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chapter 6.....

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Chapter 6 Briseis was brought to the lower deck of Agamemnon's tremendous ship, into a very dark and dusty room. The guards threw her hardly on the wooden floor and left the room, locking the door, while they were talking about the mighty warriors those days.

Briseis moaned a bit, and sat up slowly, regaining her consciousness. She looked around. She was in a small, undersized storage room for wine and other kinds of drinks. There were bottles of them which came in large timber boxes. Briseis looked at the wine and drinks. Well, at least I have got something to drink when I am thirsty...

Briseis explored the room intimately in the dark. The room was very stuffy, that made her feel hot and airless. She paid distinct attention to everything and details in the small room. There were no windows on the lower deck, and the door was locked. There was no way of escaping.

She sat down gradually, knowing that there was nothing she could do to save herself then. She was imprisoned in the enemies' camp. She closed her eyes, exhausted by the events happened in the day. She had been captured, had watched the death of the priests of Apollo, and had met the handsome and generous Achilles, who was the history's greatest warrior.

She was different now. So different then before, when she was a royalty, living in the palace of Thebe. She was now a captive instead of a royalty; she had experienced the death of the priests; and she knew what was deceitfulness and scheming.

Oh mighty Apollo, why are you doing this to me?

She wondered if Chryseis was worrying about her. They were cousins, but in Briseis' heart, Chryseis and her was more than cousins. They were sisters. Chryseis could be missing Briseis, but yet she could do nothing to help Briseis to escape from the imprisonment.

'When the Gods are not helping you, you must help yourself...' Hector's words flashed through her mind again. Would Hector save her? The probability was less than likely. Hector could never find his way in the enemies' camp, with all the guards and soldiers all around...

Regret suddenly took over her when she thought of what happened just now. She should have let Achilles to kill the men, and take her back to his tent safely. And to Achilles' anger, he might also kill Agamemnon too... That would be a great advantage for her country! And Hector's safety would not be threatened. Andromache would not need to worry about Astyanax loosing a father so young... Maybe Achilles would save her. He had been willing to fight for her... But when Briseis replayed the memory over and over in her thoughts again, she knew Achilles would not come and save her. He had tried to fight for her because he was just a conceited, proud and arrogant warrior that could not allow himself to be defeated, and he just wanted her back because she was his war prize.

But seeing other men die for her was not what Briseis wanted to see. The priests had always taught her to be merciful. Every man had his right to live, even if they had sinned.

Confusion and uncertainty took over Briseis, and she felt a lone tear slid down her fair cheeks at a snail's pace. She wanted to wipe it away, but her energy was drained, she was so tired that she didn't want to move at all...... she let drowsiness took over her and drifted into a deep sleep.

When Briseis awoke and opened her eyes again, she saw streaks of sunlight streaming through the gaps between wooden planks in the lower deck of the ship. Briseis was sure it was in the morning, as sunlight would not be streaming into the dark room if the sun was not located in the east.

It was remarkably quiet outside, so quiet that she was sure all the Greeks were not in the camp. But suddenly there was a voice that Briseis could recognize without a doubt—Achilles', 'Come on. I won't want to miss the defeat of Agamemnon who has the pea-sized brain.'

Briseis peeked through the thin gap of the planks, and caught a glimpse of Achilles' golden hair, already far away from her location. Briseis sat down again and started to think at once. So, Achilles was not fighting, was it because of her, being held by Agamemnon? Definitely. She knew that Achilles was a self-righteous person.

Briseis' stomach rumbled so loudly that she was surprised by the volume of sound that could be produced by her stomach. She was starving.

She wondered if Agamemnon would give her food, or just leave her there, to die in the small and dark room for storage. But he had said he would make use of her....wisely. That meant that she was still useful to him at the moment, and she would be fed.

But Briseis' presumption was proven wrong when she had not given food for the whole day.

So she sat there, growing weaker and weaker every moment, until the door opened and the same guards grabbed her by the arms again and ushered her out of the room.

Briseis was weak, so she wasted no energy. She didn't struggle, but relaxed herself in their firm and tight grips, letting them dragged her to see the High King again.

But the guards did not take her to Agamemnon. Instead, they threw her out of the ship into a crowd of Greek soldiers.

Briseis groaned in pain, getting up from the soft sand and glanced around. Judging by the grim expression written all over their faces, Briseis knew that Achilles had enjoyed himself very much that day, when he had watched the war between Troy and Greece, and seeing Agamemnon's defeat.

The Greeks were looking at her hungrily. One of them jolted towards her, and said with a drunken voice, 'beautiful Trojan damsel...'

Briseis backed away, not wanting the brazen Greek to touch her, but was only grabbed by another lascivious man. Briseis screamed and was thrown to another Greek. They were groping her and touching her unmercifully. Briseis had tried to escape from the strong grips and grabs, but it only resulted in being thrown to the sand harshly and receiving more pitiless comments and insults from the ruthless Greek warriors.

Oh mighty Apollo, please, have mercy on me and save me from the agony I am suffering from...

But Briseis knew that to pray now was no use. Apollo was not going to help her. She had to help herself. This was a difficulty Apollo wanted her to overcome by herself. As long she had her last breath, she would fight for her dignity and pride. She would not just lay there on the sand, and wait for them to rape her...

At once, Briseis felt more courageous. She lay on the sand for a moment, very still, trying to regain her composure. When one of the Greeks reached for her, she raised her hand which she had a hard time gathering all the energy from her whole body, and struck his face hard, leaving a stinging red mark on his cheek.

The Greek growled with red rage immediately, and threw Briseis to two of his fellow mates, in which they held her so tight that she could not move a muscle. The enraged Greek turned to the blazing fire, reached out and grabbed an iron brand. The brand was burning, and glowed with a red light.

Briseis shook away her chestnut brown hair that was sticking to her face by the blood and dirt she gained when she was being thrown around by the Greeks. She looked at the brand, and shuddered inwardly. She could never imagine such pain would be brought to her by the mistake of Paris. If Paris had never brought the Spartan Queen to Troy after the peace treaty with Sparta, she would never have suffered.

'Should be taught a lesson, you wench,' the Greek said, holding the burning brand nearer.

Briseis shut her eyes and clenched her jaw, awaiting the excoriating pain to come. 'Afraid now, eh?' said the Greek complacently. He held the brand closer 'Should learn to behave yourself, Trojan whore.'

Briseis bit her lip, not to let the tears of fear and shame to wash her soiled cheeks. She felt so weak and vulnerable, if the two other Greeks were not holding her, she would have fallen to the soft sand which she had once enjoyed her childhood together with her brother-like cousins, Hector, Paris and Chryseis long ago, when there were no worries and the sun shone brightly.

Suddenly the force from the grips of the soldiers disappeared, and Briseis fell to the ground limply. She hit the ground stiffly, and made the shocking discovery that the sand that ought to be soft had made her right arm hurt and bruised so much.

She wondered what had happened... Had the soldier branded the two other Greeks which are holding her by mistake? Or had someone like Hector had come to her rescue? She tried to turn her head to see what was happening, but she was too feeble to do so. When she could merely heard the screaming of Achilles' name from the filthy mouths of the soldiers, she felt she was safe again. She closed her eyes, and rested on the sand quietly, waiting for the god-like Achilles' strong and muscular arms to scoop her up gently and carry her away to somewhere safe.

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Hey! Do you like the chapter? I've had a difficult time writing this chapter!!! X(

Thanks for the reviews! :3 And I promise I'll update soon if you review...... ;)

But the next chapter will be very difficult to write...... oh mighty Apollo, please help me......