Chapter Two

How long I slept is unknown to me. It was night when I first awoke, but whether it was that night or the next I have no idea. My broken right arm was bound tightly to my chest with strips of linen torn, I later learned, from the oracle's own gown.

A flame burned in an oil lamp and shadows flickered on the plain stone walls. A hand slipped beneath my head and raised it, while another offered me wine to drink. It was laced with something stronger… some drug that eased my pain and sent me once more into the sleep of Morpheus, where in dreams, her voice soothed me and I floated on the waves of the ocean… safe and secure.

I awoke several times to much the same. Sometimes I could tell it was daylight as light filtered through the linen over the opening to the room. Sometimes I could hear thunder in the sky and the patter of raindrops as they splashed to the earth.

Always there were voices, laughter, music and song.

I dreamed I dwelt among the clouds on Mt. Olympus with gods who were forever young and beautiful.

At last there came a time when I awakened and did not feel sick, nor did the pain of my arm overwhelm me. I was offered water to drink rather than wine and a warm broth. I lay on the pallet and stared at the young novice who was caring for me.

Her dark hair was piled high on her head while tendrils draped over her long white neck. She was slightly older than me I figured, and she had lovely violet eyes with long black lashes, high cheekbones and a high forehead.

"Mistress says you are better," she laughed. "Are you?"

I recall looking about for the oracle.

As if she knew for whom I searched, the girl, whose name was Thalassa and who became in time one of my greatest friends during my life there, laughed as though she knew for whom I sought. "The Lady is below at the cove. It is low tide and the pilgrims are many."

I focused on the girl and mumbled my thanks. "Has she been here often?" I asked.

"Every day and every night when she has not been at the cove… she has been here. She set your arm and has checked it several times. She mixed the drugs for your sleep herself as though she did not wish to trust to others for fear of them being too strong.

I recall smiling and praying that I would be awake when next she came to my bedside so that I could properly thank her. I rather think I was a bit besotted with her. She was like some glorious vision that did not quite seem real to me at the time. She seemed touched by magic… and a conduit of the will of the gods.

Thalassa soaked some bits of bread in the broth and slowly fed them to me. "If you can keep this down, Mistress says we may try fruit or bits of meat tomorrow."

I have to admit, my stomach growled at the thought of solid food.

I was still awake when the hush of voices outside my room let me know that she had arrived. One of the priestesses held aside the linen that covered the door as the oracle bent to enter. Thalassa bowed and withdrew from my side to make way for the Lady herself.

That was the first time I got a really good look at her. Her hair, as I'd noticed before, was thick, heavy and black as it was with many of the women of Greece. But her eyes were green like the leaves of trees in the spring. Her tanned face was wide with high cheekbones and a low brow. Her nose turned upward slightly above a cupid's bow of a mouth with fine full lips. When she smiled, I could see strong even white teeth. Her voice was as it had been in my dream… low… sensuous and warm. It sounded rich as honey to my young ears and her touch on my brow was still cool.

"Your fever has broken at last," she said with a smile.

"He managed water and several sips of broth," Thalassa added from nearby, "As well as a few bites of bread soaked in the broth."

"Then he is on the mend. What shall we do with you?"

I recall bowing my head slightly and looking down. "I am your slave. I will do whatever is required." I still recalled how she'd bought me from Archelous.

She laughed. "Well… I gave him back his diamond. Ghastly thing! Too pretentious for us, here. Those who come for advice must give from the heart. Poseidon does not care for careless gifts."

"If you please, Lady," I said, my lip trembling. "Surely he will not die for beating me. It was his right. I was careless."

She sighed heavily as tears sparkled in her green eyes. "All men die. It is a gift that comes to the worthy. Never fear death… it is your friend." She smiled then. "And what should I call you?"

I gave her the name my master had called me. "That is a slave's name. No… we have no slaves here… only those who freely serve the will of the gods. I think I shall call you Nikos… which means victory."

She rose then to leave.

"Pardon, Lady," I dared. "What do I call you?"

"I am Danaë," she said towering over my form on the pallet, seemingly a creature of both light and shadow. "In this life… that is my name."

"This life?" I asked.

Her face grew very thoughtful. "I have lived many lives young Nikos. It is the burden of my fate. I sinned greatly in my youth, and now do the will of the gods to expiate my sin."

"What sin could you have done?"

"Ask me another day when you are older. Perhaps I shall tell you." She swept out of the room, and with her leaving, my world seemed darker.

I did not see her again for several days. Thalassa was usually there when I awoke and helped me with my convalescent needs and my feeding. Days passed and my strength, such as it was, began to return to me. The day finally came when I felt well enough to rise from the pallet and to venture forth out of my room.

I stood blinking in the bright afternoon sun as it beat down on the mountaintop. Around me were several small stone huts gathered around a portico of columns. To one side four novices prepared food in an open kitchen while elsewhere others were weaving or dying cloth. In the distance… I saw the line of pilgrims as they reached the top of the mountain. Most spread out on low stone walls to rest and eat. Others immediately crossed to the portico where they left their offerings and then joined the line of those waiting to descend the stone stairs.

Everywhere was singing and laughter. This was not a temple of awe and wonder… but the home of those who joyfully served the gods and by extension the pilgrims. What remains today on the mountain are the ruins of later years as the complex grew in status, and grandeur. But in those early days, it was a humble affair.

If pilgrims needed food, they were fed. If rains came… they were given shelter. The old and the crippled made the climb… even if offered the shorter way. It was a testament of faith and dedication to climb the mountain and wait patiently for the words of the oracle.

Unlike at Delphi where the wealthy went and offered great gifts for answers, here the poor came and offered their hearts and what they could afford. Whatever it was… was enough. I don't think Danaë ever concerned herself about the amount that was given… only that the hearts of the pilgrims were honest and true.

In my first days there, I learned how she had appeared. The islanders had seen her approach on the waters at the cove and believed she was one of the Naiads sent by Poseidon. At first she denied it… but as she spent time in the cove, gazing longingly at the ocean… the story spread… and soon people came asking of her the will of the gods.

Little by little the forms were set down by which people would climb the mountain and descend the steep cliff-face to ask their question. I think it was a way to stem the flow of the people. That way, she would never be overwhelmed by them. She saw them all… all who climbed the mountain. She stood in the waters of the cove every day and night at low tide and answered their questions. By the time they faced her… they'd thought long and hard about their question… and worded it carefully.

I think she listened to their hearts and told them what they needed to know. As for Archelous… I think she told him his greatest fear.

She had been there for centuries before I was born it was said. I didn't believe it then, of course. I just assumed she was a woman favored by the gods who was the latest in a long line of oracles. The concept of someone living for centuries never crossed my mind. Only the gods lived forever.