She did not speak. Kassandra knew what she was thinking:

So she believes Hector will die before his father, old and ill as Priam is. What more has she seen?

The charioteers had left their chariots; Hector and Paris, accompanied by their wives, came up the stairs, and Aeneas joined Creusa. Kassandra picked up Honey; if she did not intend to join them this night at the palace, it was time to take her leave.

Creusa came to her and said, "I will walk with you to the Sunlord's house, Sister."

"I would be glad of your company; but the sun is still high in the sky; I need no escort," Kassandra protested. "You should not tire yourself with that long climb."

"I will come," Creusa insisted, "I would like to speak with you."

"Very well, then; as I said, I am glad of your company," Kassandra said. Creusa gave her small daughter to a servant, in structing the woman to take her home, and to feed her if she had not returned by supper-time; then she joined Kassandra, who was tying on Honey's broad-brimmed hat against the sun.

"She is well-grown for her age," she said. "How old is she now? When was she born?"

"I am sure Mother has told you that I am not certain," Kassandra said, "but she cannot have been more than a few days old when I found her, and I left Colchis the day after midwinter."

"Nearly a year then; she must be close to my own daughter in age," Creusa said. "Yet she is taller and stronger, and already walking beside you like a big girl. Little Kassandra still creeps on-all fours like a puppy."

"Well, those who know children best say that each one walks and talks when the time is right for her; some early, some late." Kassandra replied. "Mother says I was early to walk and talk, and I remember things which must have happened no later than my second summer."

"That's true," Creusa said. "Astyanax did not walk or even talk till he was past two years old; I know Andromache was beginning to wonder if he had all his wits."

"That must have been very worrying," Kassandra agreed. She felt confused; surely Creusa had not undertaken this long climb to speak with her about the growth and feeding of little children, when the palace was filled with so many nurses to consult.

Whatever it was, Creusa was finding it hard to come to the point; but just as Kassandra was beginning to wonder if Creusa had somehow found out what she had said to Aeneas (But how? Some spying servant? She would swear they had not been overheard) and to feel vaguely guilty. Creusa said, "You are a priestess and they say you are a prophetess; it was you who gave warning of the great earthquakes, was it not?"

"I thought you were there when I gave the warning," Kassandra said.

"No; Aeneas came and told me not to sleep under a roof that night, and to take the children outdoors," her sister said. "What have you foreseen?"

Creusa knows as well as I do that I have seen death, and the destruction of Troy, she thought, but she was sure her sister had some reason beyond the ordinary for asking. She said, hesitating, "Are you sure you want to know? Priam has forbidden anyone to listen to my prophecies. It might be better not to anger him."

"Let me tell you then why I ask," said Creusa. "Aeneas told me that you prophesied that he would survive the fall of Troy."

"Yes," said Kassandra, embarrassed. "It seems the Gods have work for him elsewhere; for I have seen him departing unharmed, and behind him Troy in flames."

Creusa's hands flew to her bosom in a strange gesture. "Is this true?"

"Do you believe I would lie about it?"

"No, no, of course not; but why should he be chosen to be spared when so many will die?"

"I do not know; why were you and your child spared when Helen lost three sons in the great quake?"

"Because Aeneas heeded your warning and Paris would not."

"That is not what I meant," Kassandra said. "No one can say why the Gods choose one to die and another to live; and perhaps those who live may not be the most fortunate."

wish I were sure that only death waited for me, she thought, but she did not say so to Creusa.

"Aeneas has ordered me to leave the city and take the children," Creusa said.

"Children? I thought you had only your little girl—"

"But Aeneas has a son by his earlier marriage; I am to go, perhaps to Crete, to Knossos or even further. I was thinking I should refuse to go, to say that my place was at his side, come war or death; but if it is true that he is certain to survive, then I can understand why he wants me to go… so that we may meet in safer country when the war is over."

"I am sure he is thinking only of your safety."

"He has been strange lately; I wondered if he had found himself another woman and wanted me out of the way."

Kassandra said through a dry mouth, "Even if it should be so, would it matter? Since almost everyone in the city is to die in its fall—"

"No, I suppose not; if one of them can make him happy for a little time," Creusa said, "and they are all going to die anyway -why should I care? So you think I should go?"

"I cannot tell you that; I can say only that there are few who will survive the city's fall," Kassandra said.

"But is it safe to travel with a child so small?"

"Honey could not have been more than a few days old when I found her, and she survived and thrived. Children are stronger than we think."

"I thought only that he wished to be rid of me." Creusa said. "But you have made me understand why it is best that I should go. Thank you, Sister." Unexpectedly she put her arms around Kassandra and hugged her hard. "You too should forsake the city before it is too late. You did not make this war with the damned Akhaians, and there is no reason you should perish with the city. I will ask Aeneas to arrange that you should be sent away—"

"No," Kassandra said. "It seems that this is my destiny, and I must abide it."

"Aeneas speaks well of you, Kassandra," Creusa said. "He told, me once you were more clever than all of Priam's officers together, and that if you were in command we might even win this war."

Kassandra laughed uneasily, and said, "He thinks too well of me then. But you must go, Creusa; gather together your possessions and be ready to depart whenever he can find you a ship, or whatever means he may find to take you and the children to safety."

Creusa embraced her again. She said, "If I am to depart soon, we may not meet again. But wherever destiny may take you, Sister, I wish you well; and if Troy truly does fall, I pray that the Gods may preserve you."

"And you," Kassandra said, kissing her cheek; and so they parted. Kassandra watched her sister out of sight, knowing in her heart that she would never see Creusa again.

Since the battle when five of the Akhaian ships had been burnt to the waterline and others greatly damaged, the Akhaians had drawn their blockade so tight that—as Hector said - a crab could not crawl into the city. For that reason, Aeneas made no attempt to get Creusa away by sea; she was sent in a cart around to the landward side, and along the coast for many miles past the blockade, where a ship would take her first to Egypt and then to Crete. Kassandra watched her depart, and thought that if Priam had any sense he would order all the women and children out of the city. However, she said nothing; she had done her best to give warning.

Even the landward side of the city was no longer completely safe. A wagonload of iron weapons from Colchis was intercepted and brought into the Argive camp with great celebration. Soon after, a small army of Thracians, coming overland to join Priam's forces, was waylaid by Akhaian captains—rumour said by Agamemnon and Odysseus themselves - and all the horses stolen, and the Thracian guards murdered.