Chapter 7:Defenseless

'He left me and now, I am truly alone.'

Alone. Without defense, without protection. She had never been alone before. There had always been someone watching over her. She had always felt safe knowing that Paris or Hector or any one of her cousins would've been at her side in a second.

'Think of it as a test,' Briseis instructed herself silently. 'A test from Apollo.'

Agamemnon was examining her closely, his greedy eyes lingering on her chest.

"So tell me, girl," he drawled lazily. "Why is Achilles so...devoted to you?"

He pushed back her hair to reveal the ivory white skin of her neck. His oily fingers played on her collarbone, pulling at the edges of her robes.

"Or rather why does he want you so much?" Agamemnon asked, his eyes glinting. "Don't fool yourself into thinking that he actually cares for you."

She spoke.

"I am no one's fool," she said clearly. "And I hate that murderer."

Agamemnon froze for a moment, drinking in her words. And then, he burst out laughing or rather snorting like a buffalo.

"I wish that Achilles could've heard that!" he bellowed, clapping his hands.

"So what shall I do with you?" Agamemnon questioned in a patronizing tone.

He spoke as if he had every bit of control over her.

"Never touch me again," she replied, forcing that seething hatred she felt toward him.

Agamemnon frowned and then crossed his arms, as if seriously considering the idea. Then, he said,

"No deal."

He pushed her toward the guards and told them to take Achilles' insolent whore into his bedroom. She was to wait for him there until Agamemnon came back from battle.

So she was pushed into Agamemnon's room where there already lay two other waiting women on the bed. Refusing to sit on the dirty bed, Briseis kneeled on the ground, which was covered with soft furs. The snowy rugs were comforting at least and she lied down on them, bitter tears trickling over her cheeks. She was sure that after tonight, she would no longer be pure enough for herself or her god.

'I refuse to sit here and let it happen!' she cried to herself.

The two women on the bed leaned over to inspect her, narrowing their eyes as if they had just spotted a rival.

"Are you Achilles'?" one asked, her eyes glittering.

"I belong to no one!" Briseis fired back. "And I never will!"

The women chuckled to each other, laughing at the naïve girl.

"Oh, but you're lucky or you were anyway," the other woman continued. "If I had the most handsome man in Greece as my master, I would be screaming in joy."

'Wanta trade masters?' Briseis thought.

Hours later, the flaps of the tent finally flew open and Agamemnon stormed through, his face a forbidding mask of fury. His wild eyes darted from the whores to Briseis and finally, he hissed,

"You girl, come with me!"

She ignored him and then felt his hands yank her hair, dragging her out of the tent.

"Let go!" she yelled.

The fire tore through her head and hot tears stung her eyes. It hurt, how it hurt! That tugging felt like it was going to rip her head open and she would explode into a thousand pieces. Her limp body was pulled through the dirt, receiving pain too, but not feeling it.

Agamemnon had stopped and he let go her hair. She collapsed to the ground, toppled. One sleeve of her robe had been ripped off and she could see a painting of crimson streaks on creamy canvas.

Dazed, she could hear men nearing her, their mocking laughter ringing in her ears. They were gripping her, touching her, violating her. She gave a cry of rage and she had no idea of how much she sounded like Achilles then. Her arm flew up and smacked against the cheek of a man. How satisfying that felt!

More men were coming, surrounding her. She was the prey and they were the predators, closing in.

'"Die with honor," Hector had always said.' She remembered and suddenly, strength flowed back into her body, renewed by those words, those faint words.

She flung herself at a man, beating her fists on his face and crying and sobbing. 'If only those ladies at court could see me now,' she thought amused. 'And they would not recognize fine princess Briseis at all.'

Arms pulled her off. Hands ripped at her bodice. And then, her eyes focused on one thing and one thing only: a glowing orange-red firebrand heading for her.

"No!" she whispered fiercely. She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the streaming tears.

So this was how it would end. 'I fought back though, Hector,' she thought. 'I fought back.'

And then came the cry of hope and of doom: "ACHILLES!"