In a dilap­i­dat­ed shepherd’s hut by the Riv­er Tigris, Arthur lies dying, his sens­es strug­gling to com­pre­hend his sur­round­ings filled with pover­ty. Sur­round­ed by rags and cold tea, he dis­cov­ers his jour­nal on the floor. Breath­ing labored, he man­ages to write, reflect­ing on life’s incli­na­tions that shape our des­tinies. Arthur rec­og­nizes that his own life has revolved around an ardent love for poet­ry and words, ded­i­cat­ing years to col­lect­ing, inter­pret­ing, and trans­lat­ing lit­er­ary works, par­tic­u­lar­ly an ancient epic that pro­vides him with immense joy.

Through­out his life, oth­ers per­ceived his talent—his moth­er unques­tion­ing­ly cel­e­brat­ed it, his father acknowl­edged it at times, and his col­leagues agreed, though his wife’s belief remains uncer­tain. He grap­ples with the idea that tal­ent may be out­shone by pas­sion, which embod­ies a rest­less heart seek­ing to push bound­aries. Echoes of Gil­gamesh and Ashur­ba­n­i­pal fill his mind, both kings who endured tribu­la­tions and loss­es, leav­ing Arthur reflect­ing on his own iden­ti­ty as “King of the Sew­ers and Slums,” far removed from his ori­gin.

As tears fill his eyes, Arthur laments missed oppor­tu­ni­ties as a father and hus­band. He feels lone­li­ness where inti­ma­cy should thrive, har­bor­ing unvoiced desires and unshared secrets. Unlike the schol­ar­ly pur­suit of ancient texts that brought him solace, he rec­og­nizes love as a com­plex puz­zle he has yet to deci­pher. He acknowl­edges the col­lec­tive own­er­ship of epic nar­ra­tives, con­tem­plat­ing their sig­nif­i­cance to his­to­ry and cul­ture while hold­ing tight­ly to a blue tablet from his explorations—a gift to Leila, embody­ing both con­nec­tion and dis­con­nec­tion.

Arthur dreams of the Epic of Gil­gamesh tran­scend­ing time and bor­ders, enchant­i­ng admir­ers of ancient poet­ry with its com­plex­i­ty and flawed beau­ty, mir­ror­ing an imper­fect world. He believes art serves as a tes­ta­ment to human emo­tion, a lega­cy for future gen­er­a­tions to rec­og­nize their ances­tors’ human­i­ty and fragili­ty. In his final moments, he embraces mor­tal­i­ty, find­ing peace as he recalls teach­ings about death as a new begin­ning.

As King Arthur takes his last breath on August 1876, he embod­ies a mul­ti­fac­eted identity—a son of the Thames, a schol­ar, an explor­er, and a man entan­gled in love and secrets. Mah­moud arrives, bear­ing news of his demise, and Leila, now marked by Arthur’s mem­o­ries, awaits, embody­ing the pro­found con­nec­tion they shared. Arthur is to be buried at the Cas­tle of the Rock, for­ev­er remem­bered as King Arthur of the Sew­ers and Slums, an endur­ing reflec­tion of both his tri­umphs and strug­gles.

In August 1876, Arthur embarks on a chal­leng­ing jour­ney from Nin­eveh to Cas­trum Kefa. The heat of the day dulls his appetite, forc­ing him to sub­sist on dates, flat­breads, and camel’s milk. He and his guide, Mah­moud, trav­el pri­mar­i­ly at night, find­ing solace in the seren­i­ty of the star­lit land­scape, which feels alive under the moon’s ethe­re­al glow. Though Mah­moud warns of dan­gers at night, Arthur rev­els in the peace­ful still­ness, sens­ing an ancient his­to­ry beneath the sands.

Tra­vers­ing this des­o­late ter­rain, Arthur reflects on the past glo­ry of the land, once teem­ing with vibrant cities now reduced to dry desert. His­tor­i­cal trau­ma looms large; avarice, pow­er strug­gles, and envi­ron­men­tal abuse have oblit­er­at­ed civ­i­liza­tions. Arthur’s under­stand­ing of civ­i­liza­tion shifts from a stur­dy con­struct to an omi­nous threat, a storm poised to destroy all that stands in its way.

Upon pass­ing through a vil­lage, Arthur encoun­ters despair—people strick­en by cholera, evok­ing mem­o­ries of per­son­al loss. He urges Mah­moud to find help, but the guide sad­ly dis­miss­es him, stat­ing no doc­tor would come. Here, Arthur observes Mahmoud’s poignant prayers for the sick, an act that envelops him in com­fort despite his strug­gles with his faith, recall­ing the futil­i­ty of seek­ing solace through reli­gious obser­vances amid pro­found suf­fer­ing.

Dur­ing their rest­less ride, Arthur remains focused on reach­ing Cas­trum Kefa to check on Leila, inter­nal­ly grap­pling with Mah­moud’s advice to turn back, espe­cial­ly con­sid­er­ing the imprac­ti­cal­i­ty of his quest for a woman who may nev­er ful­ly belong to him. Mah­moud’s ref­er­ence to the tale of Lay­la and Maj­nun hits Arthur hard, as he rec­og­nizes his infat­u­a­tion with Leila mir­rors the trag­ic sto­ry of unat­tain­able love.

After per­suad­ing Mah­moud to return to safe­ty, Arthur press­es on alone. How­ev­er, he soon suc­cumbs to debil­i­tat­ing ill­ness, feel­ing the grip of dysen­tery. Mah­moud, despite his ear­li­er inten­tions to return, finds Arthur and insists on accom­pa­ny­ing him, high­light­ing a deep loy­al­ty. As they approach Cas­trum Kefa, Arthur’s strength wanes, and Mah­moud car­ries him to a shepherd’s hut, seek­ing help while watch­ing over Arthur.

In his fever­ish state, Arthur expe­ri­ences mud­dled visions of his past, reveal­ing both cher­ished mem­o­ries and painful loss­es. A thief enters, scav­eng­ing Arthur’s belong­ings, and unwit­ting­ly takes a sig­nif­i­cant blue tablet that Arthur pos­sessed, a sub­tle act that sug­gests the ongo­ing sig­nif­i­cance of the past even as Arthur’s present dark­ens with ill­ness .

In “Arthur” by the Riv­er Tigris, set in 1876, King Arthur finds him­self in a dire sit­u­a­tion. Unable to work due to the ram­pant plague and cholera, he sends a telegram to the Trustees of the British Muse­um express­ing his desire to cut short his expe­di­tion. The curt reply from S. McAl­lis­ter Jones, Sec­re­tary to the British Muse­um, empha­sizes the need for cau­tion but does not pro­vide the escape Arthur longs for. Trapped in Nin­eveh with the pres­sure of dis­cov­ery loom­ing over him, Arthur turns to the dis­card­ed debris of past archae­o­log­i­cal teams, div­ing into the heaps of chipped tiles and pot­sherds.

While sift­ing through the mate­r­i­al, he uncov­ers a strik­ing cobalt tablet, a por­tion of the *Epic of Gil­gamesh* unfa­mil­iar to him. The tablet res­onates deeply, fea­tur­ing themes of loss as Gil­gamesh returns home a bro­ken man. Intrigu­ing­ly, it con­tains a note refer­ring to a junior scribe and ded­i­cat­ing the work not to the typ­i­cal deity Nabu, but to an enig­mat­ic god­dess, Nis­a­ba. Reflect­ing on Mesopotami­an lore, Arthur con­sid­ers how rivers serve as vital life­lines, con­nect­ing past and future, life and death, mir­ror­ing the human expe­ri­ence of grief and loss.

Amidst this con­tem­pla­tion, Mah­moud arrives with news of a young Yazi­di woman seen trav­el­ing alone, which imme­di­ate­ly piques Arthur’s inter­est. Believ­ing it to be Leila, a woman who pre­dict­ed dis­as­ter years pri­or, Arthur’s hope ignites. Despite Mah­moud’s cau­tion about uncer­tain­ty and dan­ger, Arthur rush­es to pre­pare for the jour­ney to Cas­trum Kefa, where Leila’s sis­ter resides. Deter­mined to find her, he insists on set­ting out, and Mah­moud, rec­og­niz­ing the dan­gers Arthur would face alone, decides to accom­pa­ny him.

Thus, in mid-August, equipped with min­i­mal pro­vi­sions, Arthur embarks on a quest along the Riv­er Tigris, leav­ing behind Nin­eveh and a piece of him­self among the arti­facts that tell sto­ries of a lost world .

Wait­ing ai

Wait­ing ai

Wait­ing ai