The Perilous Seat by Caroline Dale Snedeker - HTML preview

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CHAPTER XL
 
AGAIN HOME

On leaving the Council, Nikander did what no other father in Hellas would have done: He went first to release his daughter before bringing the good news to his son.

He could not bear that Theria should learn her freedom from any but himself. Old Akeretos went with him to confirm his authority in the Pythia House. To tell the truth, they ascended the Precinct with no little trepidation.

If you had asked who ruled the priests in Delphi not one would have answered: “The old peasant woman Tuchè.” Yet such was the case. Tuchè had a tongue of fire. Akeretos knocked faintly, and the authoritative one herself appeared.

But she told the news quite otherwise than they had expected.

“Theria? No Pythoness, ye say? An’ did it take all ye men in day-long council to find that out? I knew it from the first. She’s no Pythia, no, not if she gave the best oracles ever. Take her away, do—before she puts notions into the heads of the two new ones, good as gold.”

Nikander did not wait for the finish. He ran past Tuchè to Theria’s room.

Theria sat there on her couch staring at nothing in the same melancholy apathy which before had so troubled the temple women. She did not rouse until her father stood quite before her. Then up went her longing hands.

“Father, Father,” she whispered amazedly.

But Nikander in his delight threw both arms about her.

“You are free, my own darling Theria, you are free,” he said. “The Council has freed you.”

But he should have been more careful with his news.

“No,” she said wildly. “Oh, I have to stay here. Here all my life—all my life.”

“Not one further minute,” he asserted. “Dear child, I have come to take you home.”

At this dear telling she burst into uncontrollable weeping. “Tuchè will not let me,” she kept saying like a frightened child. “No, she will not let me.”

“By the gods she will. Theria, quiet yourself. There, dear little one, Father will care for you now.”

He was like a tender nurse comforting her. He called the temple slave.

“Get this Pythia robe off my daughter at once,” he commanded. “Where is the white robe in which she came?”

He himself helped to fasten the shoulder pins, unheard-of service for a father. Often he kissed her when her tears ran down afresh. By his excitement he made it the harder for her to grow calm. Then he threw the himation over her head and face and hurried her out.

They reached home after a happy walk hand in hand. The open air was always tonic to Theria. She was her bright self again when they had reached the threshold. Melantho and Eëtíon were tending Dryas in the aula.

With a cry Eëtíon leaped up, knowing the beloved figure before her face was revealed. Melantho ran to her. Dryas reached out arms from his couch, calling, “Sister, Sister,” and the slaves came hurrying from everywhere.

Nikander had to explain a hundred questions how she came to be really free.

Dryas kept her hand affectionately.

“Now home will be home,” he said. “It has never been the same since you went away.”

“Dear Theria,” laughed Nikander, “even the fish have tasted wrong. I did not know you directed the cooking of the fish.”

Then he turned to Dryas.

“Dryas,” he questioned, “have they told you the news?”

“What news?”

Then all the joyfulness was to be gone through again as Nikander told of Dryas’s election to the priesthood and his crowning.

Nikander, being by nature courageous, was never quite to realize the struggle Dryas had had to win such a crown. But fine deeds he did know, and felt new kinship with his son and all the old love and pride. As the two were talking together, Eëtíon softly drew Theria aside.

How strong and heavenly the joy in his face as he kissed her. Theria had never known how godlike Eëtíon was until now, his eyes so shining upon her and so full of awe. What was this strange love which had come to her from the gods, a thing so unheard-of for a mere Greek girl? Their very silence together seemed holy, difficult to break.

“Oh, do you think that Father will allow——” she began; and then, realizing what she was about to ask, she blushed and hushed her speech.

“Allow us what, dear Theria?”

He lifted her hands in both of his, hardly listening to her words. And before he could answer Melantho broke in upon them.

“Great Heavens! Theria, what are you doing? What am I doing to let you stay here? Come back to our aula at once.”

Theria was too happy to be disobedient. She took her mother’s hand and went back with her to the women’s apartment where the door was quickly shut.