Cassandra (35 page)

Then she was gone and the shrine was empty. I touched my face where the goddess' hand had lingered, and smelt a fragrance divinely sweet, divinely strong.

Then I walked into the market place and the traders were all alive. The smoke from the citadel caught my throat. The priests of Apollo were burning Sirianthis.

Mid-morning brought Talthybius, less insulting of tongue, requesting a truce to bury the dead. This Hector granted, and a long string of horses were brought to drag the dead Argives away.

 

The trail of led animals and their burdens stretched all the way from the city to the Achaean camp. We heard them wailing as they went, calling the names of the dead as though they could answer, weeping for their lovers and their comrades.

Tithone took her women out into the devastated ruins of the lower city after noon. They had a wagon drawn by two horses and twenty soldiers.

I was leaning on the wall, looking down into the plain, when I saw the old women hunting among the fallen huts and the remains of little houses. I saw Tithone drag out a man with both legs crushed who still cried pitifully. She examined him, then knelt next to him, talking; I could not hear what she said. He nodded.

Then I saw a healer's knife flash, the head fall to one side as the throat was stabbed through. The whimpering ceased.

The soldiers who had been sent with the Athropeae were tearing the huts apart for wood and building a pyre between Scamander and the plain. Twenty cartloads of summer-dried wood went into the foundation; then they began to lay out bodies with consideration and respect; I sighted the eviscerated woman and the baby I had not seen which the rapists had smothered under her. Twenty-five corpses were laid out before they started the fire.

The Place of Strangers' Gods was soaked in blood; flies buzzed there. The crones directed that the wagon should be used to carry sand from the river bank to cover the ground. Then they stayed to tend their fire as the convulsing dead took flame at last and burned brightly. When it had died down they beat the embers with spades to smash all the remaining bones, carried the ashes to the Scamander and gave them to the river.

I had never thought that Tithone the Healer could kill. I came down to the gate to meet her as she returned.

`There are three alive,' she said wearily. `They are your charge, Cassandra. We go to be purified by the Mother.'

There was a child, who had been under a fallen hut, so horrified by something she had seen that she had not cried. There was a woman in the rags of a tunic and a young man with a dented head and broken arm. I brought them all to Tithone's house, the only Trojans saved from the massacre of the lower city.

The child was shocked, not hurt; she began to wail as soon as she knew that she was safe. I examined her carefully and could find no wound, and gave her into the arms of an enameller who had lost her baby. She held the girl safely but not too tightly and carried her away to be fed. The young man had been struck by a falling house-beam. There was a depression in his skull, but he could see and hear and complained only of the pain of his broken arm. I washed him, fed him poppy and comfrey and set the arm and splinted it. It was a clean break. I sent him to the palace to sleep off the drug. He would either not wake again because of some injury to his head, or be all right in the morning. My vision said that he would not live.

The young woman did not react until I cut off the remains of her filthy tunic and began to wash her. Polyxena, my sister, who had come to help me pointed to a series of bruises which told their own tale; on her shoulders, her wrists, and the inside of her thighs, where she had clamped legs over her assailants hip-bones to resist his invasion of her body.

She shuddered as the cool water and soap-leaf sluiced away blood and slime. `I was a maiden,' she whispered.

`Yes, you were,' I agreed. `You are not badly hurt.'

`That's why they didn't kill me,' she said, beginning to sob and laugh. `They said that they had dishonoured Troy by mating with me; they left me alive to tell the Trojans that this will be the fate of all their virgins. They are mad, they are all mad, Cassandra. I was going to the god; will he still accept me?'

`Of course,' I said soothingly. `You have made your sacrifice. You belong to the Lord Dionysius and the Mother now. Go and talk to the priestesses of Gaia; they will consecrate you.'

`They thought that they had done something lawless and daring,' she stopped laughing. `I've been lying out there all night, wondering about them. I'm alright, Cassandra, there were only two of them and it was over in a moment. It was not their phalluses I was afraid of, but their spears. They killed Lani, though. I heard them kill her. Is the baby-'

`The baby is dead.'

`They are monsters,' she said, and began to weep.

I treated her bruises and sent Polyxena to lead her to the temple of Gaia. The Mother's priestesses would comfort her. Polyxena came back, her face dark with thought. I asked her if she was afraid.

`No. But I cannot get his face out of my mind.'

`Whose face?' I was not paying attention to my sister. I was counting pots of ointment and wondering where I would get fresh comfrey for the wounded.

`
His
face, the swift runner, Achilles.'

That engaged my notice. I swung towards her and said `Polyxena, you cannot fall in love with a murdering Achaean.'

`I am not in love with him,' she flashed. `But I can't get him out of my head... the grey eyes and the golden hair of Achilles.'

I dosed her with a strong infusion of hyssop and mistletoe and took her back to the Maidens.

Perseis had decided that her maidens should be usefully occupied. She had sent them on a vigorous rummage through the linens for old cloth, and was supervising the making of bandages. This is a tedious, fiddly process, for each cloth has to be washed and dried in the sun, then torn, soaked in salt water, dried again and rolled. There were enough old tunics in the pile to last us for years - or so I thought - and the process would take the maidens some days.

I delivered Polyxena to the Mistress of Maidens, mentioning that she was not well - anyone who had fallen in love with Achilles was definitely ill. While I was there, I collected some clean tunics and my washing things from my little room. It seemed like years since I had danced in the grip of Dionysius. I patted my fresco affectionately - I had always liked those fish. Even the octopus seemed less menacing when the Argive army was massing outside.

Iris was telling a long story about the founding of Troy, accompanied by Cycne on the lap harp. She laid it aside as I came in. I was looking briefly at every person I saw, just raising my eyes for a flashing glance, in case they were dead. If they were I stared if I could endure it. Luckily, the maidens of Troy looked as alive as they usually did. This time.

`Tell us,' she begged. `What is happening? I am too slow for a runner and too tall for an archer. Hector sent me back because I was too visible over the wall.'

`The assault has been beaten off and they are licking their wounds like dogs.' I leaned against a pillar, longing for a bath and a dark place with no gods, but knowing that I would not get it. `Hector says that the walls will hold.' There was a sigh of relief. Everyone trusted Hector's opinion. `But he says they will come again and I have to get back to him. Eirene, can you get me some more ink?' She nodded and took my ink-pot.

`What of the lower city?' asked Iris. `We heard the screams.'

`Most were saved, twenty-five are dead. So is Siri, poor Siri. An arrow; luckily these Achaeans have few archers and we have many.'

`Will they take the city?' asked Cycne. `Because I will not be a slave again.' She showed me a thick knife, worn inside her tunic. I shook my head.

`They will not take the city today,' I hazarded. `Or tomorrow. I have to go.'

`Dion was looking for you,' said Cycne. `What shall we tell him?'

I had completely forgotten him. `Where is he?'

`Down by the Scaean Gate, protecting the ships. He and Maeles have set up the temple of Poseidon there. I saw them when we went to fetch sea water for the bandages.'

`Tell him I will find him if I have time.' I heard the alarm sound, flat short blasts on the trumpets of the Scaean and the Scamander towers. Gathering my clean chiton and my ink and medicines, I picked up my robe and ran.

I climbed to the Scamander Gate and looked across the plain. Hector and Deiphobos stood side by side and gaped.

`Surely they do not mean to try this frontal assault again,' whispered Deiphobos, son of Priam. `Not after the damage we did to them! More than a hundred must have been killed by arrows alone.'

`They are fools who wish to die,' grunted Hector. `Or, no, that is unfair. They think that the city should have fallen; they are trying to bash down the walls with their heads. Are the archers ready?'

We had drawn the Scythians as well as the usual soldiers. Eight of them lined our part of the wall, grinning. I did not like to be in close proximity to them because they stank, being desert people and unused to water. (Tithone said that they and water would repel each other and that was why Scythians could not drown.)

 

Nevertheless they were efficient. Their horn bows were twice the length of ours. They shot heavier arrows, bolts as long as my arm, with stone heads. They were encouraging each other in guttural tones, nudging elbow to rib and chuckling.

`The fools come straight on,' commented one, `as though there were no gods in Troy.'

`Not only do we have gods, we have bowmen as well,' said another and they laughed aloud. I wished that I did not understand Scythian.

No challenge came from the approaching army. They had left their chariots behind - there is no use for chariots in a siege, they can hardly batter our walls with their horse's heads. Instead, they were riding in a great circle around the city. I wondered how they would manage in the marsh when the alarm came from the Dardanian Gate. Cerasus was about to see some fighting.

The elite guard, twenty-five of Priam's sons, came hurtling down to the Dardanian Gate from the palace. I ran with Hector around the walls as arrows skipped across the stones. Behind me I heard the deeper twang of the Scythian bow, and the congratulatory cries as the wielders counted fallen foes. `One, two, three - no brother, that was only the horse. Nonsense, brother, the man fell under the horse, he must be dead. No, you are right, he's getting up, but he will be dead soon.' The bow sang. `There, you owe me a bottle of wine, brother, I have drawn first blood. And another bottle for the horse.'

Their voices faded behind me, arguing about whether a half bottle was the price for a horse since horses were admitted to be half as intelligent as men. I did not have time to be sick.

Cerasus had organised his archers. As we came up he gave the order to fire. The Dardanian Gate is smaller than the others. Around it stretch the marshes and swamps into which the Scamander drains, splitting into a thousand little streams. I used to gather marsh-leaf there, sovereign for all inflammations, and the children of Troy caught fish and eels in the muddy waters.

The city's sewers, in times of high tide, back up into the swamp, and it is an unhealthy place; no one lives there because of the fever in the water. Scamander splits into two streams at Troy; one runs under the city and into the bay and one meanders sadly into this soggy place.

It was no place for horses. The fine steeds floundered and neighed their complaints. I saw one of them bore the king's brand; they had raided our own herds, the pirates. Some had thrown their captors and were splashing through the shallows; some, under the weight of armoured riders, were mired to the belly and unable to move.

The infantry were no better off. Cerasus ordered another volley and thirty men were cast screaming into the swamp, where unless they were instantly rescued they were going to drown under the weight of breastplate and helmet.

`This is slaughter,' said our brother into Hector's ear. `Shall I continue?'

`Better they be slaughtered than us,' said the warrior grimly. `I think this is a diversion. Guard your gate, brother, and pick off the men, try and spare the horses. It is not their fault. Aha,' he added as the alarm sounded for the Scamander Gate. `What did I say? Cassandra, take Státhi. Follow and keep down.'

We paced the city again, high up above the houses. Státhi did not want to be held and scratched me until I clasped him under one arm and seized hold of all four taloned feet. I heard a hub-bub on the wall and a large stone smashed and splintered on the breastwork.

`Slingers!' exclaimed Deiphobos. `Brother, there are catapults.'

Moving like a tortoise, a wall of shields locked side to side was shuffling towards Troy. Behind it were men with leather slings and many men with spears.

`Yes. Move the soldiers back; keep only the ones small enough to just see over the wall. They cannot bring down Poseidon's work with little rocks, but they can damage us.'

A flight of spears hit the wall and fell back; the next went over our heads to stick in the wooden scaffolding. Some fell into the city and I heard a scream.

`Lay shields behind you to stop those spears getting through,' ordered Hector. `Gather them; they may be returned to their owners. Keep your heads down.' He looked puzzled. `What is their plan, Cassandra? Throwing stones is not going to work.

`Boy, run to Cerasus, son of Priam, and bring him Hector's greetings and ask him what is happening with him.'

The runner sped away. He was about eight and no spear would catch him; he was a good span smaller than the wall.

`Deiphobos, what do you think?' said Hector.

Deiphobos was rattled but preserving his calm. `It is a diversion?'

`Possibly, but for what?'

The Scythian commented and I translated, `They may be carrying a ram. In which case I think that we should demonstrate what Scythian bows will do before they get close to the gate.'

`Do so,' said Deiphobos at Hector's nod.

The Scythians were the best bowmen in the world. Perhaps because each missed mark was paid for by a slash across the chest by their master when they were learning, they seldom missed. They wore leather breeches, leather caps and a lot of golden jewellery, and their chests were bare and scarred. Although they were taller than the wall, they never stayed visible long enough for a catapulted rock to hit them.