"She's beautiful," she said, smiling blissfully when she had finished nudging and nuzzling the baby, and drawing a beautiful ring from her finger, presented it to the court midwife. "This, in addition to your regular fee which my chamberlain will give you."
The midwife gasped thanks, and backed away, overwhelmed at such largesse. Imandra continued:
"We will name her on the first auspicious day. Until then she will be my little pearl… since she is as smooth and pink as one of the pearls the divers in the Islands bring from the depths of the sea. And I shall call her Pearl, my little pearl princess."
All the women agreed that this was a lovely name. It would be used until the princess was old enough to be given a formal name by the priestesses, and informally all her life.
Then Queen Imandra beckoned Kassandra forward.
"Your eyes are red, Kassandra, and you do not seem to rejoice, with us. Have you seen some evil omen for my child, that you do not share my joy?"
Kassandra cringed; she had been afraid that she would not be able to conceal her grief from Imandra's sharp eyes. "No, kinswoman; I truly rejoice for your happiness," she said, bending down and kissing the little princess, "and I cannot tell you how greatly I rejoice that you are safe and well. But my eyes are always red when I sleep so little as this night; and—" she hesitated, her voice breaking,"the Gods have sent me an evil omen from Troy. I am needed there. I beg you, kinswoman, grant me leave to depart at once for my home."
Imandra looked distressed, but the pain in Kassandra's face softened her anger. She said, "In this weather? Winter is approaching, and the journey would be terrible. I had hoped you would remain to help me with raising my daughter. I had little luck in raising Andromache to be Queen after me. I put small faith in oracles or omens, but I can deny you nothing on such a day when the Goddess has sent me this beautiful daughter. Yet it is not my leave you must obtain, but that of Serpent Mother. It is to her, not to me, that you are sworn here. And you must wait at least until I can gather gifts to be sent to Troy; for Andromache and her child, and for my kinswoman Hecuba, and, not least, for you, my dear daughter."
Kassandra had known this would be required, and she told herself that the catastrophe she had foreseen could not be so imminent that a day or even a week could make so much difference. The dues of kinship and courtesy could not be ignored for one who had been so good to her as Queen Imandra, yet her heart rebelled; everything which held her back from Troy now seemed hateful to her. She was sure that Arikia would chide her for disloyalty, even for dishonor; but there was no other honorable thing to do. They had given generously of their knowledge and friendship; she could not, after all, steal away from Colchis like a thief.
So she braced herself and went to take leave of the Serpent Priestess.
During the night and the long next day, while wagons and beasts and gifts and all that she would need on the long road to Troy were being made ready, she had time to regain some degree of calm, if only because she could not remain at that fever pitch of dread and terror. While she knew that the Gods had summoned her to Troy to meet whatever might be her destiny, it never occurred to her that remaining in Colchis might serve to avoid it; history was full of tales of those who selfishly thought to avoid their destiny by neglecting some duty, and inevitably brought upon themselves the very fate they feared.
The vision might not mean catastrophe; it might even mean that Apollo would not tolerate the war as it was being waged. Perhaps he would force them to some kind of truce, and all would be well.
So in the end, although truly sorry to part from Colchis and the freedom and honor she knew there, she set forth three mornings later with a high heart, glad—or at least not sorry—to be on the road again.
CHAPTER 18
Their journey began at the earliest daylight. Queen Imandra had loaned them a strong cart drawn by mules. As the cart trundled down through the city, all was dark except for sparks from a forge, where a burly woman blacksmith worked. Adrea and Kara were openly jubilant that they were going home, although they spoke with dread of the long miles of the journey, and the dangers of bandits and Kentaurs as well as of mountain passes deep in snow, and roving wild men or women who might think they bore riches - or who would find their simple supplies of food and clothing riches enough.
Kassandra rode silently, already missing her friends in the temple of Serpent Mother, both human and reptile, and sorry to leave Imandra. It was hardly likely that they would meet again in this world.
As they trundled through the iron gates of Colchis, a few flakes of snow were sifting down, and the skies were grey and sullen. Light grew, though the sun did not appear, and Kassandra took a last look at the high gates of the city, gleaming red in the greyish dawnlight.
There could not be many women her age who had made such a journey twice in a lifetime; and if she could journey this road twice, why not three times or more? There might still be many adventures before her; and even if she rode back to Troy, there was no need to feel the walls of the city close about her again until she must.
The first night when she and her women prepared as usual to settle down for sleep, Adrea demanded, "Are you going to sleep with that thing in your bed, Princess?"
Kassandra let her hand stray to the coils of the snake, warm and soft in her chemise.
"Of course, I am her mother. I hatched this snake with my own body's warmth, and she has slept in my bosom every night of her life. Besides, it is cold at night; she would die if I did not keep her warm."
"I would do much and I have done much for your mother's daughter," said Adrea, "but I will not share my bed with a snake! Can't it sleep by the fire in a box or a pot?"
"No, it cannot," said Kassandra, secretly filled with glee. "I assure you it will not bite, and it is a better bedfellow than a human child, for it will not wet or soil the bedclothes as a baby is likely to do. You will never sleep with a cleaner creature." She stroked the snake and said, "You needn't worry; she will stay close to me; I am sure she is more afraid of you than you are of her."
"No," Adrea said pleadingly, "no, please, Lady Kassandra, I can't do it, I can't sleep in one bed with that serpent."
"Why, how dare you! She is one of the Goddess's creatures the same as you, Adrea. You will not be so foolish, will you, Kara?"
Kara said stubbornly, "I'm not going to sleep with any slimy snake, either. She'd be sure to crawl on me in my sleep."
"She doesn't even bite—and she wouldn't hurt you if she did," Kassandra said crossly. "Her teeth aren't grown yet. What a fool you are." She lay down, idly caressing the snake's head, which stuck just a finger's breadth out of her chemise.
Kassandra said, "If you had the sense that the Gods gave a hen, and would just touch her, you'd know she's not slimy at all, no more than a bird; she's very soft and smooth and warm." She thrust the snake, draped over her hand, at Adrea, but the woman recoiled with a squeal. Kassandra lay down, stretching out on her pillows. She said, "Well, I am weary, and I shall sleep, even if you two make fools of yourselves by sleeping on the cold floor of the wagon. Make what beds for yourselves you will, but turn out the lamp and let us all sleep, in the Goddess's name. Any Goddess."
They were soon out of sight of Colchis, riding through the winding hills and past a succession of little villages. Each day had grown progressively colder, and fine snow was beginning to sift down, melting as it fell. One morning, riding almost before the sun was up, Kassandra heard a strange, insistent wailing cry.
"Why, it's a child, and by the sound, a young one; what's a baby doing in this wilderness alone where there could be wolves or even bears?" she said, and got down from the cart, looking round through the falling snow for the source of the sound. After a time she saw a bundle of coarse-woven fabric on the hillside; a small well-made girl, its navel-string not healed, a dark fuzz covering its head.