You who are virgin like the Maiden Huntress I come to you a maiden who has known injustice from the Sunlord; am I to go on serving him in this manner when he has cast me off and derided met
She had not truly expected an answer, but deep in her mind she felt the surging motion of the dark waters of the Goddess.
Obscurely comforted she went away down the hill to the Temple, to take up her duties tallying the offerings.
Khryse was there as usual, marking his symbols on wax tablets, noting numbers of jars of oil, of grains, barley and millet; offerings of wine or honeycombs, of hares and pigeons and kids. She was still unwilling to look at him, although she told herself it was not she who should be ashamed.
A jar carried by one of the younger priestesses had been let fall and had broken another, so that a heap of barley and the sticky contents of a honeycomb intermingled, and the efforts of the young girl to clear it away had only made a worse mess; Kassandra sent her for a twig broom and a water jar, and took over the task of cleaning it up herself. She was directing the young girl to get a cage of pigeons out of the way, when she heard the familiar and hated voice.
"You should not be doing this by yourself, Lady Kassandra, this is work for a slave."
"We are all slaves in the eyes of the Immortals, you as well as I, Khryse," said Kassandra, her eyes on her broom.
"A correct statement, but when was the Lady Kassandra anything but correct - whatever it may cost her or anyone else," said Khryse. "Kassandra, we cannot go on like this with you forever afraid to look at me."
Stung, she looked up angrily into his face.
"Who dares to say I am afraid?"
"If you are not, why do you always avoid my eyes?"
Her voice was caustic. "Are you so fair an object that you think I should find pleasure in looking at you?"
"Come, Kassandra," he said. "Can there not be peace between us?"
"I bear you no particular ill will," she said, still not looking at him. "Stay away from me, and I shall return a like courtesy, if that is what you want from me."
"No," Khryse said. "You know what it is I want from you, Kassandra."
Kassandra sighed, "Khryse, I want nothing from you except to leave me in peace; is that plain enough for you?"
"No," the man said, clasping her hands in his. "I want you, Kassandra; the image of you is in my mind day and night. You have bewitched me; if you cannot love me, then at least free me of your spell."
"I do not know what to say to you," she said, dismayed. "I have cast no spell on you; why should I do such a thing? I want nothing from you, I do not desire you; I do not like you at all, and if I had my way you would be in Crete, or in one of the hells, or even further away than that. I do not know how I can make it any plainer to you, but if I could think of a clearer way to say it, I would. Is that understandable?"
"Kassandra, can you not forgive me? I do not seek to dishonor you. If it is your will, I will go, humble poor priest that I am, and ask your father for your hand in marriage. You must feel some kindness for me, for you have been kind to my motherless child—"
"I would be just as kind to any stray kitten," Kassandra interrupted. "For the last time, I would not marry you if you were the last man the Gods ever made. If the alternative was to live virgin all my life or to marry a blind beggar lying in the marketplace, or even a - an Akhaian, I would choose him before you."
He stepped away, his face as white as the marble walls of the shrine. He said through clenched teeth, "Some day you will regret this, Kassandra. I may not always be a powerless priest."
His face was drawn; she wondered suddenly if he had been drinking unmixed wine so early in the day. But the wine at the priests' table was always well watered; nor did he have the flushed look he would have had in that case. His breath did not seem to smell of wine, but there was a strange smell that seemed to cling to his clothing. She could not identify it, but supposed it was some medicine the healer-priests had given him for his seizures.
She turned away, but he caught at her hand, and pulled her close, backing her against the wall. His body pressed hard against hers, and one of his hands gripped both of hers painfully hard. With his free hand he tried to wrench apart her gown; his mouth jamming hard against hers.
"You have driven me mad," he gasped, "and no man can be blamed for punishing a woman who has driven him to frenzy!"
She struggled and would have screamed; and finally bit down into his lip. He jerked back and she thrust at him with both her hands, so that he tripped and fell. She stumbled as he clung to her, wrenched her hands furiously free of his, and ran. He tried to raise himself and she kicked him in the ribs. She ran from the shrine and did not stop running till she was safe in her own room.
CHAPTER 5
Kassandra awakened from a dream of fire sweeping up the hill of Troy toward the palace to a smell of smoke and voices clamouring in the halls of the Sunlord's house. It was the darkest part of the night, when the moon is down and the stars are going out; but there was the smell of torches. Snatching up a cloak to cover the short tunic in which she slept, she ran out into the courtyard.
Far below in the harbor she could see dim lights from ships, and torches, presumably carried in human hands, making their way up the hill.
All she could think was: It has come. She cried out, and then she heard the clamour of the alarm, a great wooden rattle sounded from Priam's keep. It called for women and children and the old to take refuge in the main citadel and the soldiers to turn out. She stood watching the lights moving through the city below her, and watchmen running up and down, hearing the clash of weapons seized, and at last the loud voices of officers ordering soldiers to their posts.
She felt a gentle tug on her sleeve and found Chryseis standing beside her.
"What is it, Kassandra?"
"It is the Akhaians; they have come, as we foresaw," she said, and was astonished at how calm she felt. "We must make ready to take shelter in the citadel."
"My father—"
"Hush, dear; he will have to go with the soldiers. Go quickly and dress."
"But he has the falling sickness—"
"If the Akhaians take him he will have something worse. Quickly, child." She took Chryseis's hand, and led her within, dressing her quickly in a heavy tunic against the night chill, fastening her cloak and binding sandals on her feet. As soon as Chryseis was dressed, they went into the courtyard; Charis was gathering the women around her, and telling them to go down toward the main keep of the palace.
Kassandra, the girl's hand in hers, went down the steep road. It seemed wrong to be going toward the torches and the clash of arms; surely the Akhaians would never come so high as this; what they sought was in the palace, not up here in the Temple. Now she could hear the chilling war cries, and the bellowing of Hector as he rallied his men.
The other women crowded around them as Kassandra led the way through the palace gates. The guards and soldiers were hurrying the women inside, each one then taking up a spear from a huge pile stacked at the entrance to the armory.
Kassandra thought of taking a spear and going down with the -soldiers; but Hector would be angry. All the same, a time may come when he does not despise my skill at arms. For the moment she decided to go with the women. They were a dishevelled crew, most of them half-dressed as if they had been roused from sleep. Many of them had not troubled to dress, or do more than clutch a blanket over their nakedness like their children; and babies howled or fretted in the arms of mothers or wet-nurses. Kassandra and the other priestesses of Apollo were almost the only ones who were properly dressed for public appearance, or who kept their composure. Most of the women were tear-stained or crying, keening and shouting for explanations or for help.