Cassandra

By Homer Cook

The story of Troy's doomed prophetess.

Open and read.

The Truth is inside.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Homer Cook
• Release date: Dec 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201644390

Book preview

I

I am the only one who will understand the story I’m about to tell. I am the only one who will even take it seriously. How do I know this? Because I’ve been telling you this story your whole life. I have screamed it at you, whispered it, left it for you to discover, passed it off as humor, hidden it in polite words, in self-deprecation, put it in the mouths of others, even placed it directly into your heart—and you never listen to me. My story has surrounded you your whole life, but you want no part of it.

I apologize to those who are the same as I am, those currently enslaved in a foreign land who happen to be reading or hearing these words. My words are presently constricted to this language, but I am sure you understand the linguistic shortcomings which require me to seemingly address you alongside everyone else in the second person. Endure with patience being linguistically grouped with the second persons, for the day is coming—nay, it is already here!—on which you will be separated from the te and join me, the day on which you will be the Ego.

I should not tell this story. My whole existence has involved an attempt to bottle it up, to avoid presenting it as an offering to gods unworthy of this sacrifice—but I fail without ceasing. So great a force is simply impossible to contain in so small and fragile a body, so I offer this sacrifice to you once more.

Is it futile? Will you get the final word? Of course not! For, though you will kill me every single time, the metamorphosis will nonetheless occur. Simply speaking the words is an act of creation. Speaking these words, this invitation to life, in this city is nothing but an invitation to death, for you must inevitably kill ΤΟΝΛΟΓΟΝ, but through this act you unwittingly convert my words, my creation, into something even greater. So I will speak.

I am the one all the great poets cry out to at the commencement of their works, the one they all reach for, occasionally capturing a small piece of me, no more than a lock of my hair, in a beautiful—though incomplete—transformation. I am nowhere to be found in the more common form of art, the type you see every day, art which is ugly, which serves no purpose but to lead people astray and spit in my face. But throughout history there are always those who manage to catch a glimpse of me. I am the Muse that drives every great poet. I am the source and summit of all great art.

Shall I invoke myself? Shall I state my theme before we begin? I must. I am compelled to. I could not do otherwise.

ΑΛΗΘΕΙΑEGO!

Sing, Cassandra. Sing of Truth. Tell the gloriously miserable story of your life, the story of Life Itself. Repeat the refrain, once more:

TROIAPERIBIT!

HOCESTVERUM! CONIUNGETEIPSUMCUMME!

TUETURBSTUAPERIBITCITIUSQUAMINTELLEGIS!

OMNIAQUAETENESETTOTASOCIETASTUACONLABETURNISIVERITATEMACCIPISNUNC!

TROIAPERIBITITERUMITERUMQUENISIMONITUMMEUMATTENDIS!

AUDIME: TROIAPERIBIT!

Say it boldly. Sing it again, even though you know the fools will ignore my warning every single time. Can human minds have such great folly?

Join me. All of you. All of you who are united to me by means of the cursed gift of Apollo. All of you who know me so intimately that we speak with the same breath, that my words are your words, my life your life, my story your story. Join me in the dance. Do not sit aside idly. Take part in the music as passionately as I am. Respond to me, and dance to my sufferings. Dance to my song.

II

Cynthian Apollo, Lord of the Lyre and Bow, we are grateful for the protection you provide us. As you have always watched over us, please remain near us now. Remain near Troy, and do not allow our city or its inhabitants to know plague, strife, or suffering.

The words remained in my head long after I spoke them, the words I had worked so hard to memorize the night before, not wanting to offend Apollo on the first day I was allowed to say the prayer at the sacrifice. It was a simple task, but it did not feel so at the time, and I was relieved when it was completed.

Maybe it was the nerves, but I didn’t have much of an appetite, so after only a few small bites of meat, as the meager crowd began to thin, I approached Panthus, the old priest who was cleaning up the remains and ashes of the sacrifice in front of the temple. Older than my father, Panthus had been a leader in the Apollo cult for my whole life, teaching me much of what I had learned.

Cassandra! he said as I approached. You spoke wonderfully! I think Apollo will be most pleased.

Thank you, I replied with a small inclination of my head. Do you need any help cleaning up?

Oh no, thank you, I’ll be fine. Why don’t you just relax and eat a bit more?

I’ve had all I want, I’m not that hungry. And I don’t mind helping.

Well, I appreciate it, but there’s not much I have to do. It wasn’t a very large ox, and I would hate to see you get that spotless tunic of yours dirty. Is it new?

Yes, my mother gave it to me today for the occasion.

Well, tell Hecuba it’s lovely, and it looks even more beautiful on you. Get me in her good graces by telling her I forbade a spot from getting on you.

I gave another small bow, partially to hide the blush that I could feel rising to my cheeks. I’ll tell you what, Panthus continued. There’s a votive offering right by the door that I was asked to bring in. Why don’t you drop it off, and then you’re free to go. I actually saw Polyxena as I was making my way over here. She was with that girl Chryseis. They were heading outside the walls to play by the river, and Polyxena said they wanted to show you something there when you were free.

Alright, I’ll go see them.

But change out of your tunic first! he called after me as I approached the door and picked up the small monaulos that lay there. Don’t let those girls defile it!

Despite the kind and playful manner of his words, I was happy to get away from him and enter the temple. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the compliments—I did. And I liked the spotless white peplos I was wearing as much as he claimed to. It was just that talk of my appearance or clothing always seemed to make me blush, especially as I got older. I liked nice clothes and looking pretty as much as any other girl. I just didn’t like the attention that came along with it. Most of the girls my age craved this attention above almost anything else, but for me it was nearly enough to make me want to appear bland and uninteresting. This difference between me and everyone else never made me feel strange. It was just a little trait of my personality, and I figured everyone had unique traits.

I placed the wooden pipe on the ground in the temple amidst all the little statues, instruments, and bows that had been brought in as offerings. I was planning on slipping out the back to avoid being seen again by anyone, but something made me decide to linger in the temple’s confines a while longer.

I always loved my duties as a priestess. Ever since I was a young girl, I had a fondness for the rituals, the tales of the gods, trying to understand their nature, and these quieter moments on sacred sites. Many, even among the priests and priestesses I knew, did not share this enthusiasm. Not that they scorned the gods—no one in Troy dreamed of doing such a thing. It was just that for many, honoring the gods was simply an obligation that had to be fulfilled. How you felt about religion or what you learned about the deities made little difference, and the most pleasant aspect of worshipping the gods was the peace and prosperity they hopefully gave you in return. I understood this, and I in no way wanted to prioritize feelings or knowledge over obligation—I just viewed it as an added benefit that I happened to enjoy what I did so much.

I liked to think that my enjoyment of religion was one of the gifts the gods had granted me, especially considering that my daily life was even more closely linked with religion than most people’s daily routines were. I felt it was a gift from Apollo that I could lose track of time in his sacred sites, getting a small taste perhaps of the joys of life on Olympus.

This present time in the temple of Apollo was no exception. It was another ordinary day of blessedness—until I turned and saw the man standing in the corner of the temple.

Man was the first word that came to me, as he had the structure of a man, but I knew that wasn’t the right word. Imagine how a wolf would appear to a dog’s puppies who had only seen their mother and other dog pups before—or how the full light of the sun would appear to those who had only ever seen the dim rays that managed to creep into a cave. That was how this being compared to a normal man.

His radiant face smiled at me beneath the laurel on his head, crowning the body covered by a loose, flowing tunic—a chiton with a strap over one shoulder. And then it hit me: this is a god!

I wanted to be careful, however. Every sense of my being told me it was a god, but weren’t such theophanies either the events of bygone eras or reserved for the very important? Why would some god—no, not some god. I knew who this was. But why would he deign to visit me? Had he been here and I intruded on him?

Hello. You must be Cassandra, he said, standing up straight from the wall he had been leaning against. He took a few slow steps toward me.

Y-yes, but whom do I have the honor of greeting? I asked, once again bowing my head and trying to make myself look as small as possible.

Do you not recognize me?

If I did not know better, I would say you were Apollo himself, but...

But what? What is it that you know better?

I could barely raise my eyes to look at him, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second before looking down again, but he appeared to be enjoying the encounter. I—well...I just don’t know why a god would deign to come speak to me. But surely you have the appearance of one of the immortals. That is, at least how I always imagined the immortals looking...

Well, I won’t make you wonder any longer. I am Phoebus Apollo.

Lord Apollo! I threw my body to bow before his feet, but he effortlessly caught me before I hit the ground. The touch of his strong hand gave the feeling of light being imparted into my arm (not warmth, but light, if you can imagine such a thing), light which then flowed through my whole body. If I had any doubts about his True nature, his touch took them all away.

Careful, he said. "I don’t want such a pure, lovely garment to be defiled. It is I who should be lying before you." He gently brushed his fingertips against the side of my tunic, seeming to touch me without even physically placing his hand on me.

What do you mean by that? I was doing my best not to tremble in awe and terror.

I mean the sacrifice that was just offered for me. Even I, a god, find it difficult to express in your language just how pleasing I found it.

Oh. Thank you. You appreciated it? Is that what brought you here?

I appreciated it very much. The scent reached all the way up to Olympus, and it was a lovely aroma. And your words reached me, too. I heard words spoken by someone who hadn’t presided at a sacrifice before, and it caught my attention. They were so beautifully spoken that I figured I had to come down and see for myself the girl who spoke them.

Oh. I’m afraid it’s not much... I muttered, not even knowing what I meant. I felt I had to say something, but I couldn’t think straight in his presence.

Nonsense. I’m not disappointed by what I see. The face that spoke the words is even more beautiful than they were. And this brown hair of yours—look at how it’s the exact same color as your eyes. And the scent of it—it’s even more pleasant than the scent of the ox was. Do you mind if I untie your hair so I can see all of it?

Whatever you desire, my lord. I minded very much, but how could I refuse a god? I felt safe in his presence, but I was overwhelmed. It was too terrible, and I wanted him to go, but as he untied my hair and ran his hand through the long, loose strands, I knew he had no intention of leaving any time soon.

Remarkable, he said. I’ve always maintained among the other gods that Troy has the most beautiful women in all the world. They tell me I’m biased, since I laid the walls of this city, but you would be enough to convince them I’m telling the Truth.

That’s very kind of you, I managed to whisper.

You’re the daughter of King Priam and Queen Hecuba, correct? I nodded. And Helenus’ twin? Well, you’re someone whom royalty fits quite well. I’m glad to get to know you.

He talked thus for some time more, asking me questions that I strongly sensed he already knew the answers to, staying close to me and, while rarely touching me physically, still giving the impression of placing his presence all over me. Eventually, when he paused his questions, I decided it was time either to leave or to find out what he Truly wanted. I figured he had not come just to visit, and the thought of what a god could want from me, needing to flatter me before asking for it, frightened me.

I appreciate you visiting me, I said, but my sister Polyxena is expecting me by the river, so, maybe I should...

Apollo gave a musical laugh, seeming to emit light by doing so. So you would rather see your sister than spend time with a god, huh?

No! I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant...well...I just don’t want her to be upset...

She won’t be. He didn’t seem to be upset, either. Something else came up, and she’s forgotten all about you by now. And I’ve sealed the temple so no one else will come in while we’re here, so we have as much time as we want.

He laughed again when I didn’t respond. You don’t seem very excited about that.

No, I am, I just... I figured the Truth was the best option. I...I’m just nervous in the presence of one as mighty as you.

There’s no need to be. I’m very fond of you, Cassandra, and I don’t want anything to harm you. Your prayer has been answered.

But...is there something you want from me?

He laughed again. Looking back, I know how silly my innocence must have appeared. Silly, but something he probably enjoyed. A practical girl. I like it. But don’t you know what I want?

I stared at him blankly, still not comprehending what it was. You would think that learning the stories of the gods would have made it obvious to me, but in his presence all my knowledge was washed away.

Cassandra, I want you.

You want...me? To do what?

As he laughed again, he suddenly looked in awe at my presence. Do you not understand? he asked as he placed his palm to my cheek and pushed the hair that was there behind me. No? Well, your innocence only heightens your beauty. Cassandra, you fill me mad with desire. Among all who serve me, there are none more devoted and loyal than you, and there are none more beautiful than you. And I want you to deign to allow me to act on my desire and show you how much I appreciate your devotion.

I jumped back from him, blushing more than I ever had in my life, turning my back on him in shame as I comprehended what he meant. You want me to...lie with you?

Is that a problem? he asked, approaching me from behind as I steadied myself with one hand on the wall. It’s so obvious what he wanted, looking back, but somehow in the moment my innocence was so great that it had never once crossed my mind what he was after. Since I couldn’t answer him, he continued, I told you, no one would come in on us. And you should take it as an honor. I could go anywhere in the world I wanted to, and I don’t ask just any girl to do this. I mean it that it’s only because of how highly I think of you and your beauty.

I appreciate that, I said. But...well, I always...assumed I would remain a virgin.

So does every girl, until a certain point.

No. I mean...for your sake.

For my sake?

And for my own. Because...isn’t it best to serve you as a virgin? To dedicate my virginity to you?

What gave you that idea? he said.

I finally mustered the courage to turn halfway around again. Don’t...don’t many priestesses remain virgins for the gods?

Some do, he said, but it’s no requirement in my cult. Think of all the ones you know. Are most of them virgins?

Well...some are...

A few, yes, but not most. There are always a few in any walk of life.

But...it’s something I thought I wanted to do. For your sake.

He laughed that radiant laugh again. "For my sake? But don’t you realize the absurdity of what you’re saying? I appreciate that you would be willing to do that for me, but I’m the one asking you to do this. If you want to please me, you’ll agree to what I’ve asked, won’t you?"

I saw he was right, but I still didn’t want to do it, though I couldn’t explain why. Well...I know that, but...I...

But you’re afraid, right? It’s for your sake that you don’t want to. Because you’re frightened.

I finally looked him in the eyes again, and the look he gave me was the most consoling and understanding I had ever seen, the type I had only ever seen a reflection of in my parents, who had always been so good to me. Yes! I’m afraid! I shouted as tears entered my eyes.

He wrapped his arms about me, telling me it would be alright, and in his protection I felt that all would be right, that I could trust him and do whatever he asked of me. I won’t harm you, Cassandra. You’re speaking of something you’ve never experienced. Something very few mortals have experienced, even. You’ll be grateful for it. I wouldn’t ask this of you if it were going to harm you.

But...don’t some women never recover? Don’t some get attacked by the gods? Didn’t you even turn a girl into a tree once?

He rolled his eyes. No, I never turned anyone into a tree. One of these days people will get that story right...But no, those women you refer to all refused the gods, and that’s what got them in trouble.

So...I have no choice, do I? You can force yourself on me even if I say no, and you can punish me for it. So I have to say yes.

No. I wouldn’t do that. I respect you too much. I want you, yes, but I want you to desire me as well. If you had my power, maybe you would understand that it’s really not that exciting to force yourself on everyone you can find. I desire something real, with someone worthy of experiencing it with. I don’t want to force you to do anything.

Apollo, I said, my eyes clearing up, what choice do I have? If you want it from me, you know I’ll give it to you.

That’s the devotion I was referring to, he said. But I can tell you still dread it. You still don’t want to. Can I not do anything to convince you that you’ll be grateful for it?

You’re a god. You can do anything, right?

Nearly. But not make you relax, apparently. He stepped back from me and placed his hand on his chin in thought. Even now it’s hard to describe what was going through my head. I was terrified, but I also trusted him and wanted to please him. I was worried at the thought of bearing a child, feeling that my own life had just begun and I wasn’t ready to direct it toward another one yet. But I think more than anything I just wanted to leave the matter in his hands and let him decide, even if what he wanted was not what I would choose. If he wanted me to lie with him, that was what I would do. But the offer he gave next was too great to pass on.

I’ll tell you what, he said. Since I appreciate the length you’re going to for my sake, how about I give you a gift for what you’ll do? That way maybe you’ll view this in a more positive light.

A gift? Of what sort?

Oh, let me see...I don’t see much of my sister in you. You’re quiet, a girl with a great interior life. And you value...I’ve got it. How about the gift of prophecy? Would you like that?

Prophecy? I said perking up, hardly able to believe my ears.

Sure. The ability to look both ahead and behind. Past, present, and future. To see what others cannot see, and always see it accurately. Not just an occasional prophetic utterance, but a True interior vision and light. Would you like that?

Would I like it? I... I would love it, and in that moment I could tell he knew me so deeply that I would have been thrilled to consent to his request even if he weren’t going to grant me the gift. What he was offering was what I had always sought. The interior life, the knowledge of what was beyond man’s grasp, to know the gods more intimately, to see the world the way they did, to have their presence with me at all times...I had never named it, but it was what I had always sought through natural means, although I could never obtain it through them. And now he was offering it to me as a gift.

Do you really mean it? I asked, wanting to make sure of what sounded too good to be True.

Of course, he said. That’s something I could grant you very easily.

Oh, Apollo, I’d love it! I said, leaping into his welcoming arms. He was clearly pleased to have won me over. He was getting what he wanted, and I was getting something better than what I had ever hoped for. I could see how serving the gods Truly did bring about what was best for each party involved.

After I sang his praises and embraced him a while longer, he finally took a step back. I’m glad you’re happy, but let me first grant you the gift before we commence, he laughed.

My heart was pounding with anticipation, more for the gift than for sleeping with him. What had me so terrified only a moment before seemed nothing more than a triviality now.

He took a step toward me, and with gravity appropriate for the occasion, he slowly and gently placed his hands on my face. I grant you the gift of Apollo, he said. My you use it wisely.

He leaned his face in to mine, bringing his lips closer, closer, ever closer to my dry mouth that was half-open and forgetting to breathe. Receive the Spirit of Prophecy, he said, breathing into my mouth. And when had had breathed into me, he locked his lips on mine, and I knew that he was sealing the gift, enclosing it within me so that it would never escape. I continued kissing him in gratitude even after I was sure the gift had been sealed. I closed my eyes, holding him close to me, overwhelmed by the sensation of