amused by his own words.
Dan Sarpa sighed sadly. ‘Dear Yaya-, forgive me, but I will sleep alone tonight. This city has its tendency to consume unwary travelers even more so than the desert. I must approach slowly.’
‘It was but a proposition, I can perfectly enjoy them by myself.’ Yayatum stated with a hint of disappointment.
He reached for the wine again. ‘Let's change the subject back to business shall we. Let's talk of Larsa. Word is that the city has been taken in the most severest of ways. It wealth has been stripped and will soon flow to here. The Larsans themselves have been enslaved, the survivors at least, another profit opportunity. And the city itself is a good trade-node that needs to be occupied by Uruk merchants. We fight the same war as the soldiers do, mind you, I am well aware. More gold in Uruk’s coffers means more warriors on the field, and better weapons in their hands. Hence such a task of great importance needs a great man. Who else than you is fit to occupy such a position?’
The sapphire merchant mulled the thought. ‘Me?’
The fat man shrugged. ‘It is within my power to arrange it. Dan Sarpa, the Sapphire from the sands, master-merchant of Larsa, commander of the eastern-trade. Of Course I expect some good rates for myself and a lookout for rare goods passing through. Tit for tat my friend. You may think about it, weigh the options, the offer will stand for a while. From Larsa we have sudden new neighbours. City of Girsu, Fortress of Bad-Tibira, you have the wretched Kishites, and the Elamites beyond even. It requires diplomacy, it requires finesse. Skill also, to run markets and delegate merchants from a ruined post, build everything from the ground up. Like I said, think about it, and if you dont want it I will find someone else to put there. Either way I will have a friend in Larsa.’
Dan Sarpa’s mind was somewhere else; back to the sands and hardy desert-mountains where he had lived out the last few months. ‘I will think about it.’ He stated vaguely.
His heart rate increased as he prepared to talk of the heavy burden he carried across the desert. ‘Yaya, I am going to ask you for a favor. Its a sensitive matter.’ Dan Sarpa felt his throat constrict. Careful now.
Yayatum narrowed his eyes until they were hidden in his piggish head, folded up in slits, but Dan Sarpa felt the other’s stare digging into him nonetheless.
‘I’m listening.’ Yayatum replied, his joyous tone turning very serious.
The sapphire merchant leaned forward, his voice a whisper. ‘I need a meeting with the King. Discreetly, not even that eunuch must know.’
Yayatum gave a nervous smile. ‘Sarpa, what have you uncovered in the sands?’
‘I will be grateful Yayatum.’ He pressed his lips together.
‘What makes you think I am not one of Heabani’s whisperers? I like you, but I cannot give hermetic assurances.’
The sapphire merchant kept his stare on his fat companion, allowing the moment to stretch out in silence. ‘If the eunuch finds out I wish to convey an important message with the Dynasty so be it, it will be your choice. Get me the meeting however. Name your price.’
A fat hand waved out. ‘Price, price. Favors run only for favors. And you, yes you are a man I like to be owed a favor from. I will see what I can do my friend.’
Dan Sarpa felt relieved. ‘My sincere gratitude.’ He made way to rise but Yayatum got a hold of his dusty sleeve.
‘You cannot leave yet, Sapphire.’ Yayatum let go and leaned back, bringing forward a small wooden box. ‘A game sir, to pit our minds against each other and see who is supreme.’
Yayatum placed the wooden box on the table, brushing aside the gnawed off bones and plates of half-consumed food. Opening it showed small ivory and onyx figurines; tiny soldiers, chariots, elephants. Fat fingers placed them in rapid succession on a checkered board.
‘Chattanga.’ Dan Sarpa stated in pleased surprise. ‘It has been a while.’
Yayatum placed a first figure forward with eagerness. ‘I’ve exercised. Slaves are poor substitutes for good opponents, we will see if I will beat you this time.’