“I know,” I whispered. My goddess had found me. I wondered if this meant that someday she’d bring me luck enough to see even one of the world’s marvels.
Once we were ashore, it didn’t take long for our escort of Spartan guardsmen to attract the attention of one of Apollo’s priests. The sun god’s shrine kept several of them on daily watch down by the waterside solely to deal with the arrival of unexpected, important guests. The man who hurried forward to place himself in our service was overjoyed to learn that Delphi was about to be honored by a visit from the royal house of Sparta. He wasn’t much older than my brothers, fresh-faced, and struggling gamely to grow a beard that was only coming out in tufts and patches. He took a slender branch of sweet-scented laurel leaves from his belt and used it to direct the three temple servants attending him. One wave of that branch and our travel chests were hoisted onto their backs, one word of command and they were heading up the road to Apollo’s shrine.
“Lady Helen?” Milo spoke my name timidly as we fell into line behind the priest’s entourage. Even though his health and appearance had improved miraculously the instant he’d stepped onto dry land, now his large eyes were filled with distress. “There’s nothing left for me to carry.” He pointed at the servants’ slowly retreating backs.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “You wouldn’t have been able to lift those things anyway.”
He stared at me as if I’d slapped his face. I was only telling the truth. He was too small and skinny to budge a packed wooden chest, besides which he was drained by his recent unfortunate voyage. I never meant to hurt his feelings.
“I’m not useless!” he protested. “There has to be something I can do to serve you!” He looked all around him desperately at every step we took and finally dashed into the trees along the roadside. He emerged proudly carrying a newly broken branch of pine needles. He waved it diligently back and forth near my head as we trudged along. It stirred up a nice little breeze, kept off the flies, and made him happy.
To reach Delphi, all roads led up, up, up. The sun god’s shrine was set high amid looming crags and deep fissures in the earth, and as steep and sun-baked as the road was, it was thick with pilgrims. Some had come to Delphi the same way we had, by water, but others were so covered with dust that it was obvious they’d come solely by land.
Our priestly guide kept up a pleasant, nonstop stream of chatter all the way from the seaside to the gates of Apollo’s temple, though most of it was directed at my brothers.
“Noble princes, surely Apollo himself brought you to us,” he said. “This place calls out to heroes. It was here, in the depths of a lightless cavern, that the young sun god performed his first and best heroic feat, killing Python, a hideous, man-eating monster. That’s why his chosen priestess here, his all-knowing oracle, is always known as the Pythia, to commemorate Apollo’s greatest foe.”
“How soon will we be able to see her?” Castor asked.
The priest rubbed his hands together. “Oh, soon, soon! I’m certain she’ll have wonderful things to tell you about the splendid futures awaiting you when you rule Sparta someday.”
Castor stopped dead in his tracks. “May the gods forbid it!”
Polydeuces spoke more quietly, but with just as much heat. “What sort of oracle doesn’t know that our sister is the heir of Sparta? If you think ill-wishing her will make us favor you, you’re a jackass.”
Oh, that unhappy priest! If he could have squirmed out of his skin and slithered off into the bushes, he’d have done it in a heartbeat. As it was, he fidgeted and stammered and nervously plucked laurel leaves from the branch that was his badge of office, crushing them one by one until their fragrance was overwhelming.
I couldn’t stand to watch his ever-growing embarrassment. “Weren’t you two listening?” I said, nudging my brothers. “He’s not the oracle. You can’t blame him for not knowing everything.” When they continued to glower at the priest, I turned to him also. “But you can tell us what we’ll have to do in order to understand what the Pythia says to us, can’t you?” I asked lightly. “I’ve heard that her words are sometimes confusing.” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to divert attention from his blunder.
“Yes, yes, surely!” The priest was almost quivering with relief. “In his wisdom, the sun god makes the Pythia speak in his divine voice to those who bring him worthy offerings. Just so Apollo gives us, his humble servants, the power to interpret whatever he inspires her to say—”
“We know that,” Castor remarked.
“—for a small additional offering,” the priest concluded. Then he was off chattering again, telling us all about the glories of Delphi, assuring us that we’d have no need to find an inn, that it would be an honor to provide us with the best lodgings on the temple grounds.
The higher we climbed, the thicker the crowds grew, until by the time we entered Delphi itself we were surrounded. So many people! The streets teemed with them. Delphi was an ever-growing weed of a town that sprang up to serve the visitors to Apollo’s shrine. People came from all over Greece to lay their questions at the Pythia’s feet. I was dazzled by the sight of such crowds, rich and poor from every corner of the mainland and even from the islands scattered over the Middle Sea.
But soon the excitement of being part of that hubbub faded. The brightly colored clothes, the flash of gold ornaments, the sudden appearance of a chariot rolling by, all of the initial glamour shrank down into a clogged mass of hot, aggravated, pushy, impatient savages. All of them seemed to have been born with at least six knobby elbows, and each person acted like he owned the street. Milo’s ever-waving pine branch was knocked aside and trampled. Even with our guardsmen at our sides, we were lucky that the same thing didn’t happen to us.