She spotted a thin man stacking a pyramid of oranges. She watched as one teetered on top of the pile, then tumbled to the ground, rolling away from the stall. The merchant sighed and turned to retrieve it. But she had the urgency of hunger on her side. Her fingers closed around the fruit, then she was off.
“Stop!” the merchant yelled.
But she was already darting down an alley. She ran through street after street until she was certain she’d lost him. After what she’d seen of the city, she didn’t want to find out what the penalty was for thieving.
She must have come to a district where the nobility lived. On either side were pristine villas with white walls and terracotta roofs. People looked at her with disdain, but no one threatened her or chased her away. She was grateful for that at least.
She dug her nails into the orange’s skin. The tang of zest filled her nostrils as she peeled back the rind. Juice spilled over her fingers and she licked them greedily, not caring about the dirt on her hands. The fruit was deliciously sweet and succulent. She was so engrossed in eating that she almost walked headlong into a man emerging from a doorway. He tossed the contents of a bucket in front of him, and piss slopped over her sandals, before trickling away down one of the gullies that ran along either side of the road.
She swore and backed away.
The man glowered. “Watch where you’re going!”
“Wait!” she called as the man ducked back inside. He paused in the doorway. “Do you know the way to Delphi?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “How much is it worth?”
She glanced down at the half-eaten orange, ripped off a piece and offered him the dripping segment.
The man wrinkled his nose and slammed the door in her face.
She sighed, continuing along the road while finishing the last of her fruit, its flavorsome flesh a small distraction from her aching feet.
“...from the holy city.”
Her ears pricked. Two men were walking ahead, one wore the bronze armor and blue cloak of an Athenian soldier, high-ranking by the look of his plumed helm. His companion was draped in the white robes of a scholar.
“Perhaps I should consult the oracle again?” asked the officer.
“I do not think it wise, Aristides. Prophecy is not a friend you can question until you receive the answer you desire.”
They emerged onto a bustling, shop-lined street, and a group of women stepped in front of Danae. She weaved around them, but by the time she’d navigated past, she could no longer see the two men. Clenching her teeth in frustration, she darted down the street, peering through the various doorways and windows.
But her search proved futile. She’d lost them.
Danae asked the way to Delphi so many times the words turned to gibberish on her tongue. She must have spoken to more people in one day than she had in her entire life.
She wandered for hours and found herself in a less affluent part of the city. The buildings here were made of wood. They were lower and closer together, washing hung off lines that stretched between the roofs and barefoot children ran through the streets, not seeming to care that they were splashing through human waste. The gutters here were evidently not maintained like they were in the wealthier districts.
At least the people didn’t look at her like she was vermin.
A few streets along, she noticed a change in the air. Something was drawing people from their homes. They flitted like fruit flies from doorways to windows, conferring in hushed voices.
Something had happened.
Most people were now walking in the opposite direction, back toward the heart of the city and the acropolis. She turned around and let the flow carry her back the way she’d come.
She passed a bathhouse and overheard a group of men talking animatedly as they stepped onto the street.
“I don’t see how Theseus can recover from this.”
“That’s what you get for marrying a woman from Crete.”
Their laughter faded into the throng of passers-by as they were absorbed by the crowd. She darted after them, snippets of conversation flitting around her.
“I heard, one of the servants caught them.”
“Lying with her own stepson! It’s an abomination.”
