The Night Cassandra Went Crazy

[cassie_of_troy]

The bride had no family attending the wedding, as they were far away in Plakos. To make up for this fact, several members of Hector’s family, to be precise, his favorite brothers, all held torches high into the night sky to symbolize her kin. Cassandra doubted very much that this was any comfort to Andromache. But then, she seemed entirely comfortable with the arrangement in a dreadfully stoic sense. The sentiment was most likely lost. Still, it was a kind gesture on Priam’s part.

Wedding ceremonies generally didn’t take place on rooftops, but this was no ordinary wedding. The crown prince of Troy was marrying and the entire kingdom was invited to witness the event. Chryses stood on a stool, brought to the citadel so that everyone below could see him. Much of what he was saying was lost, even to Cassandra who was up on the roof, but he could be seen from all around the castle where the peasants assembled.

Hector and Andromache stood facing each other, trying their best not to wince at Chryses’ booming voice. The veil once again covered Andromache’s face, but Cassandra could see her shoulders hunch up from time to time, when Chryses got particularly loud in his chanting.

Cassandra herself was feeling much relieved. Throughout the entire day, since leaving Andromache in the bath, she hadn’t had a single vision. Finally, she felt herself relaxing, secure in the knowledge that the worst was over. Now, she stood beside her father and mother, partaking in the wedding of her brother and a part of her mind fancied it was her own wedding. She put herself in Andromache’s place, facing not Hector, but Phoebus Apollo, shining like the sun in the night so beautifully that there was no need for torch light. As Hector reached out to take Andromache’s hands, so did Cassandra’s true love take hers. Phantom pangs of ecstasy raced through her veins just imagining what it felt like.

Chryses grew quiet, giving Hector private instructions. With a nod, Hector reached forward, lifting the veil away to reveal Andromache’s face to the entire world. Below, the villagers cheered for their beautiful new princess. Cassandra could hear Paris shift his weight behind her. With the torch light dancing off of her face, Andromache’s freckles disappeared and she glowed pale as death. What made her most beautiful, Cassandra reasoned, was the fact that when she looked at Hector’s face, she positively beamed, the smile spreading wide. There were no sad thoughts of home for her, no desperate longings for family. All that filled her thoughts was Hector and perhaps, Cassandra hoped, more than in the sense of how much of a good match he was. Seeing her smile, Hector smiled back, perhaps for only the fifth or sixth time in Cassandra’s young remembrance. He looked so different when he wasn’t brooding! She hesitated to admit it, but he looked handsome and charming, rather like Paris. No, perhaps even more attractive.

She imagined Apollo unveiling her, tossing aside the veil to let it float away on the wind. There would never be need for it again. He would smile at her in that secretive, loving way and she would return the smile, blushing a bit, perhaps, to seem so amorous in front of her family. Oh, but he would take away all her doubts, all of her fears about everything.

Hector had been handed a bright green apple. Cassandra knew it came from the family orchards. Chryses had explained this ritual to her. Andromache would take a bite from the apple to symbolize the fact that her husband’s livelihood was now her own. It was also supposed to induce fertility, rather like the bath. Hector held the apple out to Andromache who took it with both hands. She waited patiently while Chryses finished his chant then lifted it to her lips, taking a large bite.

Daphne fled through the forest, her heart pumping in her chest. She could hear him behind her, his feet pounding against the dirt. This couldn’t go on forever, she knew that much. Fine a runner as she was, he would eventually gain on her and then it would all be over. Still, she would not give up without a fight. She sprinted through the woods, feeling the prickers tear at her exposed arms and legs. From time to time, her wild hair would snaggle on the branches of trees, but she wouldn’t stop. Better to have every hair on her head ripped out than to yield to Apollo.

Turning to look over her shoulder, she could see him behind her, his immortal legs lending him speed that most mortals could never know, speed enough to catch the huntress. “Stop!” he called to her.

“No!” she cried, turning to face forward again.

“You cannot refuse me! I am the Lord of Delphi!”

“Let me never share the couch of a god!” she shouted desperately to the heavens, running on through the forest though her legs ached and her sides were sore with a thousand stitches.

Hot tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. He would overtake her and he would be sorely displeased when he did. Yet, if she stopped running and returned to him, she knew exactly what would happen. The faithless god would give her an unwanted child, one she would either have to kill secretly, or die for. The gods were worse than men! At least men could be punished for their actions!

Daphne leapt over a tree stump, rushing deeper into the heart of the forest. She could hear the call of running water up ahead. Perhaps, just perhaps, the god of the river would see her flight and take pity on her, rescuing her from the amorous Apollo. It was her only hope. She dashed to the sound of the water, feeling blood trickle down her arms from all the branches.

Behind her, Apollo was gaining. “Yield, Daphne!” he cried.

“No!”

“There are consequences for refusing a god!”

“Let it be,” she wailed, the tears finally spilling over and running down her white cheeks. “I will not let you have your way with me.”

“I’m warning you, Daphne…”

“Father!” she shouted, her heart sinking as she knew he couldn’t hear her. “Father! Help me!” No one would help her. Even if they could hear, who would dare to challenge Apollo?

As her feet hit the ground, she felt a sudden numbness fall over her body. Something was holding her down. Hard as she struggled, she soon couldn’t move at all; her feet seemed rooted to the ground. There was a crackling noise coming from her joints. They grew stiff, frozen at her sides. Looking down, she saw her skin turning hard and brown. Twigs began to shoot out of her legs, sprouting bright green leaves. She tried to open her mouth to utter one last cry for help, but the bark covered her lips, silencing her forever.

Apollo approached the laurel tree, slowing down. There was no more need to run. “Fairest of maids,” he muttered, walking in a circle around what had once been the beautiful Daphne. “You are lost. I loved you so dearly. If you will not be my love then you will be my tree. Forever.” He put a hand on the rough bark. “The laurel and I will forever be together when the singers sing their tales of me.”

The laurel did not answer. It no longer had such a capacity. In the light breeze that managed to penetrate the forest, the tree merely nodded its branches. There was really no choice in the matter.

Cassandra gasped, suddenly feeling a hand on her shoulder. Though her eyes had not been closed, she suddenly saw her father standing over her, looking concerned. Several other people nearby were staring at her. She realized that she was trembling horribly, though it was a warm night beneath the torch light. Priam mouthed her name, but Cassandra quickly shook her head, forcing a smile. He seemed to accept this, for he turned his attentions back to the ceremony, as did anyone else who had been distracted by Cassandra.

She stared straight ahead, pretending to watch as well, but her mind was racing faster than ever before. What had she just seen? It was a vision of the past, but the Apollo she saw then couldn’t possibly have been the same one who loved her so dearly. His eyes had been so cruel and hard. The one she loved could never have been so frightful. He couldn’t have pursued that poor, frightened girl through the forest. She swallowed, shaking the thought away.

Hector and Andromache were holding hands. Chryses had stepped down from the chair that was serving him for a platform. He was using the veil Andromache had worn to bind husband and wife together, wrapping it around each of their arms and tying a knot about their hands. They seemed completely lost in each other’s eyes now, clearly unaware of Chryses as he bustled about them.

Idas held his hands out, feeling Marpessa wrap her arms tightly around his waist from behind. “Go no further,” commanded the god, knowing full well that nothing could truly stop him.

“I will have her,” Apollo hissed, his eyes falling on Marpessa’s face over her husband’s shoulder.

“No!” Marpessa sobbed, tears falling down her cheeks as she clung to Idas with all her might.

“I beg you,” Idas said, “Go no further. She is my wife and she will not have you. Let us be.”

“I will not be refused,” Apollo insisted.

“And I will not yield her to you,” Idas replied.

“You would dare to challenge me?”

“I would. For my wife’s honor, I would.”

“No!” Marpessa cried.

Fire raged in Apollo’s eyes. “A challenge it is, then.”

Marpessa ran around Idas, kneeling at his feet and clasping his knees. She looked up at him, her gentle blue eyes - the ones he had first fallen in love with - filled with bright tears. “I beg you,” she whispered to him, “do not do this. Idas, please. Do not do this.”

“He will take you against your will, Marpessa,” Idas said sternly, shifting his gaze back and forth between the woman he loved and the god who loved her. “I won’t let him.”

“I would rather live a thousand years in his captivity than one day in this world knowing you were dead.”

“And I would rather die that know you had been forced into the bed of another man against your will.”

“I am no man,” Apollo roared. Roughly, he seized Marpessa by the sleeve, pulling her up to her feet and away from her husband. “I am a god.” Marpessa tried to turn away, but Apollo took her hair, forcing her to look back at him. She winced, blinking away her tears.

“Stop!” Idas shouted. “Don’t hurt her!”

Apollo flung Marpessa to one side and began to approach Idas. “You forget your place, little man.” At once, he pulled back a fist and hit Idas in the face.

Idas fell backward, clasping his hands to his nose. Blood began pouring out from in between his fingers. “Idas!” Marpessa yelled, pulling herself up to her feet against the wall.

“Enough thought of him,” Apollo said, turning to the beautiful woman. “You will be mine now.”

“You monster!” Marpessa shrieked, running forward and pounding her fists uselessly against his chest. “Animal!”

Apollo caught her wrists and pulled her arms out to either side where they could do no harm. Instantly, when his skin touched hers, she went limp, her resolve melting away. “In time, you will appreciate me,” he hissed. “And you will love me the way that I love you, Marpessa.”

“No…”

He pulled her up against his chest. Though she tried to turn away, he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her roughly. The ecstasy overpowered her, leaving her completely defenseless. From the wall, Idas sat up, watching as Phoebus Apollo tried to have his way with Marpessa, his beloved wife who he had fought so long and hard for. “No…” Idas whimpered. But no one would hear him. And who could help him now? Only the gods.

Cassandra’s eyes widened in terror as she fell to her knees. Priam and the others turned to look at her. Even Chryses faltered for a moment, though he continued on with his ceremony. Cassandra held her head in her hands, trying to banish the very memory of the vision. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them away viciously.

That couldn’t be true. She simply wouldn’t allow it to be true. Someone was sending her false visions, perhaps a god who was an enemy of Apollo. That was the only explanation. Apollo would never do something so horrible and cruel. Someone wanted to plant these false notions in her head.

Creusa had wandered away from her mother. She stood on the cliff, gathering crocuses just outside of an old, abandoned cave, using her veil to collect them as she had no basket today. Each yellow bloom she plucked, she would pause to smell, inhaling the light, sweet aroma. Once she was finished with it, she would drop it into the veil with all the others and continue on her way. Such was the practice of young girls her age in Athens. Still too young to think of marriage, she was able to dedicate her time to carefree child’s play.

A gust of wind blew across her face and she paused, looking up at the sky where the sun was setting. Suddenly, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her from behind. She let out a loud shriek, trying to break free. Her flowers fell from the veil, littering the ground like drops of yellow blood. As she struggled, she turned to look and discovered that her captor was no man, but a god. There could be no questioning that attractive frame. He had to be Phoebus Apollo. No other god could be so divinely beautiful.

“Phoebus,” she said, her voice high and innocent. “Do let me go. I must return to my mother.”

“I will not let you go,” Apollo told the child.

“Why?”

“I love you.”

“Please, Phoebus. I have to return to my mother.”

“I will return you once you love me.”

“But I cannot!”

“You can.”

“Let me go!”

“No!”

Apollo began to pull her to the cave. She struggled, but a thirteen year old mortal girl was no match for the strength of a god. “Mother!” she screamed, her voice echoing off the cave walls.

“I will have you, Creusa,” Apollo said. He seized her virginal robes, tearing them off of her young, flawless body.

Creusa began to weep. “No!”

He planted his hands on her shoulders, backing her up against the wall of the cave. Instantly, Creusa’s eyes went vacant and she gasped, feeling the flood of ecstasy paralyze her within the god’s embrace. She slowly sank down to the ground, gasping. Apollo knelt beside her, placing his hands on her knees and prying them apart. Creusa could do nothing, not even cry out for help. She had never felt anything like Apollo’s touch. The senses it produced were so powerful that it had rendered her completely senseless.

Cassandra screamed, holding her head in her hands, as if to dash the visions from her mind. She rocked back and forth on the ground, pounding her forehead against the floor. All around her, everyone stopped what they were doing to gape at the distressed princess. Even Hector and Andromache forgot to gaze into each other’s eyes, turning instead to stare at her. Chryses stepped off of his chair once more and carefully made his way over.

A murmur rose from the people on the roof, but Cassandra could not hear it. Nor did she look up to notice the concerned glances they exchanged. She remained where she was, doubled over on the ground, pounding her head again and again as tears streamed down her face. Creusa’s feelings, her fear and her unwanted desire seemed to have struck Cassandra’s heart. She couldn’t stop it, it just kept coming and coming, staring her in the face with Apollo’s unforgiving eyes.

Apollo slapped Coronis across the face, snapping her head to one side. At once, her cheek turned bright pink. She brought her hands up to it, sniffling. Slowly, she turned to look at him again, her gaze watery and unfocused. Her chin quivered as she fought against her tears and her mouth contorted. “Faithless, bitch,” he growled, her pathetic crying only enraging him more.

“No…” she whimpered.

“I am the god of truth,” he snarled. “I cannot be deceived.”

“Apollo…” The tears came spilling out of the corners of her eyes now, rolling down her cheeks.

He slapped her again. “How could you?”

“I didn’t, I swear!”

“I saw you!” he shouted. “I saw you making love with him under the shroud of night!”

“I am innocent!” she wailed.

“Liar!” He pushed her shoulders, slamming her back against the wall. “I saw you with him. A mortal!”

“Apollo! Please!” she moaned, clutching her swollen belly, some seven months ripe with child. Her yellow hair came undone with the force of the impact, falling in long curls around her pale shoulders. With the tears, her eyes grew red and puffy, no longer appearing beautiful to the sight of the god.

“There was a time when I thought you lovelier than all maidens,” Apollo growled, taking her chin in his hand. “What a fool I was. You’re nothing. You disgust me.”

“I love only you, Apollo,” she sniffled. “With everything within me, I love you. Please!”

“Liar!” He grabbed hold of her hair, swinging her around and throwing her against the opposite wall.

Her forehead crashed against the wall and she crumpled to the floor, holding her stomach protectively. A gash opened on her head and blood began to trickle down, mingling with her tears. “I was weak!” she sobbed. “Forgive me! Please, Apollo, forgive me!”

“I do not have a forgiving nature,” he replied coldly.

“Have pity on me!” she begged him. “Please, have pity. And if you won’t, have pity on your child, Apollo!”

“That is no son of mine,” Apollo declared.

“It is! It is!” she shouted. “I swear it!”

“You have no oath to swear by. You are a faithless woman!”

“It is your child!” she screamed.

“Liar!”

“No!”

He charged forward, grabbing a handful of her hair in his hand. “No!” she cried. But Apollo would not hear her. Roughly, he smashed her temple against the wall. And then again. And then again.

“I loved you!” he roared. Again. “And you betrayed me!” Again. Again. Again.

“No!” Cassandra screamed.

At once, the vision faded and Cassandra found herself on the ground. Priam was on his knees beside her, holding her in his arms and trying to sooth her, softly stroking her arm. “Cassandra,” he whispered. “Cassandra...”

Cassandra felt her strength dissolve and her body began shaking. She looked up at her father with tears in her eyes. “Father?”

“I’m right here, child,” he told her.

“Is everything all right?” Chryses had come over to Cassandra’s side and was looking down at her with deep concern.

A new feeling, a sense of inexplicable rage filled up Cassandra’s chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she shouted, lashing out at the old priest.

“Cassandra?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“The truth about Apollo!”

“What is she talking about?” Chryses asked Priam.

“I don’t know.”

She wrenched herself out of her father’s embrace and shoved the old priest as hard as she could. “You praised him! Said he had given great gifts to the world! You never told me the truth!”

Chryses fell back, hitting the ground. “Cassandra!” Priam yelled angrily, getting up to grab her arms and pull her back.

“You forgot to mention that he was a faithless cad! Forgot to tell me what an awful situation it is to be beloved by him! You never told me how many mortal women he destroyed!”

“What’s the matter with her?” Chryses stuttered.

“She’s lost her mind,” Paris suggested.

“Control yourself, Cassandra!” Priam barked as she fought against his hold on her.

“Your god knows no remorse!” she shouted, barring her teeth at Chryses. “No sense of right or wrong! There is no immortal justice!” She broke free of her father and charged forward, her fingernails poised to gouge out the old priest’s eyes. Suddenly, she felt strong arms around her, lifting her off the ground. “Let go of me, Apollo! Let me go!”

“Cassandra!” a voice called in her ear. She realized that it wasn’t Apollo holding her back, but Hector, who had broken away from Andromache.

“Let me go!” she wailed, flailing against her brother. It was no use. Hector was far stronger than Priam and held her fast, her feet pedaling the air, her arms slashing through it.

“She’s mad,” Paris marveled, watching her in fascination.

“What is she talking about?” Priam asked, a somewhat useless question, since no one knew the answer.

“He said he loved me!” she screamed. At once, she burst out laughing, though there was nothing funny about any of it. As soon as she started though, she found that she couldn’t stop. Hysterical giggles exploded from her mouth while at the same time, tears poured down her cheeks.

“Get her inside,” Priam barked, glancing down the rooftop at the wide eyed, frightened villagers below. At once, Hector threw Cassandra over his shoulder and carried her to the door. She raved the entire way, both crying and laughing at the same time. Priam went to help Chryses to his feet. “Are you all right, old man?” he asked softly.

Chryses nodded absently. “I am.” He frowned, listening to Cassandra’s lunatic cries echo off of the walls of the stairwell. “I wish the same could be said for your daughter.”

“She was raving about Apollo.”

“Perhaps he’s stricken her with madness for some crime.”

“Cassandra is innocent,” Priam insisted.

“The gods have their reasons,” Chryses sighed.

Priam frowned, folding his arms across his chest. “Then this will be my second child they’ve cursed.” He glanced significantly at Paris.