As soon as he left, the future unrolled as a bolt of linen sliding downhill on bumpy ground—fast, fast, pause, fast, pause. And so on. A blur, then a cavern with copper walls where a young man who reminded me of Father sat on a couch. Scenes flashed by. Stopped. Wide-sailed ships filled our harbor. How beautiful!
Behind my eyelids, red bloomed. A clamor rose: hoofbeats, war cries, screams. No!
Yards of cloth unfurled in a rush, a chaos of battling warriors. The fabric caught. I saw my beloved brother, Hector, curled on the ground outside Troy’s wall, a spear through his chest, and knew that he had died. Ai!
My own chest heaved with sobs. The future rocked by in a sea of my tears, too blurry for me to see.
Eventually, I calmed. I would warn Hector. He’d live.
My spirit drifted above ashes that had been Troy. I knew the city had burned, but I had missed how soon the fire blazed—in three years or three hundred.
As I watched, Troy seemed to rebuild itself, as mighty as ever. An air current lifted me and bore me along. Cities punched up on the plains and mountain valleys surrounding Troy. An invisible stylus etched spidery lines—roads—between the cities. The lines widened. Dots moved along the roads, faster and faster.
Something crossed the sky above me, its passage too straight to be a bird. It disappeared over the horizon, but another succeeded it. They came and went, gaining even greater speed.
The breeze gentled me as the visions faded. Ordinary sleep claimed me.
Full daylight in the sacred grove. A crow cawed. I stretched and smiled at Apollo, who sat by my head with a bowl of grapes in his lap. His hand was soft on my arm.
I stiffened, remembering his kiss—and my visions. Yes, this was the gift I asked for, but the god of prophecy knew I’d see Hector die. He—protector of children—should have protected me. I was barely a child, but I still was one. Mother, if she were here, would be furious too, no matter that he was Apollo.
I jumped up. “Don’t touch me!”
Apollo frowned, seeming surprised. “I gave you your wish.”
“Do you think I wished to see my brother Hector”—I snarled—“beloved of Apollo, killed in battle—”
“I’ll fight at his side.”
“But he’ll die. And you knew it!”
Apollo’s voice was calm. “Every tale ends with the death of the hero, unless he becomes immortal, which happens rarely. It’s the lot of mortals to die. What’s important are their great deeds before they die. Troy will have many heroes.” He held out the bowl. “Have a grape, love, and fulfill your promise.”
I couldn’t! I wouldn’t! And Mother and Father would be disgusted with me if I did. “I don’t want your grapes.” I stormed away.
Behind me, the crows cawed:
“On a snowy night, the wolf
smells the bone-white hare,
and rage burns bright in the god of light.”
I’d run only a few yards before a wind blew back my hair, plastered my beautiful peplos against me, and lifted me.
A breathy voice whooshed in my ears. “Eurus, east wind. No harm meant.”
The kind words lessened my anger and made me sensible.
Eurus returned me to Apollo, who paced between me and the bench. “This is how you repay me? This is how a worshipper serves her god?”
Eurus wafted away.
Mother came to mind again, sitting innocently at her loom, believing Hector would live a long life. My eyes pricked. I smiled shakily. “Thank you for the gift of prophecy”—I took a shuddering breath—“and for honoring me by wanting to kiss me.” I swallowed. “I apologize for my anger.” It wouldn’t help Hector if the god remained angry at his sister.
Apollo stood still. “Dear, I honor very few by loving them.” He smiled, seemingly fondly. “You know that.”
“But I mustn’t love you beyond what a worshipper does. My—”
His frown started.
“My p-parents would think ill of me.”
The frown deepened. “Disapproval, dear, weighs little compared to a god’s favor.”
“I’d b-be d-disgraced.” Against the god’s tight mouth and red face, terrified, I went on. “I c-can’t k-kiss you.”
Apollo went back to pacing.
“I still revere you!”
“Reverence isn’t what I want from you.” He added after a moment, “I’ve discovered that a god’s gift may not be withdrawn, but it may be cursed. I won’t curse your innocent twin, however, who received the gift when you did.” Apollo grew until he was twice my height, glowing, more beautiful than ever.
I raised my hands in front of me, as if I could ward off whatever my punishment would be.
“When you prophesy, you won’t be believed. Your warnings won’t be heeded.”
I gasped out, “You may kiss me if Hector won’t die.”
One side of his mouth curled into a half smile. “I can’t save him.” He stared over my head and then met my eyes again. “But I can save you. In Delphi, you can be my oracle and I’ll withdraw the curse.”
What would happen that would make me need saving?
The god thought I’d desert my brother? Resentment made me brave. “You don’t know the maiden you say you love.”
“It was your choice.” He mounted his pedestal and hardened to marble.
I staggered to the bench and sat. Would I die soon after Hector had? Or might I live a full life? Should I look?
I shouldn’t.
But I could discover how far into the future I would find myself. Silly me, I still wanted to see my husband and find out how many children we had.
Did I have to lie back again to see?
No. The future was woven into me now.
Six years from now, I worked at my loom in the women’s quarters. My expression had settled into sadness. I was unwed, or my husband had died—otherwise, I would have been weaving in his house. No baby’s cradle rocked near me.
In six more years, I couldn’t find myself. Troy was rubble.
Wisdom warned me not to visit my death, but I couldn’t resist. A laurel branch lay on the ground near my foot. I held the branch in my lap as if it might protect me.
An older version of myself—but not old—stood at the prow of a ship, savoring the sea breeze. This me-to-be, whose tan face was tinted pink, looked prettier than I thought myself. The hem of my peplos had a green droplet design, probably woven by Mother.
At my side was a tall man, regal, almost as old as Father was now. His arm rested heavily on my shoulder. I felt iron dislike for him, but I dared not step away.
I squeezed my eyes shut. My death would be next.
In the living room of a palace I didn’t recognize, a rageful woman I’d never met swayed before me. While my present self rocked back and forth on the bench, my future self heard screams, smelled blood, felt the bite of her knife.
I died.