“A party of Phokian peasants,” said Timon, “came into town this morning, fleeing from the Persians. Their tidings are horrible. The armies have overrun all the land of Phokis. They are killing men, outraging women, burning towns. Drymos is burned. Charadra, Amphikaia, Neon, Elateia, and many more. They have burnt the temple of Apollo at Abai. Do you not think, Nikander, that that may mean perhaps that they are headed the other way toward Athens and will pass us by?” For Abai was on the eastern road. “I do not,” said Nikander. “If they burnt the god’s temple at Abai, they will not spare his temple at Delphi. The Persian prisoners are telling that Xerxes the king knows more exactly what is treasured in our temples than he knows the treasures in his own palace. He will not spare Delphi.” “I have sent my wife, daughters, and slaves to Achaia,” said Timon. “If I am killed and you spared, Nikander, you will send them word?” Something in Nikander’s face stopped him. “I am sorry,” he added, “that you may not send Theria away. No priest would allow it. The Oracle without a pythia at such a time as this!” “My wife is staying, too,” replied Nikander, not without pride. “Then I advise you to bring all up within the Precinct walls as soon as possible,” urged his kinsman. CHAPTER XXXVI REFUGE IN THE PRECINCT In Delphi, where all was danger, the Precinct was perhaps the most dangerous place, yet Nikander with his faith did not think this, nor would any other Greek think it. He hurried home and sought Melantho. “We must go up to the Precinct at once,” he said. “Make ready as soon as you can.” In an hour’s time they were all gathered with the slaves in the men’s aula. Bundles of clothes and little treasures were in their hands. Some of the slaves were weeping, but the family stood in that awed silence which precedes departure. Theria seemed even yet but distantly touched by the world’s alarms. The calm of the vision mood was still upon her. Nikander believed that she would never wholly recede from this but would always retain that serenity of mind which marks one who has beheld a god. Eëtíon came in asking for Dryas, but, seeing Theria there in her cloak, of course forgot all else. Theria was shy, but Eëtíon took her in his arms quite frankly and kissed her. Nikander looked upon them with an aching heart, thinking how many a hedge shut out happiness from these two. Meanwhile, Dryas was pacing nervously to and fro under the balcony. Nikander averted his eyes. He could not bear that his son should be in the pangs of personal fear. But Eëtíon went directly to Dryas. “Dryas,” he said, “would it not be well for you to take a last survey of all the rooms to see that nothing is left? Do it quickly, for all is ready.” Dryas hurried off with just the sense of relief which Eëtíon had meant to afford him. And as Eëtíon once more stood at Theria’s side, Nikander said to him: