Chapter Eight

... and Death?

Cradle of Civilization circa 3000 b.c.e., about eight months later:

Another town... another market place... there had been so many of them that they all had begun to fade one into another. Like the colorless landscape of the desert, all things had become a numbing background to their journey.

Methos walked obediently at Aja's side and barely noted the people and events around him. They no longer mattered to him. Aja would replenish supplies, perhaps talk to a few people, and then they would move on. Once back into the desert, they would rest during the heat of the midday. Before beginning their nightly journeys, there was always time for the lessons.

Even those had become a mindless drill to the small boy. He no longer found it fascinating to write the symbols over and over in various combinations while trying to see and discern how they were related... how they were different. He no longer cared about the final two symbols, or in discovering their true meaning. They were just a task Aja set for him each day. Yet nothing, not even his apparent indifference or lack of enthusiasm deterred her.

"There is magic in knowing them," she offered once. "Magic in the very writing of them."

Methos saw no magic. He saw only a blinding white sky above a dun-colored and bright desert on their early morning treks. Or he saw only the black sky of night and the dark shadows of the desert when they traveled after darkness fell. He had begun to long for the cool stone of the Temple of Nut, or the great stone bath with it's floating lotus flowers, and the white linen softness of those who lived there.

It was, with some surprise that he realized Aja had come to a stop at the crossroads of the market. She paused as if considering some thought, then turned down the left-hand street as if looking for something. She paused near the open stand of a potter.

The old man, bald-headed, white-bearded and thin, who crouched on the mats showing his wares grinned up at her with a gap toothed smile and waved to her to inspect his wares. Aja absently removed the leather thong from around her wrist and crouched down to speak to him and examine his paltry items.

Methos, suddenly free to wander, looked about him. He had no interest in the cooking pots and other pottery items the old man was selling, nor could he see any reason for Aja to stop here. The old man stood up to show her the fine workmanship; his easy banter quick and friendly. Methos turned and wandered across the dusty street to another stall. Here, there were swords! He crouched down to examine the shiny bronze blades. The stall owner yelled at him to leave. He stood up and backed off into the street, but continued to stare hungrily at the weapons.

He could not understand Aja's reluctance of them. Nor, besides the few clues he had gleaned from her ramblings about her father and his death by sword at her hand, did he really know why. To him, he thought it a glorious and wondrous thing to become proficient in such a weapon. He continued to stand and stare, slowly moving in ways he thought a warrior might use. He was oblivious of the world around him. Only the swords were real!

He watched what happened next as if it were a dream... as though it was happening to someone else... as though it was not real.

A chariot, pulled by two fast-moving black horses, barreled down the street, coming straight at him! He stared at the on-coming face of death without comprehension. Suddenly thin arms picked him up and flung him out of the way and into Aja's arms. Screams erupted around him. It was only then that time and reality reasserted itself in his mind.

The old potter had seen the oncoming chariot and more swiftly than his long years suggested, had quickly moved to grasp the boy and toss him out of the way. Then he faltered. The chariot ran him down! The driver slung curses at the crowd as the wheels of his chariot bumped roughly into the air as they ran over the old man! Without pause he continued on his way, still whipping his horses to even greater effort.

Aja held Methos closely for a long moment. Then she held him away from her, quickly checking to see if he had any injuries.

"Foolish boy," she said angrily, "just look what you have done." She turned him to look at the old man's broken and bloodied body lying there in the street. "He might have been spared what is to come. Now see what your carelessness has done!"

Methos tried to explain. "I am sorry Aja. I was not looking. I was..." He pointed at the weapons stall.

"Looking at swords! I might have known!" She was angry with him. It was the first time she had ever been truly angry with him. He feared to be the victim of one her storms! Methos began to shake. He had seen what happened to those who made her angry! Then her face softened, and she caressed his cheek. "Shhhh!... What you have done is done. We will speak no more of it." She kissed his forehead, " Now stand here!"

Aja joined the crowd around the body. Methos could hear her asking about the old man and his family.

"His wife is dead these many years." "He has no children." "He has no one..." came the answers from different people in the crowd. Further questions determined that he was not a man of wealth or property and that his body would just be wrapped in cheap linen and buried in the sand. It was then that Aja surprised Methos.

"This man saved the life of my child! I would honor him! Is there a small burial cave where his body might rest? One I could... purchase?" She reached into her bag and pulled out one of the hoarded jewels she had removed from her golden collar when they had first left the Temple of Nut.

Members of the crowd gasped. One merchant came forward. "O ro' dred was a good man and a friend. I have known him all my life. I have such a cave for sale, Great Lady." He bowed deeply to Aja in respect, but his eyes glittered at the prospect of owning the great ruby.

Aja smiled knowingly at him. "Then, perhaps, we may come to... an agreement." The two put their heads together to work out the burial arrangements.

According to local custom, the old man was wrapped for burial, which took place by evening of the same day. His remains were placed in the small cave Aja had purchased for him. Stones were placed before the entrance to seal it. Songs were sung. Prayers for the dead were offered, and the villagers returned to their village and to their lives.

But Aja and Methos remained at the burial site. She built a small fire from some gathered wood and sat down to wait. She offered food to Methos, but ate none herself. She was lost in thought.

"Why do we remain?" finally asked Methos.

Aja smiled that mysterious smile of hers. "We wait for what is to come."

"But what is that?"

She gave him no answer, only stoked the fire. Finally she glanced over at the cave and nodded. "It is time. Stay here, Scholar, by the fire. Go to sleep. I will be near." Then she rose and, going to the cave began to pull away the stones to unseal it.

Methos did as he had been told. He had angered her enough for one day. He wrapped himself in her great cloak and lay down by the fire. But his eyes watched her every move.

At last she had pulled enough stones away to enter the cave. Soon after, Methos saw a pale glow from within it, and knew she was holding or, perhaps, gazing into her great crystal. After a while, his eyes grew heavy and he thought to sleep. Yet, her actions gnawed at him. Curious, he slipped away from the fire and hid near the cave entrance to see what there was to see.

Methos gasped! The old man was sitting on the ground in the cave and talking sadly with Aja. He strained to hear their conversation.

"I cannot die, then?" the old potter asked.

"Not by most means. As I said, there is a way. You were so close to a mortal death, one that would not have triggered this in you... but you saved the boy. I am grateful beyond measure."

The old man continued, "But you did not do this thing to me?"

"No... and normally when this happens to someone, I have always just noted it and passed on by. But because you gave your death for the life of the boy... I have decided to change the game again. I tell you what has happened to you. I tell you so that you may in turn find and tell others. Help them to understand. Help them to find their way. Then they also will find and teach still others. Perhaps through this intervention, an end may be possible for all of us. We may one day gather and become one."

"When will I meet my death? I am an old man! I have lived a long life already."

"Ahhh ... O ro' dred. The gift of prophecy is a dangerous one. It usually drives us mad. I know because it often makes me so. Are you so certain you would want it? Any part of it?"

"Only concerning my death so that I may never fear it... but welcome it as a cherished friend. If I am to wander the world for you, helping to teach others what you have taught me when they awaken from this false death, I would know that my road has an ending."

She sighed, "So be it!" Aja lifted one of her hands to the old man's eye and pointed one of her long fingers directly at it. To Methos, it appeared that a great crackle of fire, like the green fire he sometimes thought he saw in her eyes, blasted outward and surged directly into the potter's right eye. O ro' dred howled in pain! Methos shifted on the rocks, wanting to turn away, but the sight of what he saw kept him where he was.

"See now, my friend," he heard Aja cry, "the time, the place, the means of your death, and the face of the hand that wields the sword!"

The old man's cry filled the night! ... A mournful cry... a pain-filled cry... a cry of terror! When he opened his now blasted eye, it was white. His eye had turned inward and no longer saw the world about him. It saw only the moment of his death. While one eye would see the world as it was, the other would forever see the moment he awaited. When the visions of both his eyes matched, he would know his time had come.

Methos had seen enough. Terrified, he scrambled back to the fire and wrapped himself in Aja's great cloak. He covered his face and trembled beneath the cloak's comforting feel.

Soon he heard Aja and the old man return to the fire to bid their good-byes to one another.

"You know, my lady, if what you say is true, someday you will have to kill the boy, or watch him grow old and die."

"I know, my friend, I know."

Beneath the cloak, Methos continued to tremble in fear. But as silence returned to the night, the beating of his heart gradually calmed, his eyes grew heavy, and at long last, he slept.

When Methos crawled out of the cloak at dawn, all was as it had been the night before. The cave was sealed as it had been. Aja sat by the ashes of the dead fire, slowly drawing the symbols in the ashes. She turned and smiled at him when he approached, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"You had a nice long sleep, Scholar." She seemed very calm and there was no hint of anger or petulance in her voice. It was as though she had reached a decision about something, and was at peace with it and with herself for the first time since she had found him.

Methos looked about him, but saw no signs that what he had seen last night was anything more than a strange dream brought about by the events of the previous day. Perhaps he had simply dreamed that the old man had not died. Aja, of course, said nothing. She merely smiled.

After they had eaten, she smoothed out the ashes of the fire and stood to look about the horizon. "Time to go!" she suddenly said and gathered her belongings.

Methos was surprised. Usually there were lessons each morning.

Once Aja was set to leave, he approached her so that she might re-tie the leather thong about her wrist. She smiled thoughtfully, then reached down to remove it from his wrist. She curled it up and handed it to him. "I think we can do without that, right little scholar?"

Methos stared at the thong in his hands and then offered her a big grin and nodded. "Yes, Aja. I will stay close. I will never wander off again. I will stand where you wish me to stand. I will do all you want. Where do we go now?"

Aja looked about her. Then leaned down to him and gazed into his face, "I think you may choose the direction we go today. Now look at the horizon and choose carefully."

Methos obeyed and looked carefully in each direction. Finally he chose one and pointed, "That way!"

"And why that way?"

"I see great birds in the distance. There may be fresh water that way," he grinned.

"Very good. Now... you lead the way and I will follow."

They moved then, back into the barren landscape in search of journey's end.