Caroline Dale Snedeker

“ It stood on a high ledge of the cliff, its four bronze steeds prancing with that lightness of poise just learned by Greek craftsmen. In the car stood the naked chariot victor and just behind him the charioteer holding the reins, his living eyes watchful of his steeds.
But to Theria it seemed that he was driving them over the ledge, was driving them into the sheer abyss and that he did not care.
Would the gods so drive her Delphi to destruction? Would Atè (doomed Fate) tread Delphi down? Whose feet are delicate because she steps upon the heads of men, and on whom she steps she bows to the dust. ”

“ For a week Theria kept away from her storeroom and its beloved window. Cruel, that the impudent stranger should deprive her of her refuge. The storeroom was her place of intimate solitude. It was saturated with her thought, her dreams, her songs. The little window and the lonely street—all were hers.
But after a time her fears lessened. Surely the youth would not keep coming all this while, or if he did, she had only to tell her father. Nikander would punish him thoroughly. Yes, and perhaps his daughter also for being at the window at all. Oh, but the youth must have forgotten. ”

“ A fearful thing that tripod. It stood in a dark cavern, and the breath of the god rushed up from a gulf below and filled her who was set there. How would it feel—that breath upon her? What would it do to her, that ghostly thing? She shook her shoulders as if to free them of a load.
Oh, dear Paian, what if it did harm her? That was nothing, nothing! Could she win the good message? Could she by prayers, importunity, and ritual-supplication win from the god the better fate for Greece? Apollo had already given forth the terror and warning. Could she push that evil back as with her two hands? ”

“ Theria waited impatiently while he brought in skirtful after skirtful of stones. Then she began to make her village, a stone for each well-known house, a line of little stones to show the road which passed their own door and ran windingly along the mountain slope. Theria set her miniature precinct in the sunny part of the court. To her the sunlight always and inevitably rested on that temple place where fane after fane and shrine after shrine mounted the hillside up to the matchless Apollo temple itself, set like a jewel of red and peacock-blue and gold against the shining cliffs. ”

“ She turned swiftly into the little lane and threaded its shadows to the cliff. A steep climb brought her to a height above the house-roofs. Here at once she was in the wilds, on a slant hillside where grew laurel, wild olive, and the hemlock. Here the twilight was silvered by the rising moon, the same full round under which the Thermopylæ soldiers were keeping their heroic guard.
Here the laurels were threaded by a slender path, surely the one made by Eëtíon’s feet coming to her. She knelt down and kissed it. The Greeks were lovers of the earth and not seldom did they kiss it for their love. ”

“ At last one bright spring morning Eëtíon and Theria, hand in hand, and the little band of colonists following them, started down the hill road toward Kirrha. Melantho could not bring herself to go to the port, could not bear to see her daughter actually lose herself upon the sea. But Nikander walked wordless beside his daughter.
Here was Theria’s first viewing of the sea, a small stretch of intense blue far on the horizon between the hills. In the journey down from Delphi the dreamy hills unfold and stand aside in delicate succession until all the violet Gulf of Corinth is open to the view. ”

“ Now the hour of the oracle was come. Dreamily Theria was conscious of being led into the temple. Knew that her hair was hanging loose, the sacred veil and crown upon her head. Ah, the dear, dear temple! There were the splendid golden eagles, the navel stone, first of Delphi’s treasures, Pindar’s chair which she had kissed. And over yonder the Athenian consultants waiting with awed faces. Oh, the god would help them. ”

“ A child set free in fairyland? Oh, Theria was more than that. A soul set in heaven, if ever heaven came down to earth; and, in sooth, it sometimes does. Theria’s soul leaped up from its depths. Suddenly she could not see for the tears which filled her eyes. She brushed them away impatiently. She must not waste one moment of her seeing.
Right at hand stood the Athenian Gift after Marathon—statues of Athenian gods and heroes standing so friendly, mortal with immortal together in their portico.
“Ah, Athena, thou art dreaming of thine own hill in Athens,” she cried, moving closer. ”

“ Theria climbed dreamily higher up the Way, passing now the threshing-floor where Dryas had enacted the play. Memories, stories, faiths—all these swam together in her mind until she dreamed herself away and became part of the poesy about her.
Now the Sacred Way made its last steep turn. From here the whole Delphic Vale burst into view. The Way here ran upward and clung against the wall-like foundation of the Great Temple, but on its outer side was a veritable Olympos, full of gods and godlike men, statues which would remake art if we could but see them now. ”

“ The full moon of the festival made the street as bright [15] as day and the torches of the procession twinkled like jewels in the white light. Pindar walked in the procession chanting a strophe in Dryas’s honour. A chorus of youths followed singing the antistrophe, and behind these a boy played the cymbals upon which the glitter of sound met the lovely glitter of the moonlight.
Leaning out of the window, Theria suddenly exulted. “It is my song Pindar is praising. All those words are for me and it is Pindar, Pindar!” ”

“ It was so steep that no buildings could cling. It was given over to wild olives and laurel trees with gnarled roots, and to huge rocks, the gift of earthquakes from the cliffs above. Theria pushed doggedly down through it, tearing her hands, bruising her feet. At last, after a special tumble, she kirtled up her long chiton, pulling it up through her belt, took off her himation and formed it into a long roll which she tied about her waist. She was amazed at the ease this gave her. No wonder the Goddess Artemis could leap after the stag in this her special costume. ”

“ Nikander, Lycophron, Dryas, Eëtíon—all the men of Delphi—saw one day the file of bronze-clad soldiers coming up the Delphi road, led by the twinkling flame of their sacred fire. They came with set faces under their helmets, their new polished shields glancing in the sun.
They paused only to do honour to Apollo, then moved onward up the Parnassian road. Three hundred men and a few timid allies to meet a million Persians at the narrow pass! ”

“ Theria, that is not true!”
“Yes, I am to pray for a good oracle from the god. Oh, Eëtíon, I feel now that it may be granted me.”
“But you! Great Hermes, you cannot be Pythia. Your father will not allow that!”
“But Father commands it. He says it is the only hope of saving the Athenians. I must do it!”
“Theria, no, no!” he said wildly. The horror of the thing broke over him and the horror of her being torn from him, for ever beyond his reach. “What a frightful mistake. Nikander should know better. You are not fit for a Pythia. The tripod will kill you. It will destroy your mind. ”

“ If the stream of Castaly had indeed fallen on Theria’s head she could hardly have been more shocked. She stood in the middle of the room angered into tears, hurt, strangely frightened. How dared the man return her kindness in this fashion? When a man wanted a friend he took a man, creature of his own mental stature, not a girl.
Well did Theria know that love-making was disgraceful and not for high-born maids. Pure girls dreamed of marriage, of course, but not of love. Theria had dreamed of neither. She picked up the scattered ferns and tossed them out of the window. ”

“ Apollo always arrived at Delphi on his birthday the seventh of Busious. Then the whole Precinct and the town awoke to greet him with song and festival. In Nikander’s house slaves ran to and fro on busy errands; for of a surety guests would be coming from the ends of the earth. The purples and the woven curtains came forth from Theria’s familiar storeroom, and all the house glowed with the patterns and pictures of tapestries. What joy to the little girl that busyness and commotion. ”

“ GATHERING THE THREADS Nikander had spoken of the Medes but in a voice so low that none but Theria heard.
Theria, Nikander knew, would not give way to fear. However, she did give way to curiosity. She questioned Medon, but Medon would tell her nothing. “Your father has forbidden us, Missy,” was his word. She plied Olen with questions, but Olen backed away from them with a skill which slaves acquire. As for Baltè, she could only say:
“Oh, darling, it is tribes and tribes of men, all the men in the world coming against our Greece. And the king at their head is a god. ”

“ Theria pushed forward eagerly to behold it—a lovely living thing, leaping, running, singing, between its banks. It was the same little stream she had seen falling down Castaly’s gorge, here set free on the hillside. Who has not been touched by the immortal force of moving water? Surely Theria [104] was touched by it. She knelt by the stream, stooped her dark head low, her breast among the fern, and drank. The ineffable fragrance of the waterfall met her—a fragrance new to Theria.
Did not the gods breathe fragrance such as this? Ha, the nymph Castalia—her veritable presence! ”

“ The flute player began a slow Dorian melody. The priest brought a great silver bowl of water and, lighting a new torch at the altar flame, plunged it hissing into the bowl. With the water thus sanctified, he sprinkled the worshippers. Then lifting the bowl high with the swift gesture of long custom, he dashed the water full upon the goat. It shivered in all its limbs!
Good omens, good omens all. Theria’s confidence soared upward with her simple faith.
When the goat was sacrificed, Theria was sure that its outgoing life was mounting invisibly to please the Son of Leto. ”

“ The Pythia in her own voice, in ecstasy upon the tripod, warned them out of the shrine. ‘Quit Athens,’ was her cry. ‘Flee afar; fire and sword shall come upon your city—and not yours only, but many cities. My temple sweats blood; get ye away from my holy place; and steep your souls in sorrow.’”
“Father, how dreadful; horrible!”
“The priests, of course, are horror-struck. But they are triumphant, too. They have prevailed over me. The Athenians! Theria, the Athenians dare not go home with that message. We have told them, Timon and I, not to go home with it. ”

“ The Greeks climbed the shore talking eagerly, laughing, looking about them as only new emigrants look, with hope of future generations in their eyes.
Karamanor and Agis, as priests of Apollo, builded an altar, scattered barley and poured wine, lighting the fire with the sacred flames which they had brought from Delphi and had carefully guarded all the voyage through. But this done, Theria made them hide their fire for fear of being seen. Their foe, alas, was no Sicilian, but the Greek town Catana which flourished farther up the coast. ”

“ Your hand is cold as ice.”
“Of course it is, foolish boy, do you suppose other men are made of wood and only you feel what must be hid?”
“Oh, Eëtíon, forgive—forgive me,” pleaded the emotional Dryas.
“This inaction now, this waiting,” said Eëtíon soberly, “is the hardest part of the battle. I have not been in battles myself, but old soldiers tell me so. Think, Dryas, you have father, mother, sister to protect. I have no one I can call my own—and no city.”
“Father would give you Theria,” whispered Dryas, “if he could get her free. And oh, Eëtíon, I know he feels that Delphi is your city. ”

“ Theria spun with her fingers. “When there is so much, oh, so much in the world.”
“But do women feel that way?” he asked. “They always seem contented in the house.”
“Would you be content?”
“By the gods, no.”
“But are we not like you, we girls? We are strong—we like to run and breathe the air. Look at my arm, how ugly white. It has never seen the sun.” She flashed out her fair arm—free of its drapery.
“That is not ugly,” said the boy gently.
“It is! It is! White as a Persian’s!”
“No, it is Greek,” maintained the boy. ”

“ Thus Eros brushed his wings across Theria’s fancy and flew away. No business of his was this. But youth was here—fearful impressibility: A breath, and youth is changed.
Who shall say that when in after years this boy sang of a woman and gave her a new type of nobleness the image of this proud sweet maid of Delphi did not float before him and make his creation real?
And as for Theria, the encounter was a peep outward into the world. From this time she became more aware of the hurry of development outside in the awakening land of Greece. ”

“ Eëtíon blushed like a boy. “In the new city,” he pleaded, “surely my fault will be overlooked.”
“As leader in the new city,” responded Nikander, “you should set an example to all.”
“Isn’t that rather an undertaking, Nikander?” sighed the rueful artist.
But Theria took Eëtíon’s brown, skilful hand in hers.
“Nay, Father,” she said defensively. “Deny him not. He is a born sculptor, his gift is from the gods. We cannot stop it. As for me, I have been inquiring among the colonists. I have found several bronze workers, and workers of marble. These shall be Eëtíon’s helpers.” ”

“ You know perfectly well that the Pythia is a girl of empty mind. The mind must be vacant for the god to speak through it. She is but the mouthpiece of the god. Besides all this, she writhes in agony when the oracle comes upon her. Sometimes it kills her.”
“I wouldn’t mind if it killed me, just so I were Pythia,” Theria urged solemnly. “Just so I could speak for the god.”
“Well, you’re not going to be Pythia, my child. This whole question is nonsense. It grows out of nothing but your eternal desire to be doing something.”
Nikander was right. ”

“ Nikander bowed his head. Knowing what he knew of Theria’s sacrilege, he fully believed this state to be a doom from Phœbus himself. He believed that she would die. And when he lifted his head, trying to speak, Eëtíon’s anger melted before the anguish in his face.
Nikander as a worshipper of Apollo had recognized at once the mantic ecstasy. He knew also the accepted means of breaking the ecstatic state. He had Baltè bathe Theria in warm water and gently rub her body. He himself brought his lyre and sitting at the bedside played strong, clear music in the Doric mode. ”

“ Then she must give her oracle as best she might not knowing the question—trusting that it must in some way concern the fate of Greece.
She would pray for that storm which was to help the Athenian ships. Baltè’s word showed her the way.
Theria might doubt the voice of her Golden God, she might almost doubt the existence of Apollo. But the things of Nature—the sea, the mountains, the winds—these she could see or feel. These to her were persons, clear-imaged, well known, and having much power. They were gods nearer to men in whom all men must believe. To these Theria still could pray. ”

“ We will enter the Precinct as supplicants—you and I. The Athenians also as supplicants. Supplication may win the god.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, gazing deeply into her eyes. But his mind was far away, wrapt in the purpose for his state.
“Theria, the honour of the Oracle, the very saving of Athens and of all Hellas are in your hands. Pray, pray!”
At the door he paused again with bent head. “You will have your wish now to stay a virgin. And you can never come home again.”
She was alone. It is in such moments that one grows old. Maturity is not of years but of such experience. ”

“ Its central life was the god, the god of light and of enlightenment, of beauty and judicial fairness. Apollo was its source of happiness and its livelihood as well. He moulded the daily life. The focus of all Delphi was the shrine where, from a windy cleft beneath the temple, Apollo spoke, answering the wistful questions of men.
And of such an idealizing force it is true, that while it affects the community as a whole, it gives to certain individuals a heaped-up gift. Such a gift was upon this child, peculiar to her in Nikander’s house. ”