There were many signs of dire poverty among Babylon's swarming thousands. A man lay dead of starvation in the gutter. People stepped around the corpse until a Persian soldier shouted to a patrolling member of the civic guard:
"You there! Fetch a detail to remove this offal!" Begging children thrust out arms of. skin and bone. Myron gave a slug of trade copper to one. She at once set off at a run, with several older children pelting after her in hopes of possessing themselves of Myron's alms.
At the same time, hundreds of other children converged on the travelers, all screaming, "Give!" Myron found himself surrounded by a seething crowd. Older beggars, too, came shuffling and hobbling forward, kicking and beating the children out of their way.
"Now see what you did!" said Bessas.
At last the two took refuge in a tavern, where they sat drinking beer while waiting for the mendicatory horde to go away.
"This," said Bessas, "should be a lesson to you."
"But I cannot bear to see the little creatures starve!"
"If you save one, it will only grow up to beget more beggars. Babylonia has more people now than it knows what to do with."
They had to wait a full Babylonian double hour before the last of the suppliants drifted off and they could resume their walk unmolested.
On Myron's right rose the great ziggurat of Babylon. This was Etemenanki, the Cornerstone of the Universe, towering two hundred cubits into a bright blue sky flecked with streamers of thin white cloud. The tower gleamed with enameled bricks in dazzling patterns of white and gold and blue and green and scarlet, as if it had been covered with the scaly hide of some fabulous reptile. A closer view showed that many of the gaily colored tiles had fallen out, exposing the brown mud brick beneath. The neglected structure was fast decaying into shabbiness. Myron said:
"I should like to learn more about that edifice. When I was here before, I studied the Babylonian system of arithmetic under the great Nabu-rimanni. I could look the old boy up, if he is still—"
"We have no time for such leisurely pursuits," snapped Bessas. "Come along."
South of the ziggurat, also on Myron's right, stretched the temenos of Marduk of Babylon. Myron entered, followed by an apprehensive-looking Bessas.
"These foreign gods make me nervous," grumbled the Bactrian. "I am never sure of the right way to handle them."
Myron brushed aside the swarm of beggars and sellers of votive offerings and headed for the naos, which rose amid the groves. He stared at the temple. As usual when Myron was on the track of knowledge, his faculties were alert and keyed up. Whereas he tended to become vague and absent-minded when bored by the ordinary routines of life, the promise of discovery roused him to foxy keenness.
The huge old temple of Marduk was well kept. Gilded ornaments gleamed from its cornices. Dragons in reliefs of white and gold paraded around its walls, lashing their scorpion tails. Myron compared these reliefs to the drawings of the sirrush that he had made at the Ishtar Gate.
"I don't think we need any more pictures," he said, "but—Oh, Father!" he cried in Aramaic.
A Babylonian, distinguishable as a priest by his vestments and shaven face, turned. "What is it?" he said in no very friendly tone.
"May I ask Your Holiness some questions about this reptile, pray?"
The priest pulled himself together and touched his ivory-headed walking stick to his nose. "Your pardon, my son. Yesterday was the last day of our New Year's festival, and some of us suffer from an excess of—ah—holy spirit." He cleared his throat. "This is the sirrush, the sacred beast of the supreme god Marduk, symbolizing the powers of Marduk as the lion does those of our Lady Ishtar and the bull those of the mighty Adad—"
"Yes, sir, this I know. But I seek to learn about the living, earthly sirrush." Myron explained the quest on which he and Bessas were embarked.
The priest looked thoughtful. "This calls for consideration. I cannot ask you into the temple, since you are not purified initiates. But perchance you will do me the honor to step into the presbytery where we can talk. I am Father Nadinnu."
The presbytery was a building on the edge of the temenos, or sacred precinct, wherein dwelt several minor priests with their families. Nadinnu led the twain to a reception room and ordered a temple servant to bring wine, which was poured into light, gracefully curved silver cups. A taste showed Myron that it was date wine, which he did not much like; but he drank it with good grace. After a long silence the priest began, seeming to pick his words with care.
"Once upon a time," said he, "according to our ancient records, the sirrush abounded in the Land of the Two Rivers, as the lion does today. In those days, I suppose, the priests of Marduk had no trouble in keeping a living sirrush for the edification of the faithful.
"But then came the Flood, and all the animals perished save those that could reach the tops of mountains, or those that Ziusudra, the protected of the gods, had with him in the Ark. The sirrush vanished forever from Babylonia. Howsomever, after the Flood, as civilization revived and travel and trade spread geographical knowledge among mankind, it transpired that these beasts still lived in Africa, at the headwaters of the Nile.
"Now, no man in Babylonia, to my knowledge, has ever seen this fabled region. So I cannot forewarn you of what you will find there. But once in a century, more or less, some trader obtains a young sirrush that has been taken alive by the black barbarians of that land. Knowing that we pay well for the beast, the trader brings it by river raft and camel train and ox wain for many hundreds of leagues to holy Babylon.
"The last live sirrush that we possessed arrived here early in King Xerxes' reign. It was this one that the king saw, whilst it was still but a chick. But alas! During the sack, the beast disappeared. For aught we know, it may have escaped to the river, or it may have been eaten by some starving citizen. And we have not yet found another to take its place. If you can fetch back two, we will gladly buy the one that the king wants not."
Myron, staring at the distorted reflection of his face in the polished, curving surface of the silver cup, asked a few more questions. But Nadinnu made it plain that he had told all he knew, or at least all he would admit. Then Myron asked:
"Is it true that the temple lends money?"
"Aye. What sort of loan had you in mind?"
When Myron explained about the security that Bessas had to offer—an estate in Bactria now overrun by hostile nomads—Nadinnu said: "I fear me that such a loan were too speculative for us. Try the private bankers."
"Who are they?"
"The two leading firms are Iranu and Murashu of Nippur. Iranu's office is in the New City, at the corner of Adad and Shamash streets. Murashu you will find in the old business center, near Marduk and Enlil."
The travelers took a ceremonious leave. As soon as they had gone, Nadinnu dropped his air of benign imperturbability. Without trying to hide his agitation, he hitched up his robe, ran to the manse of the high priest, and sought out his superior, to whom he told the events just past.
Belkishir, high priest of Marduk of Babylon, said: "Aye, it behooved you to say something. But why are you so fearful?"
"See you not, sir, what will happen? These barbarians will go to Africa, reach the headwaters of the Nile, learn that no such beast exists, return, and discover this fact to the king. The king, resenting the tale we told him—"
"What mean you, we told him?" interrupted Belkishir. "That conceit was wholly yours."
"Well, who installed that accursed Chaldean marsh lizard in the first place? So when the king asked me about it, I could not say: O King, this is but a wile of guile, wherewith to chouse our gullible worshipers of a few more ha'pence—"
"Nadinnu! I forbid you to use such unseemly language about our holy church!"