"Again you call me a coward? You, Gilgamesh, you are the one who quivers in fear-"
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!"
"You fear my strength, Enkidu!"
"You fear my skill. You with your pathetic old sword, your pitiful bow-"
"Is this the Enkidu I loved, mocking me so?"
"You were the first to mock, when you threw back the shotgun into my hands, spurning my gift, calling me a coward-"
"The weapon, I said, was cowardly. Not you, Enkidu."
"It was the same thing."
"Bitte, bitte,"said Schweitzer. "This is not the way!"
And again from Hemingway: "Gentlemen, please!"
They took no notice.
"I meant-" "You said-"
"Shame-"
"Fear-"
"Three times over a coward!"
"Five times five a traitor!"
"False friend!"
"Vain braggart!"
"Gentlemen, I have to ask you-"
But Hemingway"s voice, loud and firm though it was, was altogether drowned out by the roar of rage that came from the throat of Gilgamesh. Dizzying throbs of anger pounded in his breast, his throat, his temples. He could take no more. This was how it had begun the first time, when Enkidu had come to him with that shotgun and he had given it back and they had fallen into dispute. At first merely a disagreement, and then a hot debate, and then a quarrel, and then the hurling of bitter accusations. And then such words of anger as had never pa.s.sed between them before, they who had been closer than brothers.
That time they hadn"t come to blows. Enkidu had simply stalked away, declaring that their friendship was at an end. But now-hearing all the same words again, stymied by this quarrel even over the very method by which they were to fight-Gilgamesh could no longer restrain himself. Overmastered by fury and frustration, he rushed forward.
Enkidu, eyes gleaming, was ready for him.
Hemingway attempted to come between them. Big as he was, he was like a child next to Gilgamesh and Enkidu, and they swatted him to one side without effort. With a jolt that made the ground itself reverberate, Gilgamesh went crashing into Enkidu and laid hold of him with both hands.
Enkidu laughed. "So you have your way after all, King Gilgamesh! Bare hands it is!"
"It is the only way," said Gilgamesh.
At last. At last. There was no wrestler in this world or the other who could contend with Gilgamesh of Uruk. I will break him, Gilgamesh thought, as he broke our friendship. I will snap his spine. I will crush his chest.
As once they had done long ago, they fought like maddened bulls. They stared eye to eye as they contended. They grunted; they bellowed, they roared. Gilgamesh shouted out defiance in the language of Uruk and in any other language he could think of; and Enkidu muttered and stormed at Gilgamesh in the language of the beasts that once he had spoken when he was a wild man, the harsh growling of the lion of the plains. Gilgamesh yearned to have Enkidu"s life. He loved this man more dearly than life itself, and yet he prayed that it would be given him to break Enkidu"s back, to hear the sharp snapping sound of his spine, to toss him aside like a worn-out cloak. So strong was his love that it had turned to the brightest of hatreds. I will send him to the Undertaker once again, Gilgamesh thought. I will hurl him from h.e.l.l.
But though he struggled as he had never struggled in combat before, Gilgamesh was unable to budge Enkidu. Veins bulged in his forehead; the sutures that held his wound burst and blood flowed down his arm; and still he strained to throw Enkidu to the ground, and still Enkidu held his place. And matched him, strength for strength, and kept him at bay. They stood locked that way a long moment, staring into each other"s eyes, locked in unbreakable stalemate.
Then after a long while Enkidu said, as once he had said long ago, "Ah, Gilgamesh!
There is not another one like you in all the world! Glory to the mother who bore you!"
It was like the breaking of a dam, and a rush of life-giving waters tumbling out over the summer-parched fields of the Land.
And from Gilgamesh in that moment of release and relief came twice-spoken words also: "There is one other who is like me. But only one."
"No, for Enlil has given you the kingship."
"But you are my brother," said Gilgamesh, and they laughed and let go of each other and stepped back, as if seeing each other for the first time, and laughed again.
"This is great foolishness, this fighting between us," Enkidu cried.
"Very great foolishness indeed, brother."
"What need have you of shotguns and disruptors?"
"And what do I care if you choose to play with such toys?"
"Indeed, brother."
"Indeed!"
Gilgamesh looked away. They were all staring-the four party men, Lovecraft, Howard, the Hairy Man, Kublai Khan, Hemingway-all astonished, mouths drooping open. Only Schweitzer was beaming. The doctor came up to them and said quietly, "You have not injured each other? No.Gut. Gut. Then leave here, the two of you, together. Now. What do you care for Prester John and his wars, or for Mao and his?
This is no business of yours. Go. Now."
Enkidu grinned. "What do you say, brother? Shall we go off hunting together?" "To the end of the Outback, and back again. You and I, and no one else."
"And we will hunt only with our bows and spears?"
Gilgamesh shrugged. "With disruptors, if that is how you would have it. With cannons. With nuke grenades. Ah, Enkidu, Enkidu-!"
"Gilgamesh!"
"Go," Schweitzer whispered. "Now. Leave this place and never look back.Auf Wiedersehen! Gluckliche Reise! Gottes Name , go now!"
Watching them take their leave, seeing them trudge off together into the swirling winds of the Outback, Robert Howard felt a sudden sharp pang of regret and loss.
How beautiful they had been, those two heroes, those two giants, as they strained and struggled! And then that sudden magic moment when the folly of their quarrel came home to them, when they were enemies no longer and brothers once more- And now they were gone, and here he stood amidst these others, these strangers- Hehad wanted to be Gilgamesh"s brother, or perhaps-he barely comprehended it- something more than a brother. But that could never have been. And, knowing that it could never have been, knowing that that man who seemed so much like his Conan was lost to him forever, Howard felt tears beginning to surge within him.
"Bob?" Lovecraft said. "Bob, are you all right?"
She-it,Howard thought.A man don"t cry. Especially in front of other men.
He turned away, into the wind, so Lovecraft could not see his face.
"Bob? Bob?"
She-it, Howard thought again. And he let the tears come.
end.