By Astyages O’Theseustoo.

As always, the Pythoness received the party warmly, even displaying a polite gratitude for the gifts and tribute of the Lydian king. Servants unloaded the huge wagons while the herald, feeling the chill of a fear which made him catch his breath, so that from time to time he had to remind himself to breathe; entered the Shrine of the Oracle. Visibly trembling in the awesome presence of this living demi-goddess, the herald reverently approached the base of the raised dais which stood in front of the reputedly bottomless abyss where dwelt the earth-gods from whom the Pythoness received and relayed her pronouncements.

Silently the Pythoness spread her arms over the abyss; turning her face towards the heavens as she sought to enter the sacred trance in which she was able to hear the voices of the gods. After several long minutes of deep meditation, the demi-goddess turned around once more and looked not so much at, as through the visibly trembling herald; her glazed expression quickly changing into a cold, hard and fearsome visage as the god possessed her.

Her demeanour was haughty, imperious and intimidating as the Pythoness’ raised eyebrows now silently demanded of the messenger what he required of her. Finally mastering his fear, which the Pythoness’ display of mystical powers had only increased, by pushing them right down inside himself, the herald conquered his natural feelings of intimidation at the august presence of the gods within the Pythoness. Then, taking a deep breath in order to still his visible trembling, he bravely addressed the now god-possessed and trance-inspired Pythoness:

“Croesus, King of Lydia and several other countries,” he began, “believing that these are the only true oracles in all the world, has sent you such presents as your discoveries deserved. He now inquires of you how long his empire will flourish; he also wishes to know if he should go to war with the Persians and if so, should he strengthen himself by the forces of a confederate?”

The Pythoness nodded once silently and then turned her back on the messengers to commune once more with the spirits of the abyss. Presently she turned back again; her eyes now staring, blank and unseeing, into empty space, as from the edge of the abyss, she delivered her answer in a strangely masculine voice whose unnatural volume and deep echoing quality was, so the herald thought, the unmistakable sign of her possession by the god.

The Pythoness’ response, however, was delivered in an unknown tongue and the messenger could make nothing of it whatsoever, although he was personally familiar with several of the region’s languages. This must be the tongue of the very gods themselves, the messenger thought in awe, as he watched the Pythoness’ response being recorded by a scribe and interpreted by an acolyte, who wrote down its meaning on a piece of papyrus and passed it to him.

Suddenly he was startled out of his reverie, as he realized the acolyte was indeed actually speaking to him; in fact she was patiently explaining, for the second time, the oracle’s response, which was written on the small papyrus scroll the acolyte had just handed him.

“Tell Croesus of Lydia, the Son of Alyattes,” the girl was saying, “…that his empire will flourish until a mule sits on the throne of Persia; he must ally himself with the strongest of the Greeks and that if he attacks Cyrus he will destroy a mighty empire.”

Finally, when she had finished giving her answer, her eyes closed and the Pythoness’ head fell forwards onto her breast almost as if she had lost consciousness; yet she remained standing, apparently insensible to everything but her own inner voices as, in her still-entranced condition, she now contemplated the full meaning and significance of the new knowledge which had just been imparted to her by the god.

Taking the scroll from the acolyte as the goddess fell once more into her trance the herald realized almost immediately that the Pythoness was again lost in mystical contemplation. A few moments later, he realized that his audience with the oracle had ended and, bowing repeatedly to the apparently unconscious goddess, he backed quickly out of the temple to begin his return journey to Lydia. His master, he knew, would surely be very pleased with this news and was certain to reward him very generously, so he was eager to bring it to him as swiftly as possible.

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