ALL THE KING’S HORSES AND ALL THE KING’S MEN: REFLECTIONS ON KIRTA

N. WYATT—Edinburgh

The world condemns liars who do nothing but lie, even about the
most trivial things, and it rewards poets, who lie only about the
greatest things… it is the duty of poets to invent beautiful falsehoods.
Umberto Eco, Baudolino

ABSTRACT
The Baal Cycle presents the ideology of warfare in action, on the mythic level: narrating military events through the agency of
the gods is the idiom for expounding the theory, as to how war “really” works. By way of contrast, the Kirta epic shows how it
is supposed to operate in the real world of men, but can fall apart when the human dimension is taken into account,
subverting the theory and contradicting the ideology. The king’s simple failure to fulfil a vow causes the unravelling of the
whole divine plan to give him a royal heir, as Athirat’s curse remorselessly cuts though the best-laid plans of El, mice and men.
Interestingly, the epic makes no mention of the Chaoskampf ideology. The chaos that underlies it is not in the person of King
Pabilu, the foreign power, but in Kirta’s own circumstances: his childlessness threatens the very existence of his kingdom. A
monarch named Kirta was the first king of Mitanni, according to records. Is Kirta a tale based on some remembered or
imagined failing of this early monarch, and is it perhaps a parable on the destruction of Mitanni in the thirteenth century,
within living memory at the time of writing?

KEY WORDS
(6) Kirta Epic, Ilimilku, Mitanni, Ugarit, Warfare

This paper builds on the discussion in a study on the ideology of warfare as reflected
in the Baal Cycle1. In that I examined the narrative as an expression on the divine
plane of the ideology of war which was arguably prevalent in the ancient Near East,
that is, the mythology articulating and sustaining the ideology. The present
discussion deals with more down-to-earth matters in the Kirta story (KTU 1.14-1.16),
such as the recruitment and organization of land forces2, though the text deals with
the issue all too briefly. The management of an army also has a crucial divine
aspect, in that the gods were always involved in the human decision-making
process, through dreams, oracles and rituals, and Kirta is no exception, the lengthy
passage on El’s intervention offering interesting insights into this aspect.
While we may speak with considerable confidence of Ilimilku’s authorial role in
the Baal Cycle3, we are in principle less certain with regard to Kirta. And yet Marjo
Korpel has made a strong case for the same authorial contribution to both works on
the basis of stylistics and vocabulary, which overwhelmingly point to a single
author4, and I have drawn attention to parallel theological contexts, comparing the
effects of Kirta’s imminent death with those ensuing from Baal’s death5. Once the
authorial case for Baal is conceded6, that for Kirta is considerably strengthened. I
shall therefore proceed on the premise that the poem reflects the poet Ilimilku’s
views, which is significant in that we know of his high position in Ugaritian society,
having risen through the ranks and become vizier or chief sacrificer (ṯcy = sukkalu)
to King Niqmaddu IV (KTU 1.6 vi 57), and scribe to the Queen Tharelli, his consort

1
Wyatt in press b (Paris paper, 2018).
2
Were naval forces included in the account of Kirta’s military power, we would have better
reason to link him more directly to Ugarit than appears to be the case.
3
Wyatt 2015 and references.
4
Korpel 1998.
5
Wyatt 1997.
6
Korpel 1998; Pardee 2012, 2014; Wyatt 2015.
and subsequently regent during her son’s minority after ca 1210 (KTU 2.88)7. We
may be confident, in the light of this, in seeing Ilimilku as a faithful adherent to the
prevalent royal ideology, and reject the view of Margalit, that the work sets out to
subvert it8, and that of Parker, who suggested that it offered a critique of established
values9. Rather does the narrative use the values of the ideology to criticize this
incumbent of the office.
The similarity in both style (prosody, vocabulary, direct parallels) and ideology
between the two compositions means that it is reasonable to date them relatively
closely to one another. Is Kirta a little earlier than Baal? The colophon on KTU 1.16
vi lower edge identifies the scribe Ilimilku as a ṯcy—there is room on the tablet for
any further qualification, were it to have applied—but not yet the implicitly higher
rank of ṯcy nqmd.mlk (“Sacrificer of Niqmaddu the king”) as in the Baal colophon (1.6
vi 57). But possibly that designation belongs to Attēnu, not Ilimilku, so that the
issue cannot be finally resolved. If Kirta were however to be dated after Baal, we
might hypothesize that it was composed to serve as a study in wisdom for the
education (on the pitfalls of kingship) of the young cAmmithtamru II, whose early
reign from ca 1210 BC was under the tutelage of dowager Queen Tharelli, acting as
regent10.
Interestingly, the epic makes no mention of or allusion to the Chaoskampf
ideology, which arguably lies behind the composition of the Baal Cycle11. The chaos
that underlies the present story lies not in the person of King Pabilu, the foreign
power, but in Kirta’s own personal circumstances: his childlessness following a
series of domestic catastrophes threatens the very existence of his kingdom, and
after his failure to fulfil his vow to Athirat, catastrophe returns in the curse laid
upon his son and heir, whom he had made such a divinely-assisted effort to obtain.
But the principle underlying the practice of war, as presented in the other texts
examined in the previous paper—A1968 from Mari, and KTU 1.65 from Ugarit—that
kings wage war at the command and with the direct assistance of national gods,
who even provide their weapons, may be understood as taken for granted in Kirta.
Indeed, it is El, as royal god and father of the king12, who takes the initiative.
Another feature of the text is also worth a moment’s consideration. The style of
Kirta, which is almost folkloristic—dwelling on minor and even amusing issues like
the pain of the noisy complaints of domestic animals in Pabilu’s ears, and the
exaggerated description of the army—appears to be less than serious. However, to

7
Wyatt 2015, 425-26; 2017, 443. Presumably Talmiyanu (Hurrian name: DUL3 857) the author of
letters KTU 2.11, 2.12 and 2.16 to his mother Queen Tharelli was a younger brother of
Ammurapi II.
8
Margalit 1999.
9
Parker 1977, followed by Wyatt 1983.
10
See the fuller discussion of the various options and estimates in Wyatt 2015, 413, where I
tentatively proposed the compositional order Baal, Aqhat, KTU 1.179, Kirta. My conclusion then
was then that “this account of Ilimilku’s activity is of course no more than a hypothetical
reconstruction. Such historical questions are ultimately unanswerable…” (416).
11
This is a hotly contested issue. For my assessment, see table and discussion in Wyatt in press a.
I have offered a defence of a qualified use of the term, in dialogue with David Tsumura, who is
unhappy with the term, particularly with reference to biblical views on creation. I have also
taken Baal to be a secondary use of the trope, that is, not an original account of a cosmogony,
but an application of the trope to the circumstances of the thirteenth century seismic event
(Wyatt 2017).
12
Note the formula in KTU 1.16 i 9-11: ap krt.bnm.il. || špḥ lṭpn.wqdš, “Is Kirta then the son of El, ||
the offspring of the Wise and Holy One?”.

2
draw this conclusion as a sufficient account13 of the story is premature. It is, rather,
an important early example of the epic genre14, and arguably may well have its
ultimate origin in a historical situation, which is not to say that it is “history”, or
even historiography.
An issue that remains unresolved concerns the provenance of the story. What
sources, if any, did Ilimilku use? No earlier material relating to it survives in any
extant narrative form. We have to resort to incidental clues, which can be helpful,
if inconclusive. The story we read is clearly composed with the presuppositions of
Ugaritian tradition and royal ideology. All the deities mentioned in the narrative—
in order of appearance Rashap, El, Baal, Athirat, [Rahmay, sc. Shapsh], Rapiuma, Ilsh
and consort, Shatiqat, Horon, Athtart—are Ugaritian. It seems then that so far as
the theological matrix of the narrative is concerned, it reflects an Ugaritian milieu.
But there is no reason to consider Kirta to have been an early or legendary king of
Ugarit, as supposed by some early commentators15. He appears in none of the
extant king-lists from Ugarit, and his link with the Rapiuma (KTU 1.15 iii 2-4, 13-15)
does nothing to prove such a connection, since Ditanu, patron of the Rapiuma, was
an Assyrian “king” and Amorite tribal eponym16, and in any case is part of the
cultural transposition to an Ugaritian narrative context. These local trappings are
the additions of an Ugaritian poet to foreign raw materials. John Gray considered
the epic to be “a reminiscence of the symbiosis of Semite and Hurrian in North Syria
in the first phase of the Middle Bronze Age (c. 2000-1800)”17, which may have been
correct in shifting the geographical mileu slightly in the right direction, but erred
wholly in chronological, and partly in ethnic terms, since the Semitic element is
now to be seen as absent, except in so far as the tradition was used by an Ugaritian
poet, and perhaps conforms to Ugaritian royal ideological norms.
Kirta’s kingdom is located elsewhere. In the story, he is king of Habur (ḫbr). The
modern river of that name had a number of ancient sites located on it, notably Tell
Brak, Tell Halaf and Urkish. The latter two have been proposed as the site of
Washshukanni, the capital of Mitanni, though the identification is disputed18. It is a
reasonable hypothesis to identify the hero of the narrative with Kirta, the first
named king of Mitanni19 (aka Hanigalbat, Hurru, Naharayin), in accordance with the
dynastic practice, who had an Indo-Āryan name related to Sanskrit kṛta, which
appears to be a hypocoristicon (“Made by DN”, or the like)20. This is the most
plausible explanation for the name. The same element recurs in the name of
Kirtaššura (< Kṛtāsura), supposedly a member of the Mitannian royal family21. The
13
As was done, for example by Margalit: Margalit 1999.
14
Wyatt 2005a and references; degli Abbati 2014, 266. For assessment of early discussions, see
Gray 1964, 2-4, who observed (p. 4), “here we are more in touch with sober history”, a
premature judgment.
15
E. g. Finkel 1954.
16
Lipiński 1978; Astour 2003, 35-38; Wyatt 2007a, 594-95. See further below.
17
Gray 1964, 4.
18
Lipiński 2000, 120. Tell Brak has also been associated with Taide/Ta’idu: Kuhrt 1995, 299, citing
Oates 1985, 169 or Nawar/Nagar: Kuhrt 1995, 285, citing Matthews—Eidem 1993.
19
Albright 1968, 103; Astour 1973; del Olmo 1981, 275 n. 122; Wilhelm 1989, 28; Wyatt 2002, 179 n.
5; degli Abbati 2014, 270, 272. The vocalisation Kirta, in preference to Kirtu, is supported, in
addition to its likely Sanskrit/Indic etymology (kṛta), by J. Tropper’s observation (2017, 19
[actually p. 7]), that the absolutive case (in -a) persisted with proper names, which tended to be
“grammatically conservative”.
20
See most recently Fournet 2019, 64. Hardly Amorite, as suggested by Miller 2018, 95.
21
Freu 2003, 56, taking this to be the vocalization of KAR-taššura. The chief asura in the Vedic
pantheon was Varuṇa, corresponding to Uruwanna of the Hurro-Hittite treaty which named

3
historical Kirta has been identified on a seal belonging to “Šuttarna, son of Kirta,
king of Maittani”22, and the question naturally arises, was this king the inspiration
for the epic hero? Was Ḫabur a name given to Washshukanni? We cannot make
these identifications with any certainty, but they remain possibilities.
The location of Pabilu’s capital, Udum, is also uncertain, though various
suggestions have been proposed. Thus a city of this name appears in EA 256.24, as
âl
U-du-mu (URU ú-du-mu), among a list of cities in Transjordan and the Golan, and
led W. F. Albright to observe that “the name is clearly identical with that of Edom
(’Udumu) and the legendary land of’Udm (’Udumu?) in the Keret epic…”23. This
premature judgment was consonant with early attempts to anchor the story in the
Levant, based on the assumption that an Ugaritian narrative, with the local
trappings noted above, must deal with local traditions, and on the apparent
allusions to Tyre and Sidon. It sat ill with his view of Kirta as the king of Mitanni (n.
19).
A more satisfactory account of the provenance of the story was initiated by the
publication of Michael Astour’s 1973 study. He argued cogently against the early
identifications proposed in the west, such as Sidon24 and the surrounding region,
and located it instead in the Habur triangle, finding convincing correspondences
between a number of features in the story and the region. Thus Kirta’s kingdom (sc.
capital city) Ḫbr, corresponds to a city of that name, already to be inferred from Ur
III-period textual references to a goddess Ḫaburītum, and appearing as Ḫaburā (Ḫa-
bu-ra-a) in the Cappadocian letters, Ḫaburātum in the Mari letters, and surviving in
later Syriac and Arabic sources respectively as Ḫabōrā, Ḫabūr or Ḫabūrah25. Once this
proposal is accepted or at any rate seen as a possibility, Pabilu’s kingdom of Udm
may reasonably, if provisionally, be identified with the site of Admu(m) (variant
Admi), “a station on the road from Assur to Kaneš… the third station on the way
from Ḫarrān to the northern parts of the Ḫabūr Triangle…”26. As for the supposed
Tyrian and Sidonian locations of the goddess Athirat, invoked by Kirta, which have
proved very hard to construe convincingly in relation to the Lebanese cities, Tyre
and Sidon, Astour proposed the following. ZU-ur-ra(-a)KI (Ṣú-ur-ra[-a]KI), also
occurring as Ṣú-ur-ra-am-maKI, (ARM III 44:9, VI 33:6, 27) was a city in “the little

the Vedic gods Uruwanna, Indar, Mitra and the Nasatiyas (= Varuṇa, Mitra, Indra, the Aśvins) as
witnesses. Kuhrt 1995, 296-98, somewhat precipitately dismissing the significance of these gods
in the context, as “rather minor deities and of relatively slight importance”—a serious
underestimation!—was also dubious about the supposed “Indo-Iranian” identity of the rulers of
Mitanni, and even of their names, reluctantly conceding that “the Indo-Iranian names would
only be formal throne-names and not indicative of the rulers’ ethnicity” (both citations p. 297).
Though Kirta does not occur in his list, Dumont 1947, 252, was of the view that “the names of
the list belong to a language that seems to be much more like Old Indic than Old Iranian”.
22
Wilhelm 1989, 114, fig. 14. It is uncertain whether the word “king” (LUGAL) belongs to Šuttarna
or to his father Kirta. If the former, then Šuttarna (I) was the first king. He and his brother
Parshatatar/Parrattarna, sons of Kirta, were successor kings. Kuhrt 1995, 289-90, listed Kirta
second in the Mitannian king-list, following Parrattarna. Fournet 2013, 62-71, gave a list of
names he described as “Mitanni-Aryan”, but doubted the historical reality of Kirta himself (§36,
p. 66).
23
Albright 1943, 14 n. 36.
24
Thus Virolleaud 1936, Baumgartner 1938.
25
Astour 1973, 32-33 and nn. 40-45.
26
Astour 1973, 33, with references. As to specific identifications of Ḫbr and Udm, he thought
respectively of the present-day settlements of Ḥasekeh and Viranșehir (33, 34). Degli Abbati
2014, 68, was right to notice, citing Krebernik 2003, that Pabilu’s name is a formation on
Ninurta’s title Pabilsag.

4
kingdom of Ilānṣūrā which must be located in the northwestern part of North
Mesopotamia…”27. A city Zi-da-numKI (Zi-da-nu-umKI, Zi-da-ni-umKI, Zi-ti-anKI) is
mentioned in Ur III texts and possibly in Mari text ARMT IX 252:5 as Gi-da-nim28.
Again, the specific link with Athirat would be part of the transpositional strategy.
Astour’s discussion of Ditanu, who evidently had an ideological role in Ugarit, to
judge from texts such as KTU 1.16129, where he is linked with the Rapiuma, in
addition to his mention in Kirta (KTU 1.15 iii 4, 15), is interesting. The name appears
to have been an Amorite tribal name, presumably of a totemic nature on the basis of
its meaning “aurochs”, as well as of an early Assyrian king, among “those who dwelt
in tents”.
But this hardly justifies the identification of Kirta himself as Amorite30. The
name at least points to a Mitannian connection. “The topical frame of the Keret
epic is certainly pre-Mitannian”, observed Astour, in rejecting Albright’s
identification of him with the Mitannian king. Horses as gifts offered by Pabil were
exceedingly valuable in the Amorite period (gifts fit for kings!), Astour argued,
while in the Mitanni era when “mass formations of chariotry were employed as the
principle tactical weapon, and when battle-horses were numbered in hundreds and
in thousands even in medium-sized states”31. But I see no reason to regard this
argument as invalidating the case for a Mitannian origin. It is to take too seriously,
in a literal fashion, the historical and literary planes. And it is hard to see how a
supposed pre-Mitannian context could be established. As is clear from Ilimilku’s
hyperbole, everything is told in exaggerated terms. And even in the era of “mass
formations of chariotry” Astour envisaged, kings could still offer and receive gifts of
horses and chariots as marks of diplomatic courtesy and friendly intent. This much
is clear from the Amarna letters. Those written between the greater kings (Egypt,
Mitanni, Hatti, Babylon), greeting each other, as of equal rank, as “brother”, used
variations on a formulaic greeting, illustrated by EA 1:3-9 (from Amenhotpe III to
Kadašman-Enlil):
“For me all goes well. For you may all go well. For your household, for your wives, for
your sons, for your magnates, your horses, your chariots, for your countries, may all go
very well. For me all goes well. For my household, for my wives, for my sons, for my
magnates, my horses, the numerous troops, all goes well, and in my countries all goes
very well…” 32
Horses, probably as indicators of prestige and military strength, were evidently still
highly prized. Moreover, they were given and received as gifts of great value in
numerous instances (e.g. EA 2: rev. 3; 9: rev. 37; 14: iii 3; 16: 12; 17: 36, etc.), or
requested as strategically useful (78: [38])33. Ugaritic letter RS 16.402.32 PRU II, 25-
28 = KTU 2.33.3234 mentions 2,000 horses (being sent to Ugarit?), while more

27
Astour 1973, 34-35.
28
“According to the hand copy, ZI” (Astour 1973, 35). Identified as Tell Zaydān, on the Balikh, by
Bottéro 1971, 561. Astour himself suggested Tell Brak, and noted that “the variant spelling Zi-ti-
anKI—i.e, Ṣí-dì-an—is exactly identical to Ṣdny-m of the Keret epic.” (loc. cit.)
29
See Wyatt 2007a and references.
30
As argued by Astour 1973, 37.
31
Both citations Astour 1973, 39.
32
Moran 1992, 1.
33
See Knudtzon 1915, 388 (gap!); Moran 1992, 149.
34
Virolleaud 1957, (PRU II), 28-29; Cunchillos 1989, 325-40. Vidal 2006, 700-1, wondered whether
these were cavalry horses. For a general survey of the horse in the ancient world see Willekes
2016.

5
modestly, Tuthmosis III received “328 horses as tribute from Syria”35. The ethos of
these and similar transactions and extortions is entirely in keeping with that of the
narrative in Kirta. And the texts cited here all date from within the era of Mitannian
hegemony in the Djezirah. So it may well be an older tale, that is, having an older
folkloric or other basis36, but surely not with Kirta as hero? The nature of the
personal name precludes that. Valeria degli Abbati proposed that the Kirta story
has amalgamated into the narrative various episodes from the annals of Mursili I
and his dealings with the Hurrians (sc. Mitanni)37. But the details she adduced really
amount to nothing in the way of serious candidates for being Ilimilku’s sources.
The “parallels” are far too circumstantial: kings go to war, besiege cities, get sick and
die. So what?
The Kirta story, I suggest, is a narrative which encapsulates the historical rise and
fall of Mitanni, concentrated for literary effect in the person of the founder-king.
This is quite possibly the reason that Ilimilku chose it, no doubt embellishing and
“naturalising” it, as a moral tale for his own time, a piece of wisdom for his own
patron to reflect on38. After all, the empire of Mitanni had been recently destroyed,
possibly within his lifetime39, setting in train a very different geopolitical process
with the rise of Assyria to a new period of expansionism. If a Great Power, whose
king addressed the kings of Egypt and Hatti as “brother”, could be so easily and
abruptly reduced—and we may be sure that observers and victims would alike seek
a theological answer for the event40—then here was a caution for all observers to
note. Perhaps we may even offer the following hypothetical sub-title for the poem:
“Lament over the Destruction of Mitanni”. The use of a Mitannian tradition by an
Ugaritian poet does not constitute a problem, since Ugarit had a substantial Hurrian
population, who might well have social connections with and memories of Mitanni.
Besides, in so far as Mitanni might be considered, kith and kin issues aside, an
enemy state, because of its hostile relations with Ugarit’s ally Hatti, a story telling of
the empire’s fall might also offer a little enjoyable Schadenfreude to an Ugaritian
court readership. It was the threat to Ugarit of an anti-Hittite coalition led by
Mitanni which led to Ugarit entering into an alliance with Hatti41.

35
ARE ii 210 (§509).
36
Degli Abbati 2014, has made the interesting proposal that the narrative lines derive from
stories told of Mursili Ii
37
Degli Abbati 2014, 267-68.
38
“The Kirta legend is, therefore, a negative exemplar of royalist ideology”: Knoppers 1994, 572;
note also his summary, 581-82.
39
For the final débacle of Hanigalbat under Assyrian attacks see RIMA 1: A.O.76.1, 76.3, 4b-51,
Grayson 1987, 131-32, 135-37; cited Harrak 1987, texts and brief discussion, 62-67 (campaigns of
Adad-Nirari I, regnal years 1307-1275/1295-1263:); Freu 2003, 198-203. See also ARAB i 39-40
(§116, Temple-inscription of Shalmaneser I, conquest of Hanigalbat), Grayson 1987, 183-84,
RIMA 1. AO 77.1, 56-84 . Shalmaneser’s regnal years 1274-45/1265-35. Mitanni as an imperial
state had already been severely reduced by the Hittites: ANET 3 318; Kuhrt 1995, 296; Singer
1999, 632; Freu 2003, 146-55. See also:
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adad-nirari_I;
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shalmaneser_I;
https://www.ancient.eu/Mitanni/).
40
See for example the case of the assassination of Yahdun-Lim of Mari, and the subsequent
overthrow of his assassin-successor Sumu-Yamam, for which events theological justifications
were offered (Guichard 1999, 27), or the death in battle of Sargon II, which led to questions as to
what sin he must have committed to incur divine wrath (Elayi 2017, 213-17).
41
Vita 1995, 12-16, qualifying the view that Ugarit was a weak state which bought itself out of
trouble; Vidal 2018, examining the commonly expressed view of Ugarit as peaceful.

6
 Kirta’s campaign is the subject of a reiterated series of formulaic passages.
Inconsistencies between the versions can to some extent be put down to scribal
error, and accordingly corrected. It comes in two parts: firstly, the divine
instructions on procedure, and secondly, an account of how the king actually
proceeds. Indeed the pattern is repeated overall four times in the extant text42, a
remarkable example of repetition of a trope.
The pattern is expressed in the following terms, following El’s initial attempt to
satisfy Kirta, apparently understanding him to wish for El’s own kingship, offering
him instead great wealth (KTU 1.14 i 42—ii 3) silver, gold—even a mining
concession!—slaves and chariots), to which the king retorts that it is progeny he
wants, to guarantee his dynastic succession. El then suggests a way to proceed in
order to bring about this desired end (KTU 1.14 ii 26—iii 2143):
wyrd 27 krt.lggt. Then come down, Kirta, from the roof,
c
db 28 akl.lqryt prepare food for the city,
29 ḥṭ.lbt.ḫbr wheat for the house of Khabur;
30 yip.lḥm.dḫmš let food for five months be cooked,
31 mǵd.ṯdṯ.yrḫm with provisions for a sixth month. 44
c
32 dn.ngb. Let a force be victualled
wyṣi 33 ṣbu. and let a host go forth.
{ ṣbi.ngb { Let a host be victualled,
c
34 wyṣi. dn ××× } and let a force go forth… }45
mc 35 ṣbuk.ul.mad Let your host be indeed a mighty army:
36 ṯlṯ.mat.rbt a million charioteers,
37 ḫpṯ.dbl.spr infantrymen without number,
38 ṯnn.dbl.hg archers beyond reckoning.

42
As follows:
El’s offer to Kirta: KTU 1.14 i 42—ii 3;
Kirta’s reply to El: 1.14 ii 4-5.
El’s revised offer and instructions: 1.14 ii 6—iii 19;
Pabilu’s expected offer to Kirta: 1.14 iii 22-32;
Kirta’s expected reply to Pabilu: 1.14 iii 33-49;
Kirta’s obedience to El’s instructions: 1.14 iii 52—iv 32;
(hiatus: the vow episode: 1.14 iv 33-43);
Kirta’s resumed obedience…: 1.14 iv 44—v 5 + <…>;
Pabilu’s message to Kirta (instructions to envoys): 1.14 v 30-45;
delivery of Pabilu’s message to Kirta: 1.14 vi 4-14;
Kirta’s reply to Pabilu: 1.14 vi 16-35;
delivery of Kirta’s reply to Pabilu: 1.14 vi 40—1.15 i [some 20 lines restored].
43
Wyatt 2002, 188-95, with minor adjustments. The tablet shows several signs of corrections.
44
Modified from Wyatt 2002, recognizing the use of the n, n + 1 formula. This would mean the
expectation of at most a six-month campaign. On the problem of the numerals in the text see
Wyatt 2002, 189 n. 57. The verb ’py means specifically “bake” (DUL3 89), so the food (lḥm) is
bread, presumably transported as flour and baked on campaign.
45
At first glance this quatrain looks elegant, as quasi-chiastic, indeed, two chiasms within a
greater one. On reflection, however, it seems rather labored. Is it dittographic? Given the
development from “force” to “host” (the reverse order is anti-climactic), the second bicolon is
the suspect one.
Alternatively, if ṣbu… ṣbi be taken as a superlative (“a mighty host”), perhaps the whole section
should be construed thus:
c
32 dn.ngb. Let a force be victualled
wyṣi 33 ṣbu.ṣbi. and let a mighty host go forth.
But then the remaining passage reads
ngb 34 wyṣi.cdn ××× and victualled, let a force go forth
which is distinctly anticlimactic. Perhaps the missing word at the end would have resolved the
issue.

7
 39 hlk.lalpm.ḫḏḏ Let them march in their thousands like the downpour,
40 wlrbt.km.yr 41 aṯr and in their ten thousands like the early rains let them advance.
41 ṯn.ṯn.hlk Two by two let them proceed;
ṯlṯ.klhm all of them in threes.
43 yḥd.bth.sgr Let the single man lock up his house;
44 almnt.škr 45 tškr. let (even) the widow be enlisted.
zbl.cršm 46 yšu. let the sick man take up his bed;
iwr.mzl 47 ymzl. let the blind man outrun the runner.
wyṣi.trḫ And let the newly-wed go out:
c
48 ḥdṯ.yb r.lṯn let him abandon his bride because of another,
49 aṯṯh.lm.nkr 50 mddth. on account of a foreigner his beloved.
kirby 51 tškn.šd Like locusts let them settle on the steppe,
iii 1 km.ḥsn.pat.mdbr like grasshoppers on the edge of the desert.
2 lk.ym.wṯn. Go for a day and a second,
ṯlṯ.rbc <.> ym a third, a fourth day,
3 ḫmš.ṯdṯ.ym. a fifth, a sixth day.
mk.špšm 4 bšbc. Lo, at sunrise on the seventh
wtmǵy.ludm 5 rbm you will come to Udumu abounding in rain,
wl.udm. ṯrrt yea, to well-watered Udumu.
6 wgr{.}nn.crm. Then attack its cities,
šrn 7 pdrm. invest its towns,
sct.bšdm 8 ḥṭbt. drive from the fields the wood-gatherers,
bgrnt.ḥpšt from the threshing-floors the straw-gatherers,
9 s t.bn < p > k. šibt.
c
drive from the well the water-drawers,
bbqr 10 mmlat. from the spring the bottle-fillers46.
dm.ym.wṯn Rest a day and a second,
c
11 ṯlṯ.rb .ym. a third, a fourth day,
ḫ!mš 12 ṯdṯ.ym. a fifth, a sixth day.
ḥẓk.al.tšcl 13 qrth Do not fire your arrows towards the city,
abn.ydk 14 mšdpt. your sling-stones at the citadel.
whn.špšm 15 bšbc. And lo, at sunrise on the seventh,
wl.yšn.pbl 16 mlk. Pabilu the king will not sleep
lqr.ṯigt.ibrh for the noise of the bellowing of his bulls,
17 lql.nhqt.ḥmrh for the sound of the braying of his asses,
c
18 lg t.alp.ḥrṯ. for the lowing of his plough-oxen,
zǵt 19 klb.ṣpr. the howling of his hunting-dogs.
wylak 20 mlakm.lk. Then he will send messengers to you,
c
m.krt 21 mswnh. to Kirta at his encampment,
tḥm.pbl.mlk “Message of King Pabilu… ”
There are a number of elements of interest in this passage. Firstly, it is a classic
instance of a divine command to go to war: that is, the human decision to go to war
is expressed in terms of response to a divine initiative, to which obedience is then
paid47. Declaration of war is a divine prerogative, if it is to be considered a
legitimate casus belli: Gods did not merely initiate war, but participated in it.

46
Wilfred Watson has drawn my attention to the fact that all these four social functions are given
feminine terms. Menial tasks: women’s work! Women would retire quickly, as obvious targets
for rape by a besieging army.
47
The psychology involved is classically explained in Jaynes’ 1976 study: the gods being
objectifications of intra-cerebral processes, function in times of stress induced by the need to
make decisions in critical moments. For an intriguing update on scholars’ analysis of the
cerebration involved in such religious activity, see Annus 2015.

8
Guichard observed that “the gods are presented as inspiring or acting in great
conflicts”48. He further noted that
If the Mari texts are to be believed, the deities eventually participated themselves in
battles, whether by supporting the human activity, or as the real author of victory…
On the way to meet the enemy, the army, taking courage by singing, was in addition
strengthened by the presence of religious symbols, and in particular the statues of
warrior-goddesses, who went in the van of the marching army. 49
These religious symbols and divine images would be understood to indicate the
divine presence with the army.
Ostensibly it is a war to gain a royal bride. The divine command is presented as
creating the motive for the campaign, a passing of the responsibility for what
amounts to a war of aggression to divine instruction. It is tempting to say from a
sociological perspective that acknowledgment of the divine initiative is a clever
trick of the mind to legitimise wars of aggression without incurring guilt. Having
said that, from the sequel to the cited text, El evidently knows that the war will not
actually take place: the show of force will be sufficient to persuade Pabilu to comply
with Kirta’s request.
It is because it is a divine command that Kirta’s turning aside during his journey
to Udum, graphically represented by the breaking of the one seven-day sequence
into two, respectively three- and four-day sequences (KTU 1.14 iv 33-43), is so
serious an error. It amounts to disobedience to the divine command50, and even
suggests a lack of trust in El’s oracle, and brings its own inevitable outcome in the
visiting of Athirat’s wrath on the king when he later fails to fulfil his vow: his
sickness, and consequent cursing of his son, which undoes all El’s patient work,
even after he has intervened, in the face of indifference or incapacity by the
pantheon, to heal Kirta of his disease divinely ordained by Athirat51. There is a nice
irony to the narrative, pointing to tensions within the pantheon. For the king is not
immediately punished for his sin. We may even surmise that El is scarcely aware of
Kirta’s disobedience, because he goes on to foretell the fruitful outcome of the
wedding: the birth and blessedness of all the king’s new offspring. And indeed all
that happens, Athirat evidently preferring to savour her vengeance cold.
Secondly, the passage illustrates the planning involved in preparing an army for
a campaign. This is a realistic reflection of the actualities of ancient warfare.
However, it immediately lapses into hyperbole, with an utterly unrealistic
assessment of the size of this force: a million charioteers, and untold numbers of
infantrymen and archers! Even the following “thousands… ten thousands” is
48
Guichard 1999, 31-32: “les dieux sont présentés comme les inspirateurs ou les acteurs des
grands conflits”.
49
Guichard 1999, 34, 41:
A en croire ces textes de Mari, la divinité participait éventuellement elle-même au
combat, soit qu’elle soutînt l’action humaine, soit qu’elle fût le véritable auteur de la
victoire… En route vers l’ennemi, la troupe, s’encourageant par des chants, était en
outre réconfortée par la présence des symboles religieux, tout particulièrement les
statues des déesses guerrières (Estarâtum) qui ouvraient la marche.
See also Vidal 2009.
50
Cf. the narrative of the disobedient prophet and his fate in 1 Kings 13. Even piety may be wrong
when a higher obedience is in question.
51
See discussion of the vow episode and its consequences in Wyatt 2002: 200 n. 111, 201 n. 121, 212
n. 157 and 241-42 n. 297. The line I take there, that participation by the youngest daughter in
the blessing implies her sharing in the curse which Kirta utters at the end of the story is
analysed in terms of the internal structure of the narrative, which reinforces the logic of the
argument, can be seen in the tabular layout of the text in Wyatt 2007b, 489-90.

9
hyperbolic. We need not go as far as the “three million…”52 for the first colon,
ṯlṯ.mat.rbt, since as proposed by Ginsberg, the term ṯlṯ denotes the “third man” in the
chariot team, the chief warrior of the unit,53 but this only reduces the scale of the
hyperbole. It is in the light of this literary flourish that we should assess the
constitution of this army, made up of the lame and the blind, and even widows!
This form of conscription breaks all the known legislation of the ancient world
concerning military practice. For instance, Deuteronomy 20:5-8 and 24:5 present
quite possibly an idealised account of Israelite-Judahite procedures, but reflect
precisely the concerns overturned in the Kirta passage54.
It is noteworthy that the narrative speaks in terms of conscription, without
reference to the use either of a standing army, or of mercenaries hired for the
occasion. These would however have formed the basis of any army employed in
Ugarit55.
The threefold structure of Kirta’s army, chariotry, infantry, archers is, hyperbole
apart, a realistic portrayal of the constitution of an ancient Near Eastern army.
Egyptian temple and Assyrian palace reliefs from the Bronze and Iron Ages show
military activity in exquisite detail. Ilimilku’s knowledge of military affairs would
be based on his experience of Ugaritian structures and procedures, and these have
been ably analysed by Juan-Pablo Vita and Jordi Vidal56.
The realities of conscription of an ancient army have been conveniently analysed
by Jordi Vidal, with regard to Ugarit. These would be the prevailing conditions with
which Illimilku would have been familiar, and which he signally avoided reflecting
in his account of Kirta’s recruitment strategy. Vidal concluded that Ugarit might
conscript “around 4,000 men”, contrasting with the far larger forces mustered by
the larger states in Mesopotamia, and extrapolating from the information partially
preserved on administrative tablet KTU 4.77757.
We should surely take it not as a sign of Kirta’s desperation to muster the largest
army he can (after all, such an army of misfits would be a military liability, not a
strength), but as a continuation of the hyperbole to the point of absurdity. Having
said this, the hyperbole in both instances is surely intended for some purpose, and
this is to record not a realistic situation so much as an ideological aspiration: that is,

52
Taking the hyperbolic approach in interpretation (3,000,000) are Gray 1964, 13 (though he
appeared to lean towards a social designation for ṯlṯ, p. 40, acknowledging William Johnstone);
Dietrich—Loretz 1980, 193; Greenstein 1989, 15 etc.; Pardee 1997, 334; Margalit 1999, 208, etc.
53
Ginsberg 1946, 36; del Olmo 1984, 177-85; Vita 1995, 92-93, Wyatt 2002, 190 n. 62, etc. Vidal 2006,
653. The terms ṯlṯ, ḫpṯ, and ṯnn represent three branches of the military: ṯlṯ (DUL3 ṯlṯ III, 897)
perhaps denotes the third man in a chariot, the warrior fighting, his companions being the
charioteer and the armour-bearer, thought the term may alternatively designate the team of
three men, working as a unit; ḫpṯ (DUL3 396, cf. ḫbṯ DUL3 381) the infantry; ṯnn (DUL3 909) the
archers. “Captains”: Renfroe 1987, 231.
54
For Assyrian procedures, see Dezső 2016, 15-57.
55
See the analysis in Vita 1999, 462; Vidal 2006, 702-5.
56
Vita 1995; Vidal 2005, 2006, 2010, 2011a, 2013, 2014, 2016. Note Vidal’s caution, 2005, 653,
regarding the army, as well as the narrative, of Kirta being foreign, and therefore not
representative of Ugaritian conditions. This can be overstated. Vita 1995, 75-76, Vidal 2006,
700-2, also discussed the possible presence of cavalry in Ugarit’s army. The Mycenaean crater
(Vidal 2006 fig. 1) showing mounted horsemen would however provide evidence only of
Mycenaean practice. Having said that, various mountain tribes were skilled horsemen, and
widely used as mercenaries, as noted by Vidal (2006, 702).
57
Vidal 2005, 655 (citing Heltzer’s and Liverani’s estimates, and criticizing Astour’s and Vita’s
analysis, which he characterized as “maximalist”), 2016, 125-26. For the text, translation and
discussion of KTU 4.777, see Bordreuil et al. 1984, 425-27; McGeough—Smith 2011, 593-94.

10
an army raised up by the gods must be of heroic proportions, reflecting the
supreme response of the gods’ devotees. It is perhaps intended to highlight even
more the great abyss between this mighty achievement—a great diplomatic victory
for the greatest army ever assembled, and the winning of a paragon of beauty as a
royal bride—and the utter destruction of all Kirta’s hopes, because of the human
factor entering into the equation.

11
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