Goddess of Yesterday by Caroline B. Cooney
Author:Caroline B. Cooney [Cooney, Caroline B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-48549-6
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2002-02-14T16:00:00+00:00
It was as if Menelaus had never existed; as if Helen were not married; as if this were the normal betrothal of a normal prince and princess. The royal couple rode through Gythion, never dismounting, the surefooted horse and mule managing the wide stone steps down to the harbor.
The people of Gythion wisely stayed indoors, but the army of Troy cheered in the streets and the sun went down into the sea and the world turned lavender and silver.
The two children of Menelaus were put up in the house of Axon, where not long ago a princess named Callisto had been sheltered. Axon himself had been thrown out. The princess Hermione was placed in the very same bedroom in which Callisto had slept.
From the balcony of that room, I looked down into the harbor. Helen and Paris were crossing a slender isthmus to an islet so small it made my birth island look substantial. Nothing stood there but a small summer house and a delicate airy temple. Paris held Helen's hand and they gamboled like lambs in spring. His men—Trojans! armed to the teeth!—flung bright flowers over the happy couple.
The soldier who had carried Pleis the whole twenty miles entered the bedroom and set him down gently enough and walked away.
Rhodea was in terrible shape. Her feet were torn and bleeding, her cheek bruised from slaps every time she tried to rest. I nearly gathered her in my arms, but I dared not let her see who I was. If I were discovered now, Paris would have time to send men back for Hermione. Bia might be killed. And since the slaves of Axon might recognize me as Callisto, I could not explain the situation to Rhodea while they bustled around us.
There were two beds, one for a prince and one for a princess. I wrapped myself from head to toe in the cloak of Hermione and lay down with my back to the others. If Pleis came over to cuddle, he would crow happily, “Calli! Sto!”
The little prince was exhausted from a long day under a hot, hot sun. He was cranky and anxious. He was not willing to lie down on a strange bed under a strange blanket without his usual toys and songs and kisses. “Princess, help me with your brother,” begged Rhodea.
“No.”
“May we bathe you before you sleep, Princess?” the slaves asked politely.
“No.”
“May we tempt you with a hot barley casserole? Yellow cheese and honey. Easy to swallow.”
I said nothing.
They had done their duty. Taking him from Rhodea, they comforted and fed and rocked Pleis. I loved them for that.
Pleis would not sleep without Rhodea, so at least she had a soft mattress, and she and Pleis were asleep in moments. The slave women slept like a litter of puppies, using each other's stomachs and backs for pillows.
Sleep was a waste of being alive. I tiptoed onto the balcony. Gythion was like a hive of bees when the keeper thrusts in his hand to take the honey.
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