"You are a wicked woman," Kassandra flung at her. "Why should Agamemnon have his way always? Why have you come to be his most loyal servant? Can't you give me something that would make me so sick that even he knows I cannot go?"
The woman looked shocked.
"Oh, no, I couldn't do that; the King would be very angry," she said. "Mustn't make the King angry, mistress."
Enraged, but knowing there was no help for it, Kassandra let the woman dress her; she refused to choose a gown and let the woman put her into a striped dress of crimson and gold silk which she had seen her mother wear at palace banquets. She drank the potion, which did make her feel better - or maybe it was only her anger. Let Agamemnon parade his captive princess - what did it matter? If Pharaoh - who, she had heard, had well over a hundred wives—knew anything about the fall of Troy, he would know she was not here of her own free will; and if not, it would not matter.
CHAPTER 18
"There is no relying on the winds at this season," said the bald man who called himself Pharaoh, and was regarded as a God incarnate by his court. "It would please us if you remained as our guest until the seasons change and the winds can be relied on to bear you to Mykenae, or wherever you wish to go."
"The Lord of the Two Lands is gracious," Agamemnon demurred, "but I had hoped to make my way home before that."
"Pharaoh gave this advice to the noble Odysseus, when he guested with us and Odysseus ignored it," said one of the courtiers. "Now word has come that bits and pieces of Odysseus's ship have been cast up on the rocks of Aeaea; he will never be heard from again."
"Well, well, I suppose it is better to come late home than to arrive early on the shores of nowhere," said Agamemnon, "and I accept your gracious invitation, for myself and my men." Kassandra knew he was annoyed; this meant that he would have to ransack his chests for worthy guest-gifts for Pharaoh, and if they stayed too long he would not get any of his plunder home at all. They were not the first from Troy to be cast on these shores; Pharaoh's hall already displayed recognizable spoils from the city, including the statue of the Sunlord from the shrine.
In the next few days Kassandra discovered that a few of the priests and priestesses of the Temple of Apollo had taken refuge here; although none of her closest friends to whom she might have appealed. She would have been overjoyed to know that Phyllida, or even Chryseis, was alive.
Egypt was hot and dry, and filled with bitter winds from the desert, which could wipe out all signs of life if people did not take shelter at once; even in Pharaoh's great stone palace the damage could be seen.
Nevertheless, at least it was on land, and better than being daily battered by wind and sea.
Kassandra was glad of the respite. The Egyptians gossiped about Agamemnon and one of the waiting-women told her secretly that everyone in Egypt knew that after the death of Iphigenia, Klytemnestra had sworn vengeance and had openly taken a lover, a cousin of hers named Aegisthos, and was living with him in the palace at Mykenae.
Kassandra's attitude was simply, "Well, why shouldn't she? Agamemnon, away in Troy, was no good to her as a husband."
But these Egyptians also worshipped male Gods and felt a man's wife must do what he bade her, and that the worst thing that could happen was for a wife to lie with anyone but her husband. If it was a King's wife then the Queen's behaviour brought disgrace upon the whole country. Kassandra could only hope that Agamemnon would not hear the story and have another grievance. He spoke often of putting Klytemnestra away and making Kassandra his lawful Queen, and that was the last thing Kassandra wanted.
She even heard that Klytemnestra, feeling young again when she had taken Aegisthos to her bed, had to all purposes disinherited her remaining daughter by marrying her off to a lowborn man who had been the palace's swineherd or something of that sort. The people of Mykenae believed that, following the old custom, Klytemnestra, who was past the age of childbearing, should have married Aegisthos off to her daughter Elektra and allowed Elektra to take her place as Queen. At least everyone agreed that Elektra's marriage was to a man no one could possibly have accepted as King.
Agamemnon finally heard the story—not about Klytemnestra's lover, everyone was careful that no breath of that should reach his ears - but about Elektra's marriage. And about that he was angry.
"Klytemnestra had no right to do that; it was as if she had presumed my death. Elektra's marriage was mine to make, a dynastic marriage which would have bought me allies. Odysseus had spoken of marrying her to his son Telemachus, and now that Odysseus's ship is lost, Telemachus will need powerful allies if he is to hold Ithaca against those who would like to take it," he said.
"Or I might have married her off to the son of Akhilles—he was never formally married to his cousin Deidameia, but I heard he seduced the girl and she bore him a son after he went to fight in Troy. Well, when I come home, Klytemnestra will learn that I mean to set my house in order and that her rule is at an end," he said. "Elektra as a widow will be just as valuable a marriage pawn; the girl cannot be more than fifteen or so. And it is your son and not Klytemnestra's son Orestes who will sit on the Lion Throne when I am gone."
Kassandra had noted that the Akhaians thought much of their sons coming after them; it seemed to be how they coped with the thought of death, for they seemed to have no concept of an afterlife. No wonder they had no code of decency; they seemed not to believe that their Gods would hold them responsible in the next life for anything they did in this one.
The days in the calm Egyptian land were all so much alike that Kassandra was hardly aware of the passing of time; only by the growth of the child within her did she have any awareness of the days that were hastening by. At last the season was sufficiently advanced that Pharaoh said they might set sail; but that very night Kassandra fell into labour, and at sunrise the next morning she gave birth to a small male child.
"My son," Agamemnon said, picking up the baby and looking carefully at him. "He is very small."
"But he is healthy and strong," said the midwife, eagerly. "Truly, Lord Agamemnon, such small children often grow up as big as those who are larger at birth. And the princess is a narrow woman; it would have gone hard with her to bear a son of a proper size to be yours."
Agamemnon smiled at that and kissed the baby. "My son," he said to Kassandra, but she looked away from him and said, "Or Ajax's."
He scowled, not liking to be reminded of that possibility, and said, "No; I think he has a look of me."
Well, I hope you enjoy thinking so, she thought; it will not make the poor child prettier.
"Shall we name him Priam for your father then? A Priam on the Lion Throne?"
She said, "It is for you to say."
"Well, I will give it thought," Agamemnon said. "You are a prophetess; perhaps we can think of a name full of good omen." He stooped and laid the baby back to her breast.
But there are no good omens for a son of Agamemnon, she thought, remembering that Klytemnestra and her new king awaited Agamemnon at home. This son, no more than Agamemnon, would never sit on the Lion Throne of Mykenae.
She felt a familiar far-off humming in her head; the sun blinded her eyes. The child seemed to weigh less in her arms - or was it that her arms had released him? She had believed the Sight was gone from her forever; she had not managed to save her people or her loved ones with her prophecy, and had thought herself free of it at last.
Now she saw the great double-bladed axe that cleft the head of the great bulls in Crete, and Agamemnon, staggering with his eyes full of blood.