Cassandra — A Re-Telling
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Once Upon a Time, in a far away kingdom called Troy, there lived a king and queen who ruled wisely and graciously over their people and lands. The king and queen (Priam and Hecuba) were blessed with many children, who they sought to teach to be wise rulers themselves, should the time ever come when their children might reign. Their oldest daughter, Cassandra, was studious and virtuous, dedicating herself wholeheartedly as a priestess to the temple of Apollo, the god of Education, Light, Music, Science, and Prophecy. And so it came to pass that Apollo, while wandering to and fro upon the earth, beheld his faithful priestess, Cassandra, and appeared to her one day, in his temple, as she was preparing the daily offerings of incense to the god. Apollo was astounded by the evident dedication Cassandra had for him. Her passionate presentation of prayers and songs to him inspired many temple supplicants. He noted her careful adorning of the temple to make it holy for his presence. Entranced by her piety and beauty, he revealed himself to her.
Cassandra was both shocked and honored that the god himself should appear before her. Trembling, she bowed, and asked him what brought him to the temple. “I have seen your faithfulness and dedication,” he told her, “and so, to honor you, I give you a gift.” Cassandra blushed deeply and demurred, “Oh divine lord, I am not worthy of your sacred attention. I am just one of many people who serve and worship you.” “Not so! You are special!” Apollo said to her, “I shall see to it that you are blessed with extraordinary opportunities to witness and understand the world. I will inspire you with my poetry and give you insights into the ways in which the earth itself can be healed. I shall bless you with the gift of prophesy! You shall see the future and be able to speak of it so that others may hear your wisdom and benefit from your insight. You shall be a living witness to my deity!” And with that, Apollo raised his hand in the sign of blessing and Cassandra was filled with the gift of prophecy. Suddenly the heavens opened and the stars poured down their light upon her. Cassandra could see the world around her, connected through intricate patterns and details. She was able to see the past, the present and the future of all things, all interwoven, all bound together in the dance of being.
Cassandra prostrated herself on the floor before the god, thanking him for having shown himself to her and for having granted her such a powerful prophetic gift. Apollo bent down and lifted her to her feet, saying, “It is my will that you should see me. It is my desire that I give you such a gift. Now here is what I request of you in return.” “What is it, oh lord?” she asked.
“Take all that you have, give it up, and follow me. You must become mine in will, in heart, in mind, and in body. Up until now you have had to forge your own way as my priestess, creating your own hymns to my divinity and leading my worshippers to the faith using your own rites and rituals. Henceforth I shall supply you with all that you need if you simply submit to me wholly.”
Cassandra paused, confused. “You mean, I am to give up my studies of you here in the temple? All of these books and sculptures dedicated to you which I have gathered over the decades?”
“Yes. Cast them into the sea!”
“And I am to leave my family and my own traditions, and dedicate myself fully to you in all things and in all ways?”
“Yes. You will dwell with me.”
“And I must surrender my love of your music, my passion for your songs, and my joy in your science? I must limit myself to the hymns and teachings which you provide?”
“Yes, all of that I ask you to surrender and follow me.”
At this Cassandra broke out weeping, protesting to the god, “But lord Apollo! I have dedicated my life to serving you in this way, through these innovative rites and rituals of my hard labor. I have cultivated my mind and spirit to serve you here, as your priestess, teaching others to think critically in order that they might embrace you of their own free will. And now you ask me to give all of that up and dedicate myself solely to contemplation of your divinity through the chanting of rote texts? I cannot do that, much as I am grateful to you for the gift of prophesy you have given me.”
Upon hearing her words, the god grew angry. “You claim to have dedicated yourself to me, but when I appear before you, here and now, and when I give you a great and mighty gift, you refuse to follow me? What kind of dedication is this? Your piety is revealed to be nothing more than self-satisfied complacency. It is not me that you love, it is the incense and the tomes you have collected here. You are not truly dedicated to me at all! You are dedicated to your own comforts that you have arranged around yourself! That is not worship! That is self-indulgence!”
Cassandra stood silent for a moment, in shock. She had not thought of all her efforts to serve the god Apollo as self-indulgence, but as true service, which gave her joy. She had not intended to be disrespectful or ungrateful for the god’s gift, but was rather in awe that it had been bestowed upon her at all. Unable to find the words to express herself, she merely stammered, “But… but… m-m-my lord!”
“You stammer?” sneered Apollo, “How fitting! I regret having given you the gift of prophecy already. But once a god gives a gift, it cannot be taken back. So, since all you do is stammer in reply to me, that shall be your curse! From now on, though you have the gift of prophesy, though you will see the future and know what is to come, those in power who hear you will never truly understand you. They will hear your clear-spoken words, but think that you are a mere stammering idiot, mumbling arcane and inane formulas. That is your curse! However clear your second sight may be, you shall never be believed!” And with that, the god vanished back to Olympus.
Cassandra remained frozen in place. She was unable to believe the same god that granted her wisdom would equally desecrate that wisdom, which belonged not to her, but to the world entire. If humanity were warned of impending tragedy, and shown the facts and figures which were leading to it, surely they would not remain in their ignorance but would take action to save themselves, based on truth! Cassandra hoped that the meaning of the god’s curse was that although she might not be believed, the rationality and evidence of a situation would be enough to persuade people to avoid whatever ill fates that might await them. Perhaps, she thought, this was the way Apollo was keeping her humble: reminding her that it was not her personal authority that mattered, but that it was the authority of Science, of Logic, of Truth, of Justice that had the power to sway men’s hearts and minds. She consoled herself with this thought and, despite the promise of the life-changing revelation of the god, she busied herself with preparing the temple for worship.
It was a few days later when, at family dinner, her brother, Paris announced he was going on a trade expedition to Mycenaea. As he said this, Cassandra was suddenly filled with a terrifying vision: if Paris went to Mycenaea and fell in love there, it would trigger a terrible war. She could see that Menelaeus (king of Sparta) and his brother, Agamemnon (king of Mycenaea) would bring about the destruction of her homeland of Troy. She spoke up, warning the entire family of this possibility. She begged her brother not to go. All around the dinner table they stared at her, shocked by her words. “But surely, my dear,” said her kind father, Priam, “your brother Paris has no intention of causing a war with Mycenaea! He’s going there as a good-will ambassador to open up trade relations which can only improve the commerce between our kingdoms. There’s nothing to worry about.” Cassandra’s mother merely patted her hand, nodding her head in agreement with Priam. “But -…” began Cassandra. Her brother Hector raised an eyebrow at her, warning her to be silent. She went to Hector after dinner to discuss the matter with him.
“Hector — I know, I actually know that if Paris goes on this trip it will bring great disaster to our household. I even think, though I am not sure, but I even think it puts you in danger of death!”
“You think I am in danger, but you are not sure?” Hector asked, eyebrow still raised.
“I can’t be one-hundred percent certain. There is always room for mitigating circumstances, but the models in my head seem to indicate that your chances of dying are significantly increased if Paris goes to Mycenaea.”
“Come, now, Cassie, even if some mishap happens with Paris in Mycenaea — and we all know he’s not a bright thinker, so anything could happen — I’m sure it’s nothing that we can’t fix somehow later on. The catastrophe you seem to be predicting appears rather far-fetched.”
“But Hector — before I mentioned it, I did all the auguries in the temple again to see if I was just imagining things, or if this was really a possibility. And they all said, more or less, the same -”
“Cassie. Enough! Just relax a bit. You’re not making sense. Go back to the temple. Focus on your work there. We will be fine.”
“But — “
“No, Cassie. No more. You are only going to make everyone more upset.”
* * *
Ten years later, after the brutal war between Troy and Mycenaea and all of Greece had dragged on for a decade, after plagues and diseases had afflicted all parties in the conflict, after Hector had been slain by Achilles, and Achilles had been killed by Paris (and yes, she had seen all that coming too and warned about it, but no one had listened), it seemed the Greeks had finally returned home. Cassandra stood on the shore. She saw no Greek ships anywhere, just the lone, massive, wooden votive offering the Greek army had built and left on the shore before they departed. It was in the shape of a horse.
The people of Troy also gathered on the shore. They had at last emerged, celebrating the end of the long period of confinement. Lockdown in Troy had ended at last! The war seemed to be over! “The Greeks have lost!” they cheered. “And left us this statue! Let us bring it into our city walls to celebrate our victory!” the crowd rejoiced. Some of the young men began to hunt for Greek burial sites on the shore to disinter the corpses and loot them for valuables.
Cassandra was suddenly seized by another vision. That wooden statue — evil. It needed to be left alone. The Trojans should leave all the Greek corpses in the ground where they had been buried. They should leave all Greek offerings outside the city, where they had been placed. The Trojans needed to find a new way of living — one that did not involve any entanglements in foreign wars, particularly with those oily-skinned Greeks. “Leave that there!” screamed Cassandra, pointing to the statue. “Leave their bones in the ground!” she shouted.
The Trojans looked at her. “Is she nuts?” some murmured to each other. “Yeah, like always,” others responded. They ignored her. They wheeled the giant wooden horse inside the city gates to celebrate their new victory!
* * *
King Agamemnon of Mycenaea had put on his finest robes. It was time to enjoy the celebratory banquet his wife, Clytemnestra, had prepared for him. After ten years of fighting a war for Clytemnestra’s half sister, Helen, the battle was over. Odysseus’ clever trick of hiding soldiers in the wooden horse had worked. The Greeks had successfully opened the city gates of Troy from the inside and let the army flood in. The slaughter of most of the population of Troy in the middle of the night by surprise attack had been quite effective. Agamemnon had led the Greek armies to victory, sailed home successfully, and was now reaping the rewards. One of the rewards he had already reaped, or raped, was the captured slave-princess — the daughter of Priam and Hecuba — the famously virginal priestess Cassandra. Or rather, the formerly virginal Cassandra. His wife, Clytemnestra, knew the rules of the game. It shouldn’t bother her that he was bringing home a concubine, Agamemnon thought to himself. After all, their last conversation, in person, on the shores at Aulis had been a fairly dreadful marital spat in which she basically told him to fuck himself or some other woman because she (Clytemnestra, his wife) was determined she’d never have sex with him ever again. So, Clytemnestra should know better and just keep her mouth shut about Cassandra, his latest conquest.
He had ordered servants to prepare Cassandra to look beautiful for the dinner — silver-threaded robes and a fine gold diadem with carnelian florets soldered onto it. The servants had done a good job of using powder and cream to cover up the bruise across Cassandra’s face that Agamemnon had placed there when she resisted him last night, in the bedroom. Now she was compliant. She knew her place.
The servants carried the two of them in a palanquin to the steps of the great palace. Agamemnon took Cassandra’s trembling hand and began to lead her up the marble steps towards the banquet hall his wife had prepared. Cassandra jerked her hand away from his, violently and began to howl — or wail. It was some awful animal sound she was making. “What?!” Agamemnon snarled at her. She pointed to the white marble steps, “I see blood! Blood pouring down the steps!” Agamemnon took a side glance at the blindingly white stairs, gleaming in the evening light. “There’s no blood!” he snapped. “Death!” Cassandra yowlped, “I see our death awaits us! Daggers! Knives! Blood! Death!” Agamemnon momentarily wavered. Should he have brought Cassandra here? It was calculated to piss off his wife, true. But these histrionics were grating on his nerves. “Come on!” he barked at her, grabbing her by the arm and dragging Cassandra up the steps, “It’s not death. It’s called ‘dinner’!” By now Clytemnestra had appeared at the top, smiling cheerfully and waving to the two of them, inviting them in for the feast she had so carefully prepared. Truly, it was a feast years in the making, exquisitely arranged, and at last it was about to be properly “celebrated”.
“Our death awaits us in there!” Cassandra screeched, one final time.
It was the last prophecy she ever made. It was also the last prophecy Agamemnon ever heard, and failed to believe.
