"How does she die--how do I betray anyone?" Methos asked, desperately. He didn't believe--but something about this touched him. "Answer me this--how? How can Anath-Sin die--at her age and strength? And how do I betray?"
Lysistrata sighed patiently. She knew the younger of the two would raise a commotion--not for nothing did Anna name him "Death". he was a passionate soul--kept in check only by his great good sense--but where Anna was concerned, he could easily forget it. Loyal was he--to those he would love. And also--too loyal--the one he would love best--he might hurt worst--this was his way.
"I only know it is the fatherless one who brings it all to pass. He it is who makes it all occur. Through the child, the man is born. Through the beginning, the end. In all that Anna has done--for one good thing--one ill. This she good not help--she is of always a mixed nature--violence and love," the Oracle replied, and seemed to be taken by the tale--so much so both had nothing but questions--to know this involved themselves--but they were ignorant of the outcome.
Anna never saw herself in this light though--a good for every ill. Never did she see her life as balanced--but only magnified each misdeed, until she saw herself a monster. This was new--to try and see a good. And so she had to know better--
"Can nothing good come? You seem to speak of tragedies! Is my life to only come to death?"
"Your life is to come to legends--you, Anna---for you--this world be named, Anatolia--Anna--the Mother. You, Anath. You, Sekhmet. You, Artemis. You, Tiamat. You, Rahab. Of you, and in you--every Mother to lose a child--every woman to lose a lover. Always betrayed, always to find the answer. In you--vengeance, and compassion. Forgiveness and hate--in you! In other live, you would still be as you are--but more--in you--love! And so you must return where best you lived--turn, serpent! Turn to bite the sacrifice, and as you see him die--so you would well see him live--your son is your son--your lover,and the father of you."
Anath-Sin's eyes widened--when she was but Anna--did she die of snake-bite-but nearly. What-truly--did this woman mean? Was her own child to die this way? By way of snake? And by her hand, as well? She spoke of an Immortal's first death--if she knew it not.
Methos had his sword drawn. The Oracle could sense this--almost tensely, she said--"What mean you by this, Methos? You can not avert your fate by these means--nor shuld you want to. A long ,life is yours, and a prize you will have if you but wait. You can only look to yourself--you love wisely, but not well. Better to forgive, and be compassionate--but this is not yet your way. I tell you only the truth--may I die if I do not speak this! I know fate--but that I would swear."
"Methos, she swears by fate, which man alone does not control," Anna reminded him.
"That is, Anath-Sin--to use your phrase--what the shepherd stepped in."
And yet he feared. He did not believe, but he feared. If she were to die...what meant all that they had shared? If she were to die--were the lesson she gave him of endurance nothing? And what of their love---how could it endure? Of this one thing, might he believe--that she loved him.
The Oracle knew of his fears, but was not concerned by them--none of this was surprising, by any means. Rather--it was as she expected--they were but what they were--Anna, so ready to die, and Methos--so ready to live. She, always the one to nurture--and he to need her. And she--to need his salvation, his strength. He, to need to protect and love her. It was as she expected--and so it all would come to good--in the end. How many years before they would see this--she did not forsee. But one day--they would understand. The two of them--lovers. One day--to see it, for sure.
Posted on Oct 26, 1999, 11:02 PM from IP address 207.172.160.5