“Get out of here. Don’t let us catch you again,” said the second guard.
Fighting the urge to bolt, she forced herself to walk calmly around them toward the city, then, as soon as they were out of sight, broke into a run toward the acropolis steps.
The only way into the Temple of Athena was through the acropolis compound, up winding stone steps, flanked by more guards. Even at this early hour, a queue of people was already making the ascent. Many of the women’s faces were painted with white lead, contrasting starkly with their brightly dyed dresses. They looked like ghosts, dragging their finery to the gates of the Underworld.
Danae waited a moment, then hopped over the low wall and slipped into the current of bodies. As the crowd surged upward, she looked down at the city. Athens fanned out beneath her, a sprawling mass of formal pillared buildings, houses, squares, market awnings, ramshackle stalls and stables, spreading over so much land she could barely make out the city wall in the distance. The only thing she could compare it to was if someone had taken all the villages on Naxos and squeezed them into the valley where Demeter’s temple stood.
She bobbed behind a pair of gossiping noblewomen as a guard looked her way. Despite the crush of people around her, she felt exposed. Her tunic was tattered and dirty, and she still stank of cheese. She wasn’t exactly blending in with the well-groomed Athenians around her. But she managed to ascend unhindered until finally the entrance building loomed ahead. It was so grand, if she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was the Temple of Athena itself. Tall, fluted pillars supported the pediment, carved with the likeness of the goddess. She floated above the worshippers, clad in full battle armor, her watchful eye on her devoted subjects as they passed beneath.
Once clear of the entrance, Danae flowed with the crowd into an open courtyard. The palace lay behind gilded gates to her left, and in front of her stood the Temple of Athena. Her body tingled with anticipation. She was almost there.
As she mounted the last set of steps up to the temple, her heart sank to see that the open mahogany doors were flanked by yet more guards, their bronze spears crossed over the entrance. She concealed herself behind a group of men in long white robes, peering between them to look into the sacred building.
The inside of the temple was vast. Tall, uniform columns held up the open roof, and set into the center of the floor was a rectangular pool, its water still as glass, mirroring the sky above. And at the back of the temple was a likeness of Athena that captured divinity itself. It was over forty feet tall, sculpted entirely from bronze and ivory. The goddess was crowned with a five-pronged helm, her spear and shield rested at her side, and she was draped in a flowing dress that looked like it had been fashioned from liquid sunlight. Athena’s skin seemed to radiate its own pearly light and her sapphire eyes, each one larger than Danae’s head, were so piercing she was convinced the goddess could see straight into her soul.
She held her breath as the guards’ spears parted for the men in front of her, and once through the doors, darted round them.
She was immediately yanked back by the neck of her tunic and the guard threw her down the steps. Her hip and elbow jarred against the stone as she smacked into the ground.
“No begging in the temple.”
“I’m not—” she began but the guard lowered his spear and advanced toward her.
“Get back to the streets, scum.”
She scrambled back from the tip of his spear. Athenians cringed away from her as she half ran, half stumbled across the courtyard. Fear clutched at her chest as she suddenly became aware of how visible she was. She had to get away from the crowd.
She weaved her way back down the acropolis steps, like a rock sinking against the current of a river.
Her first attempt might have failed, but she would find someone who could direct her to Delphi. She had to.
When Danae reached the bottom of the acropolis steps, she found herself surrounded by makeshift stalls piled with miniature likenesses of the city’s patron goddess. The sellers shouted over each other, fighting to be the loudest to advertise their wares.
She paused in front of one of the stalls. A tray of brooches was balanced on top of a barrel. They were all the same. A bronze owl with eyes of green stone.
“Three obols—it’s a good deal—cheapest on the stretch. Aren’t they pretty? Sacred bird of Athena. Why don’t you try one on?”
She backed away. “No... I don’t want—”
“Two obols. I’m robbing myself here.”
She turned and fought her way through the sea of haggling traders. Ducking into a side street, she leaned against the wall, fighting back tears. She thought of Alea’s glowing face when their mother had pinned Philemon’s owl brooch to her chest. It had looked so special surrounded by the shabby interior of their hut. But it was just one of many. And next to the real wealth of the acropolis, she saw it for what it was, a cheap copy.
Shame stung her throat. Philemon was wrong—Alea would have hated it here. She rubbed her eyes and breathed out slowly through her nose. She couldn’t let herself be distracted. There had to be someone in this infernal city who knew the way to Delphi.
She carried on down the street and found all the doors and windows bolted shut, so she pressed on and emerged into a large market square. The shops were shaded on all sides by colorful canopies. She was overwhelmed at first. There were so many people. Who to ask? She lingered by a stall of apples, deciding the shopkeeper looked friendly.
“Excuse me?”
The man had his back to her.
She cleared her throat and was about to speak again when he turned around. Eyes bulging, he grasped a broom from behind the doorway of his shop and jabbed it into her stomach.
“Fuck off. You’re not getting any food.”
She staggered back. Athenians knocked into her as she was buffeted through the square. She tried to ask the people she passed but was met with much the same reaction. Some shooed her away, some simply ignored her. It was like a dream she’d had once, where she was a ghost and everyone she approached to help her find her body walked straight through her.
After a while, her stomach began to ache. Wearily, she eyed the produce of the nearby stalls. There were plates of ripe figs and barrels of olives, trays of sweet pastries and bowls overflowing with nuts. There was so much food it was obscene.
