"But it is not Priam's first grandson," Kassandra said. "There is Paris's son by Oenone."
"That's as may be," the messenger said, "but Priam chooses to call Hector's son his first grandson and as far as I know the King has the right to choose who he'll name his next heir after Prince Hector."
This was true, but, Kassandra thought, it is hard on Oenone to see her son passed over as was his father. So she chose not to attend the naming-feast.
She had come to treasure the peace and calm of the Temple and resented anything which broke into it, but she got leave to pay a visit to Andromache. She found her in the elaborate suite with the murals of sea-creatures, sitting propped up on pillows, the small red-faced baby in a wicker basket at her side. She looked healthy and blooming, with a good colour in her cheeks, and Kassandra was relieved; so many women died in childbirth or soon after, but Andromache looked quite well.
"What is all this nonsense about Hector's son?" she asked, only half joking. "It was you who went to the trouble of carrying him for the best part of a year, and you who went through all the pain and fuss of birthing him. I would call him Andromache's son!"
Andromache grimaced, then giggled. "Maybe you have the best of it, being sworn to the God and forbidden to men! After all that, I am in no hurry to welcome Hector back to my bed. Childbirth is a much overrated pastime; I would as soon wait a few years before I try it again. And they say women are too fragile to handle weapons for fear of wounds? I wonder how brave my dear Hector would have been in this battle!"
Then she chuckled. "Can't you hear it now - we change all the customs and bards will make ballads about the bravery of Hecuba, mother of Hector! Well, and why not - she has triumphed in that battle at least a dozen times, which means she has more bravery than I ever hope to have! They tell us about the delights of marriage, every girl is brought up to think of nothing else; but the delights of childbearing we are left to discover for ourselves. Ah, well—" she leaned over, grimaced with the pain of movement, and beckoned to one of the servants to put the baby into her arms; the look of delight on her face as she held him close belied her words, "I think my prize of battle is worth more than the sack of a city!"
"Well, I should think so," said Kassandra, touching the tiny curled fist. "What will you call him?"
"Astyanax," said Andromache. "So Hector desires. Did you know that when he is carried down to the naming-feast, he will be laid in Hector's shield and carried that way? Imagine it -what a cradle!"
Kassandra tried to visualise the infant laid at the center of Hector's great war-shield; suddenly she shuddered and went rigid, seeing the great shield, and the child - how old was he? Surely too young for a warrior! - his broken body laid out as for burial. It was like a wave of icy water; but Andromache, happily holding her baby at her breast, did not see.
Kassandra closed her eyes in hopes that that would drive the bloody sight away. "How is it with Creusa?"
"She seems happy; she says she cannot wait to be pregnant. Shall I tell her all of what lies in store for her?"
"Don't be unkind," said Kassandra. "Let her enjoy her first happiness; there will be time enough for everything else later."
"You are right; there are enough old witches who try to spoil things for young brides by warning them of everything in store for them in the fullness of years," Andromache agreed. "And no matter what, I would not have wanted to miss my little darling." She buried her lips in the baby's soft neck, and snuffled at him ecstatically. As when she had seen Phyllida holding her child, Kassandra was touched and almost envious.
"Is there any other news?"
"Yes; the ship of Paris has been sighted; a runner from the mountain lookout came to tell the King so," said Andromache. "He is your twin, but I do not think him so much like you."
"I am told we are much alike in looks," Kassandra said, hesitating. "I do not think we are much alike otherwise. There are some who think him the handsomest man in Troy."
Andromache said lightly, stroking Kassandra's hand, "I am not among them, of course; for me no man is the equal of Hector, whether in looks or otherwise."
This pleased Kassandra; she felt herself responsible for this marriage and rejoiced that Andromache was content with her husband. And Hector had no reason to be dissatisfied either.
"And everyone thinks you beautiful," Andromache went on, "but I do not think your face would well suit a man: it is too delicate. I do not remember that you were as like as that; is he so girlish then?"
"I don't think so, and surely he is manly enough, for he won so many events at the games," Kassandra said. "He is a fine archer and athlete and wrestler, and a very devil in a chariot. But I think," she added with a touch of mischief, "if we were matched on the field, he would be no better warrior than I."
"My mother said," Andromache remarked,"that you had the soul of a great warrior in the body of a field mouse."
Kassandra giggled, and put her face down to the baby Astyanax; she felt she had somehow wronged him in giving way to her visions.
"May all the Gods bless him, and you too, my dear," she said.
"Will you not stay to drink to his good fortune at the naming-feast?"
"No, I think not," she said. "I will come home, perhaps, for a day or two when Paris returns. For now I will go and embrace my mother, and then return to the Temple."
She took an affectionate farewell of Andromache, knowing that she was closer to her than to any of her own sisters, and went briefly to Hecuba for her blessing. Then she went to the simple rooms at the back of the house where Oenone dwelt with a couple of servants, quiet girls who had been, she knew, votaries of the River God.
Oenone was curled up in a hammock nursing her son; Kassandra came and embraced her, aware of the woman's fragility; it was Oenone, she thought, and not herself, who had the spirit of a warrior in the body of a field mouse. Oenone seemed so delicate that she would break at a touch.
"Are you well, my sister?" Kassandra asked, using the word deliberately. She was certainly fonder of Oenone than of Creusa or even Polyxena. But when she was close to her she felt again that disturbing impulse to caress the girl, and because she did not know whether this was her own emotion or Paris's, it made her diffident and shy with Oenone.
"I would have come to visit you when I was here for Creusa's wedding, my dear; but they told me you were not well enough for guests," she said.
Oenone smiled and returned her embrace. She said, "Well, now that Andromache's son is born and Hector's place is secure, I need not fear for my son."
Kassandra was shocked. "Surely there is no need to fear for him—"
"Surely I hope there is not," Oenone said, "but Hector managed to be rid of Paris and I do not think he welcomes Paris's son or has any reason to love him."
"I think surely you misjudge Hector," Kassandra said. "He has never shown any jealousy of Paris—not to me."
Oenone laughed and said, "Oh, Kassandra, I do not think you know how much everyone values your good opinion and wishes to show you only their very best side. If Hector felt so you would be the very last to know."
Kassandra blushed. To turn the conversation aside she picked up the baby and dandled him in her arms. "He is pretty," she said. "Is he like his father, do you think, or like you?"
"It is too soon to tell," Oenone said. "I should hope he would be like my own father, true and honorable."