As the months passed there was a change, too, in Honey -there were times when it seemed to Kassandra that the little girl could be seen growing between dawn and sunrise. It seemed that every day the little girl had some new clever trick or, in growing, had developed something new to fascinate her foster mother. A few days after the appearance of the Kentaurs, she developed her first tooth; soon after she was able to sip her milk from a cup and soon after that, she was eating bread soaked in milk, or soft-mashed foods fed to her with a spoon. Rather sooner than Kassandra had expected, she had a full set of teeth and was grabbing and chewing anything she could reach from everyone's plate; Kassandra could no longer set her down on the ground at their night halts, for she would crawl away and quickly make a game of disappearing for the fun of being called and chased. Finally a time came, fortunately after the worst of the snow was past, when they had to watch her constantly lest she crawl out of the cart, even when it was moving; and soon she was running around at every halt. She was not, Kassandra thought, a particularly pretty child, but she was a strong and sturdy one, never sick, and rarely fretful even when she was cutting her teeth.
As time wore on and travel ate up the long road, they came into country with better roads, and encountered more travellers. It seemed the whole world was bound for Troy with weapons and all manner of goods to be sold to the Trojans. (Or to the Akhaians; it seemed now that the Akhaians were blocking all goods coming into Troy, by land or by sea.) And at last, one day, they sighted the familiar outline of Mount Ida and began to travel along the Scamander toward Troy.
When they came within sight of the city, it seemed to Kassandra that another city, a spread-out city of shacks and tents and shelters, had sprung up at the foot of the great walls, and the z sea was black with ships crowded into the harbor. There was a strong stench as if the very tides had been fouled; the streets of this new-made city were clogged with carts and chariots, and as soon as Kassandra's escort brought the cart near, Akhaian soldiers dressed in the armor she remembered Akhilles's men had borne, came at once and demanded to know her business here.
Her escort had no success in explaining, so Kassandra, who spoke the language somewhat better, got down from the cart, with Honey astride her shoulder, and explained that she was Priam's daughter, returning from a long journey to Col' chis. This news, which Kassandra did not imagine would be particularly surprising, went from mouth to mouth, and finally there was a general outcry that the commander should hear it himself.
She had supposed this might be Akhilles, but instead it was the somewhat taller, stronger, dark-haired young man she had seen in Akhilles's company. They spoke of him as Patroklos, and he came and spoke to her with a certain amount of politeness; more at any rate than she remembered in Akhilles himself.
"The old king's daughter, you say you are, then? Wait a minute; there's a girl in Lord Agamemnon's tent who was brought up in the palace up there, or so she says. She can tell us whether or not you're who you say you are. Wait here," he ordered, and went away.
Honey felt heavy on her shoulder, and Kassandra asked leave of one of the soldier-guards to set her down. "Stay close to me," she admonished; she did not suppose any of the soldiers would knowingly harm a child except perhaps in the heat of battle, but she was not certain, and she did not trust these Akhaians enough to wish to test the theory.
After a time Patroklos returned with a veiled woman; she put back her veil and looked at Kassandra. "Yes," she said,"this is Priam's daughter." To Kassandra's shock and dismay she recognized the girl as Chryseis.
Kassandra, however startled, was relieved to know that Chryseis was alive and well. She said, "Chryseis, my dear, I have worried about you and I know how troubled your father must have been." Chryseis had grown tall and heavy-bodied, but she still had the astonishing blonde hair which had given her her name.
Patroklos spoke to one of the soldiers; they seemed to be discussing the probability that they might hold her for ransom, or for exchange for one of the Akhaian prisoners.
"You cannot do that," said her main escort. "She is a priestess of Apollo and is travelling under Apollo's truce."
"Oh, is she?" Patroklos demanded. "Maybe we can do something then to silence that priest of Apollo who never stops complaining to the Lord Agamemnon or anyone else who will listen to him. Our own priests keep demanding we should make offerings to Apollo; perhaps we should consult with her about the proper sacrifice."
He turned to Kassandra and said, "Would you sacrifice to the Sunlord for us, then?"
She said, "I remember all too well the fate of the last priestess Agamemnon sent for to make sacrifices for you. I know who and what would be sacrificed." And she could see by their faces that this answer was not at all to their liking.
Chryseis looked at her for the first time and said, "You should not speak like that of Agamemnon, Kassandra."
"He is no friend to me, nor to my family," Kassandra said. "Nor do I owe him any duty as guest to host; I will speak of him as I will. Why are you so deferential to his name?"
"Because he is my lord and the most powerful man of all the Akhaians," said Chryseis, "and you would do well not to anger him; we are all in his power here."
"Shall I try when I return to the city to arrange for your freedom?" Kassandra asked in a whisper.
Chryseis tossed her head. She said scornfully, "I have not asked for that. My father has been invoking Apollo for my return, but Apollo has no power here compared with Agamemnon, and I would rather belong to a man than a God."
Then Kassandra recalled her terrible vision. She found that she was trembling; then she looked at Patroklos and said, "You have done me no discourtesy, so I will give you an honest warning; I have seen the terrible arrows of Apollo falling on this city, on Trojan and Akhaian alike." She heard her voice rising to a cry and felt the familiar heat and blaze of the Sunlord. "Ohh, beware his anger, beware the wrath of Apollo! Provoke not his dreadful arrows!"
Patroklos seemed to shrink slightly, but he frowned at her and said, "Yes; I heard you were a prophetess. Listen to me, woman; I'm not afraid of your Trojan Apollo, but it is always unwise to provoke another's Gods. I'd be inclined to let you go; our priests z will probably say the same thing, and I have no love for making war on women. But it's for Akhilles himself to make the final decision." He spoke to a young boy who was watching, and told him to run for the Commander.
A considerable crowd had gathered around the cart; the waiting-women came to the front, looking out of the cart. Patroklos looked up at the two elderly women and asked Kassandra, "Who are these women?"
"They are my mother's servants; my waiting-women."
"Are they, too, sworn priestesses of Apollo?"
"No, they are not; but they are under my protection and his."
Kassandra began to be uncomfortable at the way they were looking at her. She picked up Honey, who had been crawling round her feet, and held her in her arms. Patroklos said, "We have not nearly enough women in our camp to do the women's work. I will not strive with the Trojan Apollo for you, but these women are legitimately my prisoners." He went to the cart and seized Kara by the arm.
"Get down, old lady. You're staying here."
She shook him off with a furious shrug.
"Take your hands off me, you dirty Akhaian beast."
Quite deliberately Patroklos raised his arm and slapped her, not very hard, across the mouth. "I'm not quite sure what you said, but here's your first lesson, old woman; among us you don't talk that way to men. Get inside there; you'll find some clothes to mend. If you do it well, we may feed you."