The Firebrand (14 page)

The short winter day was darkening into twilight when the hunters returned, and soon the cut-up hares were seething in a caldron with flat wild beans and some roots; chunks hacked from a larger beast—it had been skinned, but Kassandra suspected it was one of the rough-furred wild horses, and was hungry enough not to care—were roasting over a great fire. For that night at least they would have their fill, and Penthesilea had promised there would be plenty of food in Colchis.

“THERE IT LIES,” Penthesilea said, and pointed. “The city of Colchis.”

Accustomed to the fortified cyclopean walls of Troy, rising high above the rivers of the fertile plain, Kassandra was not at first sight impressed by the walls of sun-hardened baked brick, dull in the hazy sunlight. This city, she thought, would be vulnerable to attack from anywhere. In her year with the Amazons, she had learned something—not formally, but from the other Amazons’ tales of sieges and war—of military strategy.

“It is like the cities of Egypt and the Hittites,” said Penthesilea. “They do not build impressive fortifications; they do not need them. Inside their iron gates you will see their Temples and the statues of their Gods. These are greater than the Temples and statues of Troy as the walls of Troy are greater than the walls of Colchis. The story goes that this city was founded by the ancient ship-people of the far South; but they are unlike any people here, as you will see when we enter the city. They are strange; they have many curious customs and ways.” She laughed. “But then, that is what they would say of us, I suppose.”

Of all this, Kassandra had heard only
iron gates.
She had seen little of the metal; once her father had shown her a ring of black metal which he told her was iron.

“It is too costly, and too hard to work, for weapons,” he said to her. “Someday when people know more about the art of forging it, iron may be of use for plowing; it is much harder than bronze.” Now Kassandra, remembering, thought that a city and a people who knew enough of iron to forge it into gates must indeed be wise.

“Is it because the gates are of iron that the city has not been taken?” she asked.

Penthesilea looked at her and said in some surprise, “I do not know. They are a fierce people, but they are seldom involved in war. I suppose it is because they are so far from the major trade areas. All the same, people will come from the ends of the world for iron.”

“Will we enter the city, or camp outside the walls?”

“We will sleep this night in the city; their Queen is all but one of us,” Penthesilea said. “She is the daughter of my mother’s sister.”

So, thought Kassandra,
she is my mother’s kinswoman too, and mine.

“And the King?”

“There is no King,” Penthesilea said. “Imandra rules here, and she has not chosen yet to take a consort.”

Behind the city, rust-red cliffs rose, dwarfing the gates. The path leading to the city was paved with gigantic blocks of stone, and the houses, with stone steps and arches, were constructed of wood and lath and brightly plastered and painted. The city streets were not paved, but muddy and trampled, and strange beasts of burden, horned and shaggy, moved between the houses, laden with huge baskets and jars. Their owners whacked them aside as the Amazons, drawn up in almost military formation, rode through the streets. Kassandra, conscious of all the eyes on her, braced her spear against the weariness of riding, and sat erect, trying to look like a warrior.

The city was very different from Troy. Women went everywhere freely in the streets, carrying jars and baskets on their heads. The women’s garments were long, thick and cumbersome, but for all their clumsy skirts and their eye paint, the women looked strong and competent. She also saw a forge where a woman, dark-faced and soot-stained, with a warrior’s thick muscles, was working. Bared to the waist to tolerate the fierce heat, she hammered on a sword. A young woman, not much more than a girl, worked the bellows. Kassandra had, in her months with the Amazons, seen women doing many strange things, but this was the strangest of all.

The sentries on the walls were women too and might well have been members of the Amazon company, for they were armed and wore breastplates of bronze, and carried long spears. As the Amazons rode through the streets, the sentries set up a long, whooping battle cry; and before long half a dozen of them, with their spears laid at rest in token of peace, appeared in the streets before them. Their leader rode forward and embraced Penthesilea from the saddle.

“We greet you rejoicing, Penthesilea, Queen of Mares,” she said. “The Lady of Colchis sends you greeting and welcomes your return to us. She bids your women make camp in the field within the Southern Wall, and invites you to be her guest in the palace with a friend, or two if you wish.”

The Amazon Queen called back the news the sentry had brought.

“And more,” the woman of Colchis said: “the Queen sends your women two sheep as a gift, and a basket of bread baked this day in the royal ovens; let your women feast here while you join her at the palace.” The Amazons sent up a great cheer at the thought of all this long-untasted food.

Penthesilea saw her women encamped in the field, their tents raised and the sheep slaughtered. Kassandra, standing by as a good rump portion was burnt for the Huntress, noted that the sheep were quite ordinary-looking, like the sheep of Troy. Penthesilea, watching her, said, “What is it? Were you expecting to see the sheep of Colchis with golden fleeces? They do not grow that way; not even the herds of Apollo Sun Lord are born so. But the Colchians lay their fleeces in the stream to catch the gold that still washes down the rivers; and though there is less gold than, perhaps, in Jason’s day, still before you depart from Colchis you shall see these fleeces of gold. Now let us dress to dine at a Queen’s table.”

The Amazon Queen went into her own tent, took off her riding clothes and put on her finest skirt and boots of white doeskin, with a tunic leaving one breast bare as the custom was here. Told to dress in her best, Kassandra put on her Trojan dress—it was too short for her now, and came only halfway down her calves—and her sandals.

Penthesilea had taken a stub of kohl from her pack and was smudging her eyes; she turned and said, “Is this the only dress you have, child?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“That will never do,” said Penthesilea. “You have grown more than I thought.” She dug into her own saddlebag and pulled out a worn dress dyed pale saffron. “This will be too big for you, but do the best you can.”

Kassandra dragged the dress over her head and fastened it with her old bronze pins. She felt so awkward and encumbered by the skirts about her knees that it was hard to remember that once she had worn this kind of garment every day.

Together they walked up through the streets of Colchis. It was so long since Kassandra had been inside city walls, she felt that she was gaping at the tall houses like a barbarian.

The palace was built somewhat like the palace of Troy, of the local gray marble. It stood on the high place at the center of the city, and not even a Temple stood above it; Kassandra, raised in the custom in her land that the dwellings of men might not rise so high as the Temples of the Gods, was a little shocked.

As they stood on the palace steps, they could look out over the sea.
Just as it is in Troy,
thought Kassandra; only this sea was not the intense blue she remembered from her home, but dark gray and oily. Men were peacefully loading and unloading the ships lying at anchor in the harbor; they were not pirates or raiders, but merchants. This many ships near Troy would be a sign of disaster or war.

With an effort she brought herself back to the present. There was no danger here . . .

Penthesilea touched her arm. “What is it? What did you see?”

“Ships,” Kassandra murmured. “Ships—threatening Troy ...”

“No doubt, if Priam goes on as he has begun,” her kinswoman said drily. “Your father has attempted to grasp power he is not strong enough to hold, and one day that power will be tested. But for now we must not keep Queen Imandra waiting for us.”

Kassandra had never thought to question her father’s policies; yet she could see that what Penthesilea said was true. Priam exacted tribute from all ships that went through the straits into this sea; thus far, the Akhaians had paid it because it was less trouble than mustering a navy to challenge it. She looked at the iron gates and realized that they meant a whole new way of life, sooner or later.

She told herself she was unrealistic; her father was strong, with many warriors and many allies; he could hold Troy forever.
Perhaps one day Troy too will have iron gates, like this city of Colchis.
As they passed through the wide corridors, women guards in bronze breastplates and leather helmets inlaid with metal raised their fists in token of salute. Now they came into a high-ceilinged room with a skylight inlaid with translucent green stone, and at the center a high marble seat where a woman was sitting.

She looked like a warrior herself, with a beaten silver breastplate, but under it she was clad in a fine robe of brocade from the Far South, and a light chemise of Egyptian gauze, the kind that was known as “woven air.” On her face she wore a false beard, gilded and tied like a ceremonial wig: token, Kassandra felt, that she ruled not as a woman but as King of the city. Around her hips was a belt inlaid with green stones, and a fine sword hung from the belt. She wore leather boots embroidered and dyed, which came up to her calves. Just below her breastplate, about her waist, was a curious belt which seemed to rise and fall with her breathing; as they came nearer, Kassandra realized that it was a living snake.

As they approached, the Queen rose and said, “I greet you rejoicing, Cousin. Have your warriors been properly welcomed and feasted? Is there anything more I can do to make you welcome, Penthesilea, Queen of horsewomen?”

Penthesilea smiled and said, “Indeed we have been welcomed, Lady; now tell me what you want of us. For I have known you since we were girls, and I know well that when not only I but all my warriors are made welcome and feasted, it is not just for courtesy’s sake. Kinship alone would require that I put myself and my women at your service, Imandra; ask freely what you desire of us.”

“How well you read me, Penthesilea; indeed I have need of friendly warriors,” Imandra said in her husky and pleasing voice, “but first let us share our dinner. Tell me, Cousin, who is the maiden? She is a little too young to be either of your daughters.”

“She is the daughter of our kinswoman Hecuba of Troy.”

“Oh?” Imandra’s delicately painted eyebrows went up in an elegant arch.

She beckoned to a waiting-woman and snapped her fingers lightly; this was the signal for a number of slaves bearing jeweled dishes covered with an assortment of food to come forward: roast meat and fowl in various delicious sauces, fruits in honey, sweets so richly spiced that Kassandra could not even guess what they were made of.

She had been hungry so long that all this food made her feel slightly sick; she ate sparingly of the roast fowl and some hard cakes of bread, then at the Queen’s urging tasted a rich sweetmeat spiced with cinnamon. She noted that Penthesilea too ate little, and when the trays had been carried away and rose water poured over their hands, the Queen of Colchis said, “Cousin, I thought Hecuba had long forgotten her days as a warrior. Yet her daughter rides with you? Well, I have no quarrel with Priam of Troy. She is welcome. Is it she who is to marry Akhilles?”

“No, that I had not heard,” said Penthesilea. “I think Priam will find, when he tries to find a husband for this one, that the Gods have claimed her for their own.”

“Perhaps one of her sisters, then,” said Imandra indifferently. “If we have need of a King in Colchis, perhaps I will marry my own daughter to one of Priam’s sons; I have one of an age to be married. Tell me, Priam’s daughter, is your oldest brother yet pledged in marriage?”

Kassandra said shyly, “Not that I have heard, Lady, but my father does not confide his plans to me. He may well have made some such arrangement many years ago that I have not heard about.”

“Honestly spoken,” said Imandra. “When you return to Troy, my envoys shall go with you, offering my Andromache for your father’s son; if not the eldest, then another—he has fifty, I believe, and several are the sons of your royal mother, are they not?”

“I do not believe there are as many as fifty,” said Kassandra, “but there are many.”

“Be it so, then,” said Imandra, and as she stretched out her hand to Kassandra, the serpent coiled about her waist began to stir; it crawled up onto her arm, and as Kassandra put out her own hand, the creature thrust out its nose, and its coils followed; it began to wind itself around Kassandra’s wrist like a slender bracelet.

“She likes you,” Imandra said. “Have you been taught to handle snakes?”

Kassandra said, remembering the serpents in the Temple of Apollo Sun Lord, “They are not strange to me.”

“Take care; if she should bite you it would make you very ill,” said Imandra. Kassandra felt no fear, but a sense of elation as the snake crawled along her arm, the soft dry sliding of the scales distinctly pleasurable to her flesh.

“And now to a serious matter,” said Imandra. “Penthesilea, did you see the ships in the harbor?”

“Who could help seeing? They are many.”

“They are laden with tin and iron from the North, from the country of the Hyperboreans,” she said, “and naturally, it is coveted by my fellow Kings. Since I do not, they say, sell them sufficient tin for their bronze—they say I fear the weapons they will make, whereas the truth is I have little enough for myself, and they have nothing I crave—they have taken to attacking my caravans of tin and carrying it off without payment. In this city, there are too few trained warriors. What payment will you ask, to bring your warriors to guard my shipments of metal?”