"Look," he said, "all the fires are out in the Akhaian camp. It is very late. You must be weary—I should let you go."
It was late; she drew a little away from him, feeling cold out of his arms, and offered him her hand. He bent over her very close, but he did not kiss her again. He whispered, "Good night, my little love, and the Goddess keep you. I will stand here till I see you safe inside the gates of the Sunlord's house."
She climbed the last steps alone, thrust at the gate, which was opened from inside.
"Ah, Princess Kassandra," said one of the temple servants, as he opened the gate, "you are returning from dining with your parents at the palace? Did you walk up alone?"
"No; the Lord Aeneas escorted me," she said, and the young man thrust out his head.
"Would the Lord Aeneas like a lighted torch for the way downward?"
"No, thank you," Aeneas said courteously. "The moon is very bright." He bowed to Kassandra. "Good night, my sister and my lady."
"Good night," she said, and when she was out of hearing, she heard herself whisper, "Good night, my love."
She was stricken with dismay. She had sworn - knowing nothing of it - that she would never serve the Goddess Aphrodite nor succumb to this kind of passion.
And now she was like any other of that Akhaian Goddess's servants.
CHAPTER 23
Akhilles's soldiers were loading their boats; the quarrel in the Akhaian camp had evidently not subsided. One of Priam's favourite agents, an old woman who sold cakes to the Akhaian camp and came back inside the walls every day about noon for a new load of cakes (and a long talk with the Captain of the Watch), reported that Akhilles had not stirred from his tent. Patroklos had tried to dissuade the soldiers from leaving, but without much effect.
Patroklos, she said, was liked by all the soldiers, but everyone felt their loyalty was to Akhilles, and if he had decided to give up the fight, they would give up too.
Halfway through the morning, Kassandra went down to the wall to see for herself, along with most of the women of Priam's house: Hecuba, Andromache, Helen and Creusa.
They listened to the old cake-woman's report and wondered what this would mean to the Akhaian cause.
"Not much," said Paris, who this morning was the Captain of the Watch. "Akhilles is a maniac for fighting, but Agamemnon and Odysseus are the brains of the campaign. Akhilles is great in single combat, of course, and drives his chariot like Helios. Those Myrmidons of his would follow him in a charge over the edge of the world—"
"What a pity someone can't persuade them to do it—" Creusa murmured. "That would solve most of our trouble - with Akhilles at least. Does anyone know a friendly Immortal who would appear in Akhilles's form and lead his men off on an urgent mission somewhere on the other side of the world, or convince them they're desperately needed at home—"
"But the point is," Paris said, ignoring her,"that's all Akhilles has in his favour: he's crazy for the kill. He doesn't know a damned thing about strategy or war tactics. Losing Akhilles from the war, having him go home like a little boy saying, "I'm not playing any more," is no great blow to the Akhaians. It would be far worse for them, and better for us, if they lost Agamemnon, or Odysseus, or even Menelaus."
"What a pity we can't think of some clever way to get rid of one of them," said Hecuba.
"It almost happened," said Paris. "This quarrel between Akhilles and Agamemnon meant they would have to lose one or the other. Losing Akhilles distressed the soldiers - he's their idol - but the leaders knew they couldn't lose Agamemnon or the whole campaign would fall apart. Why else do you think they let him take Akhilles's girl? They know how important Agamemnon is to the whole campaign. Why do you think Akhilles is sulking? He's been shown very clearly that he's not nearly as important -not to anyone - as Agamemnon."
"Well, something is going on down there," Helen said. "Look, there is Agamemnon - with Menelaus tagging behind him as usual - and his herald."
Kassandra had seen the herald before; a tall young man who was perhaps too slightly built to be of much use with sword or shield, but who had a splendid bass voice which he could make ring throughout the entire camp. Waste of a fine musician, Khryse had once said and indeed he would have made a splendid minstrel or singer.
Now Agamemnon was giving him orders, and the herald was striding clear across the camp and - yes - toward the foot of the wall. Paris took his tall loop-shaped shield, settled his helmet down on his head, and went out on the wall. The herald shouted:
Paris, son of Priam!
"That is I," Paris said, his voice sounding small and young after the herald's trained and resonant tones. "What do you want with me? And if Agamemnon has a message for me, why does he not come within range of the walls himself, instead of - like a coward - sending you, whom I may not lawfully shoot?"
He went on, laughing, "When will they declare an open hunting season on heralds? I think they should all be exterminated, like Kentaurs."
"Paris, son of Priam, I bear a message for you from Menelaus of Sparta, brother of Agamemnon, Overlord of Mykenae—"
"I know perfectly well who Menelaus is," Paris interrupted him. "You don't need to explain, nor rehash all our grudges against one another."
"Oh, let the poor man give his message, Paris," Helen said audibly. "You're making the poor child nervous. He wants at least to sound like a warrior if he can't fight like one. He might wet his tunic if you go on, and think how embarrassed he'd be before all these women."
"Well, if you have a message from Menelaus go on and give it," Paris said. The herald, blushing, visibly pulled himself together and straightened.
"Hear the words of Menelaus, Lord of Sparta: Paris, son of Priam, my quarrel is with you, not with Priam or with the great city of Troy. I now propose that we settle this war in a single combat challenge before all the assembled soldiers of Troy and the Akhaians. And that if you kill me or I surrender, then you-shall keep Helen and such goods of mine as you may have, and my men, including my brother Agamemnon, will be pledged not to fight further, not even to avenge me, but to take their ships and sail away from Troy forever, and this war be at an end. But if I kill you or you surrender, then Helen shall be turned over to me, with her goods and gear, and we will take her home without asking any of the spoils of Troy other than this. How do you say? What is your answer?"
Paris stood at his full height and said, "Say to Menelaus that I have heard his offer; and I will consult with King Priam and with Hector, the leader of the Trojan armies. For it seems to me that there are many causes in this war other than Helen; but if my father and my brother wish to settle it this way, then I am agreeable."
There was a rousing cheer from both sides as Paris dropped down out of sight and came back into the little corner of the wall where the women had been watching. Helen stood up without words and kissed him.
Paris said, "Whew! What was the point of that? Menelaus knows as well as I do that there's more to this war than Helen. How did Agamemnon manage to entice him into the agreement? Or is it a trick to get me out from behind the wall?"
"I would credit Menelaus with the spite to do it," Helen said, "but not with the wit to think of it."
"Well, how do you think Priam would have me answer?" Paris asked. "Or Hector? Hector would probably welcome this chance to have me out of the way so he can run the war as he pleases."
"You wrong your brother, my boy," Hecuba said.