Abruptly he pulled her close to him and kissed her; startled, her hands tried to push him away, but he held her so tightly she could not escape. Her mouth was surprised at the warmth of his lips.
"I mean you no dishonor," he whispered. "I would be your lover—or your husband if you would have me."
She pulled away frantically and ran from the room; flying up the stairs as if pursued by demons, her heart pounding and the sound of her own blood beating in her ears. In Phyllida's room she found Chryseis rocking the baby and singing to him in a small thin voice. Phyllida was sleeping, but she sat up as Kassandra burst into the room.
Kassandra had been ready to pour out the whole story; but looking at Chryseis, she thought: If I complain of him they will send him away; and then this child will be again at the mercy of the chances of the road.
So she said only, "My head aches from the sun; Phyllida, will you exchange duties with me this afternoon, and take the offerings in the shrine, if I care for the baby? I can send someone to fetch you when he needs to be fed."
Phyllida agreed gladly, saying she was weary of staying indoors with the child, and it was really time he should be weaned anyhow. When she had gone Kassandra put the baby to play in the sunshine, and sat down to think about what had happened to her.
She had panicked foolishly, she was sure; no priest of Apollo would have raped her in the God's shrine.
Surely he had meant no real harm; she had felt no such revulsion as against the tribesman who had tried to ravish her when she rode with the Amazon band. If she had not run away what would he have said or done? She would not have wanted to kill him; but would he have pushed it that far?
She did not really want to know; she liked Khryse, and felt no real anger, only a sense of helplessness. This was not for her. She felt within herself the surge of dark waters, and knew this was not what the Goddess willed for her, either.
CHAPTER 2
For several days Kassandra managed to avoid the duty of taking the offerings; but she heard from others that Khryse was making himself popular among the other priests and priestesses. Not only was he familiar with the secret craft of bees and the art of taking their honey (though she had been told that in Crete this work was forbidden to men and allowed only to special priestesses) but he was familiar with many of the arts known in Crete and Egypt as well.
"He has travelled in Egypt," Charis told her, "and has learned their art of marking tallies; and he has said that he will teach anyone who wishes to learn. It will simplify our keeping of records enormously, so that we can know at once what is in our storehouses without counting - even counting tally-sticks."
Others told of his friendliness, of his many tales of his travels and of his devotion to his daughter; so that she began to feel she had behaved like a little fool. A day came when she returned to her ordinary duties, and when she entered the shrine and found Khryse there to work with her she was ashamed to lift her eyes to his.
"I rejoice to see you again, Lady Kassandra. Are you still angry with me?"
Something in his voice strengthened her resolve, told her that at least she had not imagined what happened between them. Why should I be ashamed to meet his eyes? I have done nothing wrong; if there was any trespass, it was his, not mine.
She said, "I hold no grudge; but I beg you, never touch me again." She was annoyed with herself, for she had spoken as if she was asking a favour, not demanding her right to refuse an unwanted touch.
"I cannot tell you how much I regret offending you," he said.
"There is no need for an apology; let us not speak of it again." She drew nervously away.
"No," he said, "I cannot leave it at that. I know I am not worthy of you; I am only a poor priest, and you are a king's daughter."
"Khryse, it is not that," she said. "I am sworn to belong to no man save the God."
He laughed; a short bitter sound.
"He will never claim you, nor be jealous," he said.
"As for that, I should not be the first—"
"Oh, Kassandra," he said, laughing, "I believe you innocent, but you are surely not innocent enough - or child enough - to believe those old tales!"
She interrupted him. "Let us not speak of such things; but whether it be true or false that the God may claim his own, I am not for you."
"Do not say that," he pleaded, "never in all my life have I ever desired any woman as I desire you, nor did I think I could ever want any woman so much, until I beheld you here—"
"I will believe you if you say so," she said, "but even if this is true, never speak again of this to me."
He bowed his head. "As you will," he said. "Not for worlds would I offend you, princess; I am indebted to you for your kindness to my daughter. Yet I feel that Aphrodite - she who is mistress of desire—has bidden me to love you."
"Such a Goddess sends only madness to men and women," Kassandra said, "I would never love any man at her bidding; I am the Sunlord's own. And now say no more of this or we shall quarrel in truth."
"As you will," Khryse said. "I say only that if you deny the power of the One whom all women must serve it may be that she will punish you."
This new Goddess is created by men to excuse their own lechery; I do not believe in her power, Kassandra thought, then remembered her dream, but she shrugged; I have had it so much on my mind, it is like dreaming of thunder when one hears the rain on the roof.
"There are worshippers in the Temple, and we must take the offerings; will you teach me your new method of tallying them in writing? I have seen the picture writings of Egypt; but it is very complicated, and once, years ago, an old man who had lived there told me that their scribes must study all their lives to learn it."
"That is so," Khryse said, "but their priests have a simpler writing which is not so difficult to learn, and the Cretan style is simpler still, for each mark is not a picture or an idea, as on the tombs of their kings, but a sound; so it can be written down in any language."
"Why how clever! What God or great man created this system?"
"I do not know," Khryse said, "but they say the Olympian Hermes, the messenger God who travels on the wings of thought, is patron God of writing." Khryse took out his tablets and tallying sticks. "I will show you the simplest signs and how to write them down; and then they can be copied on clay tablets so when they dry we will have a record that will never perish and does not depend on any man's memory."
She learned quickly; it was as if something in her was crying out for this new knowledge, and she soaked it up as the parched ground absorbed rain after a long drought. Kassandra had learned the Cretan writing and threatened to be quicker than he was at it; then Khryse insisted she must learn no more.
"It is for your own good," he insisted. "In Crete no woman may learn this writing, not even the Queen. The Gods have ordained that women are not to be taught these things, for it will damage their minds, dry up their wombs, and the world will become barren everywhere. When the sacred springs are dry, the world thirsts."
"This is foolishness," she protested. "It has not harmed me."
"Would you be able to judge? Already you have refused me, or any lover; is this not an insult to the Goddess, and a sign that already you have refused womanhood?"
"So you refuse me this out of pique at what I refused you?"
He looked bitterly wounded.
"It is not me alone that you have refused; it is the great power of nature which has ordained that woman is made for man. Women alone have that sacred and precious power to bear—"