Me – thanks! And you should see the movie! It's great!
Snowangel – Thanks. I'm glad you think so.
Loyalreader – I have! And thank you, as well!
Chapter 2
He held them close, even in his sleep. He had wrapped their cloaks tightly around them; it was cold in the shade of the mountain, which they had reached in the middle of the night, although he had had to carry them both again. He still had his rucksack on his back, beneath his cloak, with his sword beneath his rucksack. He could not let anything happen to the sword. He had been stupid to bring it in a way, but he couldn't have left it behind, so he had done the only other thing he could, he had took it with him when he fled Troy. Troy, his home, and the one place he didn't want to think of. It was no doubt burnt to the ground, with Agamemnon and Menelaus in control.
Paris woke suddenly, when something made contact with his head. That something was a foot and when Paris realised this, his heart jumped into his throat. Had Agamemnon and Menelaus sent soldiers after him? And what of Vashti and Melitta? He realised that he couldn't fight his way out, so it would be best to pretend he was unarmed and protect the sword of Troy.
"Up!" he was ordered. He obeyed and woke Vashti and Melitta and dragged them to their feet as well. "Names?" he was then asked.
Paris thought quickly. He couldn't give their real names, he would be recognised instantly and there was then a high chance that Vashti and Melitta would be as well. "Philemon, Voletta and Melody," he answered, hoping that Vashti and Melitta would catch on. He had quickly thought of names that began with the same letters as their own, so this didn't get anymore confusing than it had to be. Paris glanced at the man, up and down, quickly measuring him up. He didn't know whether to be relieved or scared that he appeared to be a slave trader. On one hand it meant that he would probably escape with his life, which he was pretty certain wouldn't happen if Menelaus' soldiers had caught him. On the other hand, he could be separated from Vashti and Melitta, and that was something he certainly didn't want. He felt Melitta slip her hand into his, he knew she was scared. These past two days had been a living nightmare for both her and Vashti, and it hadn't been much better for him.
"Come on, move!" they were ordered and Paris decided that they had no choice but to obey, until he could think of a way out of the situation. So with his hand still in Melitta's he set off in the direction the man had gestured in and took Vashti's hand in his as well. "So, I suppose you want to know what's going to happen to the three of you now?" the man asked. Paris didn't answer. He squeezed Vashti and Melitta's hands to let them know that they weren't to answer either. "Well, you three are going to be sold as slaves, you're young and look healthy, you'll fetch a fine price," the man went on to say, not caring that he hadn't got an answer. "How old are you anyway?" the man asked, and made it clear that he wanted an answer.
"I'm twenty, Voletta is ten and melody is eight," Paris lied, making them all older than they were. If the man found out that Melitta was only five he might decide that she was too weak and kill her there and then. That was something he could not risk. That was the only reason why he hadn't fought this man, in case Vashti or Melitta got hurt. His sister's had to come first.
An hour later they were walking along the river bank, heading back towards Troy, although Paris was willing to bet that they would follow the river past Troy and then head towards one of the bays past Troy to be shipped off as slaves to the gods knew where. Paris had to think of a way to get himself, Vashti and Melitta out of this, but at the moment his mind was blank. The day was starting to warm up and he; Vashti and Melitta still wore their cloaks. Paris knew that he had to keep his on; it hid his rucksack and the sword of Troy. He gripped Vashti and Melitta's hands tighter and continued walking, still desperately trying to think of a way out of this mess. Mind you, Paris hadn't known what he was going to do today anyway, but being captured to be sold, as a slave was not part of the plan. But for now, Paris knew that he couldn't do anything and he had to hope that he, as well as Vashti and Melitta, could survive slavery.
Presently, they came to a small camp set up on the river bank, the slavers must have got there after Paris, Melitta and Vashti had passed by yesterday. The one who had caught them had probably walked all night, looking for travellers, or anyone he could capture to sell as a slave. Paris was willing to bet though that he didn't know that he had captured a prince and two princesses of Troy. "Isidor! Why are those slaves not tied up?" someone demanded of the man who had captured Paris, Vashti and Melitta.
"They are young, Thaddeus, they will obey," Isidor, the man who had captured them, answered.
"They are young, yes, but that means that they are more likely to escape," Thaddeus said and Paris guessed that he was the head slaver. Thaddeus carried a length of rope over to were Paris, Vashti and Melitta stood and roughly pulled Melitta's hand from Paris', binding her hands in front of her. Paris left loose of Vashti's hand before it could be ripped from his grip and made no sound or movement as Thaddeus bound his hands in front of him. Paris could see that Melitta's eyes were full of tears and he silently willed her to be strong. "Now go and sit over there with the others and don't make any fuss," Thaddeus ordered them and gave Vashti a rough shove in the direction of some other slaves sitting close together on the ground. Vashti almost fell from the shove since she didn't have the use of her arms to balance herself, but she caught herself just in time. It was all Paris could do not to say anything or glare at Thaddeus and instead he made his way over to were the other slaves were sitting, dropping to the ground gracefully. Vashti and Melitta stuck close by him. Even though their hands were bound, Paris still managed to hold both of their hands, so that all three of them had their hands in his lap. "Are you ok?" he whispered to them quietly, so as not to be heard. A few of the other slaves were talking, but Paris didn't want to push his look. Vashti and Melitta both just nodded and soon they were leaning on him and he told them to sleep while they could.
Paris took this time to look around at the other slaves. None of them were wearing clothes traditionally made in Troy, so he guessed that none of them were fellow Trojans. He couldn't help but wonder whether any of his fellow Trojans had survived the war with the Greeks that he had started.
Please, please, please review!