"Very well, insolent man. You are the murderer."

Oedipus, already furious, was taken aback. "You dare accuse me? You who claim to know the name of this land's bane, yet would refuse to tell? I know you plotted against Laius, and now I can surmise with whom you conspired. Are you in Creon's employ, vile traitor?"

"I serve only Apollo. You are the only villain here."

"Silence, blind whelp."

"Blind am I? You have eyes, yet do not see."

"Enough of your riddles. Leave me, scoundrel."

"Enough? Who is more skilled with riddles than you? What makes you strong will destroy you." He turned to the crowd. "I speak to you now, citizens of Thebes. The wretch who murdered Laius--that man is here. He passes for an alien in the land but soon shall prove a Theban, native born. And yet his fortune brings him little joy; for blind of seeing, clad in beggar's weeds for purple robes, and leaning on his staff, to a strange land he soon shall grope his way. And of the children, inmates of his home, he shall be proved the brother and the sire, of her who bare him son and husband both, co-partner, and assassin of his sire. Go in and ponder this, and if thou find that I have missed the mark, henceforth declare I have no wit nor skill in prophecy."

Oedipus retired to the palace, and spoke with his wife Jocasta. "Your brother, the vile Creon, moves against me!" he cried.

"How, dear husband? What has occurred between you?"

"He has accused me of murdering Laius."

"Does he claim to know this himself, or merely to have been told by another?"

"Neither. He's too cunning to accuse me directly. Rather, he arranged to have a charlatan of a seer do the deed for him."

At this, Jocasta only laughed. "A seer? I'd not worry about a seer. Sit, and I will tell you a tale that will prove the worthlessness of prophecies." Oedipus did so, and Jocasta continued. "An oracle once came to Laius, and told him that he meet his end at the hands of his own son, to be born of my womb. And yet, as you well know, Laius was murdered by highwaymen, long ago, at a spot where three roads meet. As for the child, its ankles were pinned together, and we gave it to a shepherd to abandon on a mountainside. Apollo did not see fit to enact his prophecy. So, my good husband, I beg you not to worry yourself with the ravings of seers. Rather, cease your search, and accept that the gods will make apparent what they wish, with or without your aid.