On Ishtar’s Altar, the trapper found the sacred whore, and they set off into the wild.

For three days they trekked. On day three they arrived at the waterhole.

For two days they waited. On day two, as they sat, the animals came to lap at the clear water.*

On the third day, as the sun rose and set his glare upon the land, Enkidu came and knelt to drink the clear water among the beasts.

The man and woman looked on, amazed. The Wildman was huge and beautiful. In Shamhat’s loins, desire gushed like a spring. Her wanton breath sighed as she looked upon the primal being.

“Look,” the trapper exclaimed, “he is here. Now use your womanly arts. Take off your robe and lie here naked, legs spread. Stoke his desire when he approaches, caress him, excite him, steal his breath with your kisses—bring him to know womankind. His beast companions will be bewildered, and they shall forsake him.”

She disrobed and lay there naked, her legs spread, touching herself.

Enkidu saw her, and approached her, wary. He tasted her scent on the breeze, like a beast. His eyes wandered over her body, like a man. He came closer.

Shamhat caressed his thigh, grasped his penis, and guided him within her. She used her womanly arts—she stole his wild breath with her soft kisses, not holding back, but bringing him to know womankind.

For seven days* his penis raged and he knew her, until finally he had enough.

Finally, he stood and walked toward the waterhole to rejoin the beasts. The gazelles scattered and the antelope and deer bounded off. He tried to pursue them but his life force had been drained by her soft kisses. His knees knocked, his mighty legs no longer propelled him like a beast.

He returned to Shamhat, realizing in the doing that his mind had expanded beyond the simple concerns of the beasts.

Enkidu sat at Shamhat’s feet. Looking at her, he knew he had fallen from his primal state, understanding now her words, not just the wiles of her womanly arts.

“Enkidu, you have conquered me, have touched the Goddess through me. You are beautiful like a god. You should be a Wildman no more, never again roaming like an animal.”

He was enthralled by her words, said to the caress of her smooth hand and the flutter of her soft lashes.

“Come with me, mighty man, to great-girded Uruk, to the garden of my goddess-Mother, to the palace of mighty king Gilgamesh, who arrogantly crushes the people, stamping them into the earth like a raging bull.”

The repeated description of the waterhole water as clear, when it could never be as clear as that of a mountain stream, points to a local hunting tradition influencing the tale strongly, perhaps even the character of Enkidu himself being of local primal origin, and this epic representing a melding of nomad stories brought by the invaders and their indigenous counterparts, the hunters. It also indicates the unsavory nature of the canal water of the cities such as Uruk compared to the clear water enjoyed by their ancestors.

As far as can be determined the concept of the seven day week originated in this region of the world, along with the 360 day year. The Greeks employed a three dekad system representing the waxing and waning of the moon, and did not begin using the week until after Alexander’s conquest, circa 330 B.C. The Romans employed a Greek-based calendar, counting back from three fixed points, the Nones, the Ides and the Kalends, until the week was adopted in A.D. 19 with the introduction of the Sabine calendar.