Cassandra

by Hilary Bailey

  The queen then offered me the use of a room in which to change my travel-stained clothes. When I arrived there I found scented water in a bath set into the floor and, on a marble table, a dress of fine white wool and a new cloak, dyed with costly purple dye. A female servant stood by to attend me. I bathed and changed and went back to the hall for a meal which we ate from silver dishes. Later, the queen, her consorts and some of her officials gave me a tour of the city. As I have said, it was a wealthy city. From the ramparts one looked out over the sea, on one side, and on the other long, glowing, reaped fields, where rich crops of corn and barley had stood. Beyond, forests lay. There was to be a feast, they said, in my honour that evening. They were treating me with every courtesy – but I had begun to mistrust Laodice.

  At the feast, with musicians playing, torches round the walls and all the dignitaries of the city present, we spoke of Troy and their own city, their trade, the state of the kingdom at Hattusas and the nature of the Great King, Suppiluliumas. Some called him weak; others said he was not weak, only beset by the problems of maintaining his vast empire, a thousand-mile stretch of land, controlled by conquest or treaty, from Troy to Babylon. There were the attacks on his territory from the Gasga people by the Black Sea in the west and the Assyrians to the south. He was a ruler with many difficulties, said these people of Brusa, who seemed to take a gloomy pleasure in telling me how little I had to hope for from the Great King.

  I had felt disappointed, even uneasy, during my conversation with Laodice and her brother-consort. I felt the same again now, as these well-dressed, prosperous men and women told me my journey was hopeless. I suspected these people had long been jealous of Troy – of our friendly relationship with Suppiluliumas, our riches and power, the beauty and strength of my many brothers and sisters. My parents had given me all the information they could about my journey but they had not told me of this envy; perhaps they were unaware of it. I got the impression that although it was in my hosts’ interests that I should gain military support from the Hittite king, they quite enjoyed the spectacle of the daughter of Priam and Hecuba travelling with only two slaves to plead for aid. At the same time, they were treating me with honour. Nevertheless, in the wealthy hall at Brusa I remembered the perpetual hunger and war in Troy. At least the city had not fallen to the Greeks, which had been my great fear while travelling. Such news would have got to Brusa like wildfire, been brought by the beaks of the very birds in the sky.

  I was glad to retire. I found Queen Laodice’s servant in my allotted room and, looking out of sorts, Nisintas, who was sitting in the middle of the floor. I was about to send him packing to the slave quarters, when Naomi pressed my arm in warning. She it was who stepped forward, asking the queen’s servant to leave me, which the woman did, with a doubtful glance.

  ‘What is this?’ I asked, ready to lose my temper.

  Again, Naomi touched my arm, this time glancing towards the entrance to the room which was covered only by a hanging. She was indicating someone might be spying on us.

  I went over to Nisintas, saying, ‘Why are you here?’ He looked at me sullenly, then at Naomi, who had begun to give him orders which he obeyed. She went up to him and whispered, too low for me to hear. She seemed to be doing most of the talking. Then she took me to the window. ‘I told him to stay in your room. They’re discussing whether it would be wise to capture you and offer you to the Greeks as a token of goodwill. Some think it would be too dangerous – if Troy were to win the war the reprisals on your behalf would be terrible. Others would rather take a chance on a Greek victory and ingratiate themselves now with the future victors.’ I stared at her. She was quite serious. When I had been strolling about the town with the queen and prominent citizens, Naomi and Nisintas had been talking with the servants and slaves, who knew everything.

  I looked out into the darkness, wondering what to do. We desperately needed horses, a waggon too, if possible, and supplies of food. A welcome at Brusa had been part of my mother’s plan for the journey. I sank to the floor with my hand over my face. It was not a dignified thing to do, especially before slaves, but suddenly I recalled the spring, before the Greeks came, that time with my beloved Arvad, and my dreams of the future. I remembered the arrival of that great, threatening fleet. I should have been married, embarked on Arvad’s ship, happy, voyaging to Memphis, Babylon, Saba. Instead we were at war. I feared for my family. Now I was taking a long and dangerous journey to Hattusas – when I knew, had always known, the city would fall anyway. This news of treachery crushed me. Even if I escaped the ill-will of the Queen of Brusa would I not find more danger and treachery, for one reason or another, along the road to Hattusas? I was young, tired, full of despair. Beside me now, Naomi hissed urgently, ‘Nisintas found all this out from Prince Syr’s slave. Syr talks to his slave, being of low birth.’

  I looked at Nisintas, still sitting on the floor. He turned his ox-like gaze to me. Nothing was to be read on his face.

  ‘Perhaps the slave lies,’ I said hollowly.

  She shrugged, knowing that if I did not accept the truth I would doom us all. I had to believe it. Nisintas had no reason to lie. He had never wanted to go to Hattusas. My capture would mean nothing to him, except that he would not have to make the arduous journey. He would still be a slave – slave in Brusa, slave in Troy – what difference would it make to him?

  I could still hear the noise of the feast. The queen’s servant came in again, with a bowl of water, a jug of wine, silver cups. ‘The queen is coming,’ she announced. I didn’t like the sound of it. I kicked Nisintas up, saying ‘Back to your quarters, slave. You deserve a beating.’ He shambled off. I slapped Naomi’s face a couple of times and sent her to wait outside the room. She put up a fuss, blubbering, pleading and apologising.

  The queen entered, small, but straight-backed, a golden comb in her well-arranged black hair. Two stools were brought and we sat down. ‘I come merely to bid you goodnight, lady,’ she said in her soft, pleasant voice, ‘and to hope you will honour us with at least a few days more of your presence, though I know your journey is pressing.’

  ‘I should be happy to stay a little longer in your magnificent city,’ I responded. ‘You are very kind and your entertainment is generous. I shall have much to tell of Brusa when I reach Hattusas.’

  She nodded her thanks, then stood. ‘I trust you will sleep well,’ she said, ‘and look forward to your company tomorrow.’ She left with great dignity, turning in the doorway and gesturing towards the silver jug. ‘I hope before you sleep you will enjoy a cup of our wine, which you generously praised at the feast.’

  ‘You make me most happy,’ I responded.

  After a bare interval Naomi returned, crawling on the floor and weeping for forgiveness. The queen’s servant’s back was turned as she arranged my bed coverings. From the floor Naomi shook her head at the wine and made a face. I nodded. It would be unsafe to drink it. If they meant to capture me they might have drugged the wine. I was beginning to understand that Naomi had seen a side of the world about which I had only heard. She knew the savagery, powerlessness, the enmities, adulteries and treacheries of the long caravan trails through deserts, forests and hills, far from any law. As a little alert child-slave she had learned much then which was useful now in these hard times.

  The maid was now offering me the goblet. ‘Later,’ I said. Still she offered it, saying something about the queen’s gift. I turned from her, saying I would now prepare for sleep and would drink it before I retired. I dismissed her and she had to go. Naomi then put out the torches and threw the wine from the window.

  We sat silently in the darkness for a while. Naomi was against the wall to the left of the entrance to the room. I lay on my bed wondering what to do – I had no ideas and I was very frightened. Naomi wanted a decision but was too afraid to speak to me.

  Then there was the faint smell of a musk-based scent in the atmosphere, the odour I associated with Syr. At first I had thought it was some natural scent from hi
s skin, then realised he perfumed himself. He must be in, or near, the room, but there had been no sound. Then in the darkness, I saw his figure, naked except for a breechclout. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. He might be about to kill me, or rape me. Or perhaps he was only curious, wandering the palace on bare feet, with what thoughts circulating in his head no one could imagine – to be god, queen’s consort and sacrifice, all at once, is to be in a position no other person could understand. He might have been a little mad.

  He left the room as soundlessly as he had entered. I waited until I thought he had really gone. Then I sat up. Naomi came over. How he had not seen her I don’t know, though I know that in those days she could make herself as small, grey and still as a mouse when she chose, another of the gifts she had learned as a child, no doubt.

  Her eyes were wide. I shook my head, baffled, but at least Syr’s visit had made me decide to leave the city as soon as possible. Syr had come to the room, for what purposes I did not know; he could return at any time to fulfil those purposes, whatever they were. I did not trust Laodice or her brother. But the city gates were closed and I was not sure if the guards would open them at night for us without consulting the queen. A failed attempt at an escape could precipitate a crisis. I whispered to Naomi, ‘Can you fetch Nisintas, without being spotted?’ She drew in her breath with a hiss, nodded and sped off.

  Nisintas lay massively across the threshold all night. As far as I can tell we all three slept. I do not know if Syr came back, but if he did he must have seen Nisintas and decided not to enter the room.

  Just before dawn I rose and went quietly through the palace and out to the market-place. I bargained for a waggon, a team of two mules and a ragged little horse the coper told me came from the hill country. I also bought rugs and blankets, and food. In this way we could be independent of dubious hospitality of any kind. I did all this speedily, astonishing the sellers with my readiness to accept a price. I feared the arrival of someone from the palace, who would report back what I was doing. The only hope was to leave quickly before the decision to treat me as an honoured guest or sell me to the Greeks was firmly made. Additional servants, or slaves, might have given extra protection, but there was the danger they would turn against me. I had developed a little more confidence in Nisintas, but I was still not sure of him and I did not want to add more doubts about servants to the other anxieties of the journey.

  I had hoped that in a few days we might meet a caravan going east to Hattusas, and travel with it in relative safety, but it was late in the year for such a journey. Any caravan going that way would be risking the weather, or accepting that it might be wintering in Hattusas and few would wish to do that. For the rest, I hoped to take the queen by surprise when I announced myself ready to go. I thought it unlikely she would actively forbid me, a princess of Troy, to leave her city in broad daylight. Anything she did to harm me would be done in darkness.

  I informed her I was leaving that morning. She did attempt to persuade me to stay, pretended to be hurt by my leaving, hinted at a change of mind, suggested if I would stay a little longer we could discuss her sending more troops to Troy. Perhaps, she suggested, it was unnecessary to undertake a difficult journey to Hattusas to ask for an army which might not be given, if she and I could arrange for a band of thirty or forty young men to accompany me back to Troy to fight in the war. It was all very seductive. There was no reason to believe, untrustworthy as she was, that she had not truly decided that Troy’s victory over the Greeks might serve her and her people better than Troy’s defeat. Nevertheless, I thought it better not to gamble on Queen Laodice’s change of heart. I told her my errand to Hattusas was urgent because of the danger of early snows in the mountains; I would return to her city on the way back. With the need for politeness and the formalities involved, it took half a morning to bid Queen Laodice and the two princes farewell and I was uneasy all the time. Eventually it was over.

  Twenty-Two

  The Journey to Hattusas

  We left Brusa before midday in bright sunshine, heading eastwards along the valley, wishing to avoid not only the roaming Gasga people who were overrunning the area but any skirmishes between the Hittite regiments trying to keep them under control. I rode the horse, the two slaves were in the waggon.

  We made good progress on the narrow, white valley road, surrounded by fields and vineyards in which even now they were culling the last of the grapes. In the few hamlets we passed they were busy at their wooden wine presses, or drying fruits for the winter. As we progressed, the people seemed less afraid of strangers. Children stared at us, but without fear or indeed undue curiosity. They were used to stranger parties than ours – Hittite contingents in armour galloping through, waggons containing anything from fish to metals from the mountains. They had seen columns of chained slaves and savage tribesmen from beyond the Black Sea, leading animals laden with furs.

  We did not stop. The sun shone. In spite of my horse’s uneven gait I was in the half-excited, half-apprehensive, always interested mood of a traveller. Troy seemed very far away. So, strangely, was any sense that visions were lurking in my head just beyond consciousness, ready to surface. It was as if my gift had withdrawn itself when we left Troy. According to one’s nature, one either acts or dreams, I suppose, but circumstances can make an actor of a dreamer and the other way about. My fear was that when the prophetic gift returned, it could have greater force and cost me a higher price for having been subdued for so long. But for the moment I was a cheerful traveller, on a warm day of autumn – nothing more.

  In front – I wanted to keep an eye on them – Naomi and Nisintas sat on the waggon, apparently on friendly terms. Nisintas had driven mules before and the animals seemed docile. We made good progress. Ahead of us lay the journey across the long, upland plain towards Hattusas – grim travelling, perhaps, but on well-kept roads, safely patrolled by Hittite soldiers.

  We camped in the hills that night. Wrapped in rugs, I saw the stars above me, then knew no more until dawn. The others were still asleep. I got wood, built a fire, set barley to boil. We would need a good breakfast today. I sat under a larch, looking down into the silent valley, over which birds swooped. We ate the barley hot with chunks of cold spiced lamb. After a cup of wine well-watered with cold water from a stream we packed up the waggon and set off.

  For a person born and bred in low coastal country, there is something intimidating about being high among hills and mountains for the first time. All around were grey rocks, clumps of trees, a little vegetation on which an occasional goat pastured, and, because the land was less easily cultivated, few people, no villages. In several hours’ travelling we saw one boy driving a couple of sheep from nowhere to nowhere. It was a good road; the air was chill.

  Towards nightfall, as the shadows came down over the hills and the track, we passed a wedding party with torches, drums and pipes, a girl in a long dress and amber beads, a young man wearing the pelt of an animal over his shoulders. The head of the animal, huge and doglike, hung down his back. A crowd of revellers was round them. Where they had come from, or where they were heading, could not be guessed. I greeted them in the Akkadian tongue, but they just stared at me. That language is used in those parts, but perhaps more among the nobility and merchants and for religious purposes. Then we passed them and camped that night on a straight stretch of road, all bundled together in the waggon for safety. Once the mules woke and began to whinny, but when we peered over the sides of the waggon, there seemed to be nothing there.

  ‘Wolves,’ Naomi said with a shudder.

  ‘No wolves here, at this season,’ Nisintas said shortly. Then we slept again.

  Nevertheless, when we rose and got on the way again, into the rising sun, I realised, though I was in good spirits, we could not go on travelling in such a small party through this wild, uninhabited landscape. The vast plain we were crossing was controlled by the Great King who had regiments everywhere, but territory like this where men can appear from behind h
ills and disappear again, is country for bandits, just as the sea is for pirates. I would have to find an answer at the next city, Gordion, which I had been told lay ahead at the junction of two rivers.

  The next days were gruelling. The temperatures dropped, the days grew shorter, the long plain stretched ahead remorselessly. I thought we would reach Gordion after three days but on the fourth night we slept on the roadside, as usual, in a bleak pass with steep hills on either side and travelled the deserted road all through the next day. There was still no sign we were nearing a city – no sign, indeed, of anything but a herd of wild goats which blocked our path. The old male goat, head down, was about to run at the waggon and two mules, until Naomi stood up and bellowed furiously at him.

  In the waggon that night, too, we heard voices in the hills to our left. Naomi said they were spirits. I feared they were bandits. The sounds went on all night, grumbling conversation, the odd shout. We dozed, Naomi and I waking occasionally and both groping in our clothes for our daggers, while Nisintas slept, still grasping his club. Were they some local spirits? Was this the place where no person familiar with the region would ever stop? Or were they robbers, waiting to strike us? It was a bad night, and next day a cold, determined rain fell on the silent pass, and still the track stretched ahead with no sign of a city ahead. My horse was tiring, for want of proper pasture, though the mules were all right. They could live on the scrubby, lifeless grass along the trail. And so we plodded along, cold and soaked, the rugs over our heads and shoulders offering little protection.

  I began to fear the worst. There was no city ahead, we were lost, on the way to nowhere and with our food running short. We could go on through this inhuman landscape, or turn and hope to return safely to the plains before we starved. But if we returned now it would be too late to get to Hattusas before the snows.