Promo: Enheduanna's Song From The Sands by Ellen Rachlin
Today, I'm delighted to welcome author Ellen Rachlin to Ruins & Reading. We're sharing an intriguing excerpt from her compelling historical novel, Enheduanna's Song From The Sands. The story is based on real events, with Enheduanna being credited to be the first recorded woman writer. An incredible story. Read on!
Enheduanna's Song From The Sands is currently on blog tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club. Find links to other fascinating posts HERE!
Enheduanna’s Song From the Sands
Eight years ago, I was bitten by a desire that I can’t forget. I was seven and with my mother in Azupiranu, the City of Saffron, and Father’s birthplace. We were at the Temple when I had a vision of my paternal grandmother, the former High Priestess, whom I’d never met. Ever since she revealed herself to me, I’ve wanted to be a high priestess too.
Even my father had no memory of her. Only rarely did my parents speak of her. And I never received a good answer to how a high priestess could give birth to a mortal son. High priestesses are married to gods. They aren’t supposed to have children.
I assume that’s why she gave father away. She tried to protect him by sending him downriver alone in a sealed basket. Akki, the royal gardener of Kish, found Father at the riverbank and raised him. When Mother brought me to Azupiranu on holiday, I believe she was looking for him. She’d lead me along a sloped embankment to the Euphrates riverbank where Father’s journey to Kish began.
On that long-ago trip to Azupiranu, when I was steeped in grief, my grandmother appeared to me. It was on the day before Mother’s, and I was to return home to Agade. A cooling breeze from the East set in as we arrived at grandmother’s old Temple. She lived in the giparu where usually only the High Priestess and priestesses can enter. But on this day, Mother and I were permitted inside. She tugged my hand, and I followed her across the sacred courtyard, stepping lightly on my toes with my head tilted upwards, taking in the tops of the carved stone archways.
The current High Priestess received us in her golden throne room and invited us to spend the night. Mother was allowed to climb to the mountain house, the highest point of the Temple, to spend the night. It’s the room closest to the gods, at the meeting place of Heaven and Earth. Mother left me all alone below in the care of the priestesses.
As she ascended all three of the mountain house’s sacred platforms, she slipped away from me, becoming smaller and smaller. I stood at the base, and tears escaped my eyes. She told me that she was going to pray to Ninurta, the god of farming and healing.
For several hours, I barely spoke to the priestesses. They chattered at me as they led me through the temple rooms and grand kitchens. All I could think of was that Mother didn’t allow me to go with her to touch the Heavens. I vowed that one day I would serve as high priestess at a temple with a grand mountain house. Then I would decide who was permitted to enter it. But that same night, the Heavens came to me. I saw a woman who looked as familiar to me as my own face. But she was more beautiful with a narrower nose and fuller bottom lip than mine; her dark almond-shaped eyes were the same. She sat on a small curved throne, enveloped in brilliantly colored woven fabrics. One shawl, the color of the morning sun, covered her head, grazed her shoulders, and flowed down her back. She called me to
her. I could sense her breath. I moved closer, just close enough to stare at her curiously familiar face.
Perhaps because she was speaking to a child, her words were slow and cautious. It took some moments for me to take them in, so I don’t recall her first words. But their meaning I understood—it was a warning that women are doomed to be forgotten and that I should take advantage of my blessed birthright, tell my story, and defend the beliefs of our people. I remember her asking me, “Do you understand me?”
Maybe because I dreamed of being a high priestess as Father intended, serving Inanna, I remember her exact words that followed: “Great men have epics pressed into tablets and live on as the gods do. High priestesses who commit their lives to the gods are forgotten. Gilgamesh and your father remembered—you and I forgotten.”
When she spoke about the legendary king, Gilgamesh, and Father, and the scores of tablets that tell their stories, her words seemed true. Her voice became louder, more insistent, “Study history. Learn how to write so you can tell your story and achieve immortality like great men and gods.”
I’ve told no one, not even Mother, about this. At first, I wanted something all my own that night when Mother wouldn’t let me join her. Then, I put the vision aside, but not my desire to become a high priestess and climb the mountain house whenever I wished.
Until recently, I had almost forgotten about that vision of my grandmother.
Discover the untold story of Enheduanna, the world’s first named author, as she navigates power, betrayal, and divine destiny in ancient Mesopotamia. A mesmerizing fusion of history, myth, and female leadership that challenges how we see the past—and ourselves.
A high priestess dethroned. A rebel with a dangerous plan. One empire hanging by a thread.
When Enheduanna is named High Priestess of Ur, her connection to the gods makes her a target. Lugalanne’s coup strips her of robes, power, and home, casting her into the perilous underworld. There, amid forests of shadows and treacherous trials, she discovers that divine favor alone won’t save her—only cunning, courage, and a willingness to embrace the ruthlessness of her enemies can restore her.
Drawing on history and myth, Enheduanna’s Song From the Sands follows the world’s first named author as she fights to reclaim her voice and her destiny. Political intrigue, betrayal, and divine tests collide as Enheduanna must decide whether to forgive, to fight, or to harness the power that could shake the foundations of an empire. For readers who love The Song of Achilles’s intimate heroism, Circe’s mythic depth, or The Daughters of Sparta’s fierce women, this is a mesmerizing dive into ancient Mesopotamia where courage and cunning are the only paths to survival.
Praise for Enheduanna's Song From The Sands:
~~~
Comments
Post a Comment