Cassandra (30 page)

I wondered how many of these strong young men would live to see the next spring, or even harvest. Chryseis was holding my hand so tightly that her nails cut into my palm.

`Farewell,' Master Glaucus' voice was steady. `Seek not glory, for that is death. Survive, my sons, and return.' While they knelt for his blessing, he added with aching sincerity, `You carry your father's heart with you. Return soon, for I am an old man and need my heart.'

They kissed him and turned away from the cypresses and the walls. Forty men marched away down the white road. I could follow their dust long after they had gone: dust, and a glint of bronze.

Master Glaucus went back into the house and closed the door.

Chryseis fainted for the first time in her life and I carried her back to our house. When I revived her she held me as tightly as a drowning man clutches a plank.

`Don't let me go!' her voice was shrill and urgent.

`I will hold you forever,' I whispered. `Why are you afraid?' What's the matter, my love, my sweet maiden?'

`I am bearing your child,' she said very quietly, `and I fear that I will die.'

 

`This golden maiden - is she yours now?' Apollo drawled. `They were your words, Lady of Doves, I know your speech. I gave this child of Palamedes the warrior to my Diomenes of the healing hands, to distract him from your Cassandra. He loves her, Lady. I would have thought you would oppose the girl, not put divine words into her pretty mouth.'

`Ah, but that is my bard, my Arion, who sings my praises all over the known world. I could not let such a man fail under my displeasure,' said Aphrodite. `But you should look to your puppet maiden, Lord Apollo, she is pregnant. Make your peace with Demeter.'

`Never,' said Apollo.

I peacefully baited hooks, my feet paddling in the sea, sitting on Hector's new jetty. Dion and Maeles were beside me, repairing a net. It was a cool windy day, at the time of the filling of the marketplace. I pricked my finger on a hook and Maeles took my hand, exclaiming at the tiny wound.

His bent head was drenched in blood. I could see the fatal wound in his skull which had cloven through the bone, revealing the grey matter of the brain. This vision stayed a little longer, long enough for me to see the sea covered in black ships behind him, and the smell of burning.

The god was not just trying to terrify me with dances of bones and pictures of corpses. He was showing me how Maeles would die - how they would all die, the ones I had seen.

He was giving me pre-vision of death, and sealing my tongue. Because I could not speak the glimpses were vivid; I could even smell blood, and the bilious stench of relaxed bowels which accompanies death.

I pulled my hand away, and the gory head tilted and the white mouth said concernedly, `Princess?'

I did not scream. I looked away, struck my head violently with both hands, and the vision was gone; Maeles was himself again.

I began to hate the god Apollo then; not only with the expected hurt of a betrayed priestess, but with an overwhelming outrage. How dare he do this to me, to Cassandra the princess, when I had been his favoured maiden, his faithful woman? Was there no gratitude in the gods, no justice?

Behind the bent head of the dead Maeles I had seen something else. I saw a sail, then another. I got to my feet, dropping my line, and shaded my eyes. More ships and more, black ships with black sails, occupying the horizon, strung out over the calm water like toys. This was no vision. This was real.

Dion grabbed one arm and Maeles the other. We began to run back to the city.

They knew about the ships by the time we arrived, breathless at the Scamander Gate. The trumpets were sounding the alarm, a sharp, staccato sound. Feet were running on the ladders and platforms inside the walls. The Scamander Gate was starting to close as we flung ourselves inside.

I looked over the plain and saw a small figure, then another; girls, by their long tunics, and I shouted to the guard to hold the gate.

`Hector Priam's son says to close it!' yelled the guard. `There are hundreds of Achaean ships out there, Princess!'

`And they can't arrive in the blink of an eye,' I screamed back. `Hold onto your manhood and wait. That will give you something to do, anyway,' I added caustically. The soldiers on the wall laughed and the gate, tree trunks sheathed in bronze, tall as three men and immensely heavy, scraped to a halt.

Soon the running figures resolved into women. Foremost was my little sister Polyxena, spattered with red and shrieking, completely out of her mind with terror. Behind her careered a riderless horse, which the other girl finally had the sense to grab and mount, collecting the fleeing Polyxena as she rode. Amazon-trained riders can master any beast in any conditions; I saw that the rider was Andromache. They skidded into the city in a flurry of hooves and the great gate slammed shut with a sound like thunder. I grabbed the rein and Dion lifted the child down.

At first I thought the blood was hers, but there was too much of it for a living ten-year-old girl. Someone had been slain. I tried to soothe Polyxena but she was so far gone that I passed her stiffened body to Andromache and Dion led the horse into the city to Tithone the healer.

She caught the child in her arms, shook her and slapped her across the face. There was a sudden silence when the screaming stopped and Tithone clasped my sister in a close hug. Polyxena collapsed and began to cry.

`What happened?' Tithone asked Andromache. `Cassandra, brew the hysteria herbs and don't forget the mistletoe; send one Poseidon priest to stable and care for that poor horse, which I perceive is one from the king's stable, and the other to find Hector, Bulwark of Troy, he must hear this.'

Dion and Maeles did as they were bid. No one argued with Tithone. Polyxena was speechless, but Andromache drank some of my potion and sat perfectly still for ten minutes until she had stopped shaking. Finally she said, `We went out to the Pathfinder, to offer him flowers, Erecthi came with us. You know how Polyxena has always hated him. We came to the shrine, made the offering. Erecthi was riding and we were walking; taking turns. Then...' she shuddered and took another gulp of the infusion `Then this... this man ran out from the wood. He chased Erecthi, he caught him and Erecthi got away and mounted again and then this man ran down the horse, he ran faster, caught our brother and...' she took a deep breath. `And killed him, but that's not all... I can't... oh, Cassandra...' She did not weep, but shuddered as if she was freezing. Her teeth chattered. I cast my cloak over her shoulders and held her close.

`Tell us,' said Tithone gently.

`He killed him, his blood spilled all over Polyxena, and on me, his eyes, he had grey eyes, like stones, eyes like stones with a cold light in them, his golden hair flowed over his shoulders... not very tall, not much taller than me, he didn't even look strong... he was not interested in us, he did not raise a hand against us... he let us run away... he cut off Erecthi's head,' she said clearly. `Cut it off and set it on the altar of Pathfinder...'

She dropped to her knees and vomited into the drain, then sat back on her heels, panting. Hector gathered her up into his arms. I had not heard him come in.

`Achilles,' he said. `Achilles Stone Heart, Swift Runner, Grey-Eyed, Man Slayer. Achilles has come. Oh, Pariki. I wish my mother had left you to die.'

We said nothing.

Presently Hector set Andromache gently on her feet. `Sweet love,' he said to her, `my dearest, I must go. Stay with Tithone until you feel better. Cassandra, bring the writing materials and follow.'

`Hector!' I cried after him. `Where to?'

`The king's council,' his voice trailed back over his shoulder as he began to walk, very fast, up the steep streets.

I gathered ink and papyrus and three styli in case my favourite one should wear out. Tithone grabbed my arm.

`Walk,' she hissed. `Saunter. There will be panic if they see you running.' I nodded, and paced the alleys until I came to the doors of the palace.

The audience chamber was full of many men and they were all shouting. Hector was standing next to the king, his hand on the old man's shoulder. I threaded through the gathering, getting my ears cuffed by mistake by Anchises, who thought I was a straying hound. I stood on his foot, kicked another's shins, and shoved to the front where I sat down at Hector's feet, laying out my inkpot, my styli and my roll of papyrus.

Hector looked down through his golden beard. `Cassandra my sister, are you afraid?'

`No, brother,' I said truthfully. I knew what the end of the city would be. Despair is for those who see the end without hope, and I had no hope. But I would die in the death throes of Troy, so why should I be afraid? I was already bereft and cursed. There was not much more that any god, however vengeful, could do to Cassandra.

`Hear all men!' bellowed Hector, putting out a huge hand and drawing me to my feet. `Here is a maiden worth ten of you! I will not call you women,' he said in a lower tone, `as the Argives do to insult each other, for to call you women would be a compliment and I do not mean to compliment you. The women of Troy take measures for their defence; just now my own wife is more collected and calm than you, after watching our brother Erecthi slaughtered and mutilated before her eyes.'

I supposed that this description of the wretchedly ill Andromache could count as dramatic licence. It was having some effect on the sons of Priam, anyway. They had stopped yelling and were now muttering. I swallowed to clear my ears.

`Good. How many ships are there?' asked Hector.

`Lord, from the Scaean Gate we counted forty-seven,' said the guard.

`Any signals? Do we know who they are?'

`Lord, they carry the red sword of Lacedemon and the ram's head of Mycenae.'

`Menelaus wants his wife back,' commented Achises.

`And we haven't got her,' said Polites, glaring at Pariki.

`It would not matter if we had. This is not a war over one woman, but for the wealth of Troy. Make no mistake, they mean to use the pretext provided by our brother Alexandratos to take our city.'

The murmur rose to a howl and Hector continued reassuringly, `But they shall not succeed. These are Argives, and they have few bowmen unless they have hired Scythians. Therefore as long as there are guards on the wall, they cannot take the city.

`Polites, call the queen our mother and Myrine the Amazon. Deiphobos, prepare swift horses. We will need to call our allies and we will have to do it now, before the Argives are at our gates.'

Since Hector had taken command, everyone had relaxed and started quibbling. I sat down again, putting my bare foot - I had not had time to find my sandals - on his foot. He gave me confidence. It seemed impossible that even the gods could stop Hector.

Pandarus, big and strong and with no brains at all, stood to ask, `Why don't we just take chariots out and fight? We can beat any Achaean scum with our hands tied behind our backs. We're the men of Tros and Dardanus!'

`Someone tie his hands behind his back,' ordered Hector without expression. This got a laugh, and he repeated it. The Scaean guard, who were Hector's own men, pinned Pandarus and secured his wrists. `Bring him here. So, Pandarus, you could fight them all?' the big man nodded foolishly. `Can you protect your arse?' asked Hector, spinning him around and kicking him soundly, so that he stumbled and fell off the dais. `If you can't cover your face or your arse, how can you fight?' The audience laughed, a little hysterically.

`But we should fight,' protested Pandarus, face down on the floor. `We can't just leave them to besiege Troy.'

`Can't we?'

`My son,' said the king, `some show must be made or they will think that we are all cowards.'

`Who cares what Achaean strangers think?' asked Hector.

`I care,' Pariki put in. `Let me challenge Menelaus to single combat. I took the old cuckold's wife; let him fight me for her.'

Hector gave him a narrow look. `You, brother?'

`Me. I'm not just Aphrodite's darling,' said Pariki, baring a muscular arm.

`They must come to parley,' said Anchises. `Then Pariki should issue his challenge. Either he will kill Menelaus,' the old man's eyes glinted at the thought, `or Menelaus will kill Pariki.'

Hector, standing by the king's throne, nodded. `All right, but I am sending for the allies anyway. If the Argives go home, then we shall have a feast for them; if not, we will need them.'

Hector knelt before Hecube, making the sacred gesture to the lady of increase, lifting the hem of her garment to his lips. `Lady Mother and Queen of Troy, Keeper of Grain, how much is there in the city?'

`The granaries are full, my son,' said my mother, touching Hector's forehead in ritual blessing. `Enough in the queen's store to feed the city a year, maybe more. You know better than any what else is stored, Bulwark of Troy.'

`Amazon, what say you?' Hector asked. Myrine had come in with the queen. She stood tall and scornful, observing the sons of Priam with cold eyes.

`If we fight on the plain, we may be defeated,' she said matter-of-factly. `Hector is right. If they wish to besiege us, let them. They will waste their valour and miss their own sowing and harvest. What matters it to Troy that there is an army in the fields? Let them sit in the marsh and eat frogs. I would not counsel any battle; not until allies arrive, and until there is need. None of you have seen battle; you must be trained. But if they come to parley, and this challenge,' she shot Pariki a disbelieving look, `then we must go out in as great an array as we can; chariots, spears, armour. These Argives judge men by their pretty clothes,' her lip curled. `And they do not believe that women can fight. It will be interesting to see how long they cherish that opinion after they have met the Amazons.'

`Who will you send to the Amazons?' asked Hector.

`I will go myself. I reckon to be back in three weeks. Give me the sign.'

Hector took a Trojan arrow, painted it the king's colour, purple, and broke it over his knee. Priam flinched at the sound, but the queen sat motionless. Myrine did not bow, but slapped her palm flat against her breast; a warrior's salute. Then she was gone.