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Many have heard of the great Library of Alexandria, though fewer know how deeply a single angel grieved at its destruction. But there was another library— an earlier library— that the angel also lost.
The last great ruler of Mesopotamia, King Ashurbanipal, though mercilessly brutal in battle, was a passionate admirer of arts and philosophy. To this end, he brought an astonishing number of cuneiform clay tablets to his Assyrian capital along with other spoils of war and prisoners bound for slavery.
In spite of the cruel reputation of the king, the angel Aziraphale was tempted to investigate when he heard about his great Library. And despite the citizens of Nineveh, whose casual cruelty echoed their king’s, the angel maneuvered himself into working with those who took care of and studied the precious clay tablets.
Aziraphale was fascinated by the collection; excited at the possibility of humans learning to gather each other’s wisdom and stories, and share those freely with one another.
A lot of the records were trivial, and there were far too many tablets devoted to the proper reading of goat entrails in divination. But there were also texts of medicine, of law, and mathematics as well as great works of literature.
So much potential made him wiggle with joy. Aziraphale longed to explore it all. He hadn’t been assigned to this, but such a wonder must surely be a part of Her Great Plan.
Aziraphale also wandered the large, rather cosmopolitan city. He walked, his hands clasped behind his back, his eager eyes taking in every detail of the bright, dusty streets along the canals toward where the River Khosr joined the Tigris. The city was protected by impressive defensive walls built mostly from simple sun baked brick. Its gates were guarded by colossal lamassu—statues depicting human-headed winged bulls. The angel was fascinated by the workmanship.
Stone relief carvings also decorated important places in the city and more than a few glorified the current king. It seemed King Ashrubanipal was always depicted with a writing stylus in his belt, no matter how violent the scene. The king’s own palace was entered through massive gateways flanked by more lamassu which Aziraphale passed by daily on his way to the adjoining library.
But it was the little things that interested Aziraphale most. The people in the colorful markets hawking an incredible variety of items, some from impossibly distant lands. And of course, he was quite delighted by the local food and drink.
Yet, he’d often catch quiet whispers of trouble, usually among the servants and slaves. Murmurs of a prophecy, a curse delayed. The self-centered people of Nineveh scoffed at the very idea, mocking or punishing any who spoke of it.
Their powerful king had never known defeat. When word came of Babylonian, Median and Scythian forces gathering on the nearby plains, it was said King Ashrubanipal merely laughed.
But back in the cool dimness of the library, Aziraphale worried. He wasn’t allowed to use miracles to intervene. Gabriel had been quite clear on that.
And then there were the reports of a snake. Several others in the library claimed to have been frightened by a huge serpent slithering among the stacks. It always vanished before help could be summoned, and as yet, no one had found its lair. Aziraphale hadn’t encountered it himself, but he rather thought he detected a familiar presence. He decided he was the only one capable of resolving this particular issue.
Aziraphale returned to the library in the dark of a new moon. The stars overhead shone so brilliantly they cast faint shadows on the stone as he slipped soundlessly into the building. At this time of night he would be alone, with one notable exception.
He called out quietly, “Is that you, Crawley?”
An answering slither, a shuffle, then the sound of footsteps moved towards him from the stacks. He peered into the darkness using senses beyond his corporation’s and wasn’t the least surprised to discover the rumoured snake was, in fact, a familiar lithe, red-headed demon.
“Hello Aziraphale. You’ve been spending quite a lot of time here.” Crawley observed dryly.
“Well yes, I suppose I have.” Aziraphale hesitated, then continued happily, “It really is the most remarkable place. This entire collection, available for anyone—well anyone literate—to learn from.” He couldn’t suppress a little wiggle of enthusiasm., “Just imagine what could be achieved if every human had access to something like it.”
Crawley positioned himself on a wooden stool, propped his elbows on a worktable behind him and leaned precariously back until most of the stool’s legs lost contact with the floor. “Yeah, I think Hell’s every bit as worried about that as you are excited.”
“You haven’t...” the angel ducked his head to fidget with his hands, “You haven’t been sent here because of the Library, have you?”
“ ‘Fraid so.” Crowley leaned across the table to run a long finger curiously over a tablet. “Hell wants it destroyed before the concept can spread further.”
Aziraphale pursed his lips and studied the demon before he admonished, “I’ve never been quite certain whether your side appreciates the human hunger for knowledge or despises it. You tempted Eve, and are against this? It really doesn't make sense.”
“Hell isn’t alone on this one. Rumor has it, Upstairs has plans involving this whole area.”
Aziraphale stared at him a moment, then gasped as recognition hit, “The prophecy!”
“The what, now?”
“The Prophecy—a curse… this city was cursed centuries ago, but Jonah…”
“The whale guy?” Crawley blinked.
“Yes!” Aziraphale confirmed with a much put upon expression before he straightened and recited piously, “Jonah was sent to spread the word of God and the citizens of Nineveh repented and were spared.”
Crawley laughed, “Well, that didn’t last long.”
Aziraphale huffed, “But you see, the humans—”
“Say, no more, Angel. Their inability to learn from the past is a known design flaw.”
“Crawley!”, he scolded, then more thoughtfully, “What… What if we could convince the people here to repent again? There must be some way, if—”
“No! Nononono! Hell’s already preparing for the whole damned city’s arrival. It’s a done deal, Angel. Heaven spared the lot of them once and they just fell back to doing what they always had done.” He sighed, “This will be just like Sodom and Gomorrah, or the Flood.” The angel shuddered, but Crawley shook his finger at him and continued, “Except no smitey angels this time, just other pissed-off humans.”
Aziraphale took a deep breath., “But perhaps the Library can still be saved. Do you suppose the invaders might recognize its worth? Wisdom is so much more valuable than any of the treasures in the palace! Surely someone will realize that.” He turned pleading eyes to the demon, “Maybe we can make sure that they do.”
Crawley swallowed, looked away. Then said very gently, “Angel, I don’t think we have a choice here.”
A muffled roar in the distance startled them both.
“I think we’re out of time- that sounds like an army.” The demon cocked his head to listen,“Maybe near the Halzi gate? That’s too close.”
“Already?”
“An attack during the dark of the moon? It’s classic. Sentries can’t see and most everyone else is asleep. This city is about to be razed to the ground, and we really don’t want to be here while it happens.”
Outside now, sounds of yelling, horrified screams and running feet. Distant rumbles that can only be mud brick walls crumbling.
“But the tablets! Crawley, they’re just dried clay. Fragile, friable… they’ll be crushed to dust! All that knowledge, those stories, lost forever! He puffed up like an angry bluebird. “I simply won’t allow it!”
Crawley has moved to the door, focused on the commotion outside.
Aziraphale watched him a moment, then bitterly accused, “You’ll probably get another commendation out of this.”
“Not something I want, Angel,” the demon growled. He glanced his way, then added softly, “Not anything I’ve ever tried to earn.” Crawley hurried across the room, “Look, time’s running out, we need to leave!”
Aziraphale stepped back, “But the Library,” his hands flew up defensively, “I must find a way to save it!”
“We need to focus on saving ourselves. Both of our sides are in on this. If we get discorporated we'll have some tricky explaining to do. We’ve gotta go.” Crawley grabbed the angel’s wrist, “Now!” and pulled him to the door.
They stepped out of the library into chaos, the confusion of a city under siege. Ashurbanipal’s forces had clearly been surprised and overwhelmed. The sounds of battle edged closer. Screaming, terrified people rushed by in all directions, many wounded and bleeding. They trampled those who had already fallen.
Aziraphale felt Crawley grab his wrist again to stop him from aiding the injured. He struggled a moment but saw only grim determination on the demon’s face as he pulled the angel toward the steepest of the hills overlooking the city. They climbed through rocks and scrub, their way lit by the burning city behind them. At the hill’s top they turned, as one, toward Nineveh.
Through the obscuring heavy smoke and dust, Aziraphale and Crawley watched the battle, powerless to intervene. They saw the invaders overtake the city and then a smaller group breached the library’s doors. At Aziraphale’s choked off moan, Crawley swept up his arms and blasted the library with Hellfire. It was instantly subsumed by intense, roaring flames. The invaders, repelled by the kiln-like heat, quickly moved on to join the fighting at the palace.
Hours later, the ashes of the burned library lay forgotten in the rubble of the ruined city.
***
And so it was that the contents of the Library of Ashurbanipal in Nineveh came to be preserved. The clay cuneiform tablets—hardened by Hellfire—survived over 2,000 years to be rediscovered by British archeologist Austen Henry Lanyard and his Iraqi colleague Hormuz Rassemann in the 1850s. As the dig was sponsored by various British institutions, tens of thousands of tablets were sent to England.
Which is why on this particular rainy London afternoon, Aziraphale finds himself once again wandering through the British Museum. He always enjoys it here. So many things to see. So much that stir up his own memories.
He smiles at the Rosetta Stone, though really, he could have translated Egyptian hieroglyphics if only he’d been asked. He admires the Elgin marbles. He visits the brass casting of an Ooni king from the Ife kingdom, in memory of that dear friend.
Then, as always, he stops just outside Room 55. He takes a long wistful look through the door at the display of cuneiform tablets from the great Library of Ashurbanipal. Eventually he sighs. He continues on to another exhibit. Much of Ashurbanipal’s library was saved to become humanity’s best window into ancient Assyria.
Yet, two thousand years later, Aziraphale is unable to get any closer than this to the tablets because of their prolonged exposure to Hellfire. He’s trying very hard not to be irritated about that.
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