‘Welcome to my home, lady,’ he said.
‘Lead me to the shade and allow me a drink,’ she told him. His hand touched her arm, and she felt his power. It disconcerted her, reminding Tamis of days of youth. The strength of the sunlight faded as he led her to an alcove to the right. Here she could smell the perfume of many flowers and feel the cool stone of the wall. She sat and waited in silence until a servant brought her a goblet of cold water from the well.
‘You have a message for me from the goddess?’ enquired Xenophon.
Tamis sipped the water. It touched a raw nerve in a rotting tooth and she placed the goblet on the stone table. ‘You will not find what you desire, Athenian. No more distant wars for you. No more glory on the battlefield.’ She felt his disappointment, sharp and raw. ‘No man achieves
all his dreams,’ she said, more softly. ‘Yet you will be remembered by men for a thousand years.’
‘How so, if my glories are ended?’
‘I do not know, Xenophon. But you can trust my words. However, I did not come here to speak of you. I came to talk of the cub.’
‘Cub? What cub?’
‘The boy who buried his mother. The One Who Is To Be. He will know glory, and pain, and tragedy, and triumph. He is the important one.’
‘He is just a child. He is not a King, nor even a gentleman. What can he do?’
Tamis drained the water. She was comfortable here and yet unwelcome. It would have been pleasant to pass the day in the shade, thinking back to happier days in her long, long life. She sighed. ‘His destiny is of glory, but his name will not be remembered like yours, even though he will lead armies across the world. It is your duty to teach him, to give him that which you hold.’
‘I hold nothing!’ snapped Xenophon. ‘I am not rich, nor do I have a command.’
‘You have everything he needs, Athenian, stored in your mind. You know the hearts of men and the ways of battle. Give him these gifts. And watch him grow.’
‘He will take Sparta to glory?’
‘Sparta?’ she laughed grimly. ‘Sparta’s days are done, Xenophon. We have the crippled King. They did not listen to the oracle. Lysander thought he knew best – as men are wont to do. But there will be no new glory for Sparta. No, the boy will go elsewhere. You will send him when the time comes.’ Tamis stood.
‘Is that all?’ asked Xenophon, rising. ‘You feed me riddles. Why can you tell me no more?’
‘Because that is all I know, Athenian. You think the gods allow their servants to share all their knowledge? I have done what I had to do. I know nothing more.’
With that lie upon her lips, Tamis walked back into the sunlight and out into the street.
*
Tamis made her slow way through the streets of Sparta and on past the lake and the small Temple to Aphrodite. She followed a narrow track to the door of her house – a low, mean dwelling, one-roomed with a central fire-pit and an open roof to allow the smoke to drift clear.
There was a thin pallet bed in one corner, but no other furniture. Tamis squatted down in front of the dead fire. Lifting her hand, she spoke three words and flames leapt from the cold ashes, burning brightly. For a while she stared into the dancing fire, until at last the weight of her loneliness bore her down. Her shoulders sagged.
‘Where are you, Cassandra?’ she whispered. ‘Come to me.’
The flames licked higher, curling as if seeking to encircle an invisible sphere. Slowly a face formed within the flames, a regal face, fine-boned with a long, aquiline nose. Not a beauty, to be sure, but a handsome strong-featured face, framed with tightly-curled blonde hair.
‘Why do you call me from my sleep?’ asked the fire woman.
‘I am lonely.’
‘You use your powers too recklessly, Tamis. And unwisely.’
‘Why should I not call upon you?’ the old woman asked. ‘I too have need of friends – of company.’