Part One: Cassandra’s Curse
When the gods intervened on mortal affairs, as they
often did in Ancient Times, their whispers summoned the children of destiny.
Cassandra begged him not
to go. She warned her brother, Paris, that his return from Sparta would bring
tragedy, not love. The frenzied look in her bright blue eyes frightened him,
but he pulled his arm from her grasp. He pondered her counsel, and felt the
conviction in her voice.
“I love you, sister, and I
appreciate your concern.” He said as he brushed the curly strands of her long
fiery red hair away from her face. But the goddess had made him a promise, and
he would cross the Aegean to claim his prize.
“Please, listen to
reason.” She said. Tears cascaded along her fair skin, but he would not be
deterred. He turned away and marched towards his chariot; her cries faded in
the distance.
“Think of father, think of
Hector, and think of Troy!” She cried.
The visions flashed across
her mind. Her father, and her brother would die at the hands of their rivals.
Their city would be lost to the misfortunes of love. Aphrodite had intervened
and Apollo had ensured that none would heed Cassandra’s prophecy. The world
would remember the gods and the heroes of their time, and for Apollo it would
be inevitable that the fairest would always remind him of unrequited love.
She raced through the
palace, a riffle wind stirred, and her hair lashed gently across her face.
Lightning flared across the sky, and she paused in the courtyard to study the
heavens. When she turned to the doorframe she observed a figure walking in her
direction. Cassandra shrank inwardly; did anyone else see him, had he come to
intercept her?
He spoke. His voice deep
and soft as he extended his hand and summoned Cassandra. She fought the inner
dread that filled her with anxiety, and wondered if he intended to harm her.
Looking up at him, she studied the form he took, unable to recognize his face,
yet able to identify his presence.
“Apollo?” She said. Her
hand shivered when she felt his cold flesh.
The shadow of a smile
emerged from the stern look on his face, and he drew her under his arm.
“Come, Cassandra, walk
with me.” He towered over her.
She obeyed, but whether
she did so out of fear or because of the strength with which he held her, she
could not tell. With his arm around her shoulder Apollo guided her along a
cobbled path to a nearby garden. When they arrived at the center of an empty
garden, Apollo pulled her close to him, and held her in an embrace so that she
could feel his manhood rise against her body.
His cold flesh now felt
warm, as if fevered, and she felt comfort in his arms.
“I can take away the pain,
Cassandra.” Said Apollo.
He lifted her chin and when
she looked into his hazel eyes, she knew he was telling the truth. For it had
been known that no false word ever fell from his lips. When her glance fell
upon his lips, she remembered how passionately he had kissed her when he had professed
his love. But she could not reciprocate that love, and now the doom of Troy
walked hand in hand with the destiny of her heart.
No,
not like this! She pulled away from Apollo. Her bright blue eyes
shone like sapphires and searched his features for forgiveness.
He caressed her cheek and
ran his fingers through her bright red hair. His touch reaffirmed his
compassion, and the lightning flickered around his form and face. For a moment
it seemed that he was no longer a god enraged, and she no longer his hopeless
obsession.
Apollo leaned forward and kissed
her with profound tenderness. Cassandra closed her eyes, and when she opened
them, he had vanished. She looked around, but the garden remained empty. A
strong wind brushed past, and a flicker of errant lightning reminded her of her
burden.
Andromache!
Cassandra fled the
courtyard in search of her brother Hector’s wife. She raced through the
corridors, her eyes frantically searching between pillars and nameless faces.
She bumped into an elderly woman and knocked her to the stone lined ground.
Cassandra turned as if she would assist the woman to her feet, but remembered
her dilemma and left others to come to her aid.
“Pobes!” Cassandra said.
“Where is your sister?”
“She is in her bedchamber
with Hector. What’s wrong?”
“I’ll explain later. I
must speak with them both immediately.”
Cassandra ascended a
flight of stairs and pounded on the double doors of their bedchamber.
Andromache pulled the wooden doors open, but before she could speak her
sister-in-law immediately began to plead for her assistance. Hector approached
and wrapped his arms around Cassandra to calm her.
“You look like you have met
with the Ferryman himself. What troubles you, sister?”
“Paris must not accompany
you to Sparta!” Cassandra cried.
Hector looked perplexed
and listened to Cassandra as he escorted her to a bench at the far end of the
bedchamber. She begged him to take leave for Sparta without Paris, for if Paris
set foot in the kingdom of Sparta then the tragedy of Troy, as foretold by
Aesacus, would come to fruition.
“Troy will burn. I have
seen it!” Cassandra said as Andromache sat beside her.
Hector dismissed
Cassandra’s premonition and assured her that their mission was for peace.
“Father insists that Paris
accompany me to Sparta to liaise in his stead, and solidify our alliance with
the Spartans.”
He knew, all too well, the
fallacies of prophecy, and he understood his father’s position. King Priam felt
guilty over his decision to send Paris to be killed on the day of his birth,
because of a prophecy, but it had been nearly two decades, and no such tragedy
had taken place. The king felt that the time had come for Paris to take his
place as a prince of Troy.
“It is our duty to serve
as representatives on behalf of father, for the peace he has worked so hard to
achieve.” Said Hector.
Cassandra shook her head.
Andromache stroked her back to comfort her.
“Paris does not intend to
journey in the name of peace. He goes because Aphrodite has promised him a
prize for naming her the loveliest goddess. He seeks to claim Helen of Sparta,
the most beautiful woman in the world, as his own.”
“You have a wild
imagination, sweet sister.” Hector smiled.
Cassandra stood. Her eyes
hardened and she glared at her brother, Hector.
“The gods, with their
squabbles, and their passions, and their vanity have doomed us. And father’s
favorite, Phoebus Apollo, who loves me more than any mortal man could ever love
a woman has cursed me with the knowledge that none should believe my words,
since I am unable to return his love.”
“This is madness!” Hector
stood, but before he said another word, Cassandra fled the bedchamber in tears.
If no mortal would listen,
and the gods had indeed cursed humankind, then she had but one other option.
The conundrum, however, was that The Fates answered to no one, not even the
gods, and if Cassandra hoped to enlist their aid, she would need to find their
mother, Nyx. But to find the one who stood near the beginning of creation,
Cassandra would need to journey into the shadows of the world, for the goddess
only ever seen in glimpses.
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