Oracle
Photo Credit: Hans S (Flickr.com)
The general was nervous. He knew that his duty, as a good Roman, was to consult oracles before battle. He knew that he needed the gods on his side.
But as the old man tore apart the sheep’s bladder to look inside it, the general found himself starting to wonder why the gods couldn’t be a little more direct.
“Fortune favors you,” said the old man after a moment. “A shining path lies ahead. You will take it, and lead the legions to a great conquest for Rome.”
“I find that a little hard to believe,” the general said. “My forces are only half those of my opponent. I expect that we will resist them, but to move on to conquest? That seems a bit presumptuous.”
“That is your oracle,” the old man said. “The gods have chosen you.”
The general rolled his eyes. “The gods are fickle, then,” he said. “On my last three battles, they have chosen the other side, despite their good intentions.”
The old man raised an eyebrow. “A doubter?” he asked. “You doubt the word of the gods?”
“I doubt the ability to discern their word in such a manner, yes,” said the general. “I do this for my men, so the believe that the gods are on their side. I, myself, am not so certain.”
The old man laughed. “Then you understand the gods better than most,” he said. “Do you understand why the gods are fickle?”
“I would love to know,” said the general.
“Because you do not believe,” said the old man. “Not that belief makes much difference in terms of the gods. Oh, I wonder sometimes if they are even there. No, because belief makes a difference in your own actions.”
“That seems like nonsense,” said the general. “Whether I believe or not, my actions will be the same.”
“But will they?” asked the old man. “If you believe that you are fated for victory, you will take bolder chances, place the lives of your men on the line more carelessly, because you will believe that they are fated to prevail against the odds.”
“You’re saying that my belief makes me a madman, then, and I am inclined to agree,” said the general. “I would much rather save the lives of my men than be a reckless fool.”
“But you miss the subtlety of all of this,” said the old man. “For if you were this reckless fool, as you say, your victories would be more assured, your troops’ morale higher, your legions’ dominance more powerful. Your men would be galvanized under the illusion that they were the chosen forces of the gods. And every victory would make them more and more certain of that fact.”
“Until their false confidence brought them down,” said the general. “I have seen that happen before, and I would not wish it on my men.”
The old man shook his head. “You think that their confidence was ever truly in the gods! Feh!” he spat. “It was in their general, the one who was favored, and who was wise, and who suddenly, began to believe the lie, began to throw their lives away carelessly. You should know better than that. You are clearly wise enough to question.”
The general was intrigued by this. “So you say that I should believe the lie for the sake of my men, but retain my doubts privately in times of great confidence,” he said. “And if I somehow can keep this double-minded way, I will be victorious in all that I do.”
“Precisely,” said the old man.
The general sighed. “You ask far too much of a man heading into battle,” he said, and turned and left.
The old man shrugged, and got back to his meditations. Let the man believe what he wanted. The message was still the same.
Fiction, Writing Scraps | SeanJJordan | 
January 17, 2010 12:44 am
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