Ritsa, I thought. I needed to see Ritsa. But before I could allow myself to see her, there was another—overdue—visit I had to make.
Hecuba was quiet for a long time after I’d told her about Amina’s death. This wasn’t one of her better days. I thought she looked like an old mottled spider sitting there.
“Suicide?”
“Some people seem to think that’s what it was.”
“But you don’t?”
“I try not to think at all.”
She was rocking a little from side to side, more shaken by the news than I’d expected.
“She was Polyxena’s friend, you know?”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“There was only two months between them.” Her hands were perpetually pleating and smoothing the hem of her tunic. “Ah, well. A sad end to a young life.”
Poor woman. She’d seen so many sad ends to so many young lives. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to survive your sons and grandsons—and then, when you thought nothing worse could happen, to lose your youngest daughter too. What was left to her really except grief and anger and the craving for revenge? A craving she had absolutely no hope of ever satisfying.
She looked at me, and her eyes were as sharp as they’d ever been. “What do you think happened?”
“I think Pyrrhus killed her. Though I don’t know why—he didn’t have to do it.”
“Something else we’ve got to thank him for.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, because there you have it: Pyrrhus, son of Achilles, my child’s half-brother. The enemy. It doesn’t get any starker than that.
After a pause, Hecuba said, “Calchas came to see me. He’d not long left when you arrived.”
“What did he want?”
“That’s a very cynical question.”
We smiled at each other.
“No, he came to tell me Cassandra’s married.”
Again, I remembered Cassandra on the day she arrived in the camp: her triumph as she danced around the crowded hut whirling torches above her head, calling on her mother and sisters to dance at her wedding. Her absolute conviction that her marriage to Agamemnon would lead directly to his death.
Hecuba was shaking her head. “I never thought he’d do it. I mean, I could see he was besotted, but I didn’t think he’d actually marry her. He’s got a wife already!”
“He obviously doesn’t believe in her prophecies.”
“Obviously!”
“Do you?”
She shifted uneasily. “I think a lot of it’s completely random. People used to say it was Apollo speaking through her. I could never see it—I think she just made up things to suit herself. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think—I need to see her.”
“Well, it’s not easy,” I said. “I lived in Agamemnon’s compound, for a time—you were hardly allowed out of the hut.”
“Yes, but that’s slaves. She’s married now—he can’t keep his wife locked up.”
I thought he probably could; but I could see how much the hope of seeing Cassandra meant to her, so of course I said, “I’ll try.”
She tried to speak, but choked and had to squeeze my hand instead.
“Was that all he wanted? To tell you about Cassandra?”
I was curious about these visits. I couldn’t see what was in it for Calchas. At last, after a pause, she said, “No, he was asking me about the time Priam went to see Achilles.”
“I wonder why he’s interested in that?”
“Oh, he’ll have his reasons.” She was sunk in thought, in memory. “I didn’t want Priam to go, I begged him not to, I was sure Achilles would kill him—I honestly didn’t think he’d last five minutes once he was inside the gates—but he just said: ‘I’ve got to try. He’s not a wolf, he’s a man—and if he’s a man, we can talk.’ Talk? Talk? I wouldn’t have talked to him; I’d have ripped his throat out with my teeth before I’d have talked to him. He killed my son. And that wasn’t enough, no, he had to drag him round the walls, tear him to pieces in front of everybody—killing him wasn’t enough.”
“I hope you didn’t see that?”
“No, Priam made them take me away. He saw it though—he saw all of it—and he still went to see him. There was nothing I could say that would change his mind.” Her fingers were busy with the hem of her tunic again. I was watching her hands because I couldn’t bear to look at her face. “I followed him into the store room. Torchlight, just him and me, none of the hangers-on, so I could say what I really thought. He was holding the Thracian cup. He absolutely loved that cup, and it’s a beautiful thing, it is, but it didn’t matter, it still went into the ransom for Hector. I told him he was a fool, I told him Achilles had no more compassion than a mad dog, but he wouldn’t listen. In the end I just had to give up. I wanted him to have a proper send-off—because I didn’t think I was ever going to see him again. I brought him a parting cup.” She laughed. “He was sitting in a farm cart wearing a tatty old tunic—I thought he’d never looked more like a king. So, I prayed to Zeus to take care of him. He kissed me—and he was just about to drive off when he said, ‘Look!’ And there were two eagles flying over the palace. Two eagles together, you never see that. He said it was a good omen and of course I went along with it. I didn’t think it was. But there you are, you see, I was wrong—he did bring Hector’s body back, and it was like a miracle. All those terrible injuries—they’d all vanished. He looked as if he was asleep.” She paused for a moment, remembering. “And do you know, when we unwrapped the sheet, there were fresh herbs inside it. Somebody must have put them in.”
“That was me.”
“Was it?” She smiled. “I thought it might be.”
We continued to sit in silence after that. I persuaded her to drink a little wine.
“Calchas wanted to know what Priam said when he came back. I told him to ask Cassandra. She ran out to meet him. I was too busy grieving for my son.”
A lot of bitterness there, and some jealousy too, perhaps. Cassandra had obviously been very close to Priam. I patted Hecuba’s arm and stood up. “I’ll go to see her as soon as I can.”
Outside, a wrestling match had just started. A big crowd, quiet at the moment, were watching two men circle the arena, sizing each other up. Their oiled bodies gleamed in the bronze light. Everybody waited tensely for the bout to start, but the circling went on and on. “Get a bloody move on!” somebody shouted. The men sitting round him laughed, but several other voices yelled: “Shut the fuck up!”
In the arena, in their bubble of silence, the wrestlers made contact and grappled each other to the ground.
26
Cassandra and I got off to a bad start, which was neither her fault nor mine.
A maid answered the door and led me through into the living quarters, where I found Cassandra sitting in a carved armchair spinning wool. As she stood up and turned to greet me, I caught sight of her necklace: fire opals in a silver setting. I was too shocked to speak—though I don’t think I gave anything away. The necklace had belonged to my mother, given to her on her wedding day as her bride-gift from my father. When Lyrnessus fell, it had gone to Agamemnon as part of his share of the booty. Now, I supposed, he’d given it to Cassandra as her bride-gift on her wedding day. As she moved her head, streaks of fire woke inside the milky stones. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Cassandra raised her hand to the necklace, but then seemed to mistake the direction of my gaze.