They moved further down the river that day. The Trojans walked slowly, adjusting to painful feet and aching legs. They paused often, throwing glances back at the land they had known and loved, and were now leaving.
Briseis walked as if in a trance. She did not speak, and only stopped when the others stopped. She did not seem to feel her bleeding feet or was ever aware of any exhaustion as the others were.
She wasn't totally with them, Helen thought, watching her as they walked, some part of her was far away, in a distant land where the pain and suffering of the presents did not seem to matter.
It was true, for Briseis was not aware of her surroundings, except to follow those in front of her and stop when they stopped. In her heart, she was reliving every moment she had spent with Achilles.
From the time she had first seen him: staring in curiosity at the scared but defiant priestess tied to a post in his tent, to the last time she had seen him: a pained and yet strangely peaceful expression on his face as he leaned close to her and kissed her. What had he said? What was it Achilles had said to her as they parted? Oh yes, that was it: "You gave me peace in a lifetime of war."
Remembering the words, and the final touch of his hands on her skin, his lips on hers, she felt a tear run down her face. She stopped walking and stood with bowed head. Tear after tear came until she was sobbing, and she crumpled and fell to the ground, weeping as if her heart would break.
For the first time since she had been dragged from her lover's dying body, Briseis wept. She wept for what she had had, for what she had lost, and for what she would never had and yet wanted so badly.
Helen saw Briseis stop in front of her, and a minute later she fell down, crying desperately. Without thinking, Helen went to Briseis' shoulder and put one gentle, comforting hand on it.
Briseis looked up, vaguely aware of the compassionate face above her, but no recognition registered in her eyes.
"It will be alright," Helen said, helping Briseis to her feet.
Briseis shook her head. "It will never be alright," she whispered, before turning away abruptly and striding off angrily.
Helen sighed and Paris put his arm around her shoulder. Helen automatically leant her head back on his chest, and sighed deeply.
"You tried, my love," Paris told her softly.
"Not enough. She needs more," Helen said sadly
That night they had set up a camp beside the river in a small thicket of trees. Briseis wandered away from the others, walking along the river. In her heart she wanted to forget everything she had ever known about Achilles. Before he had come, she had been happy. She had loved the gods, and never worried about men. But now she was haunted by him, and she saw him everywhere.
And yet, to forget him, to have never met him and never known the combined pleasure and pain he had brought to her life: she could not give that up. For though every memory hurt with an almost physical pain, it was of such pleasure and happiness.
Every moment they had been together had been like that, Briseis thought as she wandered aimlessly along the bank, collecting different herbs and cuttings of plants. Even when she was at her happiest, lying in his arms, she still felt that hollowness of everything they would never have. Why could it not have been simple? Why had he had to die protecting her?
She would never escape him, she thought. He would haunt her every step in the child that he had cursed her with. She would never be free when his son or daughter was on the earth, taunting her with his presence.
Briseis stood, as if in a daze, staring numbly at the herbs in her hand. She could vaguely hear the sounds of the other Trojans around the fire, but she stood, separated from them by a vast sea of darkness.
She could hear the water rushing along somewhere near, and she wondered whether it would just be easier to jump into the river, and let the icy water wash over her. Then…nothing, no pain, no fear. But again she looked at the herbs. It would be so easy to free herself of him. To return to what she had been like before she had ever met him. All it would take would be to swallow a few plant cuttings.
Helen walked quietly to where Briseis stood on the riverbank. She had plucked up the courage to talk to the quietly grieving woman, and didn't want anyone else interrupting their conversation.
She paused as she saw Briseis looking down at something in her hand. Then she lifted it up and Helen could see it was some herbs. Briseis began to lift them to her mouth, and Helen was filled with horror.
"Briseis! NO!"