Phyllida was relieved. "Oh, but you haven't changed your robe - nor put on your dancing shoes."
"Oh, Hector will not care about my robes," she said 'and I can dance barefoot as well as in my sandals."
As the girls gathered again in the shrine, she led them through the steps of the dance, which was older than Troy. At the finish,-she cried out the final wailing cry, murmuring under her breath a prayer for the old Snake, then wondered; was it proper to pray for the soul of a beast who probably had none? Well, if she had a soul she was welcome to the prayer, and if not, at least it would do her no harm.
"And now for the feast," she said, and led the women down the hill to the palace.
Priam had not expected them, but they were welcomed anyway, and Hecuba was pleased that they had come for this tribute to Hector. Kassandra stood at the center of the dance, watching as the long spiral of the women with their white robes fluttering wound round her and then led the unwinding of the coils of the ancient dance of the labyrinth. When the dance and song came to its end Kassandra signalled the priestesses to help in filling the cups of the guests before they sat down, and herself poured a cup of wine and bore it to Penthesilea. Weary and heart-sore, she felt there was no one else in this hall to whom she could speak except the old Amazon. Not even to Aeneas, though he smiled and beckoned to her, could she bear to speak.
Penthesilea did not trouble her with questions; she simply pulled her down on the couch beside her and shared her cup of wine. Not till then did she ask:
"What is it, little one? You look so weary. It is not only grief for Hector—?"
Kassandra felt tears welling up in her eyes. To everyone else in Troy she was the priestess, the bearer of burdens, the answerer to whom all questions must be brought. It never occurred to anyone that she might have fears or questions of her own.
"There are times when I wish I too had chosen to be a warrior," she blurted. "I cannot see what use it is to anyone that I am a Priestess."
Penthesilea's voice was stern. "Our lives are often chosen for us, Kassandra—"
"Then why is it some people are able to choose?"
"I think perhaps some of us have the choices made for us by the choices we have already made - if not in this life then in another," Penthesilea said.
"Do you really believe that?" demanded Kassandra.
"Oh, my dear, I don't know what I believe; I only know that like all of us, I do the best I can with the choices offered me at any moment," said Penthesilea, "and so do you. But you should not sit here discussing all the ins and outs of life's vagaries with an old woman; look, Aeneas has been trying and trying to catch your eye. A few minutes with your lover will do more to cheer you than all of my philosophy."
It might be so, thought Kassandra, but she resented it. Nevertheless she looked at Aeneas and returned his smile. He rose and came to her, and accepted another cup of wine -although she noted that it was so diluted that it was more water than wine.
"The dance was lovely; I have never seen anything like it before," he said. "Is it one of the old dances of Troy?"
"Yes, it is very old," she told him, "but I think it may be from Crete; it is the labyrinth dance - the spiral of the coils of the Earth Snake. It has been danced in the Sunlord's house since before he slew the Great Serpent, they say."
And once again, the Great Serpent lies dead, and the Sunlord gave us no warning or omen, she thought, overwhelmed by her dread… what could all this mean? Surely the death of Hector was only the beginning of a procession of evils…
Aeneas was bending over her anxiously, troubled by her distress. She did not want to frighten him too; with him she might even find some surcease from this endless despair.
"Let me bring you something," he said. "You have hardly tasted of the feast; and there is roast kid and lamb—Priam has spared nothing, and Hector would not want you to be miserable; wherever our dear brother may be, we can be sure it is well with him, and will be none the better for our mourning."
This sounded so near to what she had been trying to say that she was overjoyed; at least Aeneas understands when I speak, I need not try to fight my way through a mountain of fear and superstitious nonsense about death! His face seemed to glow in the torchlight; she remembered that she had seen him coming undamaged from the ruin of Troy; he was going to live, and the light in his face was simply the light of life, where the pallor of death lay over everyone else.
"I want nothing to eat," she said, though a little while ago she had been hungry.
"Well, then, let us get out of this hall of mourning. All the Gods may witness I loved Hector, but I do not see how his fate or our understanding of it can be bettered by everyone sitting around and eating till they can hardly move, and drinking themselves into a stupor," he said, and slipped his arm round her; enlaced, they went out on to the balcony and looked down into-the dark expanse of the Argive camp; there were a few scattered lights but all else was dark.
"What are they doing down there?" Aeneas asked.
"I don't know; I may be a prophetess, but I cannot see that far," she said. "Building an altar to Poseidon, I should think. But it is too late for that, and they should know it."
"Perhaps their soothsayers,are not as good as you are," he said, holding her tightly. "Kassandra, let me come to your room—"
She hesitated; but finally said, "Come then." Tomorrow would be enough time to deal with dead serpents and dying cities.
On their way up the steep street, a star fell, with such a dizzying sweep across the sky that for a moment it felt as if it was the earth that tipped; and she clutched Aeneas's arm, remembering how she and Andromache had watched falling stars in Colchis when she was only a young girl. Since that night, though she had watched the skies diligently, she had not seen another falling star until this moment. Was it a portent of some kind? Or did it mean anything at all?
"What is it?" Aeneas asked, bending over her and speaking with great tenderness.
"Only the star—"
"Star?" he asked, "I saw nothing, my love."
Now I am imagining things. Enough, then, for tonight, she said firmly to herself, and drew Aeneas into her room, knowing with a sudden stab of pain that it would be the last time.
CHAPTER 12
The truce rather to Kassandra's surprise, was not broken by the Akhaians. None of them competed in Hector's funeral games - except for an anonymous Myrmidon who entered the wrestling, threw four successive opponents (ending by pinning down Deiphobos), pocketed the golden cup given as a prize, and vanished without revealing his name. Gossip in the city later credited him with being one of the Immortals in disguise, but he wasn't. Paris said he had seen him in the ranks and he was just a common soldier. Trojans and Akhaians both stood watching the various events and applauding the winners in a fine sportsmanlike way.
Penthesilea insisted on competing for the prize in archery, which caused some trouble when she won handily against all comers, including Paris, who had obviously marked out that prize for himself. He protested, but no one upheld his objection; since Paris had been heard often to say that no man alive could best him at archery, several of Priam's younger sons (who were not at all sorry to see their brother beaten for once) insisted he had no right to complain at being beaten by a woman.
On the third morning Kassandra woke early, hearing with relief the sounds of many birds singing loudly in the gardens of the Sunlord's house; at least there would be no substantial earthquake this day.
She went early to the rooms in the palace—Penthesilea had moved from her quarters in the Sunlord's house—and helped arm the Amazon in her armor of hardened leather with metal plates.