She woke at sunrise; Honey was playing on the foot of the bed, letting the serpent flow around her waist and down along her arms. She bathed the child and found her some breakfast, then went to the top of the temple where the first rays would strike the heights of Troy. She thought she should go up to the temple of the Maiden today, and greet her friends among the priestesses there, and perhaps offer thanks for her safe return to
Troy. But before she had a chance she noticed Khryse among the assembled priests come to greet the sunrise.
He looked even worse than the night before, his features swollen and his eyes reddened as if he had not slept. Poor man, she thought, I should not taunt him or expect him to be reasonable when he is in so much misery; it may not make sense for him to suffer like this, but when did that ever stop anyone from suffering?
Charis was speaking with him; she saw Charis point to one and then another of the priests, saying 'You, and you, and you—no, not you, you cannot be spared." As Kassandra approached, them, Charis beckoned to her.
"I understand from what Khryse says that you actually saw his daughter in the Argive camp yesterday when you passed through. Are you certain it was really Chryseis? It has been some years, and she was a growing girl when she - left us."
"When she was cruelly stolen from us, you mean," Khryse added savagely.
Kassandra said, "Why, yes, I am sure; even had I not recognized her, she recognized me, she addressed me by name and warned me against angering Agamemnon."
"And did you say this to her father?"
"I did; but the message made him angry," Kassandra said. "He as much as accused me of inventing it to torment him."
Khryse said sullenly, "You know Kassandra has always had a grudge against me."
"If I were going to invent a tale to annoy Khryse I could make up a much better one than that," Kassandra said. "I tell you, it happened exactly as I have said."
"Well then, you had better go with him to the Akhaian camp," Charis said. "He is resolved to go down and in Apollo's name demand the return of his daughter from the Akhaians. They too have priests of Apollo and observe his truce."
Since this was exactly what she had suggested that he do, she was not surprised, except that he had not done it months or years ago. But she supposed that he had first exhausted all other remedies, whatever they might have been.
There were a good three dozen of them in the ceremonial robes and head-dresses of the Sunlord when at last they started down the long streets and arrived at the great gates of Troy. The guard was unwilling to open the gates, but when Khryse explained that they wished to parley with Agamemnon to arrange a prisoner's return in the name of Apollo, the guard sent a herald to arrange a meeting. Then they all stood around in the hot sun for the best part of an hour until they saw a tall, strongly built man, with thick black curly hair and an elaborately curled beard, approaching them with long, purposeful strides.
Kassandra had never been so close to Agamemnon as this before; as always, horror and revulsion flooded her body. She stared at the ground and never raised her eyes, hoping he would not notice her.
He did not. He stared belligerently at Khryse and said, "What do you want? I am not a priest of Apollo; if you wish to arrange a festival truce or some such matter, your business is with my priests, and not with me."
Khryse stepped forward. He was taller than Agamemnon, his head imposing even with his blond hair faded, his features strongly carved. His voice, deep and strong, rang out imposingly:
"If you are Agamemnon of Mykenae, then my business is indeed with you. I am Khryse, priest of Apollo; and you are holding my daughter as a prisoner in your camp; she was taken three years ago at spring planting."
"Oh?" Agamemnon inquired. "And which of my men is holding this woman?"
"Lord Agamemnon, her name is Chryseis; and I believe it is you who is holding her. In Apollo's name I declare myself ready to pay such ransom as is suitable and customary; and if you do not wish to ransom her then I demand you pay me her bride-price and that we see her married with all proper formality."
"Oh, you do, do you?" Agamemnon said. "I wondered what you wanted, all dressed up for ceremony. Well, Khryse, priest of Apollo, listen here; I intend to keep her myself; and as for marrying her, I can't, because I've already got a wife." He gave a great sarcastic bellow of laughter.
"So I suggest you and your friends march right back inside Troy before I decide that I could use a few more women in the camp." His eyes swept across the ranks of priests and priestesses. "Most of your women seem to be too old for bedding; I seem to have the only pretty one, but we could use a few cooks and wash-women."
"You deliberately persist in this insult to Apollo Sunlord, then? You continue in this insult to his High Priest?" Khryse demanded.
Agamemnon spoke slowly, as if to a young child or a simpleton.
"Listen well, priest," he said, "I worship the Sky Thunderer Zeus, and the Earth Shaker, Poseidon, Lord of Horses. I will not meddle in the affairs of Apollo; he is not my God. But by the same token, your Apollo would be well advised not to meddle with me. This woman in my tent is mine and I will neither ransom her nor pay a bride-price; and that is all I have to say to you. Now go."
Khryse controlling his anger, replied, "And I say to you that I lay my curse on you; you are a man who has broken the sacred laws, and no child of yours shall honor your grave. And if you do not fear my curse, then fear the curse of Apollo, for it is his curse I lay upon your people, and you shall not escape it. His arrows shall fall upon you all, I so declare."
"Declare anything you like," Agamemnon said. "I have heard the rage of my foes before this, and it is of all sounds the most welcome to my heart. As for your Sunlord, I defy his curse; let him do his worst. Now get out of my camp, or I shall tell my archers to use you all for target practice."
"So be it, my lord King," said Khryse, "you shall see how long you can scorn the curse of Apollo."
One of the archers cried out, "Shall I shoot the insolent Trojan, Lord Agamemnon?"
"By no means," Agamemnon said in his rich deep voice. "He is a priest, not a warrior. I do not kill women, little boys, eunuchs, nanny-goats, or priests." The laughter from the ranks of archers robbed Khryse's exit of much of its dignity, but he strode firmly away without looking back; one by one the priests and priestesses followed him. Kassandra kept her eyes lowered, but she could feel, for some reason, Agamemnon's eyes on her. It might only be that she was the youngest of the women from Troy, almost all the other priestesses chosen being well past fifty; but perhaps it was something more. She only knew that she did not want to meet Agamemnon's glance.
And Chryseis went to this man - willingly!
They climbed through the city to the balcony of the Sunlord's house which looked down upon the plains before Troy. Khryse had disappeared briefly from among them; when he reappeared he was wearing the golden mask of the God, and bearing the ritual bow. Suddenly it appeared that he grew taller, more imposing; all the eyes of the Akhaians below were raised to where he stood. Khryse raised his bow and cried out:
"Beware, you who have offended my priest!" and Kassandra realized who stood there beneath the mask, and the voice, strong and resonant and more than human, rang throughout Troy and to the furthest corner of the Akhaian camp below.
"This is my city, Akhaians; I solemnly warn you my curse and my arrows shall strike and shall smite every man among you, if to my priest you return not the one so unlawfully taken, beware of my curse and my arrows, I warn you, you chieftains impious!"