Lilith by Nikki Marmery

Author:Nikki Marmery
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-09-13T10:32:04+00:00

Oracles

From the hilltop of Shiloh, I walked on dusty paths and sandy by-ways. I joined the mountain highway that journeyed from Beersheba in the south to the ruins of Hazor in the north. Travellers walked in groups for safety. I fell in and out of these pedestrian caravans as their company sustained, or more frequently, bored me. I barely stopped for food, or to wash in the baths that lined the way.

At the Waters of Merom, I took the cedar-lined road to the coast. Iron-wheeled carts and fleet chariots flew by, spitting out stones that bit my calves, as they raced westward to the sea.

I arrived at Tyre in the middle of the sea-snail harvest, the source of the city’s famed purple dye and all its wealth. The stench of the creatures rotting in piles in the midday sun followed me everywhere. I was glad to take passage on a roundship heading west. As the oarsmen heaved us out of the harbour, I watched the land of my birth retreat, with all its injustices, insults and miseries; swallowed up by the calming waters of the Western Sea.

* * *

The Hellenes had not abandoned their goddesses. Their women still held counsel, issued prophecies and commanded respect; so that was where I sailed. I disembarked at rocky Krissa and walked the sun-bright, silent hills to the sanctuary at Delphi. There, I would consult the Pythia, who voiced the wisdom of Themis, daughter of the Great Mother Gaia, patron of justice and natural law.

Themis had chosen well. The sanctuary dwelt high in the mountains, surrounded by soaring peaks on all sides. I bathed in the Kastalian spring, refreshed and cleansed myself, and walked the passage of laurels to enter the shrine.

The Pythia sat on a high stool. Her gauzy robe rippled. It shot high above her head, carried by the intoxicating fumes rising from the cavern beneath her feet.

She laughed when she saw me, a croaking sound, hoarse and low.

‘Welcome, Daughter of Heaven! But do I pronounce you mortal or divine?’ Saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth.

I laid the ritual payment at her feet: a tri-cornered pie baked with cheese and herbs.

‘Why do you visit my temple, deathless one? What would you learn from the Lady of Good Counsel?’

‘I seek a prophet, Pythia. Where will I find her? How will I know her?’

She closed her eyes. Her body shuddered with violent convulsions. The twigs of oleander she grasped fluttered in her hand. A leaf spiralled into the smoking fissure in the rock floor.

When she spoke again, her voice was changed and terrible. Her breast heaved as if it were a great effort to speak. Her hair blew wild with the current of the fumes from below.

‘I count the grains of sand on the shore and measure the sea,’ she juddered. ‘I understand the speech of the dumb and hear the voiceless. A smell comes to me. Of fish drying; salt, preserving. In the shadow of a tower, you must wait.’

Had I not waited enough? ‘For how long?’ I demanded.

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