I silently sit and wait for Cassandra to continue. When she turns her back on me and starts to walk away, I think perhaps she is going on one of her mysterious avoidance trips, leaving me behind to fend for myself.
Turning to look at me with an expecting glance, she finally speaks, “Well, are you coming along, or would you rather stay here?”
“I’m coming.” I know that I sound a little too eager, but I don’t want to jinx this opportunity to learn more about my teacher.
I don’t ask who they are, or where we are going, I just fly behind her tense form. We pass over the water, heading in the direction of the mainland. I haven’t spent a lot of time in Greece proper, other than touching Mortos minds with my own; and I am excited to be taking part in some sort of tour.
Even though Cass controls her emotions with surprising ease, now that she has let me in, I can taste enough of her feelings to understand her mood … well, at least try to recognize it a bit better. As we fly I can sense joy, comfort, bitterness, and even a touch of disgust … what a strange combination. I have a feeling that even the lightest contact with such an ancient and controlled psyche, is always going to be an unusual experience. When she is in lesson mode, she has the flavor of the pressed pages in well-read books sitting on the shelves of an elaborate library … enchanted and electrified by wisdom and dreams. Then, there is the wonder in her thoughts … flavored with pepper and curiosity. Anger and fear are the most difficult to taste; something primitive in her fury makes my mind recoil in dread over the coming tempest. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly comprehend the enormity of her experiences, but even in her worst of moods, there is always something to learn.
As we fly over a strip of land, I’m reminded of how much of Greece is coastline, lush and mountainous. I can fly around here for years and find a new fascination every day. As we approach yet another bay, I am starting to think we are heading out to the Mediterranean Sea … that's when Cass turns north, towards inland again.
The curiosity is finally getting the better of me. “Cass? If you don’t mind me asking … where on earth are you taking us?”
“Patience, Ellie, maybe I should explain a few things before I introduce you to them.”
“Please do…” As she slows down and we start to drift up a mountain pathway, I am relieved to sense most of the bitterness and disgust has faded, leaving only comfort and joy. The essence coming from her now is distinctly maternal.
“I fell in love once; very deeply in love … I imagine, very much the same attachment as you feel for your Christopher. My love was strong and confident, handsome and regal … he was my captor, forcibly at first, then affectionately after time.
“In my time, matters of love were very different from matters of marriage. Marriage was a business arrangement, and procreation through that marriage was an investment for the future. He was married, and I believe some part of him may have loved her … but he was away from her for a very long time. It was no secret that she had her affairs and he had his, just as long as the empire stayed strong … no one cared. You must understand morality in relationships was very different for me. Coupling was much simpler, and yet much more complex, than they are now.”
“Wait, I remember part of this … you said ‘empire’? You’re talking about Agamemnon, right? I remember reading about the rape of the princess of Troy … Cassandra.” Oh, bloody hell, why didn’t I remember that before opening my sodding mouth.
“Yes … well, I did say my captor, forcibly at first. It may be hard to understand, but during that time, I was a very powerful bartering chip. Neither Agamemnon, nor I, thought about our situation containing any emotion, other than hate … a very passionate emotion. Passion can lead to many different things; for us it led to devotion and love … and love can be an even more powerful thing.”
I nod, not knowing exactly what to say. My modesty frequently makes me uncomfortable when coping with the urges toward physical contact with Christopher; now, it makes me irrationally uptight listening to Cass describing the passion between her and her lover. In my innocence, I can’t help but to be inquisitive about how the volatile passion in hate could possibly turn into the tender passion of love. Thinking back to my time with Christopher; I can feel his long arms and the heat of his lean muscles as he wrapped himself around me. I understand almost immediately, lust can push its way through even hate. But what Cassandra is describing … is the connection that develops alongside and overwhelms the physical. In that connection something unexpected grows, a feeling so encompassing that you know you are never going to feel alone again. Yes, I know then, I understand … she was very much in love with her vanquisher king.
Trapped in her story, we stop our journey and sit along the side of the dark pathway. So strong are the emotions inside these memories, I am walking in her mind before I even realize what is happening. I am in a bed … looking up at gauze draped around the bed posts … the transparent silken material moves with the gentle motion of someone approaching. Then I see him … oh, he is magnificent. I hear Cassandra’s voice almost purring, “Come to me … my King of Kings.” Shocked and embarrassed by intruding on, and intimately feeling, these very private moments, I pull away from her mind. I can feel the blush forming in my toes, and carrying all the way up to my cheeks.
Cassandra smiles slyly at me, “I told you it was rude to walk around in someone else’s feelings … serves you right.”
“I, I ... I’m sorry, Cass, I didn’t mean to…”
“Don’t speak any more about it … the things that you feel you need to be modest about, and the things I feel one needs to be modest about, are very different. To me, all you saw was an expression of my feelings for Agamemnon … nothing more embarrassing than that.”
She continues to tell me stories about the days aboard her King’s boat, and the nights in his arms … her emotions continues to invoke images; but she is careful not to bring up too many intimate details. I appreciate that.
Their time together was magical, and it makes me ache for Christopher. I notice how much Cass glows as she speaks of her life finally changing for the better; all because she found someone to believe in … but even more importantly, someone who believed in her. The images she projects show a similar, even deeper glow; her features start to fill out, and her eyes never stop smiling. I realize where our story is taking us when I notice the bump forming on her belly. Here in her memories, the emotions are the same as if they were happening in the present. I find myself thanking her internally for allowing me to feel the bliss of carrying a baby.
I watch the little one grow at a tremendous pace, and I start to suspect there wasn’t just one baby, but two … Cass was carrying twins. I am surprised at my own elation when the babies kicked for the first time. I shouldn't be, considering walking in her mind gives me the opportunity to feel her experiences, as if they were my own.
When Cass’s King held our bloated abdomen, I can feel the shivers of intimate love pass through my body. Where his palm touched the naked flesh of our tummy, already stretched unimaginably, warmth fills my whole being. He bent and spoke quietly to the twins, a whisper full of adoration, secrets shared between a father and his unborn children.
Looking into his hazel eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes, I melt at the expression I find in his gaze. He shifted his hand from our belly and caressed our face, pulling us into a kiss that left no doubt: this was not a negotiation … he wanted our babies, and us, forever.
My heart breaks as I remember he didn’t want ‘us’ … he wanted Cass. I am just an observer, a witness to an eternal love that bards and poets have written about. I feel insignificant and extraordinary at the same time. In the shadow of this relationship, I understand my ties to Christopher even more … we have a love like this; and we deserve to have each other forever. Cassandra and Agamemnon didn’t make it; he is not here with her now … and I’m afraid the same may be true for Christopher and me.
Time flies by, from memory to memory; Cassandra and Agamemnon’s love only grew stronger. They were inseparable, which confused and angered many of the crew, who had spent a lifetime at war with Troy. Having Cassandra on board as a prisoner was one thing, but to treat her, the way the King expected … to treat her as a Queen was not acceptable. I can feel the hatred rolling off her fellow passengers as she walked by … I can feel the emotions of the others in her memory? No, I must just be feeling what Cass was thinking. She was very insightful, even then; she must have been picking up on the hatred, and I am plucking that feeling from her mind.
My musings pull me momentarily from Cass’s past; and as she continues with her tale, one statement hits me hard. “Oh, Ellie, you should have seen the way Agamemnon treated me; I was a Queen ... believed in and wanted for the first time. Even his men treated me with respect. I had never experienced such consideration.”
She doesn’t know… am I really stretching my gifts through time? Am I really channeling Cass’s memories with such clarity I can feel the emotion of others in her past?
Again, I feel as if I am looking at a photo, but not able to make out the picture. When Cass starts telling me about having the babies, the pain is fresh in her mind; another confusing mixture is the absolute bliss intermingled with excruciating agony. They had carried to term: mother and babies were perfect, even though, it was a difficult delivery. As Agamemnon introduced his sons to the crew there was uproar of amazement that Cassandra had survived, and had delivered not only one heir to the throne, but two. Acceptance and admiration, now, overwhelmed any remaining harsh feelings aboard. As the story continues, I notice how many key members of the crew proudly took on the role of uncles and care providers to the children. The boys were strong much like their father, and beautiful, with emerald green eyes similar to their mother.
Teledamus and Pelops were happy babies and seeing them in Cass’s arms reminds me of my twin baby sisters. Pain shoots through my heart as I remember their passing, during the same bombing where I died.
The pain growing in my chest intensifies into a panic attack; but this terror isn’t mine. I turn inside Cass’s mind to look at the source of the horrific dread. Cass had a glazed expression, all the blood drained from her face and she was biting her lip so hard that a thin line of bright red trickled down her chin. I press a little harder into Cass’s thoughts, through the frightened face of her past, and find that I have entered into the clearest and most defined mental picture painted by her experiences thus far.
This has a different quality; even though we are still in the past, we’re no longer on the boat … but looking through her eyes I can still see we are still planted securely to the deck of Agamemnon’s ship. Through my confusion, I realize that I am seeing one of her visions, first hand!
Clear as day, I can see the shore, and another pathway … Agamemnon sent scouts ahead of the rest of the party, to inform the Queen he was finally home. Cassandra's vision grants me glimpses of those scouts informing the Queen, and her accomplice lover, that Agamemnon returned with his concubine, a prophetess and Trojan Princess, and their two sons. The next flash of images is the Queen flying into a fit of anger, screaming about how Agamemnon had killed her husband, her child, and then forced her into this marriage just to depart immediately for Troy. Her lover calmed her down, but something had broken, and the Queen was stuck firmly in the claws of insanity. Recognizing the opening for promotion from lover to ruler, her companion devised an attack … they were going to kill Agamemnon, Cassandra, and the twins.
I want to scream. I am horror-struck by watching these events unfold. Agamemnon could take care of himself … but Cass and the twins were innocent and powerless in such a strange land, with so few allies.
Whispering, “No! Not the babies!” I can’t stop the tears that are flowing freely as I continue to watch her vision spread out before my eyes.
While the Queen schemed, unaware of her lover’s manipulation … Cassandra and the rest of the returning party steadily made their way up to Mycenae and Agamemnon’s throne. The Cassandra that trudged along in the vision was defeated and pale; she looked incredibly fragile and ill. I can tell she did not want to go on this particular journey; she wanted to go back to the ship … she would live on that ship forever as long as she didn’t have to travel to Mycenae. "Oh god … she knew what was coming. Why didn’t she stop this?"
I feel the despair as I watch the Queen welcome Agamemnon home, and even console Cass over the hardship of being taken into slavery. Cass couldn't move; she was stuck in a depression like nothing I’ve felt before. She was a statue as Agamemnon followed his Queen into the palace; Cass's eyes were fixed on the babies in Agamemnon’s arms. She dropped to her knees, as she watched Agamemnon hand their little ones over to a man standing inside the entryway … the Queen’s suitor. “Say something, Cass! Dear lord, Cass, warn him!”
Her vision follows her love and their sons into the palace, where she watched in horror as the manipulator killed the babies, and the Queen beheaded her love. Unable to move, unable to even breathe, still frozen to the steps outside the palace, Cass gratefully welcomed the swing of the same ax that had killed Agamemnon.
I pull away from the vision, and then I pull out of the memory, looking down on Cass still sitting on the edge of the pathway, “You saw what was coming, and you let it happen! Why?”
I haven’t noticed that the sun has already risen, turning the shadows on the rocky hillside, a dazzling, deep blue. Facing Cass, the bright light in my eyes only aggravates my mood, making me even angrier … if that is possible. As Cass looks up and into my eyes, she makes a noise as if she was an animal captured in a rusty-jawed trap.
“I told him, Ellie … I told him everything. He let his ego make the choice over our survival. He said he was too powerful for someone as meek as his wife, to destroy. He was sure she would be ecstatic to have him home. I asked him if it was true, if he had killed her husband and baby. He replied, 'No one would ever deny him what he wants … and he wanted her.'”
Before I notice we are moving, we have reached a shrine, a temple for Apollo and one of his most famous prophets … Cassandra. Progressing to one of the many indentions in the walls, I realize that this is a tomb; this is where her boys are buried.
“I tried begging him … I offered him everything I could possibly give … if he just wouldn’t return to his palace. When he refused, I pleaded for him to leave the babies and me behind. He became angry and responded violently, telling me he would carry me over his shoulder and present me as a prize, and possession, if he had to. If I was so sure that death was coming … he would grant that wish and kill us right then. I found myself wishing that I saw him as my owner, wishing that I loathed him instead of loving him. I prayed to the gods that they would grant me emotional detachment, so the pain of his betrayal wouldn’t kill me. But, you saw what happened; in the end, I couldn’t move to save my family … I couldn’t even move to save myself.”
I kneel down in front of the babies’ last resting place, and feel an emptiness bubble up from a hole; a void where the death of my own family, also exists. The intimate understanding of how much Cass loved Agamemnon, coupled with my love for Christopher, makes me wonder how crippled I would be if Christopher betrayed me. Unthinkable … I would cease to function; the angst would be beyond belief.
“Even with all your anger … you still go to Agamemnon's grave, don’t you?”
Sheepishly she answers, “Yes, yes I do. I never really did, before you came along. Every time you start talking about Christopher, the awe and wonder in your voice … I remember what he meant to me, how much I loved him. I go to him now, I scream, I cry … I’ve been healing; for the first time in many millennia, I am beginning to find forgiveness.”
“I don’t think I could forgive him, ever … I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”
“You are young … you’ll be surprised how much you can forgive, given enough time.”
I want to hold something to help lighten the weight of what I have just witnessed. I want Christopher here … now … holding me together while I mourn these babies, and Cassandra’s innocence. I sit down by the grave and wrap my arms around my knees, and as I start rocking back and forth, I close my eyes and force my mind to return to Christopher's arms.
I am vaguely aware of Cass moving away, giving me space. I dimly acknowledge the fading light from behind my eyelids: the sun is setting. “Let me come home … please, let me come home … I need you…” in the form of a mantra, I beg through space, for Christopher to help me.
