He pointed out the black stretch of distant road and she knew by the horror in his face what it meant. Eëtíon was not a natural soldier. Only training and Hellas-love had made him such. But now with Theria beside him, the horror in his face changed to iron resolve. Theria hardly recognized him as he turned toward her. “Theria, there is no chance for Delphi now,” he whispered. “Your father has told me of your hiding place. I shall keep as near to it as I may, but the gods only know whither the battle will thrust me. If I escape, I’ll come to you. I’ll speak outside a pass-word, ‘_Hera basileia_,’ because Hera is my goddess at home.” “Yes,” she whispered, clinging to his hand, “but add ‘_Paian will care for his own_.’” He could not but catch the hope which lived with her, the peace which her vision had left upon her. He bent and kissed her, almost believing that they should both be saved. Only Dryas saw him do it, Dryas, whom Eëtíon had forgotten in this moment of snatched joy, Dryas, whose struggle had now grown so intense that it seemed every moment he must break away. The hills were still there to hide in, so near, so possible a refuge. Was it worth while standing there to be slaughtered? This was no battling for Delphi. It was foolishness. They were all of them fools—fools—fools! Now Nikander came to him. “Son,” he said reassuringly, “I am thankful you are here.” Dryas did not answer, for at this moment a low exclamation broke from all the little group at once. The Persians had emerged on the lower road! Now could be caught the moving colour of their garments, flashes of bronze, as shields glanced the light, and now a moving bulk of shivering glitter as a host of upright spears advanced. Nearer, nearer! Well seen now at the foot of Delphi’s own cliffs, well seen at the foot of Phaidriades, well seen below in the Precinct of Athena Forethought in Delphi village! Pointed caps, huge wicker shields, tall lances, these were the Medes themselves. Behind them, a curious barbarian folk in hooded mantles, and oh, dear Paian, what are these? Men black as ebony, clad in skins of leopard and lion, carrying bows twice as tall as themselves. Some have woolly heads, others have heads not human at all but horse heads, with upright ears and flowing manes. Behind these come tribes and tribes and tribes, greedy, pitiless, devouring. Look far up the mountain road! Every visible loop is filled back to where it is lost in distance. Oh, Apollon, surely you have forgotten! Son of Leto, you are far off this day, joying among your Olympians. Our Delphi is naught to you! * * * * * What happened now can hardly be believed, but it is recorded by the father of history and later writers bear testimony to it. This had happened time and time again in the past to the hurt of Delphi, why not happen this once to her help? Herodotus says it did happen.