“Forethoughtful One,” he faltered, “hast thou come to punish or to save?”
What did the man mean? The “Forethoughtful One” could be none other than Athena herself. Theria laughed outright.
“Surely you do not think I am the goddess?” she queried.
The mistake was not unnatural—Theria, slender amid the slender trees, the light behind her, and all in the Athena Precinct. However, the man looked a little ashamed.
“Forgive me, Despoina, my lady. I am beside myself, I—you startled me.” He was still wondering at her. “You are a priestess?”
“You can see I am not,” she answered, businesslike. “You are ill. I thought I might help you.”
Again he wondered at her. Then his face changed back to its misery.
“I am not ill, Despoina, not bodily ill. My courage is gone! The gods know how I shall ever pick it up again.”
“What took your courage?”