In My Eyes: The Fall Of Troy Chapter 3

After he left, I sat wondering what was expected of me. I thought of escape, but one peek around the skin that was the door of his hut and I knew that was not an option, yet. I thought of tidying up, but my royal stubbornness won over. I refused to do anything that I wasn't forced to do, so I settled down on a pile of furs and fell asleep.

At first I wasn't sure what had awakened me. I looked around, expecting to see one of Achilles' men tending to some business, or even the golden warrior himself, but it was neither. Just as my eyes focused on the two men in Grecian armor, they grabbed me and roughly hauled me to my feet. They half led, half dragged me back through the Greek camps to the very middle of the captured beach. We waited in the shadow of a three tiered tent that had been erected over the deck of a beached ship until someone called from within.

Two men were facing off angrily as I was forced inside. One was my master, the other, a fat man of considerable rank, judging by his clothes and armor. The lewd sneer on his face made my skin crawl as he spoke. "The spoils of war."

There was a strange look on the golden warrior's face when he saw them manhandle me into the room. Fear, perhaps? Was the mighty Achilles afraid for me? But at the other man's comment, my master's blue gaze hardened. He set his jaw before turning to the soldiers that still held me by the arms. "I have no argument with you, Brothers." His voice was cold and frightening. "But if you don't release her, you'll never see home again. Decide!"

The two holding me loosened their grips, but had not quite let go when the other man called for his guards.There was a ringing of steel and pounding feet on all sides as men hurried to obey their master's call. Achilles' sword was suddenly in his hand and he stood in a battle stance, his back to a wall. He was hopelessly outnumbered, yet he stood ready to fight for me.

I couldn't stand it any more. I ripped my arms free and jumped forward. "Stop! Too many men have died today." I turned my eyes to my master. "If killing is your only talent, then that's your curse. I don't want anyone dying for me." With an angry hiss, Achilles stood up straight and changed his grip on his sword.

The fat man began to chuckle. "Mighty Achilles; silenced by a slave girl."

Once again I was captivated by the blue eyes of the half-god as he began to pace the floor, seething with rage.

The other man, seeing his agitation, stepped toward me while verbally taunting him. "Tonight, I'll have her give me a bath."

I shuddered at the thought.

"And then..." The loathsome man grasped a fist full of my hair, less gently than Achilles had, and when he sniffed at it, it had a very different meaning.

The golden warrior turned to look at him, pure hatred in his eyes.

"Who knows," the man finished with a nasty smile.

"You sack of wine!" The helplessness in Achilles' curse almost made me forgive him for the day's shed blood -- almost. He turned and held his sword out, the point level with the other man's nose. "Before my time is done, I will look down on your corpse and smile." With that, he stormed from the tent, the soldiers scattering to get out of his way, none wanting to be the one to meet his blade that night. Even the horrible man who was now my master looked frightened as he ordered the guards to lock me up in the hull of the ship.

As soon as we were out of earshot, I begged my captors to let me walk, swearing that I wouldn't try to run. They took pity on me and relented, letting go of my arms completely and allowing me to walk between them. When they pushed me into the dark chamber, it was not in a spirit of malice or cruelty, more like a firm hand in my back. I whirled and grabbed the door before they could shut me away in the darkness. "Please!" I begged them. "Please tell me who my master is. Who was the man that Achilles would not strike?"

"Girl, your master is King Agamemnon."

My grip on the door slipped and I began to tremble as dread settled into the pit of my stomach. The door closed, plunging me into darkness. I hugged myself as the tears finally broke through. I started unconsciously stepping backward until my back encountered a wall. I slid down it until I was sitting on the floor, my knees to my chest. Helen’s husband. If he were to find out who I really was, would it help me or make things worse? Surely he would try to use me as a hostage. As I sat there crying, my imagination began to come up with its own answers to my fears and each thing that could happen to me was worse than the last until I fell into a restless sleep.

I don't know how long I was there, alone in the dark. When someone came to bring me food, the sunlight behind the slave girl was nearly blinding. "I've brought you some bread and leftover wine from last night's feast," she whispered. "It's not much, but it's all I could bring that wouldn't be missed. The king and most of the soldiers have gone to battle at the city gates, or I wouldn't have been able to bring it at all."

I would have thanked her, had I been able to comprehend much past the words "city gates". The war had finally reached the city. I tried to pray for the safety of the people and especially my family, but my faith was beginning to waver. She tried to offer me a weak smile and I choked out a thank you before the door closed, plunging me back into the dark silence.

I tried to eat, but the lump in my throat caused me to choke. I was able to get some of the wine to go down, but it didn't settle well in my empty stomach. Eventually, I fell asleep again but I was roughly awakened when the same two men from before hauled me to my feet and none too gently dragged me out of my dark hole.

I struggled to find my voice; to plead for answers to what was happening, but all that I could get out were a few squeaks. I was dragged out onto the beach. It was dark and large bonfires were raging all around. I was roughly shoved down onto my hands and knees on the still hot sand, before an angry and tired looking group of men.

"A gift from your King!"

My breath caught as terror seized my heart.

Rough hands grabbed me and I was pushed around the circle of men, each one roughly caressing places that a virgin should not have touched, or they taunted and beat out their day’s frustrations across my body. I lost track of time. My head was throbbing, as were my new bruises and cuts. I could barely breathe, my screams having quieted to whimpers between gasps.

"Come on! Give her to me!" I was shoved roughly toward one of the men and stumbled over my own sluggish feet. He caught me just before I would have stumbled onto my face, only to lift me around my middle, letting me flail about helplessly and gasp for air. He made sure that his hands touched both of my breasts lewdly. "Who's next, then?" he called.

"Here!" someone else answered. I was shoved toward him. He hissed terrible things in my ear. while his hands fondled me between my legs.

"What's this," someone else asked sarcastically, grabbing at the fabric of my gown, right in front of my thighs. "A virgin's robe?"

"You won't be needing that for much longer!"

"Hold her!"

Two of the men roughly grabbed my arms, pulling them in opposite directions. I tried to struggle free, but too much of my strength was gone. They were laughing and enjoying their helpless prey. One of them stepped forward with a branding iron. I pulled one arm free enough to smack him. He recovered quickly and kneed me in the stomach. The pain was blinding and now I truly could not breathe. Before I could recover, they were on me again, this time, holding my arms tighter. The one with the branding iron stepped forward, again poised to press the red hot metal against my outstretched arm as someone pushed up the sleeve of my robe, exposing my bare skin.

"Better to be a Spartan slave than a Trojan who-"

"Achilles!" someone shouted.