The vision is my brother's, not mine.
"Say to my kinswoman that I am coming," Kassandra said. "Let me but brush my hair."
"Let me help you," Elaria said, and knelt beside her. "Does your head hurt? The bandage has come away from your face; ah, good; there is no sign of a scar, it is healing cleanly. The Goddess has been kind to you."
To herself Kassandra wondered, "Which Goddess? but she did not speak the question aloud. In a few minutes she was in the saddle, and as they turned toward Colchis for the long ride, Kassandra saw before her in the brilliant sunlight the faces and forms of all the world's Goddesses; but what did these Goddesses of the Akhaians want with my brother, or with me? Or with Troy?
CHAPTER 11
Riding at their own pace and no longer held to the slow lumbering of the clumsy tin wagons, Penthesilea, Kassandra and the other Amazons who were returning to Colchis left the caravan to make its way to the faraway country of the Hittites.-Kassandra's face ached, and the jolting of her horse made it worse. She wondered what fortune the rest of the warriors would have on their journey and almost wished she could ride with them to that unknown land, even if only to join them in battle or death. But, she thought, I should not complain; I have already travelled further from my home than any woman of Troy has ever travelled, further than any of my brothers, or even Priam himself.
Penthesilea seemed unconcerned about attack as they retraced their way toward the city; perhaps the Amazons were not worth attacking without the metal they guarded. And who would guard the next caravan, with so many of the Amazons gone to guard this one? she wondered but she knew it was not her affair.
Now that she thought about it, she was eager to see more of the city of Colchis; Penthesilea's oracle had commanded her to remain for some time. All she had to look forward to after this was a return to Troy. Now she understood what her kinswoman meant saying that she should return before she was completely unfit for the ordinary life of a woman of Troy. But, thought Kassandra, it is already too late for that.
I shall go mad, prisoned inside house walls for the rest of my life.
And then she remembered her vision of the Goddesses and of her brother. With this gift she would always have a way of going outside her immediate surroundings, and thus she was more fortunate than many other women.
But was it any kind of substitute for actual change? Or merely a mockery, that her mind should escape the imprisoning walls when her body could not?
She felt she would like to talk about this at length with her mother, who had lived both lives and might understand. But would her mother be willing to talk about it freely, having made her own irrevocable choice? What had her mother gained for all she had given up? Would she still make the same choice?
Yet Kassandra knew she would never really have that opportunity. To Hecuba it was important that she should be seen as powerful and to this end she would never admit to Kassandra - or to anyone else - that she might have made a choice that was less than perfect.
Who else was there to talk to? Was there anyone to whom she could confide her confusion and distress? She could think of no one. It was unlikely that Penthesilea would be ready for such a talk. Kassandra was sure her kinswoman loved her, but that she regarded Kassandra as a child, not an equal with whom she would talk freely.
Even though they were travelling at the best speed of their horses, the ride to Colchis seemed all but endless. At the end of the first day they came within sight of the high walls of the iron-gated city, but there was still a long way to go; days in the saddle from first light, broken at noon for the usual cheese or curds. At least it was better than the hunger in the southern pastures. It was sunset of the third or fourth day when at last the tired riders rode under the great gates and towers. They set up a cheer in which Kassandra joined, but opening her mouth to cheer made the bandaged cut on her face ache. It was growing cold, and rain was threatening.
Within the shadow of the walls, a messenger from the palace came and spoke to Penthesilea; after which she beckoned to Kassandra.
"You and I are bidden to the palace, Kassandra; the rest of you, join the others in the camp."
Kassandra wondered what the Queen wanted of them. They trotted slowly through the cobbled streets, gave up their horses at the gates, and were conducted by Queen Imandra's women into the royal presence.
She was waiting for them in the same room where she had greeted them before. A young girl with coils of dark curls arranged low on her neck sprawled beside her on a rug.
"You have done well," Imandra said, gesturing them to come forward; seizing Penthesilea's hand she slid on it a bracelet of carved golden leaves, set with bits of green stone. Kassandra had never seen anything so beautiful.
"I will not keep you long," said the Queen, "you will be wanting a bath and dinner, after your long journey. Still, I wanted to speak with you for a little."
"It is our pleasure, kinswoman," Penthesilea said.
"Andromache," said Queen Imandra, gesturing to the girl on the rug beside her,"this is your cousin, Kassandra, daughter of Hecuba of Troy. She is the sister of Hector, your promised husband."
The dark-haired girl sat up, flinging her long curls to one side. "You are Hector's sister?" she inquired eagerly. "Tell me about him. What is he like?"
"He is a bully," Kassandra said forthrightly. "You must be very-firm with him or he will treat you like a rug and walk all over you—and you will be no more than a timid little thing perpetually yessing him, as my mother does to my father."
"But that is suitable for a husband and wife," said Andromache. "How would you have a man behave?"
"It's useless to talk to her, Kassandra," said Queen Imandra. "She should have been born to one of your city-dwelling women. I had intended her for a warrior, as you can tell from the name I gave her."
"It's useless to say that to Kassandra," said Penthesilea,"she speaks no language but her own."
"It's horrible," Andromache said. "My name means "Who fights like a man"— and who would want to?"
"I would," said Penthesilea, "and I do."
"I don't want to be rude to you, kinswoman," said Andromache, "but I don't like fighting at all. My mother can't forgive me that I was not born to be a warrior like her, to bring her all kinds of honor at arms."
"But the wretched girl," Imandra said, "will have nothing to do with weapons; she is lazy and childish, she only wants to stay indoors and wear pretty clothes. And already her mind is full of men. When I was her age I hardly knew there were men in the world except for my arms-master and I only wanted him to be proud of me. I made the mistake of letting her be brought up by women, indoors; I should have turned her over to you, Penthesilea, as soon as she could sit a horse. What sort of Queen is this for Colchis? Good for nothing except to marry - and what good is that?"
"Oh, Mother!" said Andromache, crossly. "You must accept that I am not like you. To hear you talk one would think that there is nothing to life except war and weapons and the ruling of your city, and beyond that, trade and ships beyond the borders of your world."
Imandra smiled and said, "I have found nothing better. Have you?"
"And what of love?" asked Andromache. "I have heard women talk—real women, not women who are pretending to be warriors—"
Imandra stopped her short by leaning over and slapping her face.