The "oracle" seemed such a young girl, that Anath-Sin's eyes became wet at the sight of her. She was blind, and her eyes were white intotal--she did not have that which would let her see--but still--she seemed to see more than most, for she boldly went before Methos. She stood, and then she said--
"I know you--you are beautiful--even you do not know well how beautiful you are."
Anath-Sin agreed. Methos did not seem to know yet that it was not his strength that challenged her at every turn, not his wisdom--and he was wise beyond his years at times--but it was that rare--prepossing beauty--not just of his form, but also of his mind and spirit, that would draw one in--attracted as a moth might be to a flame.
"This," Demetrios said, "is my sister, Lysistrata. And yes, she knows you, as you can tell." He seemed proud and in awe of this woman, his older sister. Though blind, she had a talent equal to none he had ever witnessed--she confounded the elders. So astonishing was her power that it drove their family and some few other believers out to seek out what she spoke of--she called it the "Good Death." Also was he amazed that she knew these two so well--she had been drawn to them.
Over the nights, she had spoken of these--Annika and Methos--Artemis and Zeus. The Mother, who was without child, and the Betrayer, who was a prince among gods. She spoke of them as lovers, and she said they were doomed. She told a great love story, and she cried for them. And also sge spoke of another--she would not name him, but called him "Kronos." She called him the "fatherless one."
"Anath-Sin, oh, Anna, I dreamed of you so," she said then, softly, and touched Anath-Sin's face. Anna stood patiently as the woman felt her features, and seemed to search for something within her. She knew the ways of those who could not see--by touch they knew things. And so it would be with Lysistrata--but this was a strange name to her--better she be called, simply, the oracle.
"Old. I know this of you--that there are none of your years yet living. Of you, well your teacher spoke--he said : I am Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow--"
"I have the power to be reborn--" Anath-Sin said joined, remembering.
And in chorus, they finished, "I am the Beginning and the End of Time."
Methos seemed puzzled, and Anath-Sin explained. "Imhotep said this of old--it is from the scroll of the drawing forth of Shu before Ra. But, things do get lost in the translation."
The Oracle then smiled, a dazzling and celestial smile--the smile of one who knew peace that was beyond the knowing of most. She seemed to look at Anna--and not look at her. "Well remember these words--they will preserve you for the future, as are the people of the two lands preserved for theirs. For you are dying, though you seem it not. But you will live--by these words."
Anath-Sin bowed her head--she had known this. She knew someday her sins would catch up with her--it was the way of all things to be reckoned.
"But first, a deed--you must attend to the fatherless one--the only who slays his father. The Motherless One, who needs you, His Mother. And you must show him the way to go, for if you fail, a great soul is made perverted."
And with this, Anath-Sin's heart pounded, for she could be speaking of no other than her boy--Naram-Sin. He was fatherless and motherless, and it was time to return. For she saw it now--he would be a man.
"And of you--oh, thou, Zeus. methos, by she of the bloody blade called Lord Seker--you shall live. A ges shall you live, and know her not. Feel her not. And a betrayal you will even commit in your blindness. Again, you may know her. When you are the older. And she the wiser. Of these things do I know."
Anath-Sin was in a trance by these sayings--for these things seemed like the speaking of her own heart. But she looked on Methos, and her heart sank to know these words hurt him. He had not been ready, and reading his face, she thought he might burst. And it was not a happy fate she read him--to call him a betrayer to his face.
But oddest of all that last--he the older? She would always be older, would she not? And she the wiser? She was always the fool of her own heart--he the steady one. Well he might despair, for she knew that he loved her.
Posted on Oct 26, 1999, 8:06 PM from IP address 207.172.160.5