Cassandra. Kerry Greenwood

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СКАЧАТЬ recoiled and pointed down the road, where I knew that the village of Irion stood. I had been born there.

      `At the temple of Apollo of the roads,' she said shakily. `It is not an hour's walk, Lord.'

      Glaucus grabbed Banthos' rein, untied him, and leapt onto his back. I followed hastily and we galloped away.

      `Master, what has happened to the village?' I screamed through the dust and the beat of hoofs.

      `Their own stupidity has happened to them. By the gods, if there were gods, Diomenes, they would despair of men.'

      `Why?' I asked, choking on a mouthful of dust.

      He did not reply. I drove my heels into Pyla's flank, urging her to keep up, but we failed to match the speed of Banthos and had to follow in his dust cloud. Inevitably, we dropped behind. I tucked my feet into Pyla's belly band, my soles against her silky hide. I could not see a thing (and perhaps neither could Pyla) but thus attached, I could not fall off.

      I wondered what the men of Kokkinades had done to make Master Glaucus so angry.

      As the dust settled, I rubbed my eyes and saw that we had arrived at a small and badly maintained temple of Apollo Pathfinder. Thirty people were gathered outside. My master had dropped Banthos' rein and was striding into the building. I leapt down, tethered the beasts, and followed on his heels.

      This temple had only one priest, and he was very old. His beard was white and curled to his waist and his head was entirely bald.

      One look at him told me that he had lost his wits. He was mumbling prayers, all confused, marrying bits of harvest prayers to the petition of rain, mispronouncing the words so that I could only pick out phrases occasionally. This sometimes happens to old men who have outlived their time. Usually some pectoral ailment carries them off to merciful death at the end of the next winter.

      The sacrifice had been made - a kid - but this priest could not intercede with Apollo for his people.

      Master Glaucus put the priest gently aside and said loudly, `Are you men of Kokkinades?'

      There was a murmur of agreement. A stout, middle-aged man stepped forward and said, `The men of Kokkinades hear you. Who are you, Lord?'

      `I am Glaucus, master of Epidavros.' They stepped back a pace at this and bowed. I looked at their faces. They were labouring men and farmers, weather beaten and gnarled like old olive roots by longs years of hard work in the fields. They did not resemble each other at all except for the eyes. They all had the same expression. They were all terrified.

      `Ten years ago,' said the master slowly and loudly, so that those outside could hear, `an oracle from Epidavros told you that your well was cursed, and ordered you to dig another higher up the hill. The god also ordered you to clean your houses, wash your clothes, and dig new privies on the lower side of the village. Did you obey?'

      `Yes, Lord. We would not disobey an oracle,' said the stout man.

      `I came into Kokkinades to find the houses full of dead children. So I thought about your village and how this could have happened. How could such simple people have offended a powerful god?'

      `It was the bull,' said another man. `I told you, Pilis. We should not have sacrificed the bull.'

      `It was the oracle of Apollo!' roared my master. `In Kokkinades there is a well which lies lower than the drain from the market place. From the look of it that is where you have been getting all your water. Is this true?'

      `Yes, Lord. The new well was too far from the village,' said Pilis timidly, `so we opened the old one again.'

      `Apollo has cursed you. You have two choices. You can move - all of you - to Tiryns, or you can obey the oracle. Apollo Sun God is not to be denied. He does not speak to many and his words are to be instantly obeyed if he deigns to speak to men. But if you decide to go to Tiryns you must wait here for a month - at this temple - and not go on until there is no sick person amongst you. Choose, men of Kokkinades. I will wait for you outside. Who is related to this priest?'

      `He is my grandfather, Lord,' said Pylis.

      Glaucus took the old man's hand and placed it in his grandson's.

      `Look after him. It is because of the disobedience of the village that he is god struck.'

      Glaucus swept out. He was magnificent. He could appear dignified while wearing only his tunic, stained with sweat. He stalked over to the horses and stood patting Banthos' nose and whispering to him. I got close enough to hear what he was saying.

      `Men,' said my master, `are the most idiotic pernicious animals to ever crawl on the earth. Why do you tolerate them, Lord Apollo?'

      I was surprised to hear him call on the gods, in whom I knew he did not believe. However, I had enough sense to stay silent and occupy myself by grazing Pyla along the verge, where some dry but edible grass had been missed by the temple goats.

      The villagers were engaged in a debate which would certainly occupy them for at least the whole night and probably the next day. The master gave Banthos a final caress and said over his shoulder, `Find a dry spot for us, boy, and preferably some water - but go up the hill for it, never down. Then light a small fire and boil the water.'

      `Master, I have no cooking gear at all. How...?'

      `The priest lives there.' Glaucus pointed impatiently. `He will not grudge us a pot. He'll never need it again.'

      Entering the small hovel, I found a bronze cauldron. I hauled it out and scrubbed it with sand, then dragged it up the hill to where I had heard a stream. It looked clean, but I rinsed the pot and carried out my master's orders. He would not let me come with him to tend the women and children in their camp further down the hill, so I rubbed down the horses and sat huddled over my small fire, feeling very alone and isolated in the night, with the men of Kokkinades' voices and the hooting of lady's owls my only distraction.

      A watch later the master came back, ate some bread, gave me the empty cauldron to refill and lay down naked on his cloak to sleep, having discarded his tunic ten paces from our camp. I heard him groan as he turned over.

      `Are they very ill, Master?'

      `Yes. Ten have died so far. All the children will die, I think at least those under three. Tomorrow we shall look for fresh vervain and hyssop.'

      `We have some dried, Master.'

      `We had, but I used it all. And the herbs which grow in the place are suited to the diseases of the place and the people. Tomorrow, Chryse, we will discuss the doctrine of signatures. And tomorrow these morons will have decided what to do and we can leave.'

      `But master, what about the women and children?'

      `There is nothing I can do for them but to persuade or daunt their dim-witted men to obey the oracle. It was a sensible oracle, that one, and would have saved their lives.'

      `A sensible oracle, Master?'

      `Yes, I composed it myself. Go to sleep, Diomenes.'

      V

      Cassandra

      Nyssa was right. I was growing up.

      Ordinarily, СКАЧАТЬ