Consequences (20 page)

Clear as day, I can see the shore, and
another pathway … Agamemnon sent scouts ahead of the rest of the
party, to inform the Queen he was finally home. Cassandra's vision
grants me glimpses of those scouts informing the Queen, and her
accomplice lover, that Agamemnon returned with his concubine, a
prophetess and Trojan Princess, and their two sons. The next flash
of images is the Queen flying into a fit of anger, screaming about
how Agamemnon had killed her husband, her child, and then forced
her into this marriage just to depart immediately for Troy. Her
lover calmed her down, but something had broken, and the Queen was
stuck firmly in the claws of insanity. Recognizing the opening for
promotion from lover to ruler, her companion devised an attack …
they were going to kill Agamemnon, Cassandra, and the twins.

I want to scream. I am horror-struck by
watching these events unfold. Agamemnon could take care of himself
… but Cass and the twins were innocent and powerless in such a
strange land, with so few allies.

Whispering, “No! Not the babies!” I can’t
stop the tears that are flowing freely as I continue to watch her
vision spread out before my eyes.

While the Queen schemed, unaware of her
lover’s manipulation … Cassandra and the rest of the returning
party steadily made their way up to Mycenae and Agamemnon’s throne.
The Cassandra that trudged along in the vision was defeated and
pale; she looked incredibly fragile and ill. I can tell she did not
want to go on this particular journey; she wanted to go back to the
ship … she would live on that ship forever as long as she didn’t
have to travel to Mycenae. "Oh god … she knew what was coming. Why
didn’t she stop this?"

I feel the despair as I watch the Queen
welcome Agamemnon home, and even console Cass over the hardship of
being taken into slavery. Cass couldn't move; she was stuck in a
depression like nothing I’ve felt before. She was a statue as
Agamemnon followed his Queen into the palace; Cass's eyes were
fixed on the babies in Agamemnon’s arms. She dropped to her knees,
as she watched Agamemnon hand their little ones over to a man
standing inside the entryway … the Queen’s suitor. “Say something,
Cass! Dear lord, Cass, warn him!”

Her vision follows her love and their sons
into the palace, where she watched in horror as the manipulator
killed the babies, and the Queen beheaded her love. Unable to move,
unable to even breathe, still frozen to the steps outside the
palace, Cass gratefully welcomed the swing of the same ax that had
killed Agamemnon.

I pull away from the vision, and then I pull
out of the memory, looking down on Cass still sitting on the edge
of the pathway, “You saw what was coming, and you let it happen!
Why?”

I haven’t noticed that the sun has already
risen, turning the shadows on the rocky hillside, a dazzling, deep
blue. Facing Cass, the bright light in my eyes only aggravates my
mood, making me even angrier … if that is possible. As Cass looks
up and into my eyes, she makes a noise as if she was an animal
captured in a rusty-jawed trap.

“I told him, Ellie … I told him everything.
He let his ego make the choice over our survival. He said he was
too powerful for someone as meek as his wife, to destroy. He was
sure she would be ecstatic to have him home. I asked him if it was
true, if he had killed her husband and baby. He replied, 'No one
would ever deny him what he wants … and he wanted her.'”

Before I notice we are moving, we have
reached a shrine, a temple for Apollo and one of his most famous
prophets … Cassandra. Progressing to one of the many indentions in
the walls, I realize that this is a tomb; this is where her boys
are buried.

“I tried begging him … I offered him
everything I could possibly give … if he just wouldn’t return to
his palace. When he refused, I pleaded for him to leave the babies
and me behind. He became angry and responded violently, telling me
he would carry me over his shoulder and present me as a prize, and
possession, if he had to. If I was so sure that death was coming …
he would grant that wish and kill us right then. I found myself
wishing that I saw him as my owner, wishing that I loathed him
instead of loving him. I prayed to the gods that they would grant
me emotional detachment, so the pain of his betrayal wouldn’t kill
me. But, you saw what happened; in the end, I couldn’t move to save
my family … I couldn’t even move to save myself.”

I kneel down in front of the babies’ last
resting place, and feel an emptiness bubble up from a hole; a void
where the death of my own family, also exists. The intimate
understanding of how much Cass loved Agamemnon, coupled with my
love for Christopher, makes me wonder how crippled I would be if
Christopher betrayed me. Unthinkable … I would cease to function;
the angst would be beyond belief.

“Even with all your anger … you still go to
Agamemnon's grave, don’t you?”

Sheepishly she answers, “Yes, yes I do. I
never really did, before you came along. Every time you start
talking about Christopher, the awe and wonder in your voice … I
remember what he meant to me, how much I loved him. I go to him
now, I scream, I cry … I’ve been healing; for the first time in
many millennia, I am beginning to find forgiveness.”

“I don’t think I could forgive him, ever … I
don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”

“You are young … you’ll be surprised how much
you can forgive, given enough time.”

I want to hold something to help lighten the
weight of what I have just witnessed. I want Christopher here … now
… holding me together while I mourn these babies, and Cassandra’s
innocence. I sit down by the grave and wrap my arms around my
knees, and as I start rocking back and forth, I close my eyes and
force my mind to return to Christopher's arms.

I am vaguely aware of Cass moving away,
giving me space. I dimly acknowledge the fading light from behind
my eyelids: the sun is setting. “Let me come home … please, let me
come home … I need you…” in the form of a mantra, I beg through
space, for Christopher to help me.

I’m not sure how long I sat in that position:
Cassandra stopped asking me if I was all right after the third
sunrise. Time blurred, and the outside world disappeared into a
fog. I stopped concentrating on Christopher, and let my mind wander
until it landed on the smudgy form of a white wolf, blanketed in
white mist. Her eyes lightly reflected light, glowing yellow and
blue. If I hadn’t noticed her eyes, I would never have seen her … I
wonder how long she had been standing in front of me.

I have a feeling; she has been here the
entire time I was traveling in the mist. I sat down and she did the
same. We must have sat and stared at each other for hours; until
she finally got up and walked back into the fog. I missed her
presence almost immediately, but she didn’t return for the rest of
that day. My excitement at her return surprised me. While she was
away, I had been wondering where I knew her from; and I couldn’t
shake the feeling that she was in some way answering my plea to
return home.

We follow the same routine of staring, and
then separating, which left me longing for her company through two
more cycles before it finally dawns on me, “You are Christopher’s
dream companion, aren’t you?”

She just cocks her head, and for a moment I
can see Lune inside her. “Yes, I do believe you are Christopher’s
companion. I can see that you are very special, or at least, you
remind me of an extraordinary friend.”

She crawls forward on her belly, and gently
lays her head in my lap. As I drag my fingertips through the bushy
fur around her neck, a scent is released into the air. Christopher!
I bend over and nuzzle her face and mane, bathing my nose in
Christopher’s aroma. A person’s sense of smell has the perfect key
to unlock memories, and curling up with this strange visitor brings
me closer to Christopher than I have been for over a year. She lies
very still while I curl up behind her; and she forms an expression
of ecstasy as I run my fingers down her flank, releasing more
fragrance into the air with each pass of my hand. We lie there for
hours, until it is time for her to leave again … but this time she
leaves the gift of crystal-clear memories of my beloved in her
wake. Christopher's visitation, weeks ago, was genuine; I can feel
the difference now that I recognize the wolf. I rest my head
against my arm, not bothering to move from the position I have held
with the wolf. Slowly closing my eyes, I hope to dream of
Christopher.

He stands before me, scruffy and aged, but as
beautiful as always. I can tell right away that this isn’t the same
as when the wolf called me to his side weeks ago. This one is a
shadow brought to life by my memories. My feet start walking to him
with a mind of their own: my body has always reacted to his
presence as if he had control, not me. There is the same compulsion
to look into his eyes; I can always read him through the whispers
of his beautiful eyes. The irises are still filled with the
iridescent aqua that makes my butterflies dance … but this phantom
doesn’t smolder with the same intensity; leaving me dancing without
music, clumsy and false.

Reaching up, I brush the outside of my
fingers across the rough beard that surrounds his chin. My thumb
strokes the outline of his bottom lip, and although their fullness
asks to be kissed … they have no heat. This is wrong; I can’t feel
his emotions, or life.

I reach up and touch the wetness on my cheek
and start to feel angry, but I don’t know why. Screaming at the
ghost before I can even understand my outburst, “YOU’RE NOT REAL …
GO AWAY!”

I could pretend that he is real. I could use
this false man to fill a small part of the gaping hole in my chest.
I should let him ignite the butterflies into glorious dances. If I
could just allow him to give me a moment to catch my breath … maybe
I could pull together the strength needed to return to the bloody
messed-up world outside my mind. That damned world where leaders’
egos kill babies, and innocence … where nothing is fair and we have
to work ourselves to exhaustion just to find a bit of balance.

I jump when I feel pressure on my shoulder; I
don’t realize I am on my knees until I turn to find Christopher
standing above me. There at his side is the white wolf … it is him!
The real man…

“I love you, Christopher.” My voice comes out
in quiet sobs.

Looking into that enchanting face full of
compassion, makes me smile … puny and puffy from crying, I smile
nonetheless. He crouches down in front of me and takes my face into
his hands, then places a soft kiss on my forehead. With his thumbs
he wipes away my tears, and cocks his head with a quizzical
expression.

I shake my head in response to his query as
to why I was crying.

Reading his lips, I watch him from the words,
“I love you, too.”

I wrap my arms around him with such yearning
that I knock us both to the ground. There, lying on top of him, I
press my face into his chest and let out my sorrow, all at once,
drenching his shirt, and lying in an awkward sprawled position. He
simply strokes my hair and holds me close … letting me cry myself
out. I am hiccupping through the last dredges of tears, and gulping
in his aura at the same time. Running my hands down his shirt, I
can feel that he is even leaner than when I saw him last. Looking
at his arms, I lightly touch the veins that stand out of his skin.
He is so warm underneath me that the pressure of my skin against
his thaws the chill brought on by my depression. This time, when I
draw my thumb across his lip, I can feel the fire there. He quickly
sucks his in his lip, and starts scratching it with his teeth. I
have to laugh, understanding that I’ve tickled him, and laying the
way we are I am pinning his arms.

He grins with a mischievous look in his eye,
and he flips me over; then he gently places his lips on mine and
gently blows until he has the desired effect. The prickle starts in
my lip and quickly takes over my teeth and chin. I am sputtering
and trying to free my hands that are held firmly between us. I suck
on my lip, biting down on it with my teeth, squirming and laughing
the entire time. The outside world is completely forgotten, while I
am there in his arms. My butterflies beat against my stomach,
making my skin tingle and pulse. We smile, never speaking a word,
just enjoying each other's presence.

Laying there in his arms, I finally feel
secure enough to poke timidly at the soft underbelly of my choice
to withdraw from Cassandra, and her memories. Damn these gifts; why
would anyone want to experience the bliss and weight of carrying a
child just to have them taken away. I don’t have the year that Cass
and Agamemnon had with their babies; and I hate my existence for
not allowing me to know the complete and all encompassing love that
a mother has for her child; the love that I would have for my
child. Living vicariously through someone else is a lie, and there
is no worse crime than lying to yourself.

Before I can acknowledge them, Christopher
feels the sobs shaking through my body. He holds me closer, and I
bury my face on his chest again. I want to be alive, to be married
and connected to him … I want to have his child. While I drain the
dredges of my self-pity out onto Christopher’s shirt, he just holds
me tighter as if he is squeezing out the sorrow. I can feel his
desire to make things right, and his frustration at not knowing
what is wrong.

Even if he could hear me … what would I tell
him? I experienced what it felt like to have life growing inside
me. I now understand what it feels like to love someone before you
even meet them. With that unconditional love, comes a price …
losing them is a fate worse than death.