Why had he done it? Had she failed him in some way? Perhaps she had offended him. That was the only explanation for why he had disgraced her.
'She' was Arsinoë, princess of Phocaea, princess of Troy and wife of Paris, and presently she was sitting on the ledge of a fountain in the corner of the Royal family's private garden. Sunset had been hours ago and this was the first time Arsinoë had left her chambers in nearly a week. With the exception of princess Briseis and princess Andromache, she couldn't bear to see any other members of the family, most of all Paris. Pushing her lips together, Arsinoë willed herself not to cry. She had been spending the past week doing nothing but weeping; surely there were no tears left in her.
Sniffing, Arsinoë wiped a lone tear from her face and stood up when she heard someone walking towards her.
"Arsinoë?" The voice that came from behind her was deep and gentle.
"Hector," she gave a sad smile. Her brother-in-law. 'I suppose I shall have to see them again sometime,' she thought to herself. As he closed the gap between them, Arsinoë's lip began to quiver.
"Dear sister," he said as he embraced her. "I am sorry." The crown prince's strong voice rang out clearly through the empty garden and Arsinoë choked back a sob.
"I don't understand," she said into his shoulder. "Was I a bad wife?" Hector broke away and held her at arm's length. "Never," he told her. "You have been nothing but a perfect wife to Paris. The fault lies with my brother, Arsinoë, not you. He has always had...an appitite for women. One of his many flaws." Arsinoë smiled briefly before it fell from her face and tears made their way into her eyes.
"But was he so unhappy that he had to marry me? Did I please him so little that he had to steal away another foreign wife? I know Paris has no love for me, but did I not enter his thoughts at all?" All Hector could do was shrug. "And why did he have to announce her in such a fashion? In front of the entire palace? All of Troy? And then to say..." She broke off and covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying. "To say that I was a cousin?"
Hector's heart ached as he watched his young sister-in-law cry over his womanising brother.
"Will I be sent home?" Arsinoë asked suddenly. "Back to Phocaea?"
"You think we would just put you on a ship and send you home?"
Arsinoë shrugged. "I am no longer Paris' wife, after all."
Hector sighed. He could dissagree and scold his brother until he was blue in the face, but Paris had indeed decided to set Arsinoë aside and put Helen in her place. "You may not be his wife anymore, but you are still my sister and a princess fo Troy. You have a right to..."
"To what?" She interrupted. "To live as a cousin while the Spartan whore takes my place?" Hector's eyes went wide with shock. He had never heard Arsinoë speak in such a manner. With such venom. "Arsinoë," he stammered. "Helen is no whore." At once, the young woman tore herself away from his grip and narrowed her eyes.
"She left her husband and stole mine, what else would you call her?" Hector, who always felt duty bound to defend his brother, stood helplessly in front of the scorned young woman. "She loves him, and he her," he said, although he felt guilty saying it. Arsinoë sneered and Hector thought briefly on how this was a new side of the princess.
"Your father would let Troy go to war for love? She will bring ruin to this country, Hector. Perhaps no one will say it aloud, but it is true and you know it."
Hector sighed and closed his eyes. He couldn't deny it, what Arsinoë said was the truth. By now, Agamemnon's armies were probably already on their way. She took another step back and gave the bitterest of smiles.
"I wonder if that thought occurs to either of them when they bed each other at night." Without letting Hector say another word, the youngest princess spun on her heel and walked back into the palace. Making her way down the long hallways toward her new chambers, Arsinoë passed the doors that led to Paris' rooms.
'They used to be mine, too.'
Stopping for only a moment, she continued down the hall until she heard something coming her way. Footsteps. She knew it couldn't be Hector; the steps were coing from up ahead. Arsinoë turned the corner and came face to face with Helen. A gasp escaped her as she stared up at the blonde woman. The woman who had taken her place.
But Helen did not look at her with triumph, nor with contempt. She had no idea that she had pushed an innocent young woman from her place. Instead, she smiled down at Arsinoë, convinced that she had just run into one of Paris' young cousins.
"Good evening," Helen greeted. "You are Arsinoë, yes?"
The younger woman could only nod. "I haven't seen you since since I arrived at the palace. Have you been well?" Arsinoë had to stifle a smirk. 'As well as one can be when one has been abandoned by their husband.'
"Yes," was all she said.
As Helen stood before Arsinoë, she began to feel a little uncomfortable. "I noticed that you ran from the hall when we entered the palace. Were you not pleased to see the princes' safe return?"
Arsinoë threw a wry grin at Helen. "Yes, I am quite glad to see prince Hector safely back in Troy."
Helen blinked, confused. "Are you not glad to see your cousin Paris?" The former queen of Sparta saw Arsinoë's eyes become slits and and her gaze travelled down to her neck where Helen was fingering her pearl necklace.
"Did he make you that?" She asked. Helen smiled and ran her fingers over the shells lovingly and Arsinoë felt the anger build up inside of her. "Yes, on our last night in Sparta."
The younger woman pushed her lips together in order to keep from saying something that Paris would reprimand her for later. Instead, she gave Helen a curt nod and continued down the hall. Helen stood there for a moment, before turning the corner and entering her new chambers. Her dark haired prince lay on their bed and she took a seat and began to remove her jewelry.
"That cousin of yours is very rude, Paris," she told him. He sat up and looked at his love. "Who? Briseis?"
"No, the young one, Arsinoë. You really should have a word with her."
Back in her chambers, Arsinoë sent her maids away and stood outside on her balcony, looking out at the city of Troy. Within the hour of the princes' return, her belongings had been moved from Paris' rooms and she had been moved into new chambers. Arsinoë had spend every night since gazing out past the stone pillers. She could hear faint sounds from the people down in the city. Scowling, she held a necklace in her hands. A necklace made from sea pearls. A neclace given to her by Paris after riding through the streets of Troy.
The people had cheered; the men had sworn loyalty and love to their new princess, the women had thrown flower petals from the rooftops.
"How fickle they are," she whispered to no one. Looking down at the trinket in her hand, Arsinoë remembered her first night in Troy. After riding up to the steps of the palace, she had met the royal family for the first time. King Priam she met first and he greeted her with the formality of a king, and the warmth of a father-in-law. As next in line for the throne, Hector came next along with his own wife, Andromache. They greeted her with kindness, Andromache especially, for she also knew with it was like to meet the great family all by herself. When she was brought before Paris, Arsinoë found herself to be taken with him at once. He was quite handsome, with his dark curls and warm brown eyes. That night they slept apart, but after the grand wedding ceremony, they had spent their first night together as husband and wife. He had taken her quite suddenly, and Arsinoë had cried out in pain, but it hadn't seemed to bother him. He had grunted as his release came, and then he had rolled off and fell asleep. The wedding celebrations lasted seven days, and each night Arsinoë had to endure Paris and his rather rough wooing. But after the celebrations were over, so were his nightly efforts. They still shared the same chambers, but it was like living with a stranger. She was always asleep when Paris came to bed, and he was always gone when she awoke. It quickly occured to Arsinoë that Paris never wanted a wife, and she was forced to watch as her husband flirted with the servant girls.
Shaking the thoughts from her head, Arsinoë stood and walked towards the stone ledge. Bracing herself with her left hand, she threw the necklace with all her strength out into the night. Rubbing her hands over her shoulders to keep warm, Arsinoë walked back inside to change into a sleeping gown. "Perhaps I'll go and visit Briseis at the temple tomorrow. We can chat if she has time." Crawling into her bed, Arsinoë fell asleep quickly and awoke with the sun's first light. With a yawn, she sat up and stretched, and then called her maids to help her dress. The gown she chose was a dark red, the colour of wine, and she carefully picked out her jewelry for the day as her maids curled her dark hair. One of the girls brought in a dish of figs with a small loaf of bread for her to break her fast with and she ate quickly then left the room. She quietly made her way down the hall and ran into Andromache as she neared the main doors.
"Good morning, Arsinoë," the older woman greeted. She pulled her sister-in-law into a friendly hug and kissed her on both cheeks.
"And to you, Andromache. How are you this morning?" Andromache gave a strained smile.
"Worried," she answered honestly. "Very worried."
"The Greeks?" Arsinoë guessed.
"Yes. Hector tells me Agamemnon's army should be here any day." She shook her head. "What was he thinking, letting her stay on the ship?"
Arsinoë raised an eyebrow. Hadn't she been asking that same question for a week? Andromache altered her path and turned to walk with Arsinoë. "Have you heard from your father?" She asked. Arsinoë looked away. When Hector and Paris returned from Sparta with Helen, Hector had come to her and asked her to send a message to her father asking for help. A ship had been launched that day, and she had received word just yesterday. "I have," she sighed.
"What did he say?" Andromache asked. "My father, the king, sends as a reply: Phocaea will not send soldiers to aid the family that has insulted his daughter and broken the alliance."
Andromache nodded. "Hector assumed as much." They walked together, both trying to steer the conversation away from the impending war, until Andromache halted when they reached the bottom of the palace stairs. The pair said goodbye and Arsinoë made her way alone to the royal stables, telling the stableboy to ready her horse. When he was done, she took the reins from the boy and allowed him to help her on before kicking the horse into a slow canter towards the temple of Apollo. One of the novice priests took her horse and she wandered inside to find her cousin.
Briseis was happy to see her and the two women had a lovely morning strolling through the temple gardens. They were on their way back to the main atrium when the unthinkable happened.
Troy's great warning bell began to toll, signaling that the Greeks arrived. They ran outside of the temple to see ships on the horizon, and they saw that the first ship had already come ashore. Arsinoë felt terror grip her and she clung to her older cousin. "Briseis, we must flee!" The new priestess shook her head as she watched the Greeks jump out and begin to do battle with the Trojan soldiers stationed all along the beach.
"There is no time!" She pulled Arsinoë back into the temple and they ran into one of the hallways. They watched as the priests began crowding around the statue of Apollo in an attempt to pray. "We have to hide."
Briseis pulled her into a side room which turned out to be the sleeping quarters of some of the priests. Under the current circumstances, neither woman thought anyone would mind. "Under the bed," Briseis ordered. Arsinoë did as she was told and both of them crawled under a bed. She could hear Arsinoë begin to weep with fear.
"Arsinoë," she whispered. "You have to be quiet. If you don't stop crying, they'll hear us!" Her heart was beating rapidly and finally she heard Arsinoë stop crying. The two were as silent as the dead as they listened to the noises flooding the temple. They heard the priests cry out and the Greek soldiers begin to laugh.
"Check the temple," one of them yelled. "You heard Achilles. Anything we find, we keep." They heard men begin their looting of the holy building and the women prayed that the tiny room would be spared the Greeks' greed. Their prayers however, went unanswered as they heard the door being broke down. Arsinoë's heart was in her chest and she was convinced that the soldiers could hear it beating. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her breathing and to keep from crying out. The footsteps inside the room were slow and quiet and just as Arsinoë thought the men were going to leave, the blanket the had been hiding her was lifted up and she was face to face with a Greek soldier.
"Well well, what do we have here?" A strangled cry escaped Arsinoë as she was pulled from underneath the bed. He set her on her feet and she tried to push his hands off of her. "Stay away!" She cried out. "Stay away!" She had aimed the words at the Greek but they were meant for Briseis. She hoped that her cousin would take the hint and remain under the bed, but the Gods were not on her side this morning.
"Get away from her," Briseis called out from under the bed. The soldier that was holding onto Arsinoë sent an amused glance to his friend as the other man walked over and dragged a fighting Briseis out and up.
"Two for the price of one, eh?" They laughed as they brought the two women together and Arsinoë began to wimper when the first soldier let her go and unsheathed his sword.
"Are you going to kill us?" She asked. The men looked at each other. "We did come here to kill every Trojan," the second man told them, still holding onto Briseis. The older woman began to struggle but Arsinoë closed her eyes, prepared to die. With her eyes closed, however, she couldn't see the hilt of the sword coming towards her head.
Now unconcious, she would have fallen to the floor had the man not caught her and threw her over his shoulder. The second man seemed to prefer his women more lively for he left Briseis concious and tied her hands behind her back before leading her out of the temple. As she passed the bodies of the now dead priests, she began to weep. "What should we do with them?" The second man asked. The first soldier laughed.
"My wife would have my hide if I kept this one. We'll bring them to Eudorus." Briseis was led around like a horse for quite some time, but they couldn't seem to find the man called Eudorus. "We'll bring them to Achilles' tent," they agreed. "He'll know what to do with them." Briseis' heart froze when she heard that. She didn't know much about the warlord, but she had heard enough about him to be afraid. She wanted to fight the men off and try to get away, but she couldn't just leave Arsinoë with them. So she allowed herself to be brought to the Greek camp and put into a tent.
"Don't try to run away," one of the men warned her as he placed Arsinoë down on the sand. "You're in a camp full of Greeks now, and they won't be as nice as we've been." Then they left, leaving the two alone. She tried to call out to Arsinoë, but saw that she was still unconcious. Until she woke up, there was nothing for Briseis to do except wait.
*******************************
The world was blurry when Arsinoë opened her eyes. Blinking hard, things soon back into focus and she saw that she was inside and she was laying next to Briseis. "Bri...Briseis?" She whispered. Her cousin turned her head and let out a breath of relief.
"Arsinoë! Thank the Gods you're awake." Arsinoë sat up and found that her hands were tied together.
"Where are we?" Briseis allowed the tears to come to her eyes as she told Arsinoë that they were in Achilles' tent.
"Achilles?" Arsinoë had heard of him; who in the world hadn't?
"Oh Gods. What do you think he'll do to us?"
"I don't know. But we have to..." Briseis' sentence was cut off when the leather door flaps were thrown aside and Achilles himself walked in. Arsinoë gasped and huddled as close as she could to Briseis.
"The men found them in the temple," explained a dark haired man. "They thought they could...amuse you." The man turned and left, leaving the three alone in the tent. Briseis stared straight ahead, but Arsinoë snuck looks at him when she dared. She watched as he took off his breastplate and poured a jug of water over his sweaty hair.
"What are your names?" He asked after a moment. Arsinoë stayed silent, preffering Briseis to speak first. But Briseis simply didn't answer him. "Didn't you hear me?"
"You killed Apollo's priests," she accused.
"I've killed men in five countries, but I've never killed a priest."
"Well your men did," she snapped. "The sun god will have his revenge."
The blond warlord looked at Briseis with an eyebrow raised. "What's he waiting for?" "The right time to strike!"
Arsinoë wasn't sure that this was the best way of talking to the man that held their lives in his hands, and she nudged Briseis with her foot. They watched as he washed his face in a basin. "His priests are dead and his alcolyte is a captive. I think your god is afraid of me," he told them.
"Afraid?" Briseis scoffed. "Apollo is master of the sun, he fears nothing."
"Then where is he?" Achilles demanded, his voice gruff.
"You're nothing but killer!" Briseis yelled.
Arsinoë kicked her again with her foot but her cousin didn't notice. "You wouldn't know anything about the gods." Achilles was the one to scoff this time and he threw a handful of water in their direction. "I know more about th gods then your priests, he told her. "I've seen them." Arsinoë tried not to look as he wrapped a piece of cloth around his now naked waist.
"You're royalty, aren't you?" She didn't know if he was talking to both of them; he hadn't paid any attention to her besides asking for her name. She nodded anyways, but Arsinoë doubted he saw. "You've spent years talking down to men." He picked up a lock of Briseis' hair and sniffed it. "You must be royalty. What are your names?"
"Arsinoë," she told him a hushed tone. He nodded at her and looked back to Briseis.
"Even servants of Apollo have names." "Briseis finally gave in and told him her name, and he in turn untied their hands.
"Are you afraid?" Achilles asked them. Arsinoë nodded honestly, but Briseis asked him, "Should we be?"
That seemed to make Achilles think for a moment but before he could answer, the dark haired man came back to his tent. "My Lord," he said. "King Agamemnon requests your presence. The kings are gathering to celebrate the victory." Achilles heard but he did not acknowlege the man right away.
"You fought well today," he praised the man.
"Thank you, my Lord."
"Tell Patroclus to come here." The man left and Achilles turned back to Briseis. "Why did you come here?" She asked. "You didn't come for the Spartan queen."
"Although you can take her back if you want," Arsinoë said without thinking. Achilles threw her half a grin before answering her cousin's question.
"I want what all men want. I just want it more." He looked away just as another mn entered the tent. "You don't need to fear me," he told them. "You two are the only Trojans who can say that."
He stood up and clasped the man, who was really no more than a teenager, on the shoulder. "Patroclus," he said. "I'm proud of you."
The young man scowled. "Why? I didn't do anything."
"Exactly. You followed my orders." Achilles waved his hand in Arsinoë's direction. "Take that one back to your tent. I have no need for two." Patroclus looked shocked while Arsinoë looked at both men with wide, fearful eyes. She felt tears come to her eyes and she and Briseis clung to each other. "No," Arsinoë cried. "Please don't. Please, my Lord." She called him the same as the dark haired man had in hopes that he would change his mind. But he just walked over to her and hauled her up by her arm. He held on tight to Briseis as he shoved Arsinoë towards a still shocked Patroclus.
"Cousin," the young man began. "I...I wouldn't even know what to do with her." From across the tent Achilles laughed. "Then I haven't taught you anything at all, have I?" Patroclus grinned sheepishly, both men oblivious to the two crying women next to them. Arsinoë decided that there was no point in struggling, or even protesting. After all, protesting had never done anything for her in the past. Besides, she was a helpless woman in the middle of a Greek camp. Even if she did escape, there was nowhere that she could run.
"Briseis," she said, now standing beside Patroclus. "Please don't worry. I'll be fine." She sent a weak smile in her cousin and was relieved to see her stop struggling against Achilles' grip. When Achilles waved his cousin away, she sent one last look to Briseis before following Patroclus out of the tent and into his own. His tent was set up behind his cousin's, about seven meters away. Ushering her through the door, he stood akwardly as Arsinoë sat down in the sand, trying desperately to keep from crying. Patroclus ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to do. He never could stand the sight of a weeping woman. Kneeling down in front of her, he took her hand in his own and gently cleared his throat.
"Please don't cry."
She looked up at him and wiped the unshed tears from her eyes. "I'm trying not to," she told him.
Taking deep breaths, she found herself calming down and was now fully aware that she was in the tent of a Greek, Achilles' own cousin no less!
"What are you going to do with me?" She asked, timidly pulling her hand away from his. Patroclus cleared his throat again and crept back. "I don't have a clue. I've never held a captive before." He took a moment to study the girl in front of him. The only evidence that she had been handled roughly was her disheveled hair and gown, and a small gash over her left eyebrow. Her amber eyes were still wet with tears, although she hadn't started to cry. Standing up, he walked over to his water basin and wet a piece of cloth.
"Here," he said, crouching back down in the sand. "Let me." Arsinoë tried to be as still as she could but she winced as the cloth hit her skin. "Ouch!" She flinched and pulled away from the Greek. "Sorry," he mumbled hastily. He tried again, more gently this time, something that shocked Arsinoë.
Shouldn't he be having his way with her, or something of that sort?
"What's your name?" He asked. She swallowed. "Arsinoë. And...and you?"
"Patroclus," he told her, throwing the soiled cloth back into the basin. For a moment they said nothing, both of them akward. "Are you thirsty?" He asked. "Can I get you anything?" Arsinoë was surprised that the Greek was being so kind to her. So far. "Perhaps some water?" Patroclus nodded and poured her a goblet of water from a jug. He passed it to her and she took a sip. She smiled as the cool water soothed her parched throat.
"Thank you." She drained the goblet and handed it back to Patroclus. "What's going to happen to me?" She asked again.
He shrugged.
"Well you can't leave the camp. I wouldn't even try and leave this tent by yourself. Not without me."
Arsinoë nodded, not wanting to think about what would happen to a captive Trojan princess. 'But,' she thought to herself, 'I suppose I'm no longer a princess.' "Am I to be your slave, then?" She asked, trying not to let him hear the edge in her voice. He had treated her well thus far; it wouldn't do to make a harsh master out of him. "I...I suppose so," he told her with uncertainty. Arsinoë looked up at him and noticed that he wasn't much older than herself; perhaps only three or four years. He didn't seem like a hard hearted man. Instead, he seemed like a boy eager to prove himself to Achilles. "Will I be allowed to see Briseis?"
"Is that her name? Well, that will be up to Achilles. Perhaps if I catch him in a generous mood, I can ask him."
Arsinoë smiled. "Thank you."
He walked over to a table in the corner of his tent and picked up a small bowl of dates. "Here." He took a handful and passed the bowl to Arsinoë. Taking it, she picked up a date and rolled it between her fingers. It felt sticky. "How old are you?" She asked, her curiosity coming forth. Patroclus didn't seem to mind. "I'm eighteen." She nodded. "And you?" "I'm sixteen," Arsinoë told him.
"You did not fight today?" She asked him, taking a small bite of the fruit. He narrowed his eyes at her question. "No!" He spat. "I was made to stay and guard the ship! To stay behind like a woman! Achilles taught me everything he knows about fighting, how could he leave me on the beach to wait?" Arsinoë didn't know whether he was asking her or just ranting to himself.
"Perhaps he was just worried?" She questioned quietly. He frowned. "That's what he told me just before we reached the beach. But I didn't come all the way from Greece to guard a ship. I came to kill Trojans!"
Patroclus, for a moment, seemed to forget that she was in the room. But he looked at her raised eyebrow and shrugged. "Sorry." To his surprise, his little captive glared at him. "Don't be," she spat. "I'm not a Trojan by birth. I'm not even one by marriage anymore." Patroclus sat down on his bed.
"You're married?" Something akin to dissapointment flooded throught him, but he did not know why.
"Not anymore. He set me aside for another woman. If it hadn't been for his older brother, I think he would have put me on a ship and sent me home."
"And where would your home be, if not in Troy?"
"Phocaea," she told him. "It is south of Troy, along the coast. My father sent me here nearly a year ago to marry..." She trailed off, realizing the potential danger in telling him who's wife she had been.
"To marry who?"
She didn't answer at first, she just looked away. "Tell me," he ordered. She pushed her lips together and spat out, "Paris." When Patroclus heard this his blue eyes went wide with disbelief.
"Paris? You married Paris?" She nodded, a blush rising on her olive skin. "Oh," he said, realizing that he held the wife of the man who had stolen the Spartan queen. She watched him and saw that an idea had formed in his mind. She gave a bitter smile.
"It won't work," she told him.
Patroclus looked down at her. "What won't?"
"You're thinking of ransoming me off for Helen, perhaps?" He blushed slightly and Arsinoë knew that she was right. "Paris will not care that I've been taken. If anything, he'll thank the gods for it. He'll think he's a widower and be that much closer to making Helen his new wife." Behind the bitterness in her voice, Patroclus could hear the hurt that lay there.
"Did he really not care for you?" He asked, unsure as to why he wanted to know.
Arsinoë bit her lip. "No. He never did. He was only doing his duty as a son by marrying me. He loved women. But more than that, he loved the chase. He didn't want a wife that would always be waiting for him. Paris paid no more attention to me than the eagle would pay to the sparrow."
"Did you love him?" His question shocked her for a moment. Love had very little to do in many royal marriages.
"I thought perhaps I could," she told him honestly, not understanding why she was being so open with him. "But no, I didn't. I found out very quickly what he was like. But even so, nobody likes to be replaced." Patroclus really didn't know what to say. He agreed, of course, but he was finding it hard to speak without choosing his words carefully.
"So...you're a princess?"
Arsinoë scoffed. "Not anymore."
He opened his mouth to say something but Eudorus stuck his head inside the tent, making Arsinoë jump. "Excume me, Patroclus, but Achilles has sent me to come fetch you." Patrocalus nodded and stood up from his bed, and followed Eudorus out onto the beach.
That left Arsinoë alone in the tent. She hadn't moved from her kneeling position since entering the small room, but now she stood up and stretched her legs. She was caeful not to go to close to the tent door, lest a Greek soldier saw her and wanted her for his own. She stood over Patroclus' water basin and looked at her reflection. She was no great beauty, not like the famous Helen, but she was by no means unfortunate. Supposing one of the soldiers, far from his wife, wanted her, she would do. "But I don't think men would dare take anything from Achilles' own cousin," she reasoned. That thought was a small comfort to her as she ate another date.
With the tent flaps closed it cast the tent into darkness, with only the a small amount of sunlight. With the illusion of twilight in the tent, mixed with the distress of the day, Arsinoë began to feel drowsy. Sitting back down on the sand, she leanded against the bed. She couldn't decide if Patroclus would be angry or not if he returned and found her sleeping, but in the end her fatigue caught up with her and Arsinoë's eyes closed as she began to fall asleep.
When she awoke, it was a long process. She was awake before her eyes could open, and she was sure that she had just had the most awful dream. Pulling the blanket tight around her shoulders, Arsinoë brought her hand up to wipe the sleep from her eyes only to feel something grainy on the side of her face. Opening her eyes, Arsinoë saw sand on her fingertips and she lifted her head up.
She saw the tent flaps, and yesterday's memories came flooding back to her. She had fallen asleep on the sand floor and Patroclus must have draped one of his wool blankets over top of her so that she wouldn't get cold during the night.
'Odd.' She thought.
Arsinoë still did not know what to make of this Patroclus. It was strange, but she did not fear him as she knew she should. She doubted very many Greeks would cover their captives with a blanket to keep them from being chilly. Getting up from the sand, she wrapped the blanket around her as she took a small handfull of the dates. Then she paced around the tent not knowing what to do. She was by herself for almost half an hour when Patroclus came storming into the tent.
"Patroclus!" Arsinoë's voice filled the tent but he didn't hear it. Growling anger, he reached out to his water basin and flung it to the ground. "We're not fighting!" He yelled in her direction. Arsinoë watched as the water sunk into the sand.
"What?"
"Achilles is refusing to fight! He's refusing to lead the Myrmidons into battle. All because of his fued with Agamemnon." He grabbed a goblet and was going to fill it with water, but he remembered the basin was empty on the ground and he threw his goblet across the room. It made a loud dinging noise and Arsinoë flinched.
"I told him that soldiers are suppose to obey, and do you know what he did? He just dissmissed me!" Patroclus paced his tent in a rage. "Now instead of fighting, the Myrmidons have to watch the battle from camp." Licking her lips, Arsinoë fingered the edge of the blanket still wrapped around her.
"May I ask why you are so eager to fight?" Patroclus turned on her with such a look that she stepped back, but she did not look away. "Surely you cannot care that much about defending Menelaus' insult."
"It isn't about that. The reason for being here doesn't matter. The Greeks have been ordered to fight, and a soldier's first duty is to obey commands," he told her.
"And you fight for Achilles?"
He nodded. "Well then..." She trailed off, hesitant to speak her opinion so freely. Patroclus waved his hand at her, motioning for her to continue. "Well, you say it's a soldier's duty to obey orders, and Achilles has ordered you not to fight. You may not like it, but there is nothing you can do about it. Especially if you are so keen on following orders. So what's the point in getting so angry?"
She held her breath, knowing he probably wouldn't take too kindly at being told what to do by his captive. For a moment he didn't make any response, but then he mumbled something Arsinoë couldn't hear and left the tent. He returned only minutes later with two loaves of bread and a servant trailing after him with a new water basin. Patroclus seemed to have calmed down and when the servant left he passed one of the loaves to Arsinoë.
"Thank you." They ate in silence, the only sounds were that of chewing. When they had both finished, Patroclus rose and stood at the door looking out. "The army is leaving." She didn't know whether he was talking to her or to himself. "Are you going to watch the battle?" She asked.
He nodded.
"May I come?"
Patroclus turned to look at her, shock written all over his face. "You want to come and watch the battle?"
"Yes," she nodded. "Please?"
"I...I suppose so. But I don't think I need to tell you not to try and escape. If you try and run, you won't get very far."
Arsinoë gulped and nodded, her eyes wide.
When the camp had emptied of men, save for Achilles' Myrmidons, Patroclus led the young princess out of the tent and over to a a large bluff where the Myrmidons were gathered. Eudorus saw Arsinoë at Patroclus' side and gave the younger man a sideways glance.
Patroclus could only shrug.
The group watched as the Greek army moved closer and closer to the Trojans, finally coming to a halt and four chariots continued on alone. From the other side, two men on horseback came forward with four footsoldiers.
"Hector and Paris," she whispered. They watched as the princes got off of their mounts and the Greeks left their chariots and all six men met each other in the middle.
"Are you so eager to watch the Greek army slaughter the Trojans?" Eudorus asked her suddenly, his voice serious. But Arsinoë gave the tiniest of smiles. "Are you so sure they can do it without the Myrmidons?" More than a few men chuckled at this, and Arsinoë turned back to Eudorus. "I suppose it doesn't matter either way. There is only one person on that field I would save, no one else." Patroclus raised an eyebrow and Eudous asked, "And why is that, Trojan?" She just shielded her eyes from the sun and turned back to watch the impending battle. "I have my reasons. The people of Troy have done nothing that would earn them my loyalties."
Eudorus did not press her and instead turned back as well. They saw that the chariots had withdrawn and a single Greek stood alone. A lone Trojan was walking out to meet him.
"What's going on?" She asked Patroclus as the two men drew their swords. "Single combat," he answered. "It looks like Menelaus. But who's he fighting?" "Paris," she told him with certainty. "Who else would it be? They must be fighting over Helen."
'It always comes back to Helen.'
"He'll lose," she said aloud. "Paris will lose."
"How do you know," one of the men asked her.
"Prince Paris is a superb archer, but when he wields a sword? No one could call him a great swordsman."
They watched the fight from the bluff and they saw Menelaus wound Paris on the thigh. Arsinoë watched her husband half run, half crawl back to where Hector stood watching and he threw himself at his brother's feet. "Coward," she sneered. As she watched Hector kill Menelaus, she shook her head. Never before had she seen such weakness. He stole a wife and started a war, but he wasn't even man enough to kill a single jilted man. He had to have his brother do it for him. She turned to Patroclus and saw both he and Eudorus swivel their heads. She looked to where they were looking and saw Achilles standing above them. He didn't look down at them; instead he kept his eyes on the battlefield where Agamemnon gave the signal to attack.
Arsinoë gasped as the two armies clashed against each other. To her, it looked and sounded like the ocean during a storm, when two great waves would slap against each other. Arsinoë had never seen a battle and at this distance all the men melted together into one big mass so she could not tell who was winning. But from above she could hear Achilles muttering commands to Agamemnon's troops as if the men would obey him. The one thing Arsinoë did recognise was when the Greeks turned around and began to retreat. With all her bitterness towards the Trojans, she felt a stab of frustration as the Greeks ran away. The retreating army came closer and closer and Patroclus put his hand on her upper arm.
"Go back to the tent," he told her.
She looked into his blue eyes and was about to protest and ask him to talk to his cousin about Briseis, but his grip tightened.
"Go."
Arsinoë saw the first of the army running into the camp and she understood the danger now. Picking up the folds of her burgundy dress, she ran from the bluff towards the tent, her sandals kicking up sand behind her. Back in the tent, she caught her breath and waited for Patroclus. But after ten minutes passed, he hadn't returned and she began to grow bored. Seeing the various trunks laying laying around the tent, Arsinoë felt the urge to see what was in them.
Biting her thumb, she whispered to herself, "He'll likely be with the army all day."
Walking cautiously towards one of the trunks, she took a glance over her shoulder before openeing the lid.
"Ahh!" She exclaimed in wonder. Reaching her hands into the trunk, she pulled out a lyre.
It was a beautiful instrument she found, made from the wood of a laurel tree. There were carved laurel leaves that were inlaid with gold. Gently she plucked one of the seven strings, smiling as the familiar sound rippled throughout the tent. She ran her fingers over the rest of the strings and soon she found herself playing a song that she had known since childhood.
"Don't touch that!" Snapped a voice from the doorway. She looked up to see Patroclus walking towards her and he snatched the lyre from her hands.
"I'm sorry..." She began, but he cut her off.
"Where did you get this?" He demanded.
"I..." Arsinoë didn't want to admit she had been snooping through his things. "I found it," she finished lamely.
"You are not to touch this again. Ever. Do you understand?" His blue eyes were cold and they glared down at her on the sand. Arsinoë nodded hurriedly and for the first time since she had been given to him, she was afraid of Patroclus.
Putting the lyre back into the trunk, he slammed the lid down and shot out of the tent without saying another word. For the rest of the day he did not return, and all day Arsinoë had sat with tears falling from her eyes. She sat down on a fleece pad in the corner of the tent and saw no reason to move. Her greatest fear as she sat alone in the tent was that she had ruined any kind feelings Patroclus had towards her.
As a captive, that was the worst thing that could happen but it was more than that, she came to realize. She did not want him to be angry with her because she was coming to like him. She was still wary of him, to be sure, but she could sense that he was a good man. Despite his eagerness to kill Trojans, Arsinoë could see in him a kindness that she only hoped she did not just chase away.
She rubbed her face and wiped away the last teardrops just as a young servant boy walked through the door with a tray in his hands.
"For you," he told her.
He put it on a low table and left without another word. An appitizing aroma drifted over to her and she stood up, walking to the table.
Arsinoë gave a small smile when she saw a plate of freshly cooked fish and a dish of olives on the tray, along with a loaf of bread. That was a good sign, wasn't it? It showed that he did not want her to go hungry. Arsinoë fell on the fish, not caring that the meat was still very hot.
