The Perilous Seat

by Caroline Dale Snedeker

And because the little maid would not go without Theria, Theria came also. So they two sat, Theria and Tuchè, on either side the couch.

Little do the young consider thoughts of the old. Theria did not guess that Tuchè hated her because Aristonikè loved. The little Pythia was Tuchè’s nurseling and Tuchè was cut to the heart to have her turn to another in her last hours.

But Theria, holding the hot little hand, had thoughts afar off. Her soul was in bitterness because she had again deceived her god. That was yesterday and she was yet weak from the ordeal. She wondered if Eëtíon would cease to love her if he knew what she had done. Certainly her father would not love her, nor would any of her kin.

Far below lay the sheer abyss of Pleistos valley. Nearer at hand Delphi itself nestled into the gigantic half circle at the mountains’ base. Precinct and town seemed floating in a violet mist. For the day was nearly done.

But this was the hour of the Phaidriades, the glory of the cliffs. Theria turned and looked above to where they stood facing the west. The setting sun poured his light direct upon these high embattling walls turning them to gold, to beryl, to amethyst. They gave forth light again as with a shout, a clashing of golden cymbals, and a prayer. They hushed the spirit of the gazing priestess.

As the reflected light retired upward with the sinking of the sun one spot on the cliff held the glitter. It was the famous votive chariot of Gelon, a chariot of polished bronze.

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.