Alex and the Oracle
Alex, Aristotle and a bleating goat stood in line outside the Temple of Apollo.
‘Intolerable!’ Alex complained. ‘We’re expected to line up with every shepherd, merchant and ruffian as though we’re one of them. I mean, look at these people! No armour. No weapons. Savages. The sooner my father can conquer this sorry state of Athens, the better.’
‘Everyone is equal in the eyes of the gods,’ Aristotle reminded his student, patiently. The old man bent down and petted the small goat, trying to calm it. It was as though the goat knew the fate that awaited it inside the temple.
They shuffled forwards in line. The midday sun beat down upon them and the soft mountain-top breeze whipped up the dust around their sandal-clad feet. The Temple of Apollo sat high up in the mountains, and lush groves and brilliant blue skies stretched as far as Alex could see. Like most temples, a steady swarm of beggars and traders milled about outside, preying on the tourists and pilgrims who waited in line. Dozens of Athenian guards, with their distinctive red cloaks and golden helmets, kept a watchful eye on the crowds. Alex flinched as an old lady
