Chrysothemis grudgingly. I glowed with pride and smiled in my sleep.
Cassandra
I was exalted at my rescue. I had seen the death of Agamemnon so often that I was not even mildly surprised at it. I had expected to die. I had heard my own death cry and was prepared for it. I had not died. I had been freed. Hecate had come and disconnected me, possessed me, at the moment when I would have resisted rescue because of the danger that my followers were in. I might have pulled away and bidden them run before they shared my fate, but the Gods had wrapped me in trance and I had allowed them to take me from the altar.
I was a slave of the Palace of Mycenae no longer. I was out on the road with a destination and some chance of peace and delight. Now, beside me, wine cups in hand, replete with goat meat and bread, were my dear ones, my unutterably faithful Chryse and Eumides, smiling, touching me; real, not visions.
And the haughty Princess Electra and her silent brother had finally fallen asleep.
I had put the gold aside; now my movements were silent. Eumides unfastened one brooch and Diomenes the other. The chiton fell to my waist, and I lay back on my thick sheepskin mantle and held out my arms.
One face dark, on pale; golden silk and curly fleece, smooth, smooth skin, as they shed tunics and lay down beside me. I stroked them. Palm down, my hands moved along slender thigh and muscular thigh, along flat muscles which grew rigid under my touch.
It had been so long since someone had loved me that I took a moment to identify the thrill running along my nerves as a mouth closed around a nipple.
I clutched a handful of curly hair and tried not to cry out.
Then it was all firelight pictures, scenes from a Dionysiad, the Three Days when Troy was mad and lived for nothing but mating. I tasted grease and honey on someone's mouth; hands touched, slid, skin grew hot then wet as we rolled, curled, curved, pressed close. I held one phallus, hard as metal, and the other pierced me, there were thighs between mine, a strong body, a gasping breath, an urgent mouth. A heart beat wildly under my cheek, and another pulsed inside my flesh.
Then the charcoal glow blurred, and I would have screamed, but a mouth sealed mine. Oh, honey and fire, I melted into the light. Diomenes lay beside me, cradling my body against his, and Eumides on the other side shuddered and was still.
I lay in the goat-scented hut in this dual embrace and wept with pleasure and release, and they kissed my tears away.
'Lady,' said Eumides, 'we are yours now.'
'My loves,' I said, touching their flanks. 'I am yours.'
We could not bear to be apart, and fell asleep where we lay, in the warm darkness, wrapped in the mantle which was once the gift of King Agamemnon to his captive.
I woke in cool grey light. Diomenes had rolled over in his sleep and lay with his head on my thigh. My cheek rested on Eumides' chest. I was warm and sated and unable to account for what had woken me.
Eyes, for there were eyes on us, inimical, horrified. Golden eyes of the small woman clutching the boy on the other side of the room. I felt for the source of her disgust, trying to find what had shocked her, and recoiled from a burning rage, deep as a pit. I had not felt such a thing before.
I was suddenly very awake. I sat up, dislodging my lovers, and said, 'Lady, we must take the road again.'
She did not reply. The boy wriggled out of her too-tight embrace and said calmly, 'Electra, you are hurting me.'
Chryse woke, kissed the thigh he was lying on, then hauled himself and Eumides to the crouch which was all the hut allowed a tall man.
'Morning,' he stated.
'Again?' groaned Eumides, ran a hand through his hair, and smiled at me so that my heart glowed.
'Perhaps the Princess can make a fire, we'd better cook the rest of the meat, while I go out and find a leather worker. If you will give me your sandal, Lady, I'll get you some boots.'
'I can't walk further,' she said angrily.
'Perhaps, horses?
Cassandra
I was exalted at my rescue. I had seen the death of Agamemnon so often that I was not even mildly surprised at it. I had expected to die. I had heard my own death cry and was prepared for it. I had not died. I had been freed. Hecate had come and disconnected me, possessed me, at the moment when I would have resisted rescue because of the danger that my followers were in. I might have pulled away and bidden them run before they shared my fate, but the Gods had wrapped me in trance and I had allowed them to take me from the altar.
I was a slave of the Palace of Mycenae no longer. I was out on the road with a destination and some chance of peace and delight. Now, beside me, wine cups in hand, replete with goat meat and bread, were my dear ones, my unutterably faithful Chryse and Eumides, smiling, touching me; real, not visions.
And the haughty Princess Electra and her silent brother had finally fallen asleep.
I had put the gold aside; now my movements were silent. Eumides unfastened one brooch and Diomenes the other. The chiton fell to my waist, and I lay back on my thick sheepskin mantle and held out my arms.
One face dark, on pale; golden silk and curly fleece, smooth, smooth skin, as they shed tunics and lay down beside me. I stroked them. Palm down, my hands moved along slender thigh and muscular thigh, along flat muscles which grew rigid under my touch.
It had been so long since someone had loved me that I took a moment to identify the thrill running along my nerves as a mouth closed around a nipple.
I clutched a handful of curly hair and tried not to cry out.
Then it was all firelight pictures, scenes from a Dionysiad, the Three Days when Troy was mad and lived for nothing but mating. I tasted grease and honey on someone's mouth; hands touched, slid, skin grew hot then wet as we rolled, curled, curved, pressed close. I held one phallus, hard as metal, and the other pierced me, there were thighs between mine, a strong body, a gasping breath, an urgent mouth. A heart beat wildly under my cheek, and another pulsed inside my flesh.
Then the charcoal glow blurred, and I would have screamed, but a mouth sealed mine. Oh, honey and fire, I melted into the light. Diomenes lay beside me, cradling my body against his, and Eumides on the other side shuddered and was still.
I lay in the goat-scented hut in this dual embrace and wept with pleasure and release, and they kissed my tears away.
'Lady,' said Eumides, 'we are yours now.'
'My loves,' I said, touching their flanks. 'I am yours.'
We could not bear to be apart, and fell asleep where we lay, in the warm darkness, wrapped in the mantle which was once the gift of King Agamemnon to his captive.
I woke in cool grey light. Diomenes had rolled over in his sleep and lay with his head on my thigh. My cheek rested on Eumides' chest. I was warm and sated and unable to account for what had woken me.
Eyes, for there were eyes on us, inimical, horrified. Golden eyes of the small woman clutching the boy on the other side of the room. I felt for the source of her disgust, trying to find what had shocked her, and recoiled from a burning rage, deep as a pit. I had not felt such a thing before.
I was suddenly very awake. I sat up, dislodging my lovers, and said, 'Lady, we must take the road again.'
She did not reply. The boy wriggled out of her too-tight embrace and said calmly, 'Electra, you are hurting me.'
Chryse woke, kissed the thigh he was lying on, then hauled himself and Eumides to the crouch which was all the hut allowed a tall man.
'Morning,' he stated.
'Again?' groaned Eumides, ran a hand through his hair, and smiled at me so that my heart glowed.
'Perhaps the Princess can make a fire, we'd better cook the rest of the meat, while I go out and find a leather worker. If you will give me your sandal, Lady, I'll get you some boots.'
'I can't walk further,' she said angrily.
'Perhaps, horses?
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