Consequences (19 page)

“When I answered his honest observation, my
heart cracked just a little bit more, 'You’re right of course. If
you don’t think you can teach me anymore … then I must begin my
search again. You have taught me so much though, and you gave me a
sanctuary to return to; I can never thank you enough. I promise to
return. I see you as family now … if we are Gabon, then we are
preordained to stand by each other forever.'

“At first, I almost felt as though he was
pushing me away; but I realized as we spoke, reading his emotions,
he had become very attached to me and my hope for success. He
wanted with every part of his being for me to be happy; and for a
creature who knows you have to fight to make good things happen, no
matter how much he would miss me, he knew I had a long journey
ahead to reclaim my true happiness, to fight for my future.”

“When he reached down to embrace me, I
started to giggle; he had to almost bend in half to truly hold
anything but my head. Zuvan, maybe you should stand on your
knees.'

'Ha, maybe you could hover up here … petite
fille!'

“I enjoyed the warmth of his chest, the smell
of Gardenias and smoke, the rumbling sound of his infectious
laughter, and the knowledge that I had a brother and a sanctuary in
one of the most war-torn continents in the world. At that moment, I
wanted to share this irony with Christopher so badly; I had to pull
away from Zuvan and obsessively begin my search again. My search to
find you, Cass … my mentor, my sister.”

She still holds a dreamy expression on her
face, and when I call her my sister, she smiles brightly out
towards the horizon. When she turns to me though, there is a deep
sadness in her eyes. “I don’t think I deserve the honor of being
your sister … very bad things happen to those I care about, to
those who care about me.”

She closes up again, and I can only feel
shadows of her emotions. Fearing that we are sliding backwards in
our relationship, I try to change the subject. Speaking as I rise
to stand next to her, “Perhaps, we could go for a late-night flight
and you could show me more of your beloved Greece.”

Looking into her eyes, I notice that the
clear, startling green in Cass’s gaze has become overcast, by the
thick, muggy clouds that usually signal a hurricane on the horizon.
When she speaks, I expect the wind to pick up and slam me to the
ground. “Ellie, how much do you know about my life? This isn’t my
beloved Greece; I’m only here, to be close to them.”

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!