Chapter 4: The Snare of Kings
The sun hung low over the golden walls of Uruk, painting the city in copper and crimson as Bilgames returned in triumph. His armor was smeared with the dust of the battlefield and the dark stains of fallen enemies, but his head was held high. Behind him, his battalion marched, weary but exultant, carrying the banners of Uruk alongside the spoils of war—swords, shields, gleaming bronze helms, and urns of Girsu's gold.
The streets swelled with the people of Uruk. Flower petals drifted from balconies and awnings, and voices lifted in song. Children called his name. Young women smiled shyly, while elders nodded their approval at the tall, broad-shouldered warrior who had once been a street orphan.
Inside the palace grounds, a long line of soldiers filed in behind Bilgames. The vast courtyard was thick with the scent of spiced meats and blooming lilies. The King's high officials stood in their formal robes, faces tight with duty, but none could mask the unease growing within them.
Bilgames strode forward, kneeling before the throne.
"You have brought great honor to Uruk," Dumuzid proclaimed, lifting a gleaming spear engraved with the sigils of the old kings. "This is the Spear of the Hawk, borne by my ancestors. With it, you claim your place among Uruk's greatest."
The courtyard erupted in cheers. Bilgames accepted the spear with a bow, though his eyes barely flickered toward the King. He felt it then—the cold, assessing gaze of Dumuzid, as if weighing whether to reward or destroy him.
The King Dumuzid turned his attention to the captured King of Girsu. "All you had was to marry your daughter to my son. But now, my son will rule your city."
The King turned to his guards. "Take him to the Dungeon. He will be executed in the arena."
A feast was ordered, as was custom, and the warriors led away to the banquet hall. Tables overflowed with figs, roast lamb, honeyed bread, and jugs of barley wine. The King toasted Bilgames, and the Prince followed, though his words were thick with envy.
Bilgames, however, remained indifferent to the clamor around him. His eyes, dark as storm clouds, had fixed upon a figure seated near the back of the hall. A young woman, barely older than himself, with raven-black hair and skin like polished ivory. She met his gaze only for a heartbeat, her lips curving in a small, knowing smile, before looking away demurely.
He leaned toward his comrade. "Who is that?"
His fellow warrior, Asku, grinned. "Ah, her? Ene, they call her. A favoured and future concubine of the King, declared royalty since an early age so no man could claim her. Dangerous game, my friend."
Bilgames set his cup down and rose. "Danger is what I live for."
As the evening wore on, Ene slipped quietly from the hall. Bilgames followed, moving through the winding stone corridors, past silk-draped archways and guarded alcoves, until he found her alone beneath a moonlit colonnade.
"Damsel," he called, a half-smile tugging at his lips, "are you smitten by me, then?"
She turned, raising an eyebrow. "Do not be ahead of yourself, Bilgames. Why would I fall for a ruthless warrior such as you?"
He chuckled. "Because ruthless warriors are the only ones worth falling for."
She looked away, pretending to be offended, though a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
"I'm not an easy woman," she murmured.
"Good," Bilgames said, stepping closer. "I'm not a simple man."
"I'm not an easy woman," she murmured.
"Good," Bilgames said, stepping closer. "I'm not a simple man."
Unknown to them, a figure watched from a shadowed arch—the Prince, his heart seething with jealousy. He had long harbored desires for Enmebagarasi, though his father had forbidden it. And now, this so called hero dared court her? The Prince stormed back to the King's private chamber.
"Father!" the Prince barked, slamming the heavy doors behind him. "I never understood your fondness for that girl. But tonight she betrays you—with Bilgames."
King Dumuzid looked up from his goblet, his brow darkening. "You presume much, boy."
"I saw it. She favors him. Would you still keep her, knowing her loyalty lies elsewhere?"
The King sighed heavily, motioning the Prince closer. "You are young and foolish. That girl… I took her into the palace when I seized the throne. She was a child then. I spared her while the others fell. Eighteen years have passed, and yet she looks no older than sixteen. She bears the mark of a goddess of wisdom and beasts."
The Prince paled. "You believe she is…?"
"I suspect she is the last blood of Lugalbanda," the King said. "If so, she is precious beyond measure."
At that moment, a messenger burst through the chamber doors. "My King!" the man panted. "Scouts have sighted an army—the King of Ur marches toward Uruk!"
Dumuzid cursed, rising to his feet. The timing was no coincidence. Babylon had waited until Uruk's armies were bloodied and wearied from battle.
The court assembled quickly. Elders, commanders, priests. Heated arguments flared—some urging war, others caution.
"There is a way," the Prince offered, his voice sharp. "Sacrifice Bilgames. Send him and his men to face Ur. If they fall, we delay the enemy long enough to summon aid from Girsu."
The King rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
The Prince continued. "Better still—if the King of Ur learns of the girl, he might delay for a ransom. Bilgames is… attached to her. He will refuse to surrender her. A hero defying his king is treason. Whether in battle or court, Bilgames will be undone."
Dumuzid smiled. "Two birds struck with a single throw."
Elsewhere that night, beneath the starlit sky, Bilgames and Ene rode out together on horseback. The city walls shrank behind them, and the hills of Uruk rolled ahead like sleeping giants.
"This place," Ene whispered as they reached a high ledge, overlooking the roaring falls of the Uruk River, "it is beautiful."
Bilgames grinned. "I've asked you to ride with me before."
"And I've refused you before," she said with a smirk.
"What changed?"
"Perhaps I'm weary of the palace cages."
He dismounted and helped her down. Together, they stood at the edge of the cliff.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Enmebaragesi," she said softly. "But you may call me Ene."
"Ene," he repeated, liking the sound. "Come. There's one more thing I must show you."
He led her to the very brink of the falls. The spray cooled their faces. The sound of water filled the night.
"We jump," Bilgames said.
"You're mad."
"Perhaps. But you won't forget me."
She laughed—a sound like silver bells—and before fear could claim her, she let him pull her into the river's embrace. They plunged into the depths, the current swallowing their cries, and for a moment the world was only water and sky.
When they finally surfaced, they swam ashore.
Soon, they reached the rocky shore, gasping for breath, their bodies shivering from the cold embrace of the river. The sound of water thundering behind them filled the night, but the world felt smaller, quieter — just the two of them beneath a vault of stars.
"Bilgames," Ene whispered, shivering. "You'll get me killed."
"I wouldn't dare," he promised.
Ene smiled, water beading on her lashes. "You told me not to forget you. I fear now I never will."
Bilgames looked at her, his grin fading as something in her gaze struck him. A sadness, ancient and weary, far older than her face suggested.
"Ene," he said quietly, "what is it?"
She hesitated, glancing down at her hands. Then she took a breath. "Can I tell you a secret, Bilgames?"
He moved closer, his voice soft. "I've no love for court gossip. But your secrets I will keep, for as long as the gods let me breathe."
She smiled, faintly. "Good. Because it's a secret worth killing for."
She gathered her wet hair behind one ear, sitting cross-legged on the cool stone. Bilgames mirrored her.
"I was born a princess," she began. "A long time ago, in this very land, though now no one remembers. My father was Lugalbanda, King of Uruk. My mother, was a…"
Bilgames' brow furrowed. "That's not possible. Lugalbanda… his family was wiped out when Dumuzid took the throne."
"That's what everyone believes," Enmebaragesi whispered. "But on the night the city fell, my mother smuggled me away. I was seven years old. I remember the screams, the smoke, the sound of swords striking flesh."
Bilgames felt a chill that had nothing to do with the river. "You remember all of it?"
"I see it every time I close my eyes," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "My mother… she dressed me in the rags of a servant's child. Hid me among the concubines of the palace. No one suspected. I was passed from one woman to another, raised as the daughter of a kitchen maid. That's why my name is not known. My mother told me never to speak of who I was. Everyone knows me simply as Ene."
Bilgames was silent for a moment, his mind reeling.
"And your mother?" he asked.
"She fled," Ene whispered. "With my little brother."
His breath caught. "You had a brother?"
She nodded, tears threatening to fall. "A baby. I remember him — dark hair, a birthmark on his shoulder. Ninsun called him Gilga, after her brother, the fire god Gibil. She was meant to take him to the high priests of Shamash, to be hidden in the temples. But I never saw them again."
Bilgames felt a strange ache in his chest at the name. Gilga. The old man once called him by the name, and the one whispered by the old maid who raised him. It stirred something deep, unspoken. Perhaps he was reading too much into it?
"Ene," he said slowly, "if your brother lived, he'd be what… nineteen now?"
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe he died. Uruk is not kind to lost princes."
Bilgames swallowed hard, his thoughts dark and tangled. "You've carried this all your life?"
She nodded. "And for what? To be a prisoner dressed in silk? A concubine in a cage? I have no kingdom, no family. Only this secret. And now, I think the King suspects."
Bilgames clenched his fists. "If he means you harm…"
She placed a hand on his arm. "He always meant me harm. I am only alive because he thought me harmless."
They sat in silence, the river roaring behind them. The moon cast a silver glow on the water's surface, and the weight of ancient bloodlines hung heavy in the air.
"Bilgames," she whispered, "I don't know why I'm telling you this. But something about you… it feels like home. Like a piece of something I lost."
His voice was hoarse. "You're not alone, Ene. Not anymore."
He reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek. Their eyes met, and for a moment it seemed as if time held its breath.
Their peace was shattered by the clatter of hooves. The King's men appeared, torches in hand.
"Bilgames of Uruk," the captain barked. "By order of the King, you are summoned. An army of Ur marches. Your presence is demanded."
Bilgames rose to his feet, water streaming from his hair. His gaze hardened.
"I ride," he said. "But she stays."
"She rides too," the captain declared. "By command."
Bilgames' jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod. "Then let us ride."
They mounted their horses and galloped back toward Uruk, where treachery awaited behind the city walls.