Now the rain came pelting down, sharp and cold, stinging the skin of her face and hands. She moved on even more slowly, one hand tracing along the crumbly cliff wall. Her sandaled feet slipped and slid on the wet ground. Anxious though she was to return to Helikaon and the Xanthos, she finally was forced to stop. Crouching against the cliff wall, she drew her cloak around her.
Alone on the cliff path, she found herself thinking back over the events of the day. She had dreaded seeing Iphigenia again, remembering her dislike of the cold, hard-faced Mykene woman. Now she saw her differently. Was it just that she was dying? Did that knowledge allow her to see the old woman with clearer eyes? Or was it merely pity that had changed her perception of the priestess?
Most of the women sent to Thera had no wish to serve the demigod, and many of them wept at being removed from the world they knew, a world of dreams, of hopes, of love and family. Perhaps Iphigenia had been such a woman once. Andromache saw again the moment Kassandra had knelt beside the priestess and rested her head on Iphigenia’s lap. Iphigenia had reached out and stroked the girl’s hair. Andromache had looked into her face then and thought she saw regret there. Did Iphigenia, in that one caress, think of an empty life, robbed of the chance to have her own children?
The rain began to die down, and Andromache was preparing to resume her descent when she saw a movement above her. It was Kassandra, strolling along the very edge of the path. Andromache’s breath caught in her throat. Kassandra spotted her and waved.
“It is a beautiful night,” she cried. “So exciting!”
Andromache reached out and drew the girl to her. “What are you doing here? It is dangerous.”
“I needed to see you before you left. Did you speak with Kalliope?”
Andromache sighed. She had buried her bones beneath a tree, and she had wept at memories of their love. “Yes,” she said, her voice breaking, “I told her that I missed her and that I would remember her always. Do you think she heard me?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there,” Kassandra replied brightly. “I tried to speak to Xidoros, but he is not here. Do you think it is because men are not allowed on the isle?”
Andromache hugged the girl and kissed her. “Are you going to be happy here?” she asked.
Kassandra squirmed away. “You need to tell Helikaon something,” she said urgently. “He must go to the pirate islands. Odysseus will be there. And Achilles.”
“We are not here to fight battles, Kassandra.”
“But Ithaka has been invaded, and Penelope is held prisoner. She has been beaten and tormented. Odysseus will go there and die if Helikaon does not help him.”
The wind faltered, and a cold silence fell on the cliffside. Andromache almost could hear her own heart beating. Odysseus was Helikaon’s oldest friend, but he was now an enemy. If he and Achilles were to die, it would weaken the Mykene forces, perhaps fatally, and maybe save Troy. The silence grew, and she saw that Kassandra was watching her. Guilt touched her.
“I need to think on this,” she said, unable to meet her sister’s pale gaze.
“What is there to think on?” the girl asked. “Penelope is a wonderful woman, and she is carrying the son of Odysseus.”
“It is not just about Penelope. There are other factors. The survival of Troy, for one.”
“Other factors,” Kassandra said softly. “How strange people are.”
Andromache flushed. “There is nothing strange about desiring to protect those we love.”
“That is my point. Helikaon loves Odysseus and Penelope. You know that if you tell him, he will rush to their aid just as he risked his life to come for you when the Mykene attacked Troy. He is a hero, and he will always desire to protect those he loves.”
Andromache bit back an angry response. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Tell me that the deaths of Odysseus and Achilles will not save Troy.”
Kassandra shook her head. “No, I will not tell you that. All I know is that Odysseus is rushing to his doom, which is what the pirates want. Their leader has a blood feud with Odysseus. There are almost two hundred warriors on Ithaka now. Odysseus has thirty men.”
“The Ugly King is no fool,” Andromache said, “and only a fool would attack two hundred with thirty.”
Kassandra shook her head. “He loves Penelope more than he loves life. They have cut off her hair, Andromache, and every night the pirate chief has her dragged from a dungeon, dressed in rags, and chained to her throne. The whores of the pirates throw food at her and screech insults.”
With that Kassandra fell silent. Tilting her head, she said, “The decision is yours to make. I must go now.” Turning, she started swiftly up the mountain path.
Andromache cursed and ran after her, slipping on the wet ground. “Kassandra, we cannot part like this. Will I see you again?”
Kassandra smiled. “We will meet again before the end.” She lightly touched her sister’s cheek, then walked away.
Andromache watched her go, then turned and continued down the path. As she came closer to the beach, she saw a group of men in flowing robes talking with Helikaon. Most of the crewmen were gathered around. Almost unnoticed, Andromache moved through the crowd. As she came closer, she saw that one of the men in robes was Gershom.
“What is happening here?” she asked, stepping forward to stand alongside Helikaon.
“Gershom is leaving us,” he said. He smiled at the sight of her, but quickly the smile faded and there was suppressed anger in his voice. “He is sailing today with these people of the desert.” Andromache looked at the four cold-eyed bearded men with Gershom.
“Why would you want to leave us?” she asked Gershom.
“I do not want to. I gave a promise some years ago. Now I have been asked to honor it. I have many faults, Andromache, but I keep my promises.”
Turning to Helikaon, he offered his hand. For a moment Andromache thought Helikaon would refuse it. Then the Dardanian king shook his head and stepped in to embrace him.
“I will miss you, my friend,” he said, drawing back. “My men and I all have reason to be grateful to you.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the crew gathered around, and Oniacus clapped Gershom on the back. Gershom grinned and nodded.
“We hope to hear tales of great adventures,” Helikaon said, forcing a smile.
“More likely you will hear of my untimely death,” Gershom replied. “But word is unlikely to reach you, for I will be traveling under a new name, one chosen for me.” Gershom turned to the gathered crew.
“My friends,” he said, “you plucked me from the sea and befriended me. I will hold you all in my heart, as I hold Zidantas and others no longer with us. May the Source of All Creation protect you, and keep you from harm.”
Lastly he looked at Helikaon and Andromache. “May you both find great happiness,” he said.
Without another word he walked away. In his long robes, with the men of the desert following behind him, Andromache thought he now looked like the prince he was, sterner and full of authority. She wondered what would become of him, but she knew she never would find out.
They watched in silence as Gershom climbed onto the Egypteian ship, and Andromache looked into the face of her lover and saw the sorrow there. Placing her hand on his arm, she leaned in close. “I am sorry to see you so sad.”
“He is my friend, one of the best I have ever had, and my heart tells me we will not meet again.”