“Well, do you know, that is truth—almost. Xerxes has dug a canal across the peninsula of Athos, behind the stormy mountain, to give safer passage to his ships, and he has built an enormous bridge across the Hellespont for his tribes to walk over. They were nine days and nights passing over the thing, a constant stream. It seems foolish for him to transport so many men to Greece. He could conquer our little states with a fifth of that number.”
“Do you mean he brings too many?” queried Theria keenly.
“Gods, no! The great king knows what he is about. He’s an enemy to be reckoned with! I don’t say we should throw up our hands and Medise all at once. But surely we should treat with him before we try to fight him. Why should we go out with a handful of men and ships to be butchered? Schutt!” he snapped his fingers scornfully. “That Tempè business! Do you know about Tempè?”
“No,” breathlessly.
“Well, they started out—the Athenians and the Spartans together and—— Now, Sis, you may as well know that the Persians are coming really against Athens and Sparta. Them only. None of the rest of us are in this fight at all. And I say there’s no need of our throwing ourselves into it like geese. Well, they start out, these Athenians and Spartans, and go to the Vale of Tempè where they say there is a pass where they can keep the Persians from coming through. And when they get there they find two passes into Greece instead of one pass to defend. So back they come like whipped curs. I can hear the Persian king roar with laughter when he hears of it. This was last week. The news of their fizzle is all over Hellas. It’s taken the heart out of everyone. You’ve seen a hare sitting with ears up ready to run. That’s the way we are!”
“Oh,” breathed Theria. She was leaning forward, drinking the news. “That is what ails Father. That Tempè failure. Not that he is scared,” she corrected herself. “But so troubled, so deeply troubled.”
“Yes, he’s troubled. The difficulty with Father is, he is trying to butt into a stone wall. I suppose he’ll see after a while, the old dear!”
“Don’t call him that, Lycophron. Father isn’t old. What do you mean by butting a wall?”
Lycophron stretched out his hands, yawning: “Oh, Sis, you want to know the history of the Oracle since the time of Gaia,” he said. Then suddenly a shrewd, purposeful look came into his eyes.
“Look here, puss. If I tell you about it will you try to help Father? Father’s going against the Oracle. The Pythia says one thing but Father thinks another.”