Ships, ships—see—see!”
Oh, how fatally clear she remembered all her father’s words. All that he had told her of the Athenian policy.
“Sails, galleys of the glancing sails. To Salamis,
Ye Athenians. Fight at Salamis.
Oh, more ships. Strange, strange ships—locked in the land.
Down—down—down!”
She was keen as a hawk. She saw her father start with horror. He was remembering his inadvertent talk with her. She must not be too exact, she must not let him suspect what she was doing. She began to mumble. Baltè’s nonsense rhymes would do while she was gathering thought. Her message must not be too hopeful. Now she had it!
She broke forth into hexameter verse. Once in a long while the Pythia did this and it was considered more exact. The priests could not remake it.
“Pallas cannot prevail to appease great Zeus in Olympos,