She went to the high railing to watch him as he went down through the city. It was hardly full light yet; the clouds were blowing across the plain before Troy, and there were only a few figures astir in the streets; soldiers, gathering for the morning meal.
She was weary; she should go back to bed. But she wondered how many of the women in the city who had just sent their lovers or husbands to battle - or, today the mock-battle of the Games—could calmly go and sleep. She dressed herself swiftly, and went into her room, finding Honey still buried in her blankets. She did not want to walk about the courts; for some reason she was certain that she would encounter Khryse and she felt that he would be instantly aware of what had happened and that she could not endure his gaze. She had lately allowed Phyllida to take over the care of the serpents, so there was no reason to go to the serpent court.
With surprise she realized that what she felt was loneliness; she had always been so solitary, and in general so accustomed to that state that it was rare for her to crave company. Then she remembered that there was now one person in the Sunlord's house to whom she could actually say all that was in her heart.
Penthesilea and a few of her women had been assigned a room not far from Kassandra's; the mass of them were in a courtyard nearby, where they were sleeping on rolled blankets. One or two were awake, and breakfasting on bread and the harsh new wine that was made within the Temple. Penthesilea, as befitted their Queen, was in a little room alone at the far end of the hall; Kassandra traversed the ancient mosaic, laid down in a pattern of seashells and spirals, tiptoeing quietly so as not to wake the sleepers. She tapped lightly at the door; the old Amazon opened it and pulled her inside.
"Good morning, dear child. Why, how worn and sleepless you look!" She held our her arms, and Kassandra went into them, weeping without knowing why.
"You needn't cry," Penthesilea said, "but if you will cry, I would say you have reason enough; I saw you leave the banquet with Aeneas last night. Has that rogue seduced you, child?"
"No, it is not like that at all," Kassandra said angrily, and wondered why Penthesilea smiled.
"Oh, well, if it is a love affair, why do you weep?"
"I - don't know—I suppose because I am a fool, as I always knew women were fools who play these games with men, and talk of love, and weep—" And now, she thought, I am no better than any of them.
"Love can make fools of any of us," Penthesilea said. "You have come later to it than most, that is all; the time for weeping over love affairs is when you're thirteen, not three-and-twenty. And because when you were thirteen you were not weeping and bawling over some handsome young slab of manhood, I thought you would be such a one as would seek lovers among women, perhaps—"
"No, I had no thought of that," Kassandra said. "I have known what it is to desire women—" she added thoughtfully, "but I thought perhaps it was only that I had seen them through Paris's mind and his eyes." She remembered Helen and Oenone and how deeply she had been aware of them; something in her, whatever happened, would always feel a strong affection for Helen. This was something altogether different and not at all welcome; it enraged her that she could make such a fool of herself over a man to whom she could never even seek to join her life.
She was crying again, this time with rage. She tried to put something of this into words, but Penthesilea only said, "It is better to be angry than to grieve, Kassandra; there will be time enough to grieve if this war goes on. Come, help me arm, bright-eyes."
The old pet name made her smile through her tears.
Kassandra picked up the armor, made of overlapping boiled and hardened leather scales and reinforced with plates of bronze; it was decorated with coils and rosettes of gold. She pulled it over the old Amazon's head, turning her gently to fasten the laces.
"Should any harm come to me in this war," Penthesilea said, "promise me my women will not be enslaved nor forced to marry; it would break their hearts. Pledge me they will be free to leave unharmed, if your city survives."
"I promise," Kassandra murmured.
"And should I die, I want this bow to be yours; see, I even have a few Kentaur arrows, here at the bottom of the quiver. Most of my women now use metal-tipped shafts, because they can pierce armor like mine; but the arrows of the Kentaurs—you know the secret of their magic, Kassandra?"
"Aye, I know they use poison—"
"Yes; little known poisons brewed from the skin of a toad," said Penthesilea. "And they will kill with even a slight wound. Few of your foes will wear armor head to toe, even among the Akhaians. They are - shall we say - a way of evening the disadvantage that we women have in the way of size and strength."
"I shall remember that," said Kassandra, "but I pray the Gods I shall not inherit your women nor your bow, and that you shall bear your weapons till they are laid in your grave."
"But my bow will do no good to anyone," said Penthesilea. "When I am gone, take it, Kassandra; or lay it on the altar of the Maiden Huntress. Promise me that."
CHAPTER 7
The Akhaians made no effort to break the truce during the seven days of funeral games for Patroklos, nor during the next three days which were devoted to a feast at which the prizes were-distributed. Kassandra attended neither the Games nor the feast, but heard about them from Aeneas. He won the javelin-casting, and gained a gold cup. Hector was disgruntled because he had entered the wrestling, and had been beaten by the Akhaian captain called Big Ajax, but was a little comforted by the fact that his son Astyanax won the boys' foot-race, though he was smaller than any other boy in the contest. "What did he win?" Kassandra asked.
"A silken tunic from Egypt, dyed crimson; it's too big for him, and too fine to be cut up for a child but he can wear it when he is grown," Aeneas said. "And at the end of the feast, they thanked us for our company at the games and said they'd meet us on the battlefield in the morning. So let us sleep, love, for they will blow the horn to rouse us an hour before daylight."
He stretched out and drew her into his arms, and she put her arms around him joyfully. But after a moment she asked, "Was Akhilles there?"
"Aye; Patroklos being killed has made him even more angry than any insult from Agamemnon," Aeneas said. "You should have seen him look at Hector; it was as if he were the Gorgon and could turn your brother to stone. You know I'm no coward, but it's just as well it's not my fate to go up against Akhilles."
"He's a madman," Kassandra said with a shudder, then stopped further talk by pulling Aeneas's head down to her own and kiss-mg him. They fell asleep in one another's arms, but after a time it seemed to Kassandra that she woke and rose - no, for, looking back, she could see herself still in the bed, still lying entwined in Aeneas's arms.
Light as a ghost, she drifted through the temple, hovering where the Amazons still sat wakeful in their rooms, sharpening their weapons; drifted down toward the palace; in the rooms where Paris and Helen lived, Paris sleeping heavily, Helen with tear-stained cheeks wandering through the room where her children had been killed. She still has Paris; but is this enough? If we are defeated, what will become of her? Will Menelaus drag her back to Sparta, only to kill her? For a moment it seemed to her that she saw the Akhaian captains casting lots for the conquered women, dragging them on board the black ships which filled the harbor so full of filth and dread…