By Claire Hines Year 13
The guttering torches lit up the walls of the banquet hall with dancing shadows that laughed, danced, and raised their goblets blissfully. The war that had kept them shackled to the city and under the ever-present burden of death and famine was over. Today, opportunistic traders had entered the city selling food at high prices, and the people had eaten to their fill and more for the first time in ten years. All had spent the day praising the gods for the Greek departure (even the least devout), shouting and dancing for joy. In their ecstasy, they had dragged the great wooden horse the Greeks had left behind into the city, breaking down the main gate to do so. They had shrieked praises to Athena at the top of their lungs and beyond as they threw garlands of flowers and wheat and gold on the horse and led it to the goddess’ temple. Revels and banquets had started, and judging by the sounds in the streets, were continuing now, as the fear and anguish of ten years were released.
Here in the royal palace, Priam, his daughters, and surviving sons, feasted with the nobles of Troy. All looked at their neighbour with a grin as they realised there were still people to share a banquet with and sang, ate, and drank in excess as they attempted to wash away the decade of pain and loss. Even the stoic King Priam was wreathed in smiles, a garland of flowers slipping down his forehead and his tunic stained in wine. But one person was not laughing.
Cassandra’s goblet remained untouched before her, and her shadow was immobile. She sat her head bent over the table where her finger traced a small pattern over and over again. Her dusky hair was carefully tied back from her face by a sea blue ribbon that sent her locks streaming softly down her back, unlike the women about her whose hair was dishevelled and knotted. Her sea blue sleeveless dress contrasted with her pale skin, and her golden bracelets jingled softly as she moved her finger in its endless circuit. Suddenly she stopped and looked up at the altar at which they had sacrificed before the feast, her dark blue eyes misty. She stood up abruptly, and unheeded by her boisterous neighbours, walked with a slight tremor in her step up to her father who was laughing uncontrollably at a joke that would not seem funny at all later.
‘Father’, she said tenderly but firmly. King Priam’s laughter died out and his face fell as he saw her. She was a source of continual consternation to him and had made a fool of herself that morning by leaping up onto the wooden horse and prophesying doom on the city while the people laughed at her wild eyes and voice until her brothers had pulled her off and taken her home.
Why she did such things was beyond him, but he wished she would not.
‘I need to go’, she said gently, with a slight tremble in her voice.
‘Then go!’ he retorted impatiently. Why she didn’t want to stay at the first party they had had in ten years was beyond him, but he wished she would. ‘Goodbye.’ she murmured, looking into his eyes regretfully in a way that sent a tremor up his spine as if she could see his spectre or her own.
He watched her go fearfully and gestured to his steward. ‘Have an escort of the royal guard watch her.’ he ordered.
Cassandra paused at the entrance, her hand resting silently on the cold stone archway as she cast a last glance at her family. Yet none noticed her but one. Helen glanced up and met her gaze with a quiet disappointment in her eyes that she couldn’t chase away. But Cassandra had little pity to spare for Helen. She would live.
Cassandra called for her cloak, which a hastily summoned maidservant brought here and laid on her shoulders, and an annoyed group of guards who had been torn away from the celebrations in the barracks to escort the king’s headstrong daughter to an undefined location made an appearance. Cassandra looked at them pityingly before leading them to the Temple of Athena. The tall columns of the building loomed up against the night sky, and the torches within made the place look all too much like her vision.
She walked slowly up the steps and paused at the entrance, turning back to look at the city one last time. Specks of light lit up the streets and shouts and singing seemed to break out from every corner. Was that a Greek sail on the horizon, so soon?
‘Will you be long your majesty?’ asked one of the guards impatiently.
‘Not long’, she answered sadly as she entered the place of her doom.
She walked up the inner colonnade and knelt before the statue of the fearsome Athena that looked down condescendingly at her. This was the last time she could stand pure she thought, and her knees buckled as she knelt down as she had done in the vision.
Again, she could hear the shouts and see the flames of destruction. Once more the faces of her dying brothers and father flashed before her eyes. For the last time, she saw her nephew fall from the battlements before he would.
“Athena, great Goddess of grace and truth, hear me now!”
She recalled the shouts of her escort dying like shrieking dogs, and the footsteps of her doom running up the colonnade.
“You see the doom approaching our city. You know how they have not heeded my warning.”
The sound of her doom calling out to her was fresh in her mind once more. She knew he must be now readying for battle.
“I know our condemnation to be inescapable, and do not seek to contradict the gods”
She saw herself scream and clap her hands over her ears.
“But let our people not die out completely. May some Trojans escape that our legacy may live on elsewhere. Avenge our deaths, Athena!”
She felt his hand on her bare shoulder; the touch of his hot and dirty flesh on her own cold and pure.
“Avenge my damnation, Athena!”
The cries in the streets had now started and the first glow of fire lit up the skyline. Tears welled up in her eyes. Now her vision would become reality. Her escort shouted outside: “The Greeks are back!” and shrieks filled the night.
“Avenge us Athena, avenge me!” she sobbed as she hid her face in her hands in shame of what was to come. Shaking and broken, she cried out for her family and friends who were dying now.
Then she heard the shouts of her escort dying like shrieking dogs, and the footsteps of her doom running up the colonnade. She heard him call out to her in a voice fresh from battle: “No goddess can save you Trojan bitch!”
She screamed and clapped her hands over her ears, waiting for his hands. “Athena please!”
But already the night had dimmed and the inescapable day was dawning.
