What Dryas reported was true. The Delphians were deserting their town, whether from great faith or great fear, who could say? Their temple guard could not be called an army. It seemed as vain to wait for the Persian as to wait for the onsweep of a flood at the breaking of a dam. The dam had broken at Thermopylæ and the flood was coming.
Men sent their wives and children across the gulf to Corinth and thence to Achaia, and when there were no more boats others sent them to Amphissa in Locris. The men of Delphi hurried up into Mount Parnassos, to the Korykian cave and to other fastnesses known only to themselves.
Only about sixty people were left in Delphi and of course the armed temple guard.
Nikander sought out Melantho.
“Dear wife,” he said, “I have chartered a little boat to take you and your own special slaves to Corinth. It will be a long journey for you, but do not be afraid. You will be safe in Achaia.”
“And Theria?” she asked.
“Would God I could send her!” said Nikander brokenly. “But she is too ill to be moved. She is weaker than ever since that terrible experience with the priests. Even were she strong enough, the priests would not allow her to go. The Pythia is not allowed to go away.”
He looked up, wondering at Melantho’s silence. Melantho was a timid creature and the most submissive wife in the world.
“Am I like the kegs of cheese that they carry up to the cave?” she asked huskily.
“Kegs of cheese!” asked Nikander blankly.