The Story of Briseis

Chapter One

Being held by him put my mind and soul at ease. I had never loved anyone the way I loved him. I had never lost anyone the way I lost him either. But that is not where my story begins.

My girlhood was filled with hard work under the sun. I was the daughter of a commoner, that is until the Greeks came to Troy. I don't think the memories of the Greeks tearing my village apart will ever quite leave my mind. The horrors seem to be tattooed onto the backsides of my eyelids; I see them every time my eyes shut. My father warned us; he taught my siblings and I a couple words in Greek; the one's he thought would be most useful when the time came. I entered the camp knowing how to say mercy, yes, please, and what do you want? I left the camp a decade later with the whole Greek lexicon forced onto my tongue and into my brain.

We had heard of the raids in nearby villages, and we knew it was coming to us any day, but I was still surprised when I saw him. Achilles. I saw the way he slaughtered my village. My family and friends were all lost that day. No one survived his lethal gaze. He moved in a way no human was capable of. I watched in both terror and curiosity as the Greeks killed my family and burned everything we owned. There's no point in running, I remember thinking. They will surely kill you next. But they did not. I later learned it was Agamemnon who spotted me; he wanted women he could quench his sexual desires with, and I learned that I must have been the first he saw that would do. I remember seeing him pointing at me and shouting commands I could not understand. A hand collided with my cheek and I fell. I must've been knocked out of consciousness, because the next thing I knew my hands were bound and I was lying on a horse walking towards the sea. I heard men talking in excited tones, probably about the suffering they had inflicted. I could not understand why they would take such glee in killing, raping, and burning unarmed civilian farmers. We posed them no threat. It was a tactful idea, I must admit, to starve the city before attacking. I was never known to be stupid; but I just couldn't understand how such cruelty justified any cause.

I stayed very still while I was tied up on that horse. I didn't want the man steering to know that I was awake. It seemed like a lifetime before we finally reached our intended destination. Someone grabbed me and pulled me from the horse, slamming me onto the ground. I wasn't able to use my hands to ease my fall, and so my dress tore and the flesh of my leg parted on rock. The man who threw me aggressively grabbed one of my arms and forced me to my feet.

As I was dragged through the camp, I noticed that I was the only woman there. The panic started to really set in then. My mind started to put the puzzle together: they didn't kill me out in the field, so that must mean they wanted something from me. I prayed. Gods, please do not let them harm me any more than they already have. I have already watched everyone I love die today, please do not let them do this to me. I beg you to let me die before they can lay a hand on me. The gods heard me that night.

The man that had been roughly holding my arm and dragging me through the camp stopped in front of the dais. The man pushed me face first onto the dais. I scrambled to my feet, and began to take notice of my surroundings. There were other things amidst this dais; treasure I assume, from the weeks of raids these criminals had been filling their days with. Within moments, men were gathered in front of me with pleased looks on their faces. I knew then what I was to them: not a woman, but an object in the shape of a woman for them to use however they pleased. I felt my stomach drop.

Agamemnon stepped onto the dais with me then. I felt the impending doom of his presence, and I began praying to each god that I thought might hear out my prayers. Before Agamemnon could speak, I heard the voice of a man in the crowd. The voice sounded too confident for a simple soldier; this must have been someone of a higher rank. I looked up to see who was speaking. It was the same man I saw slaughtering my village with elegant ease. Achilles. Aristos Achaion. Best of Greeks. Agamemnon replied to whatever Achilles had said, and I sensed that I was to belong to Achilles now. I took a deep breath and swallowed, trying to steady myself and the different thoughts buzzing around in my head. Maybe I should try to escape, if this is the man I am to serve, even if it results in my execution. Achilles said something directly to me then, and I assumed he meant for me to follow him. I sent one last prayer to the gods before I stepped off the dais and followed him and a less god-like man away from the crowd of whistling and cheering men.