`Come, my Lord of Midea, we must leave them to their mourning.' said Arion. `And we have been long on the road and need washing water and food.'
`Yes, yes, of course,' said Midea's lord, recalled to his sacred duties as host. `Slaves, attend on the gentlemen at once. We are not really prepared for visitors, he apologised, leading Arion and me out of the yard towards a small house. `Once the walls are finished, we shall have a proper ceremony, and then Agamemnon King of Men and his brother Menelaus will decide who is to be lord - although I expect that I shall be, they gave me the task of building. Heavy responsibility.'
He opened a door. `This will shelter you tonight, sirs. Are you the bard Arion Dolphin-Rider? Could you sing for us, do you think?'
`Not while that poor giant lies dying,' said Arion. `Have you no respect?'
The small man looked shocked. `It is not as though they are people,' he said stiffly. `They are giants.'
`Yes, they are giants and no, Master, I beg to be excused. All this dust has ruined my voice.'
The lord of Midea left in a huff and Arion chuckled softly, then spat. `It is a great pity, Chryse,' he said off-handedly, `that most of the world is ruled by idiots.'
I took second watch by the giant. The honey plaster had sealed the wound, but clearly he was bleeding inside. There was nothing to be done but sit down and watch him die. But as my master says, `If there is nothing else to be done then we must do that.'
His brother sat at my other side. I changed the cloths which steamed off the body in the height of his fever and gave him sips of boiled water which had Heracles' wound herb steeped in it.
Finally, he opened his eyes. They were black, like an animal's eyes, but there was an animate spark behind them. He lifted one hand with a huge effort and stroked my hair.
`Kala'
(pretty), he said. His hand was as heavy as a sack of wool.
He fumbled with something which hung at his neck until his brother removed it and gave it to me. It was a broken coin; I could not see what decorated it, but it looked very old. I tied the thong around my throat.
The giant smiled at me, a childish smile from his huge, ugly face. `Pretty,' he said again, and died.
The hand slid down onto my shoulder and I had to use all my strength to place it reverently on his chest.
His brother gave a great howl of misery which summoned all the others. Their footsteps thudded on the earth like hammers. I crouched and dodged as they locked arms and began to dance around the corpse, chanting unknown blessings in an incomprehensible tongue.
I slid away before I could be trampled and came into the small room where Arion sat up. I saw his eyes gleam in the dark.
`Is the giant dead?' he asked.
`He is dead. The others are dancing.'
`I left you some food, Chryse,' said my master. `Wash carefully, you have come from the great mystery which is death.'
`Not for you, perhaps. Wash anyway. How did he die?'
`Peacefully, Master.' I found that the lord of Midea had provided roast meat, wheat bread and grapes. `He gave me this,' I remembered the coin and detached it. Arion held it by the lamp.
`Hmm. Very old, Asclepid, and probably valuable. Wear it. You have the blessing of the Cyclopes, and that does not come easily.'
`It was my master who cared for him.' I held out the coin. `He should have it.'
`No, Chryse, it is yours,' said my master. `I feel that you may have more need of it than me. Yes,' he mused as he tied it around my neck again. `Far more need of it than me.'
`Hush,' hissed Arion, `I want to hear what they are singing!'
Â
We came into Mycenae at sunset. They call it `Mycenae of the Golden Walls', and at that hour the whole circuit is golden. It occupies the top of a hill - not a cliff like Tiryns, but a good-sized mount. The city encircles the acropolis and the walls are huge stones such as the Cyclopes were using for building at Midea.
`Where is the way in?' I asked. It looked impregnable, monstrous, a fortress of gods. The walls were three times my height.
`Through the lion gate,' said Arion calmly. `Up, horse.'
There were guards either side of the gate, and people anxiously lining the walls. When we came up the grey road to the gates we could see a bristle of spears and hear swords drawn with a rustle; the first time I had heard that unsettling noise.
`Arion Dolphin-Rider, the master of Epidavros and Chryse God-Touched, his apprentice,' roared the bard. `Let us in!'
The gates were dragged back and a very nervous guard in an elaborate helmet bade us enter and be quick. He shoved the gate back and three others barred it with what looked like a whole tree.
`Have you seen anyone else on the road?' demanded a dapper person in a spotless chiton. He had red hair and was somewhat bow legged. A man who did a lot of riding, obviously. His sharp eyes were of a peculiar reddish-brown and he had the most beautiful hands, long and fine, though calloused with some hard work.
`Not a soul but we came through the mountains, from Tiryns,' said Arion. `There we saw the fair Elene of whom great songs will be sung when I have time to write them. Why?'
`The suitors,' said the dapper person. `Apparently there is an army of them. Do you know when Agamemnon was to set out?'
`Two days ago in the morning,' said Arion. `He should be with you tomorrow, if all goes well. Now, what sort of welcome shall we have at Mycenae, eh?'
`A good and warm one, for we've kings and princes from all over the land of the Argives and no one to amuse them. They can't hunt because none of them dares to leave in case he is out manoeuvred by another and they are tired of gaming. Amuse them and Agamemnon will load you with gold. Already there have been... incidents.'
`Amused they shall be,' said Arion, `for as long as your wine holds out.'
`There is enough wine here to drown in, Arion, famed singer of the Achaeans. And there is work for the healers too. We are honoured by your presence,' he added, leading the way to a large room with a brazier. He clapped hands and slaves appeared, carrying water, a basket of bread, a cloth of cheese and many bunches of red grapes.
`We feast - yet again - at second night watch,' he said. `If you will bring your lyre, Master Arion, you may avert a war and you will do me a great favour.'
Arion did something I have never seen him do before. He bowed.
`Who was that?' I asked, after the elegant man had gone.
`They call him
Kokkinos
, the red-head,' said Arion. `He is also known as Odysseus of the nimble wits, King of Ithaca.'
I did not miss Eleni as much as I had expected to - I missed him more.
We left Nyssa in floods of tears, all of us, and moved all our belongings up to the palace. Eleni and I parted at the gate. He went to the lodgings of the Youths, I went to the Maidens. We were desolate but resigned. I felt that my life had been cut off. So did Eleni.
The part of the palace given to the daughters of the Lord Priam and the Lady Hecube was spacious, cool and beautifully decorated. The traditional skill of Troy, brought with us from the Island, was frescos, and in the chambers of the daughters the masons had really enjoyed themselves.
It was a colonnaded hall, with sleeping chambers opening off it at three levels. Each room was small and whitewashed, decorated with a different motif. The room into which my sister Polyxena led me was painted with seaweed and shells and an octopus issued, all legs and arms, from a crevice in the floor. Ink-black and sea-blue, it was beautiful. The room smelt of the sea and a cool, sweet fragrance. I put down my bundle of gowns on the sleeping mat and decided that at least I had a pleasant place to be miserable in.
Polyxena was ten, an intense dark child who had not yet reached womanhood. She looked at me in a way which suggested that she could see down to my bones and asked, `Is your brother happy?'
I sought and found Eleni. His mood had lightened as mine had.
`Not happy, but not too unhappy,' I said. `Like me.'
`And are you always alike?'
`Yes. Have you a god, Polyxena? You see very well.'
`No god,' she said. `None. Except that I belong to them, as we all do.'
`Of course,' I agreed politely. Nevertheless she made me uneasy. There was a black shadow behind my little sister Polyxena. She seemed to be perfectly aware of it, and had obviously gotten used to it. But she was an uncomfortable companion for me and I was glad when three other sisters came in and diluted her effect. They seemed unaware of Polyxena's darkness.
`Cassandra,' said Andromache, limping in to embrace me. `Good. You've got the octopus room. You can see the sea from your window.'
`Andromache, what have you done to yourself?' I exclaimed crossly. `Has Myrine seen that? What scraped you? A spear?'
`A stone. They are practising stone throwing. That idiot Siri missed the target and got me. It's all right. It hardly even grazed me.'
`Let me look,' I urged and she pushed me away, then sat down and allowed me to examine a blackening stone bruise which had broken the skin.
`What do you mean, it doesn't hurt? I've got some stonecrop and comfrey ointment. Just keep still.'
`Cassandra,' said Andromache impatiently. `There is a contest and games tomorrow, in honour of Apollo Sun God. I am going to compete. If Myrine saw the bruise she might disqualify me. If you make too much fuss, Perseis will find out and stop me from going to the field.'
`I understand,' I modified my tone. `Just try to stay off it today and I'll bind it again for you tomorrow. What are you competing in?'
`Spear and bow,' said Andromache between her teeth. `And I might even win.'
`So you might.' I completed the bandage. `There.'
My sister scrambled to her feet and dropped her unusually long gown over the bandage just in time as Perseis came in.
Perseis was my lord father's cousin, a plump woman with a lot of brown hair which flowed all around her and resisted bindings, so fine that it crept out between the pins. She had patient blue eyes and a much-tried smile. She was responsible for the behaviour and continued health of all of the Maidens. This was a truly magnificent challenge and she met it with kindness and strength, only occasionally being enraged to the point of telling us that one way of ensuring our good behaviour was to dedicate us all to a suitable beast god of the Achaeans and sacrifice us in a bevy, thus securing herself some peace and quiet and a safe journey across the Argive Styx. It had been suggested to her that killing off all the daughters of Priam might attract the attentions of the Erinyes, the Achaean revengers, daughters of Chaos, but she replied that compared to the multifold irritations of caring for thirty-eight chattering girls, she would take the snake-haired ones any time. There were, she reminded us, only three of them, Tisiphone, Maegara and Alecto.
This happened very rarely. Mostly, Perseis was sweet.
She smiled at me and embraced me, my face against her petal-soft cheek. She smelt of baking bread and incense oil.
`Cassandra, let us have a walk around the palace so that you know where everything is. Daughters, we will be nice to Cassandra for a moon. She has left her twin and lately gone to the Mother and she will be a stranger in such a large place with so many people. Also, she is a prophet of the Lord Sun God. I'm depending on you to make sure that she is listened to if the Lord Apollo has anything to say. She will go to Tithone the healer every day.'
Gesturing to the other young women, she added, `Cassandra, you know Andromache, who fights men. This is your sister Polyxena; your sister Eirene, `peace' - never was a maid worse named; your sister Cycne, she is from an island called Ithaca and is teaching us Achaean. There, that will do for the moment. Oh, and here is Oenone.'
I had heard of Oenone, daughter, they said, of the River Scamander. Her mother was a water nymph and her father a priest. She was my brother Pariki's wife. She was water coloured too, poor girl, pale and pearly with blue eyes and ash-brown hair like seaweed, and very pregnant. I took the limp hand and she smiled at me sadly. It was clearly unhealthy for a woman to be married to my brother Pariki.
I went with Perseis to view my new home. The floor was of tesserae, blue and unfigured, something of a relief because everything else was decorated with dancing maidens or lolloping dolphins. The main fresco was of a ship which had attempted to kidnap the Lord Dionysius. He had been patient with the sailors, but when they threatened to kill him, suddenly the mast had burst into vine and grape and the ship had been overwhelmed. The god had ridden away on a dolphin, one of his own creatures.
As I looked at the mural, the face of the Lord Dionysius turned to me. His eyes glowed hot, his mouth opened and he sang a small stave - only five notes. My knees went weak. The music was not sweet, but wild and breathy like shepherd's pipes. Then the painted face turned back into profile and he was gone.
`Yes, he is a powerful god,' agreed Perseis, not at all disconcerted. `Now. Here is the water closet, and here is the bath.'
There were more dolphins over the tiled pool in which green water lapped, scented like the sea.
`We bathe in the afternoon, during the hottest part of the day. The chitons are collected to be washed and are returned the next day, depending on the weather. You are learning to be a healer, but there are many crafts otherwise for you to try. Cycne, for instance, is making pots, and some of the others are spinners and weavers.
`Try everything, Cassandra. It is never good for a woman to lack skills, however beautiful she is. We are not Argives, to value a woman only for her appearance and her fertility and discard her when she is no longer pleasing or has not borne sons. Men come from all over the world to marry us because we are well skilled. We work in the morning, bathe and sleep, and then we dine with the lord and the lady after dark. If you are lonely I can give you a maiden to sleep with. Would you like that?'
Bewildered, I shook my head. It seemed like disloyalty to Eleni to sleep with anyone else.