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Chapter 5: Prizes

A soldier, a great bear of a man with wild, shaggy hair and a short, unkept beard, fully clad in Greek armor with a sword at his side, stepped out right in front of them, smiling at his find. "Sir!" he called, surprising both girls with his fast reflexes as his large, meaty hands caught one of each of their arms. He pushed them roughly along in front of him to the man he'd called to.

This man was obviously higher in rank and well respected, but, Adara noted, was much shorter than any of the others. He looked from Briseis, to Adara, to the soldier, appearing more thoughtful than impressed. "And these are?"

The soldier laughed aloud, and though it was a only a chuckle, the entire room echoed; Adara felt the vibrations in her own body. "Two stragglers, my prizes on this expedition."

This time, the shorter man let out a short, humorless bark of laughter. "Come now, Arcos, you don't really think you'll be able to keep them, do you? All prizes go to Agamemnon first, especially the first ones found." Adara stiffened at the name. The short soldier in front of her tilted his head in interest at her reaction, but the other did not notice.

"Surely the king will be willing to make an exception," he said in a way that did not express his happiness with said king.

The other soldier returned to cleaning his sword, what he'd been doing before Arcos had interrupted him. "Just like he did last time, I'm sure. And while you're convincing him of that, perhaps you can ask if we may all sail home tomorrow." Adara could tell by the tone that this man was none too fond of Agamemnon either. He finished cleaning his sword and sheathed it. "You have two options," he started, his voice tired. "You give them to Agamemnon now, or you keep them, wait for Agamemnon to find out, and deal with the same consequences you suffered the last time." He waited, unamused, for an answer. Finally the brute of a soldier let out an angry sigh, defeated.

As Arcos led Briseis and Adara, his fingers gripping their arms tightly enough to cause bruising, Adara took note of her surroundings. The Greeks had been on land for less than two hours, but they had already managed to set up a huge camp with fire pits and full tents.

At the moment, Adara could only notice that they were getting closer to one giant tent, easily the biggest of them all. Walking through the camp, she felt the eyes of the soldiers on her as they passed. After making direct eye contact with one whose hungry expression resembled that of Arcos' when he'd found them and made her stomach turn, she kept her eyes on the back of the shorter soldier in the lead. He entered the tent when they arrived, but Briseis and Adara waited outside with Arcos until they were allowed entrance.

"And what do we have here?" A cocky, arrogant voice asked, and Adara immediately knew that it belonged to Agamemnon. She chanced a glance up at him, and blinked a few times. She wasn't entirely sure of what she'd been expecting, but this rather large figure who was seeming to have trouble rising from his seat was not it. Perhaps it was simply because she had imagined him to be more like King Priam, with a frail body and white hair, or like Hector, who had just finished fighting. When he was on his feet, Adara could survey him better. His form did not hint at any excellent combat abilities, but his face looked like it could be fearsome when he was angry.

"You," he said, pointing to Briseis. "Come." She refused to move, but after a moment of no response, Arcos pushed her forward roughly. The king seemed to notice the soldier for the first time at that point. His face took on an expression of annoyance. "You may leave now," he said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. With a cold glare that went unnoticed by Agamemnon, Arcos left the tent. The second soldier took his place, holding onto Adara. His grip was much more relaxed, yet still forceful, but Adara noticed that he did not hold her arm where Arcos had, and she wondered if it was on purpose.

"What is your name?" Agamemnon asked Briseis, whose head blocked Adara's view of his face. When he received no answer, he asked again."Come now, what is your name?" He repeated the question a third time, all fake kindness gone. Still, Briseis remained silent. He bellowed loudly, "Answer me!"

When she didn't, his hand flew up. Instinctively, Briseis flinched and turned away from him. Agamemnon lowered his hand and smiled in satisfaction. "They are a pain to break, are they not?" he asked a soldier to his left. The man automatically nodded in agreement, though Agamemnon obviously did not care about his opinion. "But she's far too difficult after a long day like this. Give her to Achilles." Then, he added, "For now. Perhaps we shall see each other again, when I know your name." He watched in amusement as a look of fear flashed in her eyes. After a single hand wave, the soldier he'd spoken to took Briseis away.

"And who is this?" he asked, turning his attention to Adara. She was surprised by the man behind her when he led her forward instead of roughly pushing her, like Arcos had done to Briseis.

In front of the king now, Adara wished she could go back to not seeing his face. His eyes roamed every inch of her, and it took all her willpower not to break down into tears. He smiled as he looked at her like she was a piece of meat, making her blood run cold. The thought of that look on Hector's or Paris's face sickened her, and she couldn't even begin to fathom Priam doing it. But then a thought seemed to occur to him, and his smile faded a little.

"She's so young," he thought aloud. "How old are you?" She kept her mouth shut and stared straight ahead of her. "Seventeen, eighteen at the oldest," he concluded on his own, though his annoyance at her silence was obvious. "And your name is?" he asked in a tone that expressed his knowledge that she would not answer. Just like the Briseis, she would try his patience. "What is the worst that would happen if you told me your name?" His voice was malicious, and it sounded to Adara more like he was asking her to find out what that worst thing could be if she didn't say anything. She resolved to chance it rather than give him the pleasure of winning a battle.

She could see in his eyes that she aggravated him. "Greek woman are taught respect," he growled, his eyes narrow. "Maybe Trojan woman need a lesson as well." He brought his hand up again, but unlike Briseis, Adara didn't flinch. This actually seemed to calm the king a little. "Brave, aren't we?" This girl, though younger, was tougher than the other. He admired that.

But Adara saw he was looking at her hungrily again, as if reconsidering her. She immediately decided she would much rather have him glaring and yelling at her. Before he could say anything else, he saw her mouth move and felt something wet hit him in the face, right next to his eye. Adara didn't let her pleasure show.

"Insolent brat!" he snarled as he wiped the spit from his face. This time, there was no warning, no stopping, and no marveling at her steadiness; the hand that went up wasted no time in coming down, hard, leaving a red mark on her cheek and a ghostly silence in the tent.

Unsatisfied that he could not break this one, Agamemnon put on a show of keeping his dignity and returned to sit on his throne. "She is much too young," he said as if he didn't care anyway. He would get other prizes. "Too...inexperienced." He turned his attention to the soldier behind her. "She could go back to Arcos. What are your thoughts, Odysseus?"

A spark of remembrance flickered in the back of her mind at the name, but she knew nothing of the man. "Patroclus is the youngest of the troops," he offered. Agamemnon stared at him blankly. "He's Achilles's cousin."

"Ah, yes," Agamemnon said, though he obviously still had no idea, and no care to learn, who Patroclus was. But he dwelled on the idea for a moment. Finally, he concluded that, should he desire her, taking her from Achilles's cousin would be much more satisfactory that taking her back from Arcos. "Very well. Give her to..."

"Patroclus," Odysseus supplied.

Agamemnon nodded. "Yes, him."

Odysseus lightly took hold of her arm, away from the bruises Arcos had left, and led her from the tent. They walked to what looked like another campsite, and stopped outside a regular sized tent.

Adara thought she would be led, or even pushed into it, but instead, Odysseus turned her around to face him. He put his hand on her face, turning her head to look at the handprint left by Agamemnon.

"The line between brave and foolish is very thin," he said quietly. His thumb ran across her cheek, and though she stiffened, she soon realized she was in no danger when he showed her the blood. She brought her own hand up to touch her cheek, and felt a long, thin scratch somewhere in the middle of the warm area. She found herself disgusted; Agamemnon's nails must have been as long as hers.

Odysseus spoke again, regaining her attention. "Agamemnon is not to be trifled with. He angers easily and has no remorse. And I know you have no reason to trust me, but you will be treated well here. Better than you would have been with Arcos." He moved to open the tent flap.

Then, as if on cue, Arcos came forward. "Patroclus?" he said, obviously annoyed. "Achilles, fine, but Patroclus? He's the youngest of us all! He's a mere child!"

"Agamemnon's orders," Odysseus said simply as he and Adara entered the tent. Arcos mumbled another complaint under his breath as he shouldered past Odysseus and into the tent, taking hold of Adara. Odysseus raised an eyebrow at the man's insolence as he pushed her down so she fell hard, scraping her leg. He roughly tied her hands behind the pole in the center with a strong rope. He was still muttering to himself as he left.

Odysseus shook his head in annoyance. He moved to where Adara was sitting, rather uncomfortably, and pulled the rope a little, stretching it out to loosen it. At least it wasn't cutting into her skin anymore. She was starting to believe what Odysseus had said - anyone would be better than Arcos.

Odysseus stood and went to exit. With the flap open, he turned to her. "And your friend should be treated well also." He did not wait for any kind of reply.

Adara suddenly felt like half the weight on her shoulders had lifted. Her instincts told her that she didn't need to be wary of this Greek, so before he left, she said, "Thank you." She met his gaze directly when he turned back in surprise. He recovered gracefully with a smile and a nod before leaving.

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