Was Troy saved already because Paris had promised to listen to me?

  No. “Brother, how—”

  “I adore the word brother! Sister, ask me anything you’d like to know.”

  I liked him even if Eurus didn’t. “How long have you been married?”

  “I started young. Six years ago when I was sixteen. Corythus is five.”

  “He married me because he wanted the love of a goddess, and no one higher would look at him.” She addressed him, smiling. “I’m not angry. I love you because I love you. I need nothing more.” She gripped his arm across their son. “I will never stop loving you. I will cease loving me when you choose someone else.” She added, “The goddesses will be here in a few minutes.”

  The air seemed to turn solid in my throat. I imagined running out to Eurus and wind-flying away.

  “Cassandra,” Paris said, “I keep telling her that I, who was abandoned, will never abandon anyone. I love only her and our son.”

  Oenone waved a dismissive hand. “You love everyone. You love your sister, and you met her just a few minutes ago.” She winked at me. “I’ve watched you for years. When I foresaw I was going to marry Paris, I—Oh! Now!”

  The cavern trembled. The table hopped on its legs.

  The entire mountain seemed to thunder around us. My heart boomed with it. I flew up and slammed down on my couch. Oenone wrapped her arms around Corythus, who was howling.

  Mustn’t run. Troy, I thought. Save Troy.

  The mountain stilled. Three crows flapped through the cavern doorway and perched on the table, and three goddesses appeared behind Paris and Oenone’s couch.

  9

  I recognized each goddess from her statue in the sacred grove. Beautiful was too mild a word to describe any of them.

  Hera, goddess of marriage and the family, came to sit between Corythus and Paris, who jumped up. He went to his wife and took her hand. His knuckles popped out. I stood too.

  Hera kissed Corythus’s forehead, which made him laugh and lean into her. Even seated, her back was straight as a spear. In complexion, she was darkest—brown-black—with her black hair captured in a beaded net. She watched Paris.

  Athena’s gray eyes fastened on me. Her clear voice sparkled with anger. “You! You’re the maiden who wounded my brother! He’s precious to me.”

  “As my brothers are to me.” What was I doing, arguing with the goddess of war? “Most will die when Troy falls.” She was also goddess of the city.

  “Foolish girl! Troy will rise again.”

  “Mortals die.” Instructing me, Hera added, “You see, that’s what makes them mortals.”

  As Apollo had said too. As everyone knew.

  I glanced at Aphrodite because Apollo was her half brother too. Did I have two enemies?

  But her expression was pleasant. The goddess of love and beauty stood no taller than a mortal woman. Her edges were soft, made with a brush rather than a stylus. Her golden hair tumbled in ringlets to her shoulders; her eyes were orbs of honey; her smile made me smile back.

  Athena widened her stance, as if she was addressing troops. “Hear us, mortals! There is a golden apple.” Without asking if we already knew, she told us about the wedding feast. “All the gods wanted—”

  Hera turned to Paris. “My husband says you’re honest.” Instructing me again, she added, “I’m the wife of Zeus, ruler of the gods.”

  Every toddler knew that!

  Paris blushed. “I hope I’m honest.”

  It was beginning. But what else could he have said?

  The crows spoke:

  “Which is more bitter: love lost

  or love unsought? If Paris is a fool,

  he’ll choose among the goddesses.

  If he’s wise and doesn’t choose,

  he’ll suffer too.”

  Would Troy suffer either way?

  “He’s dishonest.” Oenone managed a laugh. “He calls me the most beautiful.” She patted his hand that held hers.

  Clever. If he chose one of them, he’d have lied to his wife.

  Hera laughed too. “I’ve many times called my husband the wisest. He likes it. Flattery sweetens marriage. It doesn’t make me a liar.”

  Athena raised her hands in a quick, impatient gesture.

  I stalled. “What will you do with the golden apple if you get it?”

  “I’ll put it in a headdress with the writing showing.” Aphrodite touched her ringlets. “It will become me, don’t you think, poppet?”

  I nodded. A warty toad in her hair would become her.

  “The apple will be sacred to me,” Hera said, “and apple cakes, golden with cinnamon, will be served at wedding feasts.”

  Glaring at me, Athena said, “I’ll give the apple to my brother to comfort him.”

  She didn’t even want it!

  They all turned to Paris and waited.

  I burst out, “His choice will cause a war! People will die!”

  Together, they began, “Mortals—”

  “They don’t always die young!” I cried. “Children will die! Women will be enslaved. They aren’t always enslaved!” Was I persuading them? “Troy will be rubble!”

  Hera asked Oenone, “Why is the maiden here? She doesn’t understand what’s important.”

  Ignoring this, I pressed on. “We’re your worshippers. We love you.”

  Hera just waited for Oenone to speak.

  “She and I are trying to save my husband from a choice that will kill him.”

  Hera started again. “Mortals—”

  “I can judge and that will be the end of it.” Paris let his wife’s hand go and cupped her cheek.

  He said he wouldn’t! He said he’d take my advice!

  Oenone snapped, “Nincompoop! Sheep’s head! It won’t be the end of anything. You can’t tell a seer the future and be right!”

  Looking frightened, Corythus buried his head in Hera’s lap.

  “I’ll show you.” Paris looked first at Hera and raised his head to the two standing goddesses.

  Athena leaned forward on her toes, as touchingly and painfully beautiful as a new warrior going to battle. Her sandy hair flowed away from her face, in a wind I didn’t feel. She had Apollo’s strong jawline and his shapely mouth. Alive—rather than a statue—her cheeks were just a little plump, not doughy.

  “You are three perfections.” Paris threw his hands up. “Different in your ways but so beautiful that nothing can add to your charms.”

  Judging without choosing. The goddesses, by their expressions, were not satisfied. He’d accomplished nothing.

  A thought struck me. “You can share ownership of the apple and each have it for a span of time.”

  Aphrodite nodded, her curls bouncing. “A sweet idea, precious.”

  Athena put a hand on Aphrodite’s wrist in a gesture that seemed protective. “I’ll accept that too. We’ll declare a truce.”

  I held my breath.

  “It’s fine as far as it goes.” Hera put Corythus gently aside and stood. “Aphrodite, you had the Graces dress you and perfume you before we came, but I left Olympus just as I was. Athena, dear, no one thinks you’re even pretty. I’ll share the apple, but my turn will be longest, because, after all, I’m the fairest.”

  Aphrodite softly and Athena vehemently said, “No.”

  My stomach cramped.

  “So be it.” Hera turned to Paris. “If you pick me, you will be the master of all of Europe and Asia. Parents will name their children after you.”

  Did he want that?

  Paris took both of Oenone’s hands in his. She brought his to her lips.

  A fresh idea came to me. “Pray, hear my words. I’ll sacrifice to you all just for listening.”

  At first, Hera frowned, but when she heard sacrifice, her brow smoothed. “Yes?”

  I swallowed. “Who is more accustomed to assessing beauty than a woman? Shouldn’t a woman be the judge?”

  Aphrodite, who had been gazing at Paris, turned to watch me.

  Oenone said, “This is why I adore your sister, love.”

  Encouraged, I went on, spinning half-truths. “We look in our dark mirrors and compare ourselves with other females. We’re always making contests in our minds.”

  From their expressions, the three of them were considering my words. If I judged, two goddesses’ fury would certainly fall on me, but Troy, Hector, my parents, and everyone else might survive.

  “For example, I know that my younger sister Laodice outshines me. Her graceful neck alone is enough to prove it.”

  Aphrodite asked, “You admire me, don’t you, dear Cassandra?”

  “More. I worship you.” A safe answer.

  “I’ll accept her judgment. You’re a sweet girl, honey.”

  Hera agreed. “Better a female should do it. Women are the most discerning.”

  Were we saved?

  But Athena refused. “Hera! You know my brother cursed her. She holds a grudge against me.”

  “I’ll be fair! I worship you too! Didn’t I bring you sardines yesterday? In salty and spicy brine?”

  “A lesser god got the best of everything.”

  A kinder god.

  It was slipping away. Before my chance closed forever, I shouted, “Hera, I choose you!” She was more important than the others. Use your power to make my choice the choice. “You’re the most beautiful.” They were all the most beautiful.

  “But my soft lips.” Aphrodite made kissy lips at me.

  “No! Zeus said he should judge.” Athena pointed at Paris.

  “Do you think my lord will object to her decision?” Hera asked.

  Aphrodite laughed. Zeus would let stand my choice of his wife.

  I’d changed the future! I wanted to grin and dance, but then I looked ahead. Troy still burned.

  It couldn’t!

  Hera said with satisfaction, “I will enjoy having the apple. It will be my fruit, along with the pomegranate.”

  Aphrodite pushed my brother down on a couch and sat in his lap. “Dovey-love, which of us were you going to choose?”

  Gallantly, probably believing that it no longer mattered, he said, “With you so close I can think of no one else. I pick you.”

  He was a blockhead! Didn’t he guess that a choice no matter when would anger the other two?

  “Villain!” Hera cried. “Fool! Bufflehead! To make an enemy of me!” To me, she added, “Many have suffered my wrath, always women. But I will make an exception.”

  Aphrodite laughed a burbling laugh. “Hera, love, you knew the truth all along.”

  Oenone stood. “Paris, the goddesses have received two judgments. Come. I have love secrets to share with you.” Her lips were tight. She was afraid.

  He slipped away from Aphrodite and put an arm around his wife.

  Aphrodite stood too. “Zeus appointed you, so your judgment is the important one, apple or no apple, and I had a fitting gift for you if you picked me. Would you like it?”

  “He needs nothing!” I cried. “His family is everything to him.”

  “What gift? Something I can share with my wife?”

  He was a bufflehead! Or evil.

  “This gift you cannot share.” Aphrodite laughed again. “It is for the true admirer of beauty—the most magnificent mortal woman, desired by everyone. Behold Helen of Sparta.”

  The table vanished, replaced by a vision. On the edge of a meadow, a woman sat with her back against a gnarled olive tree. Across her lap lay an expanse of cloth. Her hand, wielding a needle, paused in the air. Her head was lowered to her task.

  From the future, I recognized the woman’s light brown hair, rippling down her shoulders. A gold bracelet circled her shapely upper arm. We couldn’t see her face, but even without seeing it, Paris dropped his hand from Oenone’s shoulder.

  She rushed from the cavern. Corythus ran after her.

  Paris called, “Wife!” but didn’t move.

  In the vision, as if hearing him, Helen raised her head: big eyes, brown with amber glints; a small, straight nose; smooth, ruddy cheeks; full lips. But Oenone was more beautiful than Helen, and neither of them could compare to the three goddesses.

  Her expression won me over, though: smiling but wistful. Unfinished. You, it said, will complete me. I’d want to go to her, if Aphrodite would take me rather than my brother, offer her solace, be her friend.

  10

  I wrenched my eyes from the vision. “Brother! You said you’d never abandon your family.”

  “Sister? You’re still here?” He seemed to recover from his daze. “Did you see Helen’s expression? She needs me.”

  Those were Helenus’s exact words too: She needs me.

  He turned to Aphrodite. “Will you take me to her?”

  “I’ll do more, lovey. I’ll make sure you win her.” She led him out.

  I called after them helplessly, “Don’t bring her to Troy.”

  He said over his shoulder, “I won’t.”

  He would. I had failed to break the lowest rung in the ladder to our ruin.

  When Aphrodite’s and Paris’s footsteps ceased echoing, Athena vanished.

  “The goddess of love can’t resist herself.” Hera laughed. “And I can’t resist instructing people. Cassandra, a sparrow can’t move the moon. A sardine can’t stop a whale. A single mortal—or several of you—can’t cause the enormous ship of fate to swerve. Think of the size of it! Even we gods and goddesses are on it! You may change the next ten minutes, but the rest of time doesn’t budge.” She paused. “Aphrodite gave your brother a gift for choosing her. I’ll give you one for picking me. Would you like to be mistress of Europe and Asia?”

  “Will that save Troy?”

  “It will save only you. You’ll emerge from Troy’s ashes.”

  I threw back my head. “If you please, lift Apollo’s curse.” I went on despite her frown. “Let people believe me.”

  “I won’t go against Apollo. What else?”

  “Would you help Troy in the war?”

  “And not punish Paris? All the immortals will take sides. Something else.”

  What? “Save Hector.”

  “Fate will decide that. I can’t intercede.”

  I wasn’t enough of a noddy-peak to waste her gift on a necklace or other bauble. “May I wait to decide? May I call on you later?”

  She nodded.

  That was something. “Thank you!” I smiled.

  Her eyebrows rose. “I see why Apollo was taken with you. Farewell.”

  After she vanished, I tried and failed to find Oenone. Eurus carried me back to the sacred grove, where we sat together on his altar. While the sky darkened to dusk, I related everything that had happened.

  “I should have blown your brother to the middle of the sea when I could have. Now Aphrodite protects him.”

  I feared he’d yell at himself again. “The goddesses would have found him there, and they would have been angry at you. I’m the one who failed.”

  “You were clever with Hera! Few mortals have won gifts from the gods.”

  He’d cheered me again, but he didn’t know what gift I should ask for. “My wind may sweep away the dust and then we’ll see.”

  I crossed my legs. “Paris will leave Sparta with Helen and bring her to Troy. My parents will be so happy to see him alive that they’ll let them in. Menelaus, Helen’s husband, will gather ships and an army and sail to Troy.”

  Eurus patted my arm.

  “Will you take me to Sparta? If I can keep Paris and Helen from running off together, there won’t be a war.” This would be the next rung.

  He frowned. “Don’t you know I will?”

  Was he angry? I jumped off the altar and looked up at him in the dying light. “I don’t! I can’t foretell what immortals will say or do.”

  “You already told me that.”

  “Then how would I know—”

  “Because I carried you to Mount Ida!” He left the altar too and waved his arms.

  My hair blew about. Would he freeze into his statue and leave me?

  “My wind changes direction. I don’t.”

  Tears stood out in my eyes.

  “Don’t cry!” His eyes were wet too.

  I smiled. He smiled.

  The next morning, after half an hour at my loom and another half hour playing with Maera in Troy’s alleys, I brought offerings to the three goddesses, as I’d promised, and to Eurus, as he expected.

  He ate and smiled at the same time.

  Though the journey to Sparta by ship and on foot would take Paris a month, Eurus said that he and I would need only three days. Since Mother had given me permission to go to the sacred grove, I visited him daily. We spent much of the waiting time practicing flying without killing me.

  I learned to cling to him with my arms around his chest and my legs around his waist, which made my heart fluttery.

  The first time I clung, Eurus took my hands away—gently—and held up a finger for me to wait. After a few seconds, he breathed deeply and nodded. I clasped him again, and this time he seemed untroubled, but my heart still quivered.

  He continued to worry about my safety. “You’ll tire and loosen your grip.” He vanished and reappeared a few minutes later, bearing a pale blue sash exactly the color of my peplos. “Hera wove it.”

  Was that her present? I could have gotten a sash from home.

  “She said it didn’t use up the gift she promised you.”

  Whew!

  A line of tiny marks ran along half the length of the cloth. When I brought the sash close to my eyes, I saw that the marks were letters. “Can you read what it says?”

  Father, several of his councilors, Hector, and Helenus could read, but few others had the skill.

  Eurus read, “‘All your attempts will be for naught, but this will not let you fall.’”

  Thank you, Hera. “We have to prove her wrong about failing.”

  “You will! We will!”

  We flew low for an hour, using the sash, and Eurus said it would do.

  Hooray! We could go to Sparta!

  I thanked Eurus a dozen times. His face reddened. Lesser gods seemed unaccustomed to a worshipper’s gratitude.

  I must have been unused to feeling this grateful. I didn’t usually blush so often, either.

  During the week after the festival, Mother was often called away from her weaving to join Father in interviewing parents who wanted me for a daughter-in-law. Each time, she told me the name of the young man in question. “Of course, you’ll wait the customary three years before you wed.”