Cassandra (20 page)

At that moment there came a distant bellow of trumpets, brazen and tooth-grittingly toneless. Arion held up a hand to still our laughter and said, all on one long breath, `Praises be to all of the gods of every nation and in every place and that includes Pluton, Thanatos and Ares the Sacker of Cities. That, my friends, is the appallingly untuned fanfare which announces the arrival of Agamemnon lord of Men, his brother Menelaus and Elene Princess of Sparta and, all other things being equal, we are saved.'

Three days later we went to the temple with the baby, which was still red-faced and screamed continuously as it was carried up the steep streets of holy Ilium. It had obviously not enjoyed being born and the continued processes of life were not amusing it either. It did not like Eleni and it did not like me and we were not greatly in favour of it after it had thrown up over us.

Not `it', him. Oenone had decided to call the baby Corythus, or `shoal', as in deep water hazard. We had not heard the name in Troy before and assumed that it either related to the father Pariki's outrageous treatment of his wife or had something to do with the Scamander.

`Twin,' I said, `I don't think I like babies.'

Eleni was walking beside me, holding Corythus out in front of him in case he vomited again. `Twin,' he said, `neither do I and it is your turn to hold him. Why does the god want to see us?'

`I don't know. You heard him, he just said to come back after three days bringing this creature with us, so here we are. It is not a good idea to flout gods, especially not Apollo the Archer - do you want a plague?' I was still feeling dislocated. Eleni understood instantly and gave me his hand.

But it was not the same. Not the same at all. He had spent several nights in the temple of Dionysius since we parted. I had awoken with fire creeping through my loins, images of a woman in my mind, and another face obscuring that of the priestess. This told me that Eleni, my brother and twin with whom I once shared all of my life, was lying with the priestess and thinking of our sister Andromache. He probably thought he was calling up Ishtar the goddess, an improper thing to do in Dionysius' temple anyway, but it was Andromache who possessed his desires, not me.

I did not know how he was going to react to Hector's marriage in the spring. His hand was firm and warm and that was all - truly the hand of a brother, and I had sufficient brothers. With Pariki, I had too many.

Another effect of Eleni's liaison was to leave me with a heavy ache in my back and a feeling of regret and vast missed opportunities.

We reached the temple. For this honour, we had put on our best purple and we paused at the antechamber to wash down Eleni's spattered tunic. The doors opened. The following crowd muttered.

The cat-smooth priest of the Archer God walked before us to the altar and we knelt as we had before, laying the baby on the floor between us. It was a beautiful temple, I thought, as I strove to control my breathing and order my mind. Golden suns blazed in the morning light. A warm wind drifted through the high windows, bringing the scent of honey and ripe apples.

I was sinking into a drowse when the god came.

The first thing I noticed was that Corythus had stopped wailing and was cooing and trying to grasp sunbeams with his hands.

Mylsion Apollo Priest stood tall and cried, `The god comes!' and a great bronze bell was struck.

I seemed to see the reverberations, like rainbows patterning across the stone floor, like ripples in the pools of the Scamander. Golden fish swam up through the water and mouthed bubbles.

`Cassandra,' said the honey-laden voice, `you will be happy.'

I gasped, because the fiery fingers had touched my lips. `Come at noon in three weeks, daughter of Priam, well-beloved, and lie with me and mine.'

`Lord, it shall be as you say,' I faltered.

`Eleni, son of Priam,' Apollo's voice flowed into our ears, `you shall have the woman you desire - but not yet, little son, not for a long time. Therefore, Eleni, have patience, most fortunate of the men of Troy.'

`Corythus,' said the god, as a bright sunbeam touched the child's face. `Grow strong. Learn your own path. Leave your mother's.'

Then he was gone. We sighed and I gulped. My mouth was dry.

Someone else picked up the baby, which was a mercy, and there was shouting and exclamations and we had to drink a lot of wine. Luckily the priest had heard it all and we did not have to explain. Finally the temple emptied and Eleni and I trailed the crowd back to the palace.

`I'm afraid,' I said at last.

`Why? Cassandra, he said that I shall have... shall have-'

`I heard him. Not for a long time, he said. But he told me to go and lie with him and I'm afraid. Eleni, pay attention!'

`Why are you afraid?'

`You were there. You remember the man with the blue bead.'

`Yes, but you were there when I lay with the priestess. That felt lovely; it didn't hurt. It won't hurt with the god. He called you his beloved.'

`It's not really the pain, it's... the closeness.'

`That's the best part.' Eleni grinned, left me at the door and wafted away, elevated by the knowledge he would possess Andromache in the end.

I threw as horrible a thought after him as I could and he did not even stagger. Eleni my brother was closed to me. He would not be there when I went to the god.

I spent three weeks trying every craft I could find and worrying. It might have been better if there had been anything I was good at. But there wasn't. My pots sagged and broke in firing. My thread was lumpy and the embroiderer took back her precious needles after I had broken one, carelessly dragging it through the cloth. My enamel was blotchy and my dye was not fast. My cooking was either burned or raw and in extreme cases both. In fact the cook was amazed - apparently no one had managed to do that before.

For me, it was easy.

I went to weapons training and found that I could shoot a good accurate arrow - but I had been able to do that since I was a child; throw a reasonable spear, and ride so that I did not usually fall off. Myrine told me to stick to healing after the eight-year-olds beat me in a foot race. Tithone had deserted me. She had gone on a journey to see her sister healers, at a convocation held somewhere in a forest in Caria, and I was not allowed to tend people without her. The other maidens chattered incessantly about the great honour bestowed on me and speculated, giggling, about what making love to a god would be like. I screamed when Cycne began to describe with illustrative examples how huge the god's phallus might be, and Perseis threw them out and brought me wine and poppy.

By the time they came to dress me in gold and carry me up to the temple I was in despair.

I don't remember the journey up the hill. They put the litter down and the priest helped me remove my clothes. His touch was like a healer's - he had no interest in my body. I was trying not to have any interest in it either. I called Eleni and could not find him. I did not try again. I was so desolate that I did not even cry.

Then everyone went away and the temple was empty.

The sun streamed in. The walls were of gold and shone so brightly that I closed my eyes.

The touch was light as a feather. A warm finger was laid on my knee, and travelled upward, circled my belly, continued up to my face, touched my lips. A body lay down beside me. I could feel warm breath on my shoulder, then on my breast as a mouth kissed and then suckled each nipple, so gently that a breeze might have blown him away. I lay still, awaiting an onslaught which did not come. Instead the mouth continued to suck and kiss, moving down my body and then up again, delicate as flowers. I moved a little, appreciating the caresses, still afraid of the plunging phallus and the pain. Each time the hands followed the movement, withdrawing, exquisitely courteous, if I pulled away.

After a while I did not pull away. The hands and the mouth grew bolder, the caresses deeper. The mouth kissing mine was sweet, but not like honey. It was the distilled essence of a wild taste like dust and strange herbs. I sucked at the mouth, the moving lips, and explored the body on the altar.

He felt like a young man, long limbed and smooth, with strong arms and long curly hair. I felt over the face; high nosed, broad of forehead and chin, so young that there was no scrape of beard. I heard him draw in a long breath as I found the phallus and stroked it gently. I had never thought that I could please a god.

The fingers entered me and found the opening silky with moisture. The mouth joined them and I felt my back arch as it had when Eleni had found the goddesses' pearl. We were lying flank to flank with our legs intertwined. I knew that I would still not have the courage to lie on my back and await the stabbing thrust. A hand slid down between our bodies, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake.

Then he was inside me, Apollo Archer god, and there was no pain. Each movement, slow and considered, dragged a sigh out of my lungs, filled me with fire, melted my bones. I clasped him close and we began to move faster, harder, his hair mingling with mine on our golden bed. `Cassandra,' said the god and I opened my eyes.

Beautiful, the Lord Apollo seemed to me, noble and glorious, and he cleaved closer to me than flesh cleaves to bone. I was full of him. Then sunlight exploded and I cried aloud and so did he.

When I could see again I was laying in the arms of a boy on the altar of Apollo, sobbing with joy and relief.

`Cassandra,' he said, leaning up on one elbow, but it was not the voice of a god. It was a youth's voice, husky and uncertain. He had such dark brown eyes that I could not tell what he was thinking. I probed and found that I knew nothing about him. I was intrigued.

`What is your name?' I asked. Then the question seemed funny and we both laughed until he stopped my mouth with a kiss. The kiss was almost as sweet as the god's had been.

`The god gave us to each other,' he observed. `He called me from the shops. Your brother was annoyed.'

`Hector does not like delays in unloading,' I agreed. `So Apollo called you?'

`The sky was filled with light and the voice said, "Go to the temple and make love with all your skill to the daughter of Priam," So I came. Did I please you, Princess?'

`Was the god with you all the time?'

`Yes. But I was there, too. I don't really understand, Cassandra, nothing like this has ever happened to me before.'

I stretched luxuriously. I felt wonderful. The nameless boy's hand cupped my breast, the fingers almost touching, sending a little spurt of delight through my body.

`Tell me your name,' I begged, as my hand slid along a wet thigh.

`Dion,' he whispered. `Dion the fisherman.'

Making love with Dion the fisherman was almost as delightful as making love to the god. He was closer to me, not divine but human, warm as flesh, not fire. He was clumsier and so was I, but we learned fast, I and my well-skilled boy. We reached a climax with a rush.

Apollo had given me a lover. It was a godly gift.

 

That was a cold winter, but Dion kept me warm. Eleni was lost to me, apart from occasional glimpses. He had shut his mind and that was a loss as grievous as a missing limb which still itches and pains even though it is gone. Dion's family lived in the lower city and I often went there. I could not marry him but that did not matter when I lay down in the fish-smelling nets to embrace his lithe body, wreathing my arms around his neck, locking my legs around his waist.

The god did not come to us again, but he did not need to. I stopped worrying about my lack of culinary skill when I ate partially roasted fish with Dion. His family were honoured that Apollo had chosen their son. I felt that he had given me new life when I thought I might die of the loss of Eleni.

Dion never reflected on anything. If the sea killed him, then it killed him. If the god called him, he obeyed. He had no interest in the world, did not wish to travel or trade. He was deeply content, calm, beautiful and loving. He acted on my grief and loss like a marsh-herb poultice on a burn. He healed me.

The freezing gales flayed Troy that winter. I had gone out with the boats when the sky turned black and we cut the nets and drove for shore, battered by great waves. Dion was clinging to a stay. I had wrapped my cloak around me and tied it with a cord and was embracing the mast like a lover, my cheek against the turned wood.

`Row, you pampered sons of Corinth whores!' bellowed the shipmaster, Ethipi. `Steer inland, fool, or we'll be smashed to kindling on the cliff!'

The wind lashed and howled and the wise-eyed boat groaned in all her timbers as Ethipi strove to keep her head into the wind. The steering oar snapped with a crack and flung Maeles, the navigator overboard. Icy water smashed the side. The sail flapped loose and shredded. My grip was failing.

`Cassandra!' Dion stumbled to me and we bound ourselves together to the mast, `I love you! Can't you save us?'

I called to my brother but he did not hear. Then I called the god. It was hard to concentrate. The wind was bellowing and each wave landed with a crash like thunder. Our boat whined at this mistreatment and Dion was pinning me so tight that I could not breathe.

I freed my arms from my lover and raised them in the invoking gesture. I did not know how to call the god of the sea, Blue-Haired Poseidon, Earth Shaker, so I used the Apollonian ceremony. What could I offer the god? The words formed themselves in my mouth without any intervention from my distracted wits.

`Lord Poseidon,' I shrieked, `do not destroy us and we will take you back into our city. I, Cassandra, daughter of Priam, promise this.' I swung and slid as the boat bucked like a horse. Dion secured me and held me fast, his face against my neck. I could feel his wet curls dripping onto my breast and water ran cold down my body. `Lord Poseidon, I call upon you to hear our prayer,' I cried, contemplating the tripartite invocation. `Dread Lord Poseidon, save all of us and you shall return in triumph to the city of Dardanus and Laomedon who insulted you. I, Cassandra, swear this by all the gods.'