"Don't touch it, Princess, it's just a baby been exposed from one of the villages; some harlot who can't raise a child*, or some mother with too many daughters."
Kassandra stooped down and lifted the baby. It felt icy cold in spite of its wrappings; but still kicked strongly. As Kassandra held the infant against her breast, the warmth soothed it somewhat and the wailing ceased; it began to squirm around trying to suck.
"There, there," Kassandra said, soothingly, rocking the bundle. "I've nothing for you, poor child. But I'm sure we can find something for you to eat."
Adrea said, horrified, "Why would we do a thing like that? Surely you aren't thinking of keeping it, Princess?"
Kassandra said, "You would be eager to get me married to have a baby, and now I can have one without breaking my oath of chastity, or suffering in childbirth—why should I not take this daughter that the Goddess has sent directly to me?" The baby felt warmer now, and dropped off to sleep against Kassandra's breast. "Surely it is a virtuous deed to save a child's life."
She had said it at first to tease Adrea; but now she began to think of the inconvenience and trouble, when the woman said, "How are you going to feed it, Princess? It's not big enough to chew hard food, and you'd have to get a wet-nurse somewhere, and drag her along all the way to Troy."
"Not at all," Kassandra said, thinking it over. "Go to that village there, and get a good healthy nanny-goat, fresh in milk. Babies thrive on goat's milk." Adrea's face contorted in dismay, and Kassandra said, "Go at once; such food will be good for all of us. Or keep my snake while I go—"
Thus admonished Adrea ran for the village and came back with a young black-and-white nanny goat, strong and healthy, which at once set up a racket with its bleating. Neither of the waiting-women knew much about milking goats, but Kassandra showed them how to do it, and when they had milked a good bowlful, she fed the baby with milk dripped off the edge of her finger. The child fed enthusiastically and collapsed again into sleep, still sucking on Kassandra's finger, a warm lump in her arms. Kassandra took a piece of cloth and rigged a sling so that the baby could travel with her on her saddle, clinging about her neck like the babies of the Amazon mothers. She decided at least for the moment to call the child 'Honey' because, clean and warm and full fed, she had a sweet smell like honeycomb.
At least it would give her something to think about on the long road to Troy. And when she got there, if it did not suit her to have a child to bring up, she would make a present of her to the Queen, or to one of the temples; young girls were always useful for the endless spinning and weaving that must be done in all households.
At first Adrea and Kara made scornful comments about 'Your roadside brat', but soon they were quarrelling over which one should carry Honey on her lap on the long stretches in the cart, singing to her and telling her stories which she was still too young to understand. She soon grew plump and pretty; they combed her curly hair into ringlets and made her dresses from their own clothes. Kassandra soon could not remember what life had been like without the little girl clinging around her neck when she rode mule-back, snuggling in her lap when she rode in the cart, or tagging at her heels whenever she went three steps from the cart or the camp. She seemed quickly to know who was her mother; the women were kind to her, but she would always leave them (even if they were feeding her sweetmeats) to go to Kassandra's arms. She slept curled in the back of the cart on the longer stretches of the journey, with Kassandra's snake curled up beside her, and often wanted to carry it in her own dress. When the women protested, Kassandra only laughed.
"See, she has more sense than you; she is not afraid of one of the Goddess's creatures. She is born to be a priestess, and she knows it."
Days stretched into weeks on the road as they retraced the long journey. When they came to the Great Plain, they kept a sharp eye for Kentaur bands. Kassandra hoped to encounter them; she had a weakness for the riding folk, although both the waiting women and all the escort and drivers hoped they would be spared any sight of them. But they had no sight of any living Kentaur, although one evening they saw a dead horse in a ditch, and clinging to him, the thin twisted body of his rider, cold and dead; the bones, almost protruding through the skin, told them that the poor fellow had died of starvation and cold.
Kassandra's heart twisted in pity, though her driver and the women said it was good riddance and wished all his fellows a similar fate.
One evening, as they were setting up camp, Kassandra caught sight, far off, of a little group of riders: a single old man, withered and deformed from years in the saddle, and half a dozen of what seemed to be children but were probably undernourished half-grown boys. Kassandra could not tell for certain, but she thought it might be Cheiron. She gestured to them, and called to them in their own language, but they would not approach; they kept circling slowly around the camp, too far away to see clearly, or to hear what they were saying.
"We had better set a watch," one of the drivers remarked, "or while we sleep they may approach the camp and murder us all. You can never trust a Kentaur."
"That's not true," said Kassandra. "They won't hurt us; they are much more afraid of us than we are of them."
"They should all be done away with," said Kara. "They are not civilized men."
"They are hungry, that is all," Kassandra said. "They know we have food and beasts - our nanny-goat alone would give them the best meal they have had this year."
In spite of the disapproval of her women and the escort, she would still willingly have given them gifts and food, and tried to attract them near for some time, but they kept a wary distance, circling on their horses, and did not approach the camp. So as they settled down for the night one or two of the men kept watch; and Kassandra lay awake thinking of the Kentaurs out there in the dark on their horses. In the morning, she left some loaves of barley bread and a measure or two of meal in an old cracked pot they were ready to discard.
As they rode away from the camp, Kassandra saw that the Kentaurs were approaching; at least they would get the food -which might postpone death by starvation for a little while. To Honey, she thought, they will be only a legend - and everyone will tell how evil they were. But there was wisdom there, too, and a way of life we will not see again. Will the Amazons go this way too?
After the almost-encounter with the Kentaurs, the road seemed long and empty; day after day they toiled across the Great Plain, seeing few or no travellers, the days differentiated one from another only by the waxing and waning of the moon, the changes from fine to snowy weather. In passing through the country where she would have expected to encounter tribes of the Amazons, there were no riders at all, neither men nor women. Had all the Amazons perished, or been kidnapped to serve in the men's villages? She would have liked to send a message to Penthesilea but had not the slightest idea how to get word to her, or - even if she still lived. She sought to see her in the scrying-bowl, but could not find her.
Snow lay deep on the steppes and it was bitterly cold. Kassandra feared for the life of her snakes in this weather; she and Honey stayed in their blankets, a brazier keeping them warm, sharing their heat with the serpents. Sometimes the snow was so deep that the cart could not travel and they were cooped up all day, with no light, little heat and unable to cook food. They had to keep the nanny-goat in the wagon too because she could have been lost in the deep drifts.