Upon our arrival that evening Xenophon and I immediately began the task of searching for lodgings, a difficult task in this crowded season, and obtaining care for our horses. After arranging a room at a small, timeworn inn, and treating ourselves to a quick splash of water from the inn's tiny, bubbling fountain, we left to wander the enchanted streets of the holy town, guided by one of the street urchins gathered outside our inn. Xenophon had been in almost a trancelike state since arriving, in awe and wonder at being so close to the gods, and it was all I could do to keep him from walking off the edge of the cliff in his utter distraction. His eyes seemed permanently fixed on the summit of the peaks or the tops of the temples, as if expecting Apollo to arrive at any moment in bodily form to answer his query personally.
The town of Delphi itself is as much a wonder as its setting. I had always thought Athens to be the most beautiful city in the world, but Delphi is a worthy rival. Under the late-slanting autumn sun reflected from the glowing cliffs, the temples and public buildings shine and even glow with their polychromed surfaces. Xenophon and I were entranced by the contrasts between the blinding white of the building stone in the few places where it was left unadorned, and the soft pastel shades of pink, blue, and green used so effectively by the Delphians elsewhere, to emphasize the contours of the pillars and stonework. The graceful structures of the temples and gymnasiums, the porticos and fountains, the art galleries and treasuries, and even the more modest houses and inns, were all designed and constructed with the subtle elegance of a holy city.
Most eerie in the moonlight of our walk were the hundreds of bronze statues, gifts from grateful suppliants and cities, which were adorned with a delicate blue and green patina produced by the moisture-laden air constantly blowing over them. Along one side of the sacred approach to the sanctuary stood a row of monumental bronzes erected by the Athenians; standing directly opposite them and casting hostile stares at their carved enemies was another series of bronzes erected by the Spartans. Every temple was surrounded by statues, which spilled onto the street corners, public fountains and gardens. There were the usual portraits of the gods, of course, but also a surprising number of sculptures of animals, which added an almost barbarian aspect to the city. Horse statues abounded, donated by winning generals from their share of the battle loot, or by winners of the chariot races at the festival of Delphi. I saw a bronze bull, offered by the people of Corfu in return for a miraculous haul of tuna during a famine several years earlier; several goats, one of them from a small tribe in thanksgiving for its delivery from the plague; and near the great altar outside the main temple a bronze wolf offered by the Delphians themselves, in honor of a beast that had killed a thief who had stolen some of the sanctuary's gold. There was even a statue of a donkey that was said to have alerted its people to an ambush. The gods apparently cherish our beastly companions as much as they do us ourselves.
The day after our arrival, and the day prior to our scheduled appointment with the oracle, we came upon Aglaia walking along a side street, her aged grandmother in tow along with a small retinue of admirers whom she had already collected. Her face was beaming and she greeted Xenophon warmly, as if they were two old friends separated for months.
"I've just come from the oracle," she announced. "I asked the Pythia exactly what you told me to ask, rather than 'whom should I marry.' And wouldn't you know it-the man that Apollo said was the richest was the very one I most wanted for a husband anyway!"
"Unless the Pythia had told her that another one was even richer," the dour old woman muttered.
Xenophon congratulated her on her good fortune, and after listening absentmindedly to her chatter for a few moments, he politely excused himself, and we continued on our stroll.
"Xenophon!" Aglaia called after we had moved on only a few yards. "We'll be leaving tomorrow morning at sunrise, so if you'd care to visit tonight to wish me well…"
She blushed at this display of forwardness, which must have been extreme even for Aglaia, and hurriedly turned away down the street. Xenophon stood staring after her for a second and then, reluctantly it seemed, continued his stroll with me through the streets.
We trudged along Delphi's steeply inclined flagstones for an hour without a word passing between us. I stopped at a stall, eager to purchase a memento of our visit, for who could know when, or if, I might return. I selected a small, antique brass figurine of Apollo, sword in hand, holding by the hair the head of a man with a vaguely Persian countenance, his beard long and pointed. The shopkeeper was unable to tell me to which event it referred, but I purchased it anyway, as it seemed like a good omen, and besides, it had caught my fancy. Though tiny, the faces and expressions were of a realism that made one think that the original castings had been modeled on individuals known to the sculptor, and the god's stance and posture suggested utter fearlessness, trust in the strength of his body, and confidence on the sculptor's part to depict such a scene with seemingly no reference to any actual story of Apollo. What might the world have been like, I wondered, when men were as certain of themselves as that? Xenophon ignored the colorful shops, the stalls being set up in the street for the coming market, the frankly appraising gazes of the local girls eyeing the handsome stranger walking obliviously among them, even the magnificent vistas of the rocky mountains and temples that sprang to our sight around every corner. I finally broke the silence.
"Xenophon, I don't mean to belabor this, but you could have your pick of a thousand young virgins from good families in Athens. I just can't understand seeing you bedazzled by this roadside trollop Aglaia."
He stopped in the middle of the street and stared at me. I feared I had again spoken too bluntly, and I braced myself for his violent reaction. After a pause, however, during which I could almost see his mind working furiously in response to my complaint, he burst into a loud laugh and clapped me on the back. The men around us looked up briefly from their tasks at the sudden sound.