The Firebrand

CHAPTER 4

If Kassandra had felt that the reprimand of Khryse would solve anything, she was mistaken; it seemed that her peace had been destroyed for nothing.

Nor was she the only one to seem troubled; Khryse looked pale and exhausted. He was still needed in the shrine, for he had not yet managed to teach anyone except herself enough of his new method of tallying in order to take his place. He had already managed to make himself all but indispensable. Most of the priests were aging; no more than thirty, he was the only priest of the Sunlord still in the prime of his strength.

It was made no easier for Kassandra that every time she saw the sun glinting on that brilliantly gold hair she remembered the moment when he had spoken to her in the voice of the Sunlord. What a fool she had been, after all, she thought despondently. Surely he was capable of summoning Apollo… or was it she, by her appeal against the imposture, who had summoned the Sunlord to protect her against this man she so despised. He would still have been Apollo, in whatever outer form, and had she not refused him she might now have been carrying the child of the God. But was that what she wanted? Was that her destiny, and had she refused it?

All the same, done was done, and she could only rejoice, although with a certain bitterness, over the punishment of Khryse's presumption. The Immortals are not mocked, and now at least Khryse knew it.

And so do I. The Sunlord mocks me; I, who spoke in reverence against what I saw as blasphemy, infringing on Apollo's chosen ones. It is I who have been punished, as much as, the sinner.

It was no comfort that Apollo had intervened; now it was said (and of course the story had spread, first through the temple and then throughout the city) that she had refused the God himself and that in return Apollo had cursed her. The truth was known only to those who had been there that night, and, she thought almost in despair, all the truth was not known even to them.

They believed Apollo had withdrawn his gift of prophecy from her. But foresight had been hers since her earliest childhood, and the Sunlord could not withdraw it, for it was not his. He had only made it certain that her words would never be believed.

It was no satisfaction, either, to see Khryse viewed with the same half-frightened reverence as herself. At least once every day, sometimes two or three times, he would be seized and fall to the ground in the terrifying clutch of the falling sickness, to lie there shaking with convulsions. She had (though rarely) seen men and women and even children taken this way. They were usually regarded as a victim or favourite of the God. Kassandra began to wonder if this were not a sickness like any other. But why then had Khryse shown no sign of it before?

She took no satisfaction from these internal doubts and questions; if anything she longed for her old childish belief. She was still constantly forced into Khryse's company; after a time, she realized that the episode had connected them in the minds of most of the priests and priestesses - as if she had actually committed the misbehaviour into which Khryse had sought to seduce her, instead of being common victims of Apollo's wrath. Or malice, she thought.

What more can the Sunlord do to met I am assured of his love… but what of that'? Is his love in any way better than his evil will'? Am I to thank him that he did not make me, too, a victim of the falling sickness?

One day she was summoned to the court by Chryseis, who had been set to carrying messages within the shrine. "Kassandra, you have a visitor; I think it is the princess of Colchis."

She came to the court and looked around to see Andromache, her child on her shoulder, dressed in the clothing of a commoner. She hurried to embrace her.

"What is happening?"

"Oh, my dear, it is worse than you can imagine," Andromache said. "Everyone is under the Spartan woman's spell, even my own dear husband; I tried to repeat to him what you said about Helen, and he said that all women were jealous of a beautiful woman, that was all. I think you are prettier than this Helen," Andromache added, "but no one agrees!""

Kassandra said soberly, "It is as if she wore the girdle of Aphrodite—"

"Which, as we all know, makes men capable of thinking only with their loins," Andromache said with a sarcastic smile. "But women too? Do you think her so beautiful, Kassandra?"

"Yes," Kassandra blurted out,"she is as lovely as the Beautiful One herself," and then was shocked at herself. She murmured to Andromache, almost in apology, "Since childhood I have seen through Paris's eyes," and stopped. She could say nothing about the curious intensity with which she had reacted to Oenone, or Helen, not even to Andromache, who had been brought up among Amazons and would probably understand. "Some day I will tell you all—but for now, tell me what is happening."

"You did not know Menelaus had come?"

"No; what is he like?"

"No more like his brother Agamemnon than I am like Aphrodite," Andromache said. "He came, weak and stammering, and demanded that we render up Helen to him, and Priam said, laughing, that perhaps, perhaps, mind you, we would return Helen when he brought Hesione back to Troy with a dowry to pay for the years she remained unwed; and Menelaus said that Hesione had a husband, who had taken her with no dowry, perhaps impressed by the fact that she was the sister of the King of Troy, and he at least was no stealer of women from their husbands."

"That must have pleased Father," Kassandra said, grimacing.

"Then," Andromache went on, "Menelaus told him Hesione would not return to Troy and suggested that Priam send an envoy and ask Hesione herself if she wished to return—without her child, of course, since the child was a good Spartan and belonged to Hesione's husband."

"And what said my father to that?" Kassandra asked.

"He said to Hecuba that Menelaus had played into his hands; and he sent for Helen and asked her in Menelaus's presence, "Do you wish to return to your husband, my lady?""

"And what did she answer?"

"She said No, my lord, and of course Menelaus just stood and looked at her as if she were cutting him to pieces.

"Then Priam said: "So, Menelaus, you have had your answer."

"And what said Menelaus to that?" Kassandra asked.

"He made matters worse by saying, "Will you listen to what an unfaithful whore wants? I tell you, she is mine, and I will take her," and he tried to grab her wrist and drag her away."

"And did he?" Kassandra asked, thinking that if Menelaus had indeed acted with so much resolution, it might have impressed even Priam.

"Oh, no," Andromache replied. "Hector and Paris both jumped forward and grabbed him, and Priam said, "Thank your own Gods, Lord Menelaus, that you are my guest, or I would let my sons have their way with you; but no offense shall be offered to any guest under my roof." And Menelaus began to stammer -with rage this time - and said, "Guard your tongue, old man, or you will have no roof from which I need to drag her." Then he said something filthy to Helen - I would not repeat it in these sacred precincts," added Andromache with a superstitious gesture, "and flung down the cup he was drinking from and said he wouldn't accept hospitality from a - a pirate who sent his sons out to steal women."

Kassandra's eyes were wide; she had never seen anyone except his own sons defy Priam.

Andromache went on, "Then Priam asked "No? Then how do you Akhaians ever get wives?" And Menelaus swore at him and said I don't know what all, and yelled to his servants and stormed out, saying perhaps if Priam would not listen to him he would listen to Agamemnon. And Paris had the last word—" here Andromache began to giggle.

"Priam said, "Yes, when I was a boy I sometimes told someone who teased me that my big brother would come and beat him up." And Paris said, "If it comes to that, Menelaus, I have a big brother too; would you care to have a word with Hector?" Then Menelaus stormed out, cursing all the way back to his ship."

Kassandra, overwhelmed, had hardly heard the last few sentences; all she could think was: It has come. Already she could see the harbor blackened with foreign ships, the world she knew torn asunder by war. She could not stop herself from interrupting Andromache to cry out, "Pray to the Gods! Pray and sacrifice! I told my father he should have nothing to do with that Spartan woman!"

Andromache's voice was very gentle, ignoring the interruption. "Don't trouble yourself so, Kassandra, my dear."

So even she thinks that I am mad.

"What makes you think that we will not drive the Akhaians back to the islands they hold? It was one thing for those folk to defeat the simple shepherds and landless men who held their islands… but quite another for them to come up against the whole might of Troy! What I say is let those Akhaians look to themselves! Are we to let them think that they can go on stealing our women unpunished, but if we touch theirs, they can punish us?"

"Andromache, are you blind too? Can't you see that Helen is only the excuse? Agamemnon has been trying to find some such reason to come against us in war for many years, and now we have walked straight into his snares. Now we will have these iron-wearers trying to take all the lands that lie to the south of here. He will muster the full might of all these warlike people to… oh, what does it matter?" Kassandra sank down on a bench, "You can't see it because you are like Hector… you think war leads only to fame and glory!"

Andromache knelt beside Kassandra and put her arms round her, saying, "Never mind; I should not have frightened you, I should have known better."

Kassandra could almost hear her thinking: Poor thing, she is mad, Apollo has cursed her after all.

There was no way to argue with that, so she let it drop and asked Andromache, "What of Oenone?"

"She has returned to the mountain, and taken her child with her," Andromache said. "Paris wished to keep the babe - his firstborn son, after all—but Oenone said he could not have it both ways; if it was his son, and he chose to acknowledge it, then she was his lawful first wife and this foreign woman only a second concubine."

"And serves him right," Kassandra said. "It seems that Paris has neither honor nor decency; Father should have left him on Mount Ida with his sheep, if they'd have him." She was deeply disappointed in her brother, she wanted Paris to be regarded as the people of the city regarded Hector; their champion, their hero, as much for his goodness and honorable behaviour as for his handsome face.

"I must return to the palace. But tell me what will we do if there is a war, Kassandra?" Andromache asked her.

"Fight it, of course; even you and I may be glad for our weapons, if as many Akhaians rise against us as Agamemnon intends," Kassandra said, despairing. Andromache embraced her and took her leave. After she was out of sight, Kassandra went out of the highest gate of Apollo's house, climbing higher and higher, toward the Temple of Pallas Athene. As she went, sweat soaking through her tunic in the heat, she tried helplessly to form a prayer. But nothing would come, and she went on climbing.

She looked down toward the harbor, black with ships as she had seen it so many times before this. She did not know whether the ships were really there or not, but this time it did not matter. If they were not there now, they would come soon enough.

Lord Apollo! Sunlord, beloved! If you cannot withdraw the gift and take from me this unwanted Sight, at least do not curse me that I shall never be believed!

She went up into the high Temple of Pallas Athene, at the very summit of the city, and into the shrine. recognizing her either as Priam's daughter or as a priestess of the Sunlord (or perhaps both) the guardians drew aside, letting her into the shrine, before the great image of the Goddess, shown as a young woman wearing the unbound locks and garland of a virgin.

Maiden, you who loved Troy, you who brought us your priceless gifts of grape and olive, you who were here before those arrogant Thunder-worshippers and their Sky Gods and their weapons, protect your city now.

She looked at the drawn curtains of the innermost shrine, which contained the image of Pallas, drawn from heaven, ancient and crude, and remembered the Goddess of the Amazon women.

You who are virgin like the Maiden Huntress I come to you a maiden who has known injustice from the Sunlord; am I to go on serving him in this manner when he has cast me off and derided met

She had not truly expected an answer, but deep in her mind she felt the surging motion of the dark waters of the Goddess.

Obscurely comforted she went away down the hill to the Temple, to take up her duties tallying the offerings.

Khryse was there as usual, marking his symbols on wax tablets, noting numbers of jars of oil, of grains, barley and millet; offerings of wine or honeycombs, of hares and pigeons and kids. She was still unwilling to look at him, although she told herself it was not she who should be ashamed.

A jar carried by one of the younger priestesses had been let fall and had broken another, so that a heap of barley and the sticky contents of a honeycomb intermingled, and the efforts of the young girl to clear it away had only made a worse mess; Kassandra sent her for a twig broom and a water jar, and took over the task of cleaning it up herself. She was directing the young girl to get a cage of pigeons out of the way, when she heard the familiar and hated voice.

"You should not be doing this by yourself, Lady Kassandra, this is work for a slave."

"We are all slaves in the eyes of the Immortals, you as well as I, Khryse," said Kassandra, her eyes on her broom.

"A correct statement, but when was the Lady Kassandra anything but correct - whatever it may cost her or anyone else," said Khryse. "Kassandra, we cannot go on like this with you forever afraid to look at me."

Stung, she looked up angrily into his face.

"Who dares to say I am afraid?"

"If you are not, why do you always avoid my eyes?"

Her voice was caustic. "Are you so fair an object that you think I should find pleasure in looking at you?"

"Come, Kassandra," he said. "Can there not be peace between us?"

"I bear you no particular ill will," she said, still not looking at him. "Stay away from me, and I shall return a like courtesy, if that is what you want from me."

"No," Khryse said. "You know what it is I want from you, Kassandra."

Kassandra sighed, "Khryse, I want nothing from you except to leave me in peace; is that plain enough for you?"

"No," the man said, clasping her hands in his. "I want you, Kassandra; the image of you is in my mind day and night. You have bewitched me; if you cannot love me, then at least free me of your spell."

"I do not know what to say to you," she said, dismayed. "I have cast no spell on you; why should I do such a thing? I want nothing from you, I do not desire you; I do not like you at all, and if I had my way you would be in Crete, or in one of the hells, or even further away than that. I do not know how I can make it any plainer to you, but if I could think of a clearer way to say it, I would. Is that understandable?"

"Kassandra, can you not forgive me? I do not seek to dishonor you. If it is your will, I will go, humble poor priest that I am, and ask your father for your hand in marriage. You must feel some kindness for me, for you have been kind to my motherless child—"

"I would be just as kind to any stray kitten," Kassandra interrupted. "For the last time, I would not marry you if you were the last man the Gods ever made. If the alternative was to live virgin all my life or to marry a blind beggar lying in the marketplace, or even a - an Akhaian, I would choose him before you."

He stepped away, his face as white as the marble walls of the shrine. He said through clenched teeth, "Some day you will regret this, Kassandra. I may not always be a powerless priest."

His face was drawn; she wondered suddenly if he had been drinking unmixed wine so early in the day. But the wine at the priests' table was always well watered; nor did he have the flushed look he would have had in that case. His breath did not seem to smell of wine, but there was a strange smell that seemed to cling to his clothing. She could not identify it, but supposed it was some medicine the healer-priests had given him for his seizures.

She turned away, but he caught at her hand, and pulled her close, backing her against the wall. His body pressed hard against hers, and one of his hands gripped both of hers painfully hard. With his free hand he tried to wrench apart her gown; his mouth jamming hard against hers.

"You have driven me mad," he gasped, "and no man can be blamed for punishing a woman who has driven him to frenzy!"

She struggled and would have screamed; and finally bit down into his lip. He jerked back and she thrust at him with both her hands, so that he tripped and fell. She stumbled as he clung to her, wrenched her hands furiously free of his, and ran. He tried to raise himself and she kicked him in the ribs. She ran from the shrine and did not stop running till she was safe in her own room.