By Theseustoo

Croesus burst into the war room, beaming radiantly. The news he’d received from the messengers he’d sent to test the accuracy of the oracles was quite evidently very pleasing to him, thought Sandanis to himself, as he witnessed the King’s energetic and dramatic entrance. Silently the general thanked the gods as he saw that his master had apparently recovered something of his old self; gone now was the total inertia and apathy which for so long had paralysed both the king and the country; gone too were the doleful expression and the constant heavy sighs, weighted with the leaden grief which had filled his soul for two whole years, like excess ballast in a storm-tossed and leaking ship.

This newly-revivified Croesus carried a capacious leather wallet, full of papyrus scrolls which he placed on the chart-table in the centre of the room; leaving aside all but two of them, he looked Sandanis in the eye as he held up the two items of particular interest. Though his expression bordered on gleeful, an ironic glint in Croesus’ eyes gave his face a darkly sardonic cast which immediately conveyed the vital importance of the contents of these two scrolls not only to the king himself but to the whole empire. Still grinning at the generals and their assembled staff officers; and holding aloft these two papyrus scrolls, he looked just like a prize-winning poet or playwright at the games, thought Sandanis, as Croesus addressed his staff:
“Well, gentlemen; of all the Greek oracles, only those at Delphi and at Amphiaraus have returned accurate answers; Delphi’s response says:” here he paused for dramatic effect as he unrolled one of the papyrus scrolls, from which he read dramatically, “’I can count the sands, and I can measure the ocean; I have ears for the silent, and I know what the dumb man meaneth; Lo! On my sense there striketh the smell of a shell-covered tortoise, Boiling now on a fire, with the flesh of a lamb, in a cauldron – Brass is the vessel below, and brass the cover above it.’” Putting down the scrolls, he continued in a slightly more normal voice, “The answer from Amphiaraus is similar, though not quite so precise…”
“But what do they mean Sire?” Sandanis asked, “And how can you be sure they are accurate?”

The general had been intrigued by Croesus’ plan to test the accuracy, and hence the validity of the oracles; should the gods permit such a plan to work, he realized immediately its strategic importance; they would be the only people in the world who would know which oracles could be believed, and which could safely be ignored; and this information, he knew, would be extremely useful to any military commander.
“I considered for a long time,” Croesus began, in the suspenseful manner of a master story-teller, delaying to the last possible instant the moment of final revelation, “what would be the least predictable thing I could do on the day appointed, so I spent the day cooking a turtle and a lamb, which I slaughtered and butchered myself; then I boiled them in a great brass cauldron with a brass lid.”
Sandanis and the other officers gasped with amazement at the remarkable accuracy of the Delphic oracle’s response to their master’s enquiry, as Cyrus continued, “Gentlemen we now know which are the only true oracles! By my decree, everyone in Lydia is to offer sacrifice to the oracles of Delphi and Amphiaraus; each according to his means.”
Sandanis nodded his agreement; it was a very good idea to offer thanks to the gods for this news, he thought wryly to himself; attempting to test the oracle was attempting to test the gods; that they had actually deigned to answer Croesus’ question in spite of its impertinence was more amazing for its generosity than it was for its accuracy. Croesus was just as aware of having ‘tweaked the tail of the tiger’ and survived as was Sandanis; he continued, solemnly pledging, “I myself shall sacrifice three thousand of every type of sacrificial animal along with much gold and purple; I shall also send generous gifts of gold, silver and purple to these oracles; thus we shall ensure the continuing favour of the gods. And we shall send again to enquire how long my empire will last; and whether or not we should find an ally to help us check Cyrus’ ambitions.”
Sandanis was overjoyed that his master’s plan to test the oracles had worked. However, pleased though he was by this wonderful development, he was even more pleased to see the effect it had on his king. The lethargy which had paralysed him for so long had disappeared completely now and Croesus was thoroughly re-energized with a new zeal for his imperial plans. Thank the gods, the general silently thought to himself with pious gratitude to whichever god or gods who had performed this miraculous transformation. His intrusion on his master’s grief to inform him about the defeat of Astyages the Mede and the rise of Persia was now totally vindicated. He had known all along that Croesus’ kingly pride would never have allowed either himself or his newly-won empire to be threatened by this young Persian upstart; this Cyrus. This had been just what he’d needed.
But perhaps even more importantly, the fact that they had successfully tested the oracles could only indicate the favour of the gods themselves; all Croesus’ augurs and soothsayers agreed that it indicated that he had been chosen by the gods themselves to have this significant advantage over all other kingdoms. Now Croesus was filled with renewed confidence in his plans for expanding his empire; safe and secure in the knowledge that he was chosen by the gods themselves. And if the gods were on his side, Sandanis thought, then what had Croesus to fear?
If he were truly the gods’ Chosen One as the augurs and soothsayers declared; if he were truly the Son of Heaven, the Anointed One whose path to victory over the whole world had been foretold ages ago in the most ancient and revered prophecies, then surely the gods themselves would ensure that he would find some solution to the problem of a suitable heir; for his mute son; the only son he had left for an heir, Sandanis realized, would never be able to rule.
Ouranos, Sandanis silently prayed to the very oldest of the gods, Lord of Time! You change everything! Grief changes to joy and from death itself all new life emerges; just as winter changes to spring and life returns to the world. Thank you, Lord Ouranos, for your gift; the gift of healing…
With this he silently vowed that he would sacrifice a heifer at the temple as soon as possible. Observing this sudden wonderful change in his king, Sandanis felt intuitively that the whole world was now about to change dramatically, though how it would change, he could not possibly predict. But he was now quite confident that whatever changes were about to come, they could only be for the better; for while his king had languished under the melancholy induced by his grief; the kingdom too, had also languished under the lack of his direction.

Building plans and trading schemes as well as plans for civic and social improvement had all either been put aside completely or else postponed until the king could once again give them his full attention; and this inertia had affected the economy so badly that many plans for military consolidation and expansion had also been shelved.
Before this day the king’s mind and soul had been so paralysed by his grief that he could scarcely contemplate his duties, let alone fulfil them. While Croesus had mourned for his son and heir, the astute Sandanis knew that his whole empire had been in danger of losing the momentum it had gained as a result of his numerous earlier conquests; and without the momentum to carry it forward, he realized, the empire would have been in danger of collapsing back in on itself. But, he thought happily, as anticipation arose in his breast, now the king had recovered his zest for life; now the empire would see some action!

*** ***** ***