Priam said with a frown of warning which made Kassandra cringe, "Peace, my son! On this subject alone I will not hear you. I had rather see all Troy perish, if it came to that, than any harm come to my splendid new-found son."

Kassandra shuddered. Priam, who scorned prophecy, had just uttered one.

He smiled benevolently at Paris, who was seated at Hecuba's other side, his fingers tightly clasped in hers. Her face was wreathed in smiles, and Kassandra felt a stab of pain; the discovery of Paris meant that such welcome as her mother might have given her was quite lost. She felt sad and heart-sore but told herself that in any case Penthesilea had become her true mother; among the Amazons a daughter was useful and welcome, while here in Troy a daughter was always thought of only as not being a son.

Priam urged Andromache to drink every time the cup went round, forgetting that she was a young girl who would ordinarily not be allowed or encouraged to drink this way. Kassandra could see that already her friend was a little fuddled and tipsy. Just as well perhaps, she thought, for at the end of this feast she is to be sent quite unprepared to my brother Hector's bed. And he is quite drunk too.

It suddenly occurred to her to be glad that Andromache was not marrying Paris as had been suggested; with the mind-link between them, she probably could not have avoided sharing in the consummation of the marriage. The thought made her hot and cold by turns; her sensitivities were honed to fever pitch.

Where was Oenone? Why had Paris not bidden her, as his wife, to the wedding?

Hector, perhaps because he was drunk, chose to pursue the subject. "Well, my father, you have chosen to honor our brother; will you not consider that he should be allowed to earn the honor you have bestowed upon him? I entreat you to send him at least on a quest to the Akhaians, so that if the evil prophecy still stands, it may be diverted to them."

"That's a good thought," murmured Priam, himself now the worse for a good deal of wine, "but you do not want to leave us already, do you, Paris?"

Paris murmured correctly that he was eternally at the disposal of his father and his king.

"He has charmed us all," replied Hector, not without malice. "So why not let him try this irresistible charm upon Agamemnon and persuade him to ransom the Lady Hesione."

"Agamemnon," said Paris, looking up sharply. "Is he not the brother of that same Menelaus who married Helen of Sparta? And is he not himself married to the sister of the Spartan Queen?"

"It is so," Hector said. "When these Akhaians came from the north with their chariots and horses and their Thunder Gods, Leda, the Lady of Sparta, wedded one of these kings, and it was rumoured that when she bore him twin daughters, that one of them had been fathered by the Thunder Lord himself."

"Well, Helen married Menelaus," Hector said, "although she was said to be fair as a goddess, and could have married any king from Thessaly to Crete. There was, I heard, much dissension at Helen's wedding, so that it nearly resulted in a war then and there. You are not ill-looking, my Andromache," he said, coming close and looking attentively at her face, "but not so beautiful, I think, that I will need to keep you imprisoned lest all men envy me and covet you." He took her chin in his hands and looked down at her.

"My lord is gracious to his humble wife," said Andromache with a small grin which only Kassandra recognized as sarcasm.

Paris was watching Hector so closely that Kassandra could not help but notice. What was he thinking? Could he be jealous of Hector, who was neither as handsome nor as clever as he? With a beautiful wife like Oenone, he could hardly envy Hector Andromache just because she was a princess of Colchis. Or was he envious of Hector because Hector was the older, and his father's established favourite? Or was he angry because Hector had, after all, insulted him?

She sipped slowly at the wine in her cup, wondering how Andromache really felt about this marriage; she could not imagine anyone being overjoyed at being married to the bullying Hector but she supposed Andromache was not displeased at eventually being a Queen in Troy. Surreptitiously - her mother had always warned her that it was not proper to stare at men -she looked round the room, wondering if there was any man there she would willingly marry. Certainly none of her brothers, even supposing she were not their sister; Hector was rough and contentious; Deiphobos was shifty-eyed and a sneak; even Paris, handsome as he was, had already neglected Oenone. Troilus was only a child, but when he grew up he might be gentle and kindly enough. She remembered how even among the Amazons the girls had talked all the time about young men, and there too she had felt the weight of being different on her heart. Why was it she cared nothing for what was so important to them?

There must be something worthwhile in marriage or why would all women be so eager for it? Then she remembered the words of the Colchian priestess: You are priestess-born, called and set apart. At least this was a valid reason for difference.

Her eyelids were drooping, and she blinked and sat up straight, wishing this was over; she had been awake and travelling before daylight and it had been a long day.

Priam had called Paris to his side, and they were talking about ships, the route for sailing to the Akhaian islands, and how best to approach Agamemnon's people. Andromache was half asleep. This was, thought Kassandra, the dullest feast she had ever known—though after all she had not attended so many.

Finally Priam was proposing a toast to the wedded pair, and calling for torches to escort Hector and his bride to the bridal chamber.

First among the women, Hecuba led the procession with a flaming torch in her hand. It flickered and flared brilliantly coloured lights along the walls as the women, with Kassandra and Polyxena on either side of Andromache, led her up the stairs, followed by every woman in the palace: Priam's lesser wives and daughters, and all the servants down to the kitchen maids. The torches smoked and hurt Kassandra's eyes: it seemed to her that they were flaming high, that beyond the walls was a dreadful fire, even within the bridal chamber, that they led Andromache forth to some dreadful fate—

Clasping her hands to her head as if to shut out the sight, she heard herself screaming; "No! No! The fire! Don't take her in there!"

"Be quiet!" Hecuba gripped her wrists till Kassandra writhed with the pain. "What is the matter with you? Are you mad?"

"Can't you hear the thunder?" Kassandra whispered. "No, no, there is only death and blood… fire in there, lightning, destruction—"

"Be still," Hecuba commanded. "What an omen at a bride's bedding! How dare you make such a scene—"

"But can't they hear, can't they see—" Kassandra felt as if she brimmed with darkness and could see nothing but darkness shot through with fire. She put her hands over her eyes to shut it out. Was it no more than the smoking torches, distorting her sight.

"For shame," her mother was still scolding as she dragged her along, "I thought the princess of Colchis was your friend; would you spoil her bridal night with this fuss? You have always been jealous whenever anyone else is the center of attention; but I thought you had grown out of that—"

They led Andromache into the bridal chamber. It too had been painted, with sea-creatures so realistic that they seemed to wriggle and swim on the walls. Hecuba had told her at supper that workmen from Crete had been in the palace for a year, redecorating the walls in the Cretan style, and that the carved furniture was tribute from the Queen of Knossos.

On the table beside the bed there was a little carved statue of Earth Mother, her breasts bared over a tightly laced bodice, a flounced skirt, a serpent clasped in each hand. Andromache, as the women were stripping off her bridal finery and putting her into a shift of the Egyptian gauze whispered to Kassandra, "Look, it is Serpent Mother; she has been sent from my home to bless me this night—"