"I call Apollo to witness—" Khryse began hotly.
Kassandra said sharply, "And what will you do, blasphemer, if he should come to answer you?"
Khryse said, arrogantly, "It is certain that he will not come. I sought Kassandra, yes; I serve the God, as she says she does—"
"Take care," said Charis sharply, but Khryse laughed.
"I will take that chance!"
Charis said, "We owe Kassandra protection; the maidens of the Temple are sworn to the God, and are not to be abused by a mere man, be he priest or otherwise; and certainly not by a trick of this kind."
There was murmuring in the room; Kassandra was grateful to Charis for speaking in her defense.
"One thing I ask," the old priest said. "Come here, daughter of Priam; you were heard to say to him that you would not give yourself to him even if he were Apollo in truth. Did you mean that, or did you speak in anger?"
"Since the God did not come to me, I spoke only to defend myself against one who would have raped me in Apollo's name—"
There was a blaze of light and Kassandra raised her eyes to see the brightness where Khryse had been standing.
The deep familiar voice resonated to the corners of the room.
Kassandra—
Beyond all question it was the voice of the God; Kassandra felt her knees loosen and she slid to the floor, not daring to raise her eyes or speak.
This my servant did not believe I could use him this way; but now be knows better. He shall learn my power before he is much older. Leave him to me; I shall deal with my own.
The shining form turned to Kassandra; she trembled and bowed her head.
As for you, Kassandra, you whom I have loved; you have given yourself to my ancient enemy; yet I have claimed you and you are mine. I will not release you; yet you have offended me and from you I withdraw my divine gift of prophecy. Hear my word!
The voice was filled with throbbing sadness; Kassandra, kneeling with her head bowed, felt within herself the surge of protest and resentment.
"Sunlord, I only wish you could," she said aloud. "I want nothing more than to be freed of that gift I did not seek!"
She bowed as if buffeted with mighty winds; her body was a battleground, her eyes burning, the dark surging waters of the Goddess raging against the blasting heat of Apollo's wrath.
You too shall know my power!
Abruptly the presence was gone; Kassandra, released from the grip of the warring Immortals, slumped to the ground. Dimly, she knew Charis bent to lift her up. As if she were floating somewhere near the ceiling of the room, she saw Khryse fall to the ground, his body jerking wildly, heels drumming on the floor, and teeth chattering. Blood-flecked foam burst from his lips, and an eerie cry emptied his lungs.
And serves him right, she thought, who thought to speak with Apollo's power to deceive one of his own…
Like an echo of Apollo's voice, she heard: I shall have use even for him in the days that will come…
Shuddering with cold, she felt the dark waters withdraw, and came back as if surfacing from a very deep dive. She still could not speak; the priests were ministering to Khryse, while her own head still lay in Charis's lap.
Charis rocked her gently and whispered, "Don't cry; even if Apollo's anger is terrible, it will be good for you to be free of this dreadful curse of foresight."
How could I tell her that I wept not for the loss of the gift of prophecy, or that it was not Apollo's anger I feared but his love. I did not seek to be a battleground between the Immortals.
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?"