Sindbad looked at Utnapishtim, perplexed:

“But wasn’t the story rather different?” he said.

“With the Anunnaki certain things can happen more than once,” Utnapishtim told him, and went on:

“Marduk, the new arrival among the gods, hadn’t come merely to free them from the oppression of Tiamat. He had come to humiliate them. He had tied up Anshar, the primordial god, Anu’s father, and reduced Enlil to dust and water. He even forced Anu off his heavenly throne, obliging him to hide among the ranks of the Anunnaki. And he tore his heart from his chest. He covered it with Dumuzi’s blood, which streamed down into the Apsu. Even Ea, his father, was mistreated; Marduk tossed him into the Apsu, which was his home. It was a terrible offense. And no one had ever dared offend Ea before.”

“Marduk had fifty names that celebrated him in every way. The Tablet of Destinies, however, was never mentioned. Yet after killing Tiamat, the first thing Marduk had done was hand the Tablet over to Anu. Was this an act of homage to the god of heaven? Who can say? Marduk himself would destroy Uruk, the city of Anu, and Nippur too, the city of Enlil. The passage from one divine regime to another is always violent and cruel. Marduk guaranteed the gods their security even as he overthrew them, first and foremost Enlil.”

“Marduk wasn’t always victorious. And the insults, harassment, and anxieties he had inflicted on the Anunnaki did not go unpunished. But what they found absolutely unacceptable was that Marduk should presume to assimilate the powers into his fifty names. He might as well have been telling the Anunnaki they had suddenly become superfluous.

“As a result, something happened that people did not talk about willingly. The first gods, the fathers, took their revenge. They laid siege to this son who claimed to have saved them. And they did it in the most sacred of places, the Esagil, the temple in Babylon that Marduk had made his home.

“As though sensing what was to happen, Nabu made haste from Borsippa to visit his father. But Marduk was already imprisoned. Led by Anshar, who was angrier than all of them, the first gods had entered the Esagil and set about plundering it. Nothing precious would escape them. Marduk had taken refuge in one of the temple’s cells and barred the door. The gods burst through, attacked Marduk, and tied him up.

“‘You’ll be judged as a criminal, not a god,’ they told him. Outside, the crowd was rioting. Many bore grudges against this most recent god. Marduk was dragged down to the riverbank, as was the custom for the worst offenders. They had torn off his ceremonial robes and his body bore witness to the beatings he had taken. Only Ishtar said she felt sorry for him and for Nabu. But she couldn’t stop the gods. They brought a common criminal to stand beside Marduk. This man, too, was to be judged. They cut off his head and hung it from Ishtar’s neck. While judgment was passed on Marduk, a priest with a piercing voice read the beginning of the poem about the origins that was usually read in its entirety at the festival to inaugurate the year. Rather than to the glory of Marduk, this time the poem was dedicated to the glory of Anshar. No one knows for sure what happened to Marduk then. He disappeared from Babylon and his statue with him. Years later, when he reappeared, some said it had all happened because the statue needed restoring.”