The Firebrand

CHAPTER 2

The climate of Troy was considerably warmer than that of Colchis; the serpents she had brought from Imandra's city were more active here, and Kassandra spent much of her time caring for them.

For this reason she did not hear immediately when the council determined that neither Paris nor Menelaus had won the duel, but that a truce would be proclaimed while they considered the matter further. Kassandra knew it would make no particular difference—both sides were resolved to continue fighting—so she paid little heed. She was still concerned with the serpents when the word came that the fighting had been resumed. Later someone told her that the truce had been broken when one of the Argive captains - later claiming that the Maiden Goddess had prompted him - had shot an arrow at Priam, which pierced his best robe and came near to killing him.

A few days later, from the safety of the walls, she and the other palace women watched the gathering of Hector's forces, both chariots and armed foot soldiers.

She heard among the women that Aeneas had accepted a challenge from Diomedes, the Akhaian who had fought with Glaucus.

Creusa did not take it very seriously.

"I have not heard that Diomedes is a fighter to worry about," she said. "This nonsense about exchanging gifts - what was that except an excuse for talking instead of fighting?"

"I would not count on that too much," said Helen. "Granted; that day they were both playing a game; but I have seen Diomedes when he is really set for fighting, and I think perhaps he is stronger than Aeneas."

"Are you trying to frighten me, Helen?" Creusa asked. "Are you jealous?"

"My dear," Helen said, "believe me, I have no interest in anyone's husband but my own."

"Which one?" asked Creusa unkindly. "Two lay claim to you, and no one in Troy talks of any other woman."

"I am not to blame if they have nothing to do but mind the affairs of their betters," Helen said. "Tell me, is there any woman in Troy who claims I have spoken one word to her husband which could not be repeated before my mother and his?"

"I do not say that," Creusa muttered, "but you seem to take pleasure in showing yourself to all men as the Goddess—"

"Then your quarrel is with her and not with me, Creusa; I am not to blame for what she does."

"I suppose not—" Creusa began, but Kassandra interrupted:

"Of course not; don't be silly, Creusa. Is it not bad enough that the men down there are at war? If we women begin to fightwith one another too, there will be no good sense left anywhere in Troy."

"If the Gods and the Goddesses are quarrelling, how are we to remain free of it?" asked Andromache. "I think perhaps the Gods take pleasure in seeing us fight, as they take pleasure in fighting themselves. I know Hector's greatest pleasure is battle; if this war stopped tomorrow, he would weep."

"What troubles me is that he seems to welcome it," Helen said. "One would think he sought to be possessed by Ares. Kassandra, you are a priestess; it is true that men can be possessed by their Gods?"

She thought of Khryse and said, "It's true enough, but I do not know how or why it happens. Not, I think, merely by their wishing for it. Helen, I have seen you overshadowed by the Goddess. How can it be brought on?"

"Why, don't tell me that you wish to show yourself as Aphrodite?" Helen said, laughing. "I thought you were one of her foes."

Kassandra made a pious gesture.

"May it be far from me to be the foe of any Immortal," she said. "I do not serve her, for it seems to me that the Beautiful One is not a Goddess as Earth Mother and Serpent Mother and even the Maiden are Goddesses."

"When is a Goddess not a Goddess?" asked Helen with a droll smile, "I don't think I understand you, Kassandra."

"I mean that the Goddesses of your Akhaian folk are different from the Goddesses of our people," Kassandra began. "Your Maiden Goddess—the warrior, Athene—she is just such a Goddess as a man would invent," Kassandra said, "because they say she was not born of any woman but sprang in full armor from the head and the mind of Zeus; yet, for all her weapons, she is a girl with all the domestic virtues, who would make some God a good wife. She tends to her spinning and weaving and is patron of the vines, both the olive and the grape. Would not a man create a warrior maiden just like this—brave and virtuous, but still obedient to the greatest of Gods? And your Hera—she is like our Earth Goddess, but your people call her only the wife of Zeus Almighty and say she is subject to him in all things, while to us Earth Mother is all-powerful in herself. She brings forth all things, but her sons and her lovers come and go, and she takes whom she will; when the God of Death took her daughter, she brought the very Earth to a standstill, so that it neither bore nor brought forth fruit…'

"But we too have an Earth Lady," said Helen: 'Demeter. When Hades took her daughter, she brought, they say, a winter of fearful cold and dark; and in the end Zeus said that the girl must return to her mother—"

"Exactly," Andromache interrupted. "They say that even Earth Mother is under obedience of this great Zeus. But there's no sense to it. Why should the Earth Goddess, who was before all else and all-powerful, be subject to any man or any God?"

"Well, if you are going to argue as to which of the Gods is most powerful," Helen began, "is it not the forces of love which can disrupt all else in men's lives—and women's too—and make them blind to all else—"

"Create disorder and disruption, you mean," Kassandra said.

"You speak that way only because you have never come under Aphrodite's sway, Kassandra," said Andromache, "and if you defy her, she will make you suffer for it."

Surely this was true; Kassandra remembered the shocking conflict she had felt in Aeneas's arms. You do not know she is already making me suffer. But she could not speak of that, not to any of the women here.

"May that be far from me," Kassandra said, "I defy no one -certainly no Immortal." Yet even as she spoke she remembered that Khryse had called her defiance a defiance of Apollo's self. Was it so, or was he only—like all men—vengeful against a woman who would not serve him and his lust? And she had—if only in a dream—defied Aphrodite's power.

"Even Apollo Sunlord," she said, with a little thrill of dread, as if she flung a challenge even in the Sunlord's face, "is said to have slain Serpent Mother, and taken from her her power. Yet surely of all men, he who slays the woman from whom he sprang is most wicked - and would the Immortals allow in a God what is z most wicked in man? Were this true, Apollo would be no God but the most evil of fiends - which he surely is not."

"And as for Earth Mother creating a year in which no fruit or flowers came forth, and no crops would bear," Helen said, "in the year in which Atlantis sank beneath the ocean, so my mother's father's father said, there were great earthquakes, and great clouds of ash covered the sun; in that year, it might be said, there was no summer, for the very foundations of the earth had been shaken. But whether it was the doing of any God, who can say? It would not be surprising if men thought that Earth Mother had betrayed them, and sought to put an end to her-misbehaviour by giving her an overlord who would make her serve men as she ought."

Creusa interrupted nervously, "I do not think it is well done for us to stand here questioning the ways of the Immortals. They do not look to men to make an accounting of what they do, and if we seek to question them, they may seek to punish us for it."

"Oh, nonsense!" Kassandra said. "If they are as stupid and jealous of their power as all that, why would anyone serve them at all?"

"Do you, who are sworn to serve the Gods, not fear them at all?" Andromache asked.

"I fear the Gods," Kassandra said. "Not what men say they are."

In the Sunlord's house, the serpents - so Phyllida told her when Kassandra went to see her charges - seemed unusually disturbed. Some of them withdrew and would not come to be handled or even bathed, others were drowsy and sluggish. As she went from one to the other, trying to decide what was troubling them, she remembered the earthquake when Meliantha had died. Was this warning of just such another blow from the hand of Poseidon? I should send a message to the palace, she thought; but when she had last spoken there in prophecy they had mocked and taunted her, and Priam had forbidden her to speak. They would not believe me if I did send a warning, she thought. And then she knew, without the shadow of doubt, that she must not refuse to hear the voice which sent her the warning. Not that she could do anything to avert the hand of whatever God might send the earthquake, but that some of the worst of its fury might be averted. Distraught, she caught up a cloak and cried to Phyllida to try and soothe the serpents in whatever way she could.

Phyllida had put her own son and Honey to bed, each of them hugging a restless snake. As Kassandra bent to caress each of the children, her mind filled with pictures of the roof collapsing; she swiftly gave orders that they should have a bed made up in the courtyard, where if any building should fall, they would not be crushed beneath it.

Then she ran into the courtyard and cried out:

"O Lord Apollo! Hold off the hand of thy brother who shakes the Earth! Thy serpents have given me your warning; let all your servants hear!"

People came running out at her cries; Khryse demanded, "What is happening? Are you ill? Are you smitten by the hand of the God?"

Kassandra fought to control the intolerable shaking of her body. She struggled to speak rationally, make her words even.

"The serpents in the Sunlord's house have given me warning," she shouted, knowing that she sounded distraught, or worse; "as they did when Meliantha died. They are restless and trying to escape; the earth will shake before morning. Whatever is precious must be rescued; and none should sleep beneath a roof this night, lest it fall upon them."

"She is mad," Khryse said. "We have known for many years that she raves in prophecy."

"All the same," said one of the elder priests, "whatever she may or may not know of the Gods, in Colchis she learned the ways of serpent-lore from a mistress of that art. If the serpents have given her warning—"

Charis commanded, "The warning is given; we may not disregard it. Do what you will, or suffer the consequences; as for me and mine, I will make my bed under the open sky which will not fall upon us yet, at least."

Overhead it was already dark; torches were brought and the priestesses went quickly about the task of removing out of doors anything that might be endangered by the falling of stone or walls. Khryse still grumbled; it was to his advantage, Kassandra knew, to have it thought that nothing she said was true.

She ran toward the gates. "Open the doors," she cried. "I go to warn the folk of the city, and Priam's palace!"

"No!" Khryse cried out. "Stop her." He stepped toward her, and reached out to grab her arms, to prevent her forcibly from leaving the temple. "If warning must be given, sound the alarm; that will bring the folk out of their houses without making it seem that we are all God-smitten and distraught without reason except a foolish girl's dreams."

"Touch me at your peril! I go as the Gods determined, to warn them—"

Her cry shocked him enough that he let her go, and she darted through the door before he could stop her. Once in the street, she screamed at the top of her voice:

"Take heed! The serpents of the Sunlord have given warning; the earth will shake; take such shelter as ye can find! Let none sleep beneath stone roofs, lest they fall!"

People, roused by her cries, came flooding out of the doors; driven by a terrible urgency, she ran on, calling out her warning over and over. She heard behind her cries and shouts, some saying, "Hark to the warning of Apollo's priestess," and others grumbling, "She is cursed by the God; why should we believe her?"

It was as if she were filled with fire; she was driven, burning with the heat of the warning that flamed and raged within her. She fled down the streets, shrieking her warning over and over again. When she came to awareness of where she was, she was standing in the forecourt of the palace; her throat raw, and a dozen or more of the palace folk were standing and staring at her. Hoarsely she gasped out her tale.

"Let none sleep under a roof; the God will shake the land and buildings will fall - will fall - Helen, your children - Paris—" she grabbed his shoulders; he thrust her away roughly.

"Enough of this! I swear, Kassandra, I have heard too much of your evil prophecies! I will silence you with my own hands—"

His hands clasped around her neck; her consciousness wavered and almost with relief she felt the hovering darkness take her in a great burst of light exploding somewhere inside her head.

Her throat ached; she put her hand weakly to it. A gentle voice said, "Lie still. Take a little of this."

She sipped at the wine, coughed and choked, but the insistent hand stayed until she swallowed again. It cleared her head; she was lying on the flagstones, and her head felt as if it had been cloven with an axe. Aeneas bent over her and said, "It's all right. Paris tried to choke you, but Hector and I stopped him. If anyone can be called mad—"

"But I must speak with him," she insisted. "It is his children -Helen's—"

I'm sorry," Aeneas said, "Priam has ordered all the palace folk to bed; he says you have disturbed them all too many times and has forbidden anyone to listen to you. But if it is any comfort to you, I have ordered Creusa to sleep out in the courtyard with the baby; and I think Hector has heeded you, too, for he says whatever you may or may not know of the ways of the Gods, you know the ways of serpents. Now drink a little more of this and let me take you back to the Sunlord's house. Or if you will, you may stay here and share a bed with Creusa and the baby."

She wanted to weep at the love in his voice; she knew it was this, and not any great belief in her warning, which had prompted him to this kindness. She got to her feet, feeling as if every bone in her body had been beaten with wooden cudgels. "I must go back," she said, "and see to the folk in the temple, and the serpents, and my daughter—"

"Ah, yes, Creusa told me you had a little girl. A foundling, I suppose?"

"Yes, as it happens; but how did you know?"

"I know you too well to imagine you would ever disgrace your family by having a child outside of honorable marriage," he said, and she thought: Even my own mother did not trust me as much as that.

"Well, then, will you walk up with me?"

"Gladly," he said, "but you ran out without your cloak. Let me fetch you one or you will be cold." He brought her a long thick garment which she had seen Creusa wear, and she wrapped herself up in it. The night had grown chilly, and even in the heavy cloak she shivered, less from cold than from some subtle danger which remained in the air. It was as if far beneath the ground she could hear the very earth groaning, a heaviness which weighed intolerably on her mind and heart. She could hardly summon the strength and will to put one foot before another, and she leaned on his arm; then when he bent to kiss her she moved away.

"No, don't," she said. "You should go back - you have a wife and a child at risk to care for when it comes—"

"Don't remind me of that," he said, and drew her within the curve of his arm again. After a moment he said, "I love you, Kassandra."

He was touching her gently in that way she found so disturbing, and she drew away from him.

He said softly, "My poor little love. I swear, if only I had the right, I would beat Paris for hurting you so. If he ever touches you again, I swear he'll find it the worst day's work he ever did. It's not his place to rule you."

"He does not realize that," she said. They had reached the great bronze gates of the Sunlord's house, but she did not go inside. Sitting on a low wall she said, "I have no husband, so my brother thinks it is his right to direct me. I suppose to those who do not see and hear what I do, my prophecy must sound like madness. They try to protect themselves against it by refusing to believe. I too am just as ready as anyone else to ignore what I do not want to know."

"Yes, I have seen that," said Aeneas, gently and meaningfully, and drew Kassandra against him under his cloak. She let him kiss her, but sighed with weariness, so that he let her go. He said, "We will talk of this again tomorrow, perhaps—"

"If there is a tomorrow," she said with such exhaustion that he blinked with astonishment.

"If tomorrow should not come, I will regret even beyond death that I have not known your love—" he said, so passionately that Kassandra felt her heart clutch as if a fist had squeezed it.

She said in a whisper, "I think I would regret it too. But I am so tired—" and she began to cry.

He kissed her gently and said, "Then let us pray there will be a tomorrow, my love," and let her go. It felt as if the weight of the trembling world were about to crack and descend on her uneasy head as she watched him walk away.

Inside the Sunlord's house people wrapped in blankets were sleeping all about the courtyards. For the moment all seemed peaceful; except for the violent throbbing in Kassandra's head, which made it seem as if her every step were taken on rolling waves. She went up to the court of the serpents; there the children slept, and Kassandra lay down beside Honey, taking the child in her arms. She imagined the earth as a great serpent coiled about the waist of Serpent Mother, whom she saw as a woman, large and stately like Queen Imandra. The ground seemed gently to rock beneath her, and as she drifted into sleep she half expected the coils to wind round her too.

Instead she seemed to drift through clouds, acres and fields of cloud, and a great expanse of sky; and at last she drifted unseen to the surface of a great mountain, and knew that she stood alone on the summit of the forbidden mountain where the Gods of the Akhaians gathered, and heard the distant sound of thunder as they spoke. She saw Zeus Thunderer as a tall and imposing man in the prime of life, with a full greying beard; it seemed that little flares of lightning moved round his hair like a wreath as he spoke.

"Now that this absurdity of a duel between Paris and Menelaus is over, it is obvious that Menelaus has won; I suggest that we bring this foolish war to a close and get back to our proper business."

"How can you say Menelaus has won when he did not kill Paris?" inquired Hera. She was a tall, imposing woman, rather stout, with hair dressed in a crown about her head. "I insist that Troy must be brought to destruction. They do not properly serve me there. Also I am patron Goddess of marriage; and Paris has personally insulted me, and fled to Troy, where they have received Helen as Paris's wife without any rites or sacrifice to me."

"All the same, they pay homage to me, and I have blessed their love," said another Goddess in gleaming garments, her hair crowned with roses; Kassandra knew from her resemblance to Helen that this was the golden Aphrodite. Hera sniffed and said, "Your rites are not those of lawful marriage."

"No, and I am proud of it," Aphrodite said. "For yours are only the tiresome bonds of law and duty. Paris and Helen do honor to real love, and I am on their side."

"You would be," said Hera. "Nevertheless, I am Queen of the Immortals, and it is my privilege to demand the destruction of Troy."

Zeus looked distressed at her tone, as harried as Kassandra had seen Priam look when his women were arguing. He said, "My dear Hera, no one questions your right to demand that. But it must be done properly; we cannot simply destroy the city. If the Trojans can defend their city, they cannot simply have it taken from them. Athene—"

Kassandra saw the helmeted battle maiden, with her flashing spear like an Amazon's, as Zeus beckoned to her. But it was the regal Hera who spoke:

"Go, my child, and counsel the Akhaians; they are disheartened and about to sail away; bid them resume the fighting, and tell them that I, Hera, will not allow them to be defeated."

"This seems to be against all wisdom," the tall and solemn Athene said gently, "for the Trojans have done no wrong; and the Akhaians are proud. If you give them the city of Troy, I tell you, they will commit such evil acts in their pride and wickedness that they will offend every God known to mankind. But I have no choice but to obey your voice, Royal Lady." She bowed to Hera and flew away, and Kassandra, watching the flashing light of her helmet, like a comet, found herself standing on the plain before the city of Troy, where Athene came to rest. Before her a great white stallion, blocked Athene's way to the Akhaian camp.

Athene said, "Poseidon Earthshaker, what do you do here?" and the figure of the horse rippled like an image underwater and became first a Kentaur, half man, half horse, then a tall and strong man with seaweed for hair.

Poseidon, brother of Zeus, seemed to speak with his godly brother's thundering voice.

"You have been sent to betray my city; I will not let you enter it." As he spoke he stamped his foot; a great roll of thunder followed, and the ground shook…

Kassandra awoke, in the serpent court, with the children still sleeping at her side. But the ground was rippling like water, and she could hear the sound of thunder - or was it Poseidon's stamping feet? She screamed aloud, and Honey woke and began to whimper. Kassandra sheltered the child in her arms and watched the great arch above the gates rocking back and forth in the light of grey dawn; then it crashed to the ground.

In the corner of the courtyard a lamp had been placed; it rocked and fell over, and a tongue of flame licked at the cloth on which it was placed. Kassandra leaped up, grabbed a jar of water, and extinguished it. All over the temple there were cries and shrieks of terror. The ground was still heaving upward and buckling; a great crack opened in the earth, raced across the courtyard and closed again. Kassandra watched silently, feeling the great weight in her mind dissolve. It had come, she was delivered of it.

If they had sacrificed to Poseidon, might he have held back his hand? She did not know and could not guess. She put down the jug of water with which she had doused the fire, and ran down through the courts. Several of the buildings had indeed collapsed, including the dormitory where the maiden priestesses should have been asleep; so had one of the posts which supported the bronze gates of the Sunlord's house, which now hung twisted on their hinges. The temple was a ruin. Kassandra looked down into the city from the gap at the gates; houses had fallen into rubble and fires were springing up everywhere.

Should she go down into the palace? No; she had given them her warning, and Priam had forbidden any to heed her; neither he nor Paris was likely to be very pleased if she came saying, "I told you so'. But she had. Why were people so unwilling to hear truth spoken?

Slowly she went back into the Temple of Apollo. At least her own people had listened to her warning; no lives had been lost, and the few fires had been quickly put out. She could do no good in Priam's palace. She went back to the children. They would have been frightened by the quake and they would need her.