Fourth Tablet

They built a grand canopy for him, and Marduk took his seat on the throne of kingship, with the elder gods gathered before him. They hailed his greatness, saying he was honoured among the gods, that no one could rival his rank, and that whatever he spoke became fixed and unchangeable. From that day on, they swore, his command would not be set aside. In his hand lay the power to raise up and to cast down; what left his mouth would stand, and no one could appeal against it. No god would cross the boundary he set. Worship would be kept in his sanctuary, and whenever the gods were in need, it would be supplied there. They called him their avenger, and granted him sovereignty over all creation. In the council, they said, his word would be lifted above the rest. His weapon would never fail; it would break the head of his enemy. And they begged him to spare the one who trusted him, and to pour out the life of any god who plotted evil.

Then, to prove his power, they placed a cloak before them and spoke to Marduk as their first-born lord. They told him to decree ruin and restoration, and it would happen. They challenged him to speak, and let the cloak vanish, then speak again, and let it return unharmed. Marduk spoke, and the cloak disappeared. He spoke a second time, and it came back whole. When the gods saw what his word could do, they rejoiced and bowed before him, crying out that Marduk was king. They placed in his hands the sceptre and the throne, and gave him an unrivalled weapon, a destroyer made for the enemy. They sent him out to take the life of Tiâmat, and to let the wind carry her blood down into the depths.

So the gods made their decree for Bel, and set him on the road that led to peace and reverence. Marduk readied himself for war. He strung his bow and set his weapon in place, slung his spear and fixed it to his body, and lifted his club in his right hand. He hung the bow and quiver at his side, set lightning before him, and his whole form blazed with a hard, flashing fire. He fashioned a net to trap Tiâmat, and stationed the four winds so that no part of her could slip away, south, north, east, and west. He kept the net close, a gift from Anu, and he called up further winds, storm and blast, strange winds in number and in kind, then sent them out to churn Tiâmat from within, following behind him like a pack.

Marduk raised the wind-storm as his mighty weapon and climbed into his chariot, a terrible tempest on wheels. He yoked four horses to it, fierce and straining, pawing the ground and foaming to be off, trained to bite and trample. His brightness streamed out from him, crowning his head as he took the straight path and hurried towards Tiâmat’s lair. The gods watched him without blinking, their eyes fixed on him as he drew near. He studied Tiâmat’s centre and sought out the plan of Kingu, her consort. Marduk looked, and Kingu faltered. His purpose broke, his movement failed. The gods who marched with him saw their leader’s collapse, and fear blurred their sight.

Tiâmat cried out, yet did not turn away. With her mouth full of defiance she held to her stubbornness, taunting Marduk as if he had no right to come as lord of the gods, accusing the others of raising him to a place that should have been theirs. Marduk answered by lifting the wind-storm again and hurling it at her, condemning her pride and her hunger for battle, accusing her of raising Kingu, of planning evil, and of wronging the elder gods. He called her troops to arm themselves, and challenged her to stand and fight.

At his words Tiâmat raged like one driven mad. She shrieked again and again until the ground beneath her split. She spoke her incantation and cast her spell, and the battle gods demanded their weapons. Tiâmat and Marduk roused themselves and advanced on one another, closing in to fight. Marduk flung his net and wrapped it round her. Then he released the evil wind behind him straight into her face. Tiâmat opened her mouth as wide as she could, and Marduk drove the wind into it while her lips were still parted. The violent winds swelled her belly, her heart seized, and she gaped, gasping.

Marduk seized his spear and split her body. He tore her open, pierced her heart, and ended her life. He cast her corpse down and stood upon it. With Tiâmat slain, her host scattered. Her allies shook with terror, broke, and ran for their lives, but found themselves hemmed in with no escape. Marduk bound them, smashed their weapons, and trapped them in the net and snare. The world rang with their cries as they were punished and held in restraint. He threw fetters on the monstrous creatures that had marched with Tiâmat, crushed their resistance underfoot, and broke Kingu, stripping him of the Tablet of Destinies that was never meant to be his. He sealed it and fixed it upon himself, making it his own. Having overthrown his enemies, he ground the proud into dust beneath his feet, and the victory was made complete.

Then Marduk returned to Tiâmat, and with his club he smashed her skull. He cut the channels of her blood and sent it away on the North Wind to a hidden place below. The elder gods watched, rejoiced, and brought him offerings of triumph and peace. Marduk paused over Tiâmat’s corpse and set himself to work with care and skill. He split her in two like a fish, raised one half up, and used it to shape and cover the heavens. He set a barrier and posted a guard, ordering that her waters must not escape. He crossed the sky and surveyed its regions, then turned towards the dwelling of Ea, and measured the Deep. He founded a sanctuary to match it, and made it into heaven itself, and he set the great gods in their places, giving them their own cities to inhabit.