Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) (18 page)

HECUBA ARRANGED HER
daughter’s long dark tresses into braids beaded with gold and tied with silver cords. She’d known that this day would arrive, but the moment that should be joyous had begun to slowly rip her heart from her chest.
I am losing another child to Apollo...

“Stand my sweet girl,” Hecuba said.

“Mother?”

“Yes?” Hecuba wrapped the golden belt of coins around her daughter’s hips arranging the soft pleats to perfection.

“Were you thinking of
him
just now?”

Hecuba’s hands never stopped arranging Cassandra’s gown. “Who my dear?”

Cassandra placed her hands gently on her mother’s busy fingers. “Mother, you know who I mean.”

Hecuba stood without meeting her daughter’s inquiring gaze.

“The Forgotten Prince,” Cassandra spoke aloud the only name she knew for the brother she’d never known.

Hecuba’s regal bearing straightened. “No.”

“Mother, I can feel your sadness.”

Hecuba turned facing Cassandra. She sighed in defeat. “That snake of Apollo’s has made you too wise for one so young.” Hecuba shuddered as she recalled the sight of her beautiful twins entwined with a giant snake licking at their ears. As horrified as she was, it was more frightening to think that now she would have to turn her daughter over to the god. The union with the snake had sealed their fates as seers. There was no turning back. Apollo had spoken.

“I will pray that the god answers your prayers,” Cassandra said.

“What prayers can bring the dead to life? Not even the gods have that power. The dead are to dust and their souls to Hades.”

“I will pray that your sadness is lifted. That you will smile and be joyous.”

Hecuba shook her head. “Pray for no such thing, daughter. That pain is my love for him. I would not abandon the only way I have to love him. My heart aches for the loss of that sweet face. My breasts ache for his mouth to suck life. No, dearest daughter, do not pray that my grief is lifted. I need it to survive.”

“As you wish it, Mother.”

“This morning is your day. Cease this unhappy discourse and let us rejoice in your joining the order of the god. Are you frightened?”

“A little,” Cassandra admitted.

Hecuba embraced her daughter. She inhaled the sweet essence of her hair and the gentle shoulders of a girl not yet a woman. Tears stung the queen’s heavily kohl lined eyes, clinging stubbornly to her lower lashes. She pulled back holding her daughter’s shoulders in each hand. “I have never been more proud of you than this day. I think I have not loved you so much as this moment.”

“I am glad I make you proud, Mother.”

The queen took her daughter’s face between her hands meeting her eyes. “No matter where the god leads you, where this journey shall take you, I will always remember my little Cassandra splashing in the fountain, giggling with me at noon naps, and her sweet, gentle kisses on my cheek. Know this my love. And forget it not. Forget me not.”

“I will remember. I promise.”

THE COOL MORNING
light gave way to the warm afternoon as the procession to Apollo’s temple wound through the maze of the stone paved streets of Troy. Throngs of citizen came to watch the Princess Cassandra make her pilgrimage to the god. Flower petals like soft rain fell upon her head and their fragrance filled the air. The people rejoiced that a royal daughter would serve the most revered god and by default serve them with her beauty and influence. Cassandra counted each step with growing anticipation and fear.

There were exactly seven platforms of seven stairs each leading to the main entrance between seven rows of enormous pillars.

APOLLO WATCHED FROM
his immortal seat high above the clouded peak of Mount Olympus as the procession brought the woman to his Trojan temple. He deemed her mortal flesh beautiful, pleased she’d grown as he’d expected. Soon, he would claim her body and possess her mind, elevating her among those who served him.

ATTENDANTS LED CASSANDRA
to a dimly lit private chamber. A bowl of flames licked the air at the feet of a golden statue of the god.

“Remove your clothing,” the high priestess commanded.

Cassandra’s heart raced. Her tongue nervously passed over her lips. “Why?”

“The god commands it of us all,” she replied evenly.

The princess, realizing this was no rare event, reached up and unfastened the golden pins holding her gown at the shoulders. It floated silently to the floor. Embarrassed, she wrapped her arms across her bare breasts and squeezed her thighs closer together in a futile effort to conceal her sacred cross from the high priestess. “What do I do now?” Cassandra asked.

“Lay on your back before the god.”

Cassandra looked down at her feet. “There is no covering or rug? I am to lie on the bare floor?”

“Nothing of this world shall touch your flesh, only the hands of the god. After you are confirmed.”

“Confirmed?”

“For your virginity.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened. “I am a virgin. I swear. I—”

“All young women make such a proclamation. Who would admit their defilement at the feet of the god? Now, lie down before him.”

Cassandra’s knees shook as she knelt on the cold marble, never once taking her arms from her breasts. She lay down as commanded. The high priestess placed a warm palm on her lower belly and used her other hand to spread Cassandra’s legs. Tears of humiliation burned behind the princess’s closed eyes. She felt the elder woman’s fingers pressing into her with difficulty. Her sacred cross burned with tension and the pressure of probing fingers. The woman withdrew her hand and wiped a small amount of blood on a piece of linen.

“Apollo will be pleased. You are intact and smaller than most initiates.” She took the cloth smeared with Cassandra’s blood and placed it in the bowl of fire at Apollo’s feet. The flames hissed and spewed smoke into the air.

The princess of Troy was aware that the high priestess had left the chamber and that she lie alone. Fearful of what was to come, humiliated by what had just occurred, she allowed her tears to slide from the corners of her eyes down her cheeks where they puddled in her ears. The marble floor cooled her bare skin. She shivered with chill. Time passed slowly.

A warm breath against her shoulder startled her and she tried to sit up. A heavy, hot hand pressed her shoulder back down. A masculine voice whispered gently into her ear, “Close your eyes and do not open them unless I command.”

Cassandra did as the voice commanded. She felt the heat of observation running over her bare skin.

“You are confirmed?” the voice asked.

“Yes,” Cassandra answered, her voice quivered.

“I am pleased.”

“You are Apollo?” she whispered.

“Who else would I be?” Apollo said. “Do not talk. I want to look at my offering. Make certain it pleases me.”

Apollo’s warm touch covered every inch of her. He ran his fingers across her breasts, cupping each one. “You are well endowed.” Then he slipped his hand between her thighs to test her virginity for himself. Cassandra squirmed beneath his intimate touch. “You are...not ready to accommodate a god.”

“Apologies...,” Cassandra’s thin voice vanished into the empty chamber.

“There is no need for such mortal expressions to me,” Apollo spoke slowly. He moved over her naked body like a hot wave of air. Tiny tongues of flame swirled across her skin, burning and enticing her to writhe against them. Her body vibrated with the heat. She fought to keep her eyes shut. She fought to stifle a scream. Terror filled her. For the first time, she realized that being taken by a god would not be what the weaving women spoke of. There would be no gentleness or caressing her to shaking legs. The marble beneath her shook and slowly her body rose from the floor. Her head fell back suspended by nothingness. Her hair tumbled like a waterfall spilling onto the marble. Burning hands grabbed her thighs and spread them forcefully apart. Her arms were useless to help her. They weighed as two anchors at her sides. The heat of Apollo moved between her open legs. He slowly pushed a searing flame into her sacred cross. Cassandra howled with agony. Her body twitched and arched in protest of Apollo’s invasion of her most intimate part. When he was finished, she felt the hot liquid of their union seeping from her and pooling beneath her bare thighs.

“Your reaction is most displeasing,” Apollo’s voice echoed in the chamber. As best Cassandra could judge, he had moved away from her. She pulled her legs closed and found she could sit up. The section of marble floor under her had risen as a large altar beneath her.  The forces pulling her open to the god had released her. “Open your eyes,” he commanded.

Cassandra obeyed, but kept her focus directed away from the direction of Apollo.

“Look upon the magnificence you spurn with your mortal fear.”

Her eyes traced a path along the floor toward the sound of Apollo’s voice. She glanced up and beheld the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen. He stood unashamedly naked and taller than any man she’d ever known, even Hektor himself would be dwarfed by such a size. She averted her gaze from his fiery member. The god’s skin shimmered with gold. His eyes burned bright blue and orange. His hair curled perfection of honeyed crystal veined with silver.

Cassandra met his gaze. “I am sorry I do not please.”

“I have no pity for mortal fear. What do I care for your sentiments? I do not. I take what is owed me. I take what I want. Sometimes, I am satisfied. This time, unfortunately for you, I am not.”

“Am I to be rejected?” Cassandra asked, thinking that to return home would be a disgrace yet a relief after this experience.

“No. No. No, you will serve me simple mortal. I grant you the foresight you desire.”

Cassandra bowed her head. “I am grateful.”

“You may not be considering your words will always fall upon deaf ears.”

Anger and surprise fueled Cassandra’s thin courage. “You hand your blessing with a curse?”

Apollo rubbed his squared jaw in amusement. “It will make the games much more interesting.”

“The games?”

“Mortals,” the god sighed in exasperation. “You intrigue from afar, yet up close you tend to bore.” He continued, “Your prayers and supplications, mortal. It is our greatest entertainment. Though I admit, at times, our disappointment.”

Cassandra now understood the god’s meaning. He would use her for his benefit, for his pleasure, for his entertainment. “We are nothing but pawns to you? Our lives...meaningless to you?”

“Now, by the balls of Zeus, she understands.”

“What is to become of me now?”

“You will be trained, here, in my temple. Serve me. Obey me. Submit to me without question.”

“And if I refuse?” Cassandra dared to ask.

Apollo’s laughter rang sweetly through the chamber. “You are one to question, are you not? There is no refusal, unless you wish a plague or two to sweep the citadel.”

Cassandra realized with foreboding that any effort at reasoning with Apollo would be futile. She knew submission must come. She could not bear it if her disgust and disillusionment for Apollo should bring harm to Troy. Secretly, she vowed to protect her beloved city and family against such a tyrannical patron. Serving the god would not be the joyful serenity she believed it would be. “I accept your blessing, Apollo.” She lowered her head. “I give my full obedience to the god.”

“There it is! My docile mortal has finally figured out the game. You may end up pleasing the god...in time.”

When Cassandra looked up, he was gone. She glanced about the chamber. The fire was out. The light had dimmed and she felt suddenly chilled. Within moments the high priestess entered followed by three young female attendants. The first carried a bowl, the second a towel, and the last a fresh chiton. They looked so young, younger than she. Had they also been subjected to Apollo’s assault? She shuddered at the thought.

“Step down Cassandra. You must be cleansed,” the high priestess commanded.