The Firebrand

CHAPTER 4

For the next few days Kassandra heard the war news from the old cake-woman. It seemed that Akhilles remained in his tent, never showing his face even to encourage his companions; and the war dragged on without much change. Hector fought a prolonged duel with Ajax, but they fought till it became too dark to continue, and neither had the advantage. Agamemnon tried a bluff, threatening to pull out of the war too, if Akhilles would not fight; but the Akhaians greeted this threat with so much glee, rushing for their ships and starting to pack up their gear, that he had to spend much of the next day coaxing his men to come back, offering them gifts and bribes to continue fighting.

That night Kassandra drifted in confused dreams of Olympos; Hera, tall and proud, stood and demanded help in destroying the city of Troy.

"Zeus has forbidden us to intervene," said the tall Athene, sombre and sad, "although he has allowed me to counsel the Trojans, if they will but listen to my wisdom. Why do you hate them so fanatically, Hera? Are you still jealous because Paris did not award the crown of beauty to you? What did you expect? Aphrodite is, after all, the Goddess of Beauty; I learned long ago that I could not compete with her. And why should you care what a mortal thinks?"

"Then you, Poseidon!" The proud Lady turned to the hairy sea-God, thick set, bearded, muscled like a swimmer. "Let me have your help in destroying the walls of Troy. Zeus has ordained it, and when it is done he will not be angry."

"Not I," said Poseidon. "Not till the time ordained has come. I know better than to conspire with a woman against the will of her husband."

Thunder flashed as Hera stamped her foot and cried out, "You will regret this!" But Poseidon had taken the form of a great white stallion and galloped away along the shore; the pounding of his hooves sounded like the crash of waves along the sea-wall the Akhaians had built.

Kassandra woke in dread, hearing the sound of Poseidon's rage, wondering if it presaged another earthquake, but all was quiet in the temple, and at last she slept again. In the morning she found that a few vases and dishes had fallen from tables and shelves, and a lamp had overturned, but had burned itself out on the stone floor without setting anything arise; if there had been an earthquake it had been a very small one, hardly more than a shrug of the God's shoulders. The Immortals seemed to have the same unresolved squabbles as those inconclusive duels between the soldiers, which settled nothing. Well, they—the soldiers—were only human and could hardly be blamed for behaving foolishly; but Kassandra would have thought the Gods would have something better to do.

She resolved that this day she would stay away from the city wall; she had seen enough of these duels and she supposed with Akhilles still hiding in his tent, there would be nothing happening yet again. It was surprising, she thought, how much time she had wasted of late gossiping with the other women watching from the walls.

Honey was outgrowing her frocks; Kassandra spent the morning looking through her own possessions and inquiring of the priestesses; perhaps there would be something suitable among the offerings that she could use to make her daughter some clothes. She was given a piece of saffron-dyed material, which she thought would look pretty with the little girl's dark curls and lively dark eyes, from which she could fashion a gown and kerchief. The child would still need sandals; she was running everywhere now, and after the big earthquake the courts were full of rubbish on which she could hurt her feet. She started to call a servant to go to the market to fetch leather for sandals, then decided to go herself and take the child.

Honey was big enough now to scamper along beside her, and to understand that she was to have sandals like a big girl; Kassandra enjoyed the feeling of the small fat hand in hers. Sagely she examined the sandals displayed for sale; the prices were not, it seemed, exorbitant. She arranged to try a sturdy pair on the child and finding them well built and satisfactorily fitting the little feet, allowed Honey to choose which pattern she liked best.

"And for you, Lady?" the sandal-maker asked. By habit Kassandra started to say no, then followed the man's gaze to her feet. Her sandals were much worn, thinning at the sole, and one strap mended and re-mended. Well, after all, she had worn them to Colchis and back.

"Well, these sandals have been halfway round the world; I suppose they deserve to be honorably put out to pasture like an old mare," she said, and allowed him to show her several pairs, all of which were too large. At last he measured her foot and said, "The Lady has such a little foot; I must make a pair to your measure."

"I did not design my own foot," Kassandra said, "but if you will make me a pair by this pattern—" she indicated the most nearly fitting of the sandals he had shown her,"that will do nicely. Meanwhile I suppose you can simply mend the strap of these yet again."

"I don't think it will hold together; it has been sewn so often," he protested. "If the lady will be content to wait in my humble shop but half an hour, the new ones will be ready. May I send for a glass of wine for you? A slice of melon? Some other refreshment? No? Something for the child?"

"No, thank you," Kassandra said; Honey too must learn to wait patiently when necessary. She stood watching the man trimming the soles of the sandals which had been just a little too large, re-positioning the straps and stitching them with his thimble and heavy leather needle. He had an iron needle, which, she thought, must be why he did such fast work; bronze needles could not pierce the leather so readily. She wondered whether he had it smuggled in past the blockade, or whether he traded with the Akhaians. It was probably better not to know. Such commerce was forbidden; but if Priam's city wardens thrust everyone into prison who traded illegally there would be no trading at all and commerce in the city would come completely to a halt.

Already many foodstuffs were hard to come by after the long siege; what had saved the city were the gardens inside the walls, where grapes and olive trees were the sources of wine and oil, and vegetables could be grown. Many houses had caged doves or rabbits, previously kept for sacrifice; now these were eaten, and kept away the most acute hunger. Bread was in short supply except for the soldiers' mess and the palace, though some wagons of grain had been brought in overland, avoiding the Argive ships, during the truce.

Now that the truce was officially over, would it mean a tightening of the siege? Or would the Akhaians get tired of fighting without Akhilles, and go away again? That might be the best that could happen.

But if they felt they had the Gods on their side—and there she broke off in the old confusion; why should the Gods meddle in men's affairs? Well, Hector's answer had been simply: Why not? Anyway, she had been asking that same question since the beginning of the war, and she had had no answer - except in her dreams. Dreams! what good were they?

Yet her dreams had sent her warning of the great earthquake; she should then trust them. Anyhow, she had no choice. The dreams were there; she ignored them at her own peril—and for all she knew, the peril of Troy and her world.

She had drifted into reverie when she heard a great commotion in the streets; Hector's chariot raced down through the city toward the lower gates. To Kassandra, watching from her bench inside the sandal-maker's shop, it seemed that half the population of Troy emptied itself into the streets to watch. After so long, one would think they would take it for granted and go on about their business. But there seemed as much enthusiasm evident as on the first day he had paraded before his troops. Well, that was nice for Hector, she thought, not entirely without sarcasm, and would have turned away; but the sandal-maker brought her new sandals and stood watching Hector's chariot instead of helping her put them on.

"He drives his chariot like the very Battle-God himself," he remarked. "Princess, he is your brother?"

"Yes; the son of both my mother and my father," she replied.

"Tell me, what is he like? Is he truly as much a hero as he seems?"

"He is certainly brave and a valorous fighter," she said. But was it bravery or simply a lack of imagination? Paris could simulate bravery but only because he feared being thought a coward more than whatever else it was that he feared. "But more than that," she said, "Hector is a good man, apart from being a good fighter. He has other virtues than bravery." The man looked a little startled, as if he could not imagine any other virtues. "I mean he would be worthy to admire even if there were no war."

And that, she thought, could hardly be said of any of her other brothers; they seemed little more than animate weapons without much thought for what they were doing or why. Paris had some good qualities - although he seldom showed them to a sister - he was kind to Helen, showed kindness as well as respect to his aging parents, and had been a loving father to his children while they lived. He was kind even to Helen's son by Menelaus.

Aeneas, too, had this kind of character - or do I think so only because I love him? she asked herself. The sandal-maker still lauding Hector's attributes, Kassandra said, "He will be pleased to know that he is so well thought of in the city," (which certainly was true) paid for her purchases and stepped out into the street. She immediately had to snatch Honey out from under the feet of the crowds blocking the way and surging back from the street where four chariots driven by Aeneas, Paris, Deiphobos, and the Thracian captain Glaucus were thundering down in the wake of Hector's toward the great gate.

Had Priam decided to send his best champions against the. Akhaians regardless of the fact that Akhilles was not with them - or in hopes of luring Akhilles forth? The thought revived her curiosity; Honey was already trying to run after the crowd, so Kassandra went down toward the wall and once there, up the stairs inside to the women's favourite observation point.

As she had expected, she found Helen, Andromache, and Creusa there with Hecuba. They all greeted her with affection. Helen, she observed, seemed less worn. Soon she confided to Kassandra that she believed she was pregnant again.

Andromache said, "I do not see how any woman could in good conscience bring a child into the world when there is this great war. I said so to Hector, but he only answered that this is when children are most needed."

"Children die when there is no war," Helen said. "I lost my second daughter to a midwife's carelessness, and three of my sons died in an earthquake. They could have fallen to their death birds-nesting on the rocks, or been trampled by an escaped bull at the Games. There is no safety for children anywhere in this mortal world, but if we all decided not to bear children because of that, where would the world be?"

"Ah, you have more courage than I," said Andromache. "Just as Paris is more daring with his chariot than Hector - look, how he races out of the great gate!"

It was hard to tell which was driving the most wildly; all five chariots exploded out of the gate almost at once, Hector's foot soldiers streaming after them. The Akhaians had not yet formed any battle lines. Kassandra saw the chaos and disorder of the Argive camp as the troops sprang out between their tents, yelling, searching for weapons. The line of chariots thundered down on the camp, and on through. Now she saw that each chariot bore a brazier of coals and something else - tar? pitch? - and an archer swiftly preparing arrows by dipping them into the blazing stuff, and shooting at the lines of ships which lined the harbor beyond the camp. For a few minutes, while trying to bring down the chariots, the Akhaians did not see the objective of the attack; then a great cry of rage rang out, but by this time the chariots were actually on the beach and several of the ships already ablaze.

Hector's foot soldiers were well organized, attacking the still-surprised troops of Agamemnon.

Ship after ship, each with a blazing arrow in the folds of the furled sails, took fire, with sailors unready to fight the flames jumping overboard and adding to the confusion. Now Hector's men turned their attention from the ships to the army's tents. There were screams, and immense confusion all through the camp as men tried half-heartedly to organize ways of fighting the inferno, and tending the wounded. One of the ships (she heard later it had a cargo of oil) had already burned to the waterline and sank. A great cheer went up from Hector's men.

The Trojan chariots were surrounded now by Akhaian foot soldiers trying to pull the riders down; but the archers continued to shoot their fire-arrows into the tents until the women on the wall could not see into the Akhaian camp at all through the smoke. Another ship sagged and settled down into the harbor, the flames subsiding in the waters.

The women cheered; then there was a commotion among the guards along the wall, and Trojan soldiers ran past them to a vantage point where some archers were stationed. There were loud yells, a combination of cheers and jeering cries, and a great crash. When the captain of archers came back, Andromache asked what had happened. Saluting her respectfully, he said, "At first we thought it was Akhilles himself and that he'd picked this time for a diversion. "Twasn't him, though; it was that friend of his - what's his name—Patroklos; climbed right up the west wall where there are stones loose from the earthquake."

"Did you get him?" Andromache asked.

"No chance, Lady; we sent a good few arrows whizzing round his head, though, and he lost his balance and slid down. Then his archers returned our fire and covered him while he showed us a good pair of legs back to their camp," the soldier replied. "Shame we missed him; if he'd wound up with an arrow through his gullet, maybe Akhilles would get discouraged and take off home."

"Never mind," Andromache said. "You did the best you could; and at least he didn't get into the city."

"Begging your pardon, Lady, best we could won't be good enough for Prince Hector," said the soldier pessimistically. "But I reckon you're right, nothing to do about it now, and no use worrying about what we can't mend. Maybe he'll give us another chance some day and we'll pick him off."

"May the War-God grant it," said Andromache. The women looked out over the wall again; the chariots had withdrawn now from the Greek camp and were racing back toward the gates of Troy; Kassandra, though she could not at this distance distinguish one chariot from another, counted them and noted they were all there. The raid on the ships, then, had been a total success.

Below them the watchman shouted, "Ready there to open the gates!" and they heard the creaking of the ropes that opened the great gate. Helen and Andromache went down the stairs to greet their husbands; the other women remained behind.

Hecuba approached Kassandra who asked, "The King was not with the chariots?"

"Oh, no, Kassandra," said her mother. "His hands no longer serve him to drive. The healer-priests have treated him with their healing oils and spells, but every day it grows worse. He can hardly tie the laces of his sandals."

"I am sorry to hear it," Kassandra said, "but for old age, Mother, there are no healing spells, even for a King."

"Nor, I suppose, for a Queen," Hecuba said, and Kassandra, looking sharply at her, realized how frail her mother was, her back stooped and so thin that her bones seemed to protrude from the skin. Her complexion had always seemed fresh and bright; now it was greyish and sallow, and her hair a dirty streaked yellowish-white. Even her eyes seemed to have faded.

"You are not well, Mother."

"Well enough; I am much more troubled about your father," Hecuba said. "And Creusa; she is pregnant again, and there is likely to be a scarcity of nourishing food in the city this winter. The crops were not good, and the Akhaians burnt so much of what there was."

"There is food enough in the Sunlord's house," Kassandra said. "What is shared out for me and for Honey is always more than we can eat; I will try and see that Creusa has enough."

"You are good," Hecuba said gently, reaching out to stroke her hair; her mother had rarely caressed her since she was a very small child, and Kassandra felt warmed.

"We have not only food but healing herbs in plenty; you must always come to me if anyone at the palace is ill or in want," she said. "It is taken for granted that we shall share what we have with our families. I will send some herbs for Father; and you must steep them in hot water, and soak a cloth, and apply the hot cloths to his hands. It may not cure him, but it will ease his pain."

Hecuba looked past her to Honey, who was sitting on the wall, playing with some pebbles. Kassandra remembered a similar game when she was very small; she and her sisters, the other daughters of the royal house, would choose nice round little stones and set them in niches on the wall to bake, as if they were buns or loaves, examining them every few minutes to see if they were cooked enough. She smiled at the memory.

The chariots were inside the walls now and the gates closing. Hecuba asked, "Will you come and dine at the palace? Though you will surely be better fed in the Sunlord's house…'

"I think not tonight," Kassandra said,"though I thank you; I will send the herbs down by a messenger. I hope they do Father good - we cannot spare his strength in these days. Not even Hector is fit to rule Troy, even if he should survive his father." She stopped herself, but Hecuba had heard and stared at her in shock.

She did not speak. Kassandra knew what she was thinking:

So she believes Hector will die before his father, old and ill as Priam is. What more has she seen?

The charioteers had left their chariots; Hector and Paris, accompanied by their wives, came up the stairs, and Aeneas joined Creusa. Kassandra picked up Honey; if she did not intend to join them this night at the palace, it was time to take her leave.

Creusa came to her and said, "I will walk with you to the Sunlord's house, Sister."

"I would be glad of your company; but the sun is still high in the sky; I need no escort," Kassandra protested. "You should not tire yourself with that long climb."

"I will come," Creusa insisted, "I would like to speak with you."

"Very well, then; as I said, I am glad of your company," Kassandra said. Creusa gave her small daughter to a servant, in structing the woman to take her home, and to feed her if she had not returned by supper-time; then she joined Kassandra, who was tying on Honey's broad-brimmed hat against the sun.

"She is well-grown for her age," she said. "How old is she now? When was she born?"

"I am sure Mother has told you that I am not certain," Kassandra said, "but she cannot have been more than a few days old when I found her, and I left Colchis the day after midwinter."

"Nearly a year then; she must be close to my own daughter in age," Creusa said. "Yet she is taller and stronger, and already walking beside you like a big girl. Little Kassandra still creeps on-all fours like a puppy."

"Well, those who know children best say that each one walks and talks when the time is right for her; some early, some late." Kassandra replied. "Mother says I was early to walk and talk, and I remember things which must have happened no later than my second summer."

"That's true," Creusa said. "Astyanax did not walk or even talk till he was past two years old; I know Andromache was beginning to wonder if he had all his wits."

"That must have been very worrying," Kassandra agreed. She felt confused; surely Creusa had not undertaken this long climb to speak with her about the growth and feeding of little children, when the palace was filled with so many nurses to consult.

Whatever it was, Creusa was finding it hard to come to the point; but just as Kassandra was beginning to wonder if Creusa had somehow found out what she had said to Aeneas (But how? Some spying servant? She would swear they had not been overheard) and to feel vaguely guilty. Creusa said, "You are a priestess and they say you are a prophetess; it was you who gave warning of the great earthquakes, was it not?"

"I thought you were there when I gave the warning," Kassandra said.

"No; Aeneas came and told me not to sleep under a roof that night, and to take the children outdoors," her sister said. "What have you foreseen?"

Creusa knows as well as I do that I have seen death, and the destruction of Troy, she thought, but she was sure her sister had some reason beyond the ordinary for asking. She said, hesitating, "Are you sure you want to know? Priam has forbidden anyone to listen to my prophecies. It might be better not to anger him."

"Let me tell you then why I ask," said Creusa. "Aeneas told me that you prophesied that he would survive the fall of Troy."

"Yes," said Kassandra, embarrassed. "It seems the Gods have work for him elsewhere; for I have seen him departing unharmed, and behind him Troy in flames."

Creusa's hands flew to her bosom in a strange gesture. "Is this true?"

"Do you believe I would lie about it?"

"No, no, of course not; but why should he be chosen to be spared when so many will die?"

"I do not know; why were you and your child spared when Helen lost three sons in the great quake?"

"Because Aeneas heeded your warning and Paris would not."

"That is not what I meant," Kassandra said. "No one can say why the Gods choose one to die and another to live; and perhaps those who live may not be the most fortunate."

wish I were sure that only death waited for me, she thought, but she did not say so to Creusa.

"Aeneas has ordered me to leave the city and take the children," Creusa said.

"Children? I thought you had only your little girl—"

"But Aeneas has a son by his earlier marriage; I am to go, perhaps to Crete, to Knossos or even further. I was thinking I should refuse to go, to say that my place was at his side, come war or death; but if it is true that he is certain to survive, then I can understand why he wants me to go… so that we may meet in safer country when the war is over."

"I am sure he is thinking only of your safety."

"He has been strange lately; I wondered if he had found himself another woman and wanted me out of the way."

Kassandra said through a dry mouth, "Even if it should be so, would it matter? Since almost everyone in the city is to die in its fall—"

"No, I suppose not; if one of them can make him happy for a little time," Creusa said, "and they are all going to die anyway -why should I care? So you think I should go?"

"I cannot tell you that; I can say only that there are few who will survive the city's fall," Kassandra said.

"But is it safe to travel with a child so small?"

"Honey could not have been more than a few days old when I found her, and she survived and thrived. Children are stronger than we think."

"I thought only that he wished to be rid of me." Creusa said. "But you have made me understand why it is best that I should go. Thank you, Sister." Unexpectedly she put her arms around Kassandra and hugged her hard. "You too should forsake the city before it is too late. You did not make this war with the damned Akhaians, and there is no reason you should perish with the city. I will ask Aeneas to arrange that you should be sent away—"

"No," Kassandra said. "It seems that this is my destiny, and I must abide it."

"Aeneas speaks well of you, Kassandra," Creusa said. "He told, me once you were more clever than all of Priam's officers together, and that if you were in command we might even win this war."

Kassandra laughed uneasily, and said, "He thinks too well of me then. But you must go, Creusa; gather together your possessions and be ready to depart whenever he can find you a ship, or whatever means he may find to take you and the children to safety."

Creusa embraced her again. She said, "If I am to depart soon, we may not meet again. But wherever destiny may take you, Sister, I wish you well; and if Troy truly does fall, I pray that the Gods may preserve you."

"And you," Kassandra said, kissing her cheek; and so they parted. Kassandra watched her sister out of sight, knowing in her heart that she would never see Creusa again.