And to rape.
I remembered, too late, the fate of Kassandra and possibly all the other women taking refuge here in the temple. This was not the place to be.
Far too late.
They were already clattering up the steps.
I edged along the wall to a far corner, sliding my feet silently across the smooth marble floor, crouched, and pulled my stole around me. Perhaps – just perhaps – they would take the treasure and the highborn Trojan women and leave a poor slave in peace.
I really was kidding myself.
Now, they were through the door.
If the legends were true then the first one in – the leader – was Ajax of Locris – Little Ajax. Although if he was little then God knows how big the other one, Big Ajax, could be.
They piled in. And stopped.
Now that my eyes had adjusted, I could see more clearly.
The statue of Pallas Athena stood at the far end, bathed in a shaft of dusty sunshine. Not the big public statue, destroyed in the earthquake. This was a smaller, more intimate representation of the dual nature of the goddess, with a lance in her right hand and a distaff and spindle in her left. The statue was surrounded by broken lamps, hastily reassembled and lit. Pools of oil and shattered earthenware lay on the floor where they had fallen in the earthquake. Apart from the pool of flickering light around Athena, the rest of the room lay in deep shadow.
There are many contradictory stories about what happened next.
Some say Kassandra was torn from the Palladium itself, the symbol of Troy’s indestructibility, but I can say now that that ancient statue was not there. Maybe had never been there, since the current statue looked as if it had been in place some considerable time. The Palladium, if the legends are true – and why wouldn’t they be? – was even now being smuggled out of Troy by Aeneas, to make its way, eventually, to Rome. And maybe … maybe … if other legends are true – and why wouldn’t they be? – from there to Britain. Taken to Britain by Brutus, his descendent, who gave his name to the island. Maybe, deep down, we’re all Troy’s children.
This is what actually happened.
Kassandra and her women are clustered at the foot of the statue. Great Athena stares unblinkingly over their heads.
More Greek soldiers clatter into the temple, into this inner room, this domos. Their echoes reverberate off the marble, but no matter how much noise they are making as they enter, they fall silent in the presence of the goddess.
Nothing happens for a long time. From where they stand, they cannot see me. But they can see Kassandra and the other women. They can see the statue and the temple treasures. They can see what they have come for.
Only the presence of the goddess holds them back.
What will they do?
One woman steps forward. From her air of authority, I would say this might be Theano, priestess of Athena and daughter of a king. She is royal in her own right. Years ago, she and her husband, Antenor, spoke out against the war.
She speaks now and her voice, trained for ritual and ceremony, carries effortlessly around the big space.
No one moves.
She speaks again. She gestures at Kassandra who stands like the goddess herself, brilliant red hair blazing in the lamplight. For the first time, I see her face clearly. She is indeed beautiful, but it is an intense, a heart-breaking beauty. I once stood close to Mary Stuart and she too had that same air of tragic destiny.
Kassandra lifts her chin defiantly at their scrutiny but does not, even for one second, let go of Athena’s foot.
For that is the law. The law of sanctuary. And it applies to everyone. From the lowest slave in the land to the king himself. So long as she can touch the goddess, Kassandra is under her protection. That is the law.
Except today. There is no law today. Today, many things will change for ever.
There is still silence in the great Temple. Finally, Ajax jerks his head. I know Theano is spared. Legend tells us that she and her husband sail away with Aeneas and the Palladium.
Not everyone is so lucky. At this moment, Priam is being hacked to pieces in the Temple of Zeus. The baby, Astyanax, is being torn from his mother and hurled from the walls. Hector is already dead. I had no knowledge of the fate of Paris.
But Theano is spared.
Not so Kassandra.
She watches the other women trail from the Temple. Only Theano looks back and then she too is gone. From Troy and History.
Kassandra is alone.
I know what will happen now. As does she. As does everyone here. I wish there was something I could do. But I can’t. I can’t do anything. I don’t even want to watch. I remember again that shared moment on the walls. When she looked at me.
Ajax walks slowly forward and speaks to her. Some sort of command.
She laughs at him. Defying him.
He cannot afford to lose face.
He steps forward again, knots his hand in her hair and pulls.
His men gasp.
Such sacrilege in the presence of the goddess.