Warrior’s Prize

Reflected

glintings flashed to heaven, as the plain

in all directions shone with glare of bronze

and shook with trampling feet of men.

Iliad, Homer, Book XIX

(Fitzgerald’s translation)

I jerked awake, heart hammering in raw terror. Where was I? Then I remembered—I had dozed off in this dark cave, half-reclined against a slab of rock. I sat up, my stiff back aching. How many hours had passed since Mynes left me here? As the day waned, I’d grown hungrier and thirstier—and more afraid. Now anxiety devoured me. I groped to the cave’s jagged opening and saw a dim orange sky fading to purple. Clumps of trees stood black against the twilight. The landscape seemed empty of people. There were no human sounds—no sounds at all but the whoosh of wind. Or were those faint shouts from afar that I discerned between gusts? I held my breath—heard only my own heartbeat. My ears must be playing tricks on me.

Oh, Mynes, my husband, why haven’t you come back? I wondered in silent despair. Where are you? What has happened? Futile questions jumped around in my mind. Why had he left me for so long without news?

This morning we had set off walking up the flank of Mount Ida. He was on his way to the mountaintop to meet with the Trojan princes, who’d driven their flocks there to graze on the new spring grass. I asked to accompany him, but in his serious way he said, “Only part way, Briseis. Then you must go back. This is not for women. It’s a council of war.” He added, “Though it makes me uneasy when their princes venture so far away from their citadel. It’s not safe.”

My skin grew cold. Once, the Achaeans had been friendly traders from across the sea, who shared a common tongue with us, but nine or ten years ago they had turned to marauding. They had built a vast encampment on the Trojan shore that was, we heard, the size of a city. From there they plundered the countryside and waged war against Troy. Mount Ida and the foothills separated our city from Troy, but suddenly that distance did not seem great at all.

I said, “Mynes, I wish you would not go.”

“I must. As commander I need to learn all I can from the Trojans.”

Walking up the grassy slope with him, I remembered when I had romped about these hills with my brothers, a wild, carefree girl whom my father had tried to beat into submission. When he died in a drunken fall, my youngest brother, Laodokos, and I came under the care of our oldest brother and his wife, who treated us as slaves. One day I chanced to meet Prince Mynes in the marketplace when I was but sixteen and had dropped a too-heavy sack of grain. He was a childless widower in his forties, a quiet, austere man whose chief care was the governing of our city. He hefted the sack for me and carried it to our house. I never forgot his kindness.

I was away from the house one day when my sweet Laodokos dropped a full wine jug. Our oldest brother beat him without mercy. I returned to find my young brother weeping with blackened eyes and a bloody mouth. I decided we’d had enough—we would leave. When our sister-in-law tried to stop us, I was astounded by my anger. I pushed her hard enough to knock her to the floor, and felt gratified at her shock and fear. I was eighteen then, and Laodokos only thirteen. I took him with me to Mynes’s home, and on our knees as suppliants, we offered the prince our servitude in exchange for our keep. He took us in and cared for us.

After we’d lived with him for some months, he said, “You shall not be my servants any longer. You shall be my wife, Briseis, and Laodokos as a son to me.”

I was awed by Mynes’s generosity, even as I wondered if I was too wild, stormy, and fierce for his quiet reserve. I feared he had gotten the poor end of the bargain. I esteemed him and cared for him, but although I tried to love him, I fell short.

Now, trudging up the mountain, I had a chance to redeem myself. I was almost certain I was with child. This news would bring him great joy.

I took his hand. He turned to me, and I felt surprise and pleasure sparking through his flesh. “Mynes,” I said, “I am— I’m going to—” Then the words stuck in my throat. Was it too soon? Mynes’s first wife had miscarried unformed babies several times, and the last one had killed her. I’d lain awake last night worrying if this was the right moment to tell him. My mother had said a woman should wait until she was completely sure, since many pregnancies resulted in early failure. I wished I could ask her more. If only she had lived past my eighth year! With a child of my own growing in me, I missed her sorely.

I couldn’t bear the thought of breaking Mynes’s heart. Yet the possibility of a living child was the best gift I could give him. “Mynes—” I began again.

But he stopped. Cut me off with a gesture. Stood absolutely still, straining to listen. “Hush! Do you hear that?” I held my breath and then the sound came to my ears: faraway shouts from the general direction of our town, or perhaps some distance beyond it.

I didn’t want him distracted. I wanted to tell him about the baby. “Surely it’s nothing, Mynes—maybe just some men having an argument.”

But the shouts grew louder, still distant but more menacing, and now there were ominous metallic clangs that could only come from weapons.

His face went pale and grim. “The Achaeans! They’re attacking! They’re close—maybe already in Lyrnessos!” He reached helplessly for his sword, which he had not worn today.

“How can you be sure?” I protested, but I knew he was right.

“I must go back at once!”

My heart convulsed with fear. “Mynes, no!”

He only led me toward one of the caves that dotted the hillside and thrust me into its opening. “You must hide in here until I come back or send someone for you,” he said.

I threw my arms around his waist. He held me a moment, and in the intensity of his grip I felt his love for me warring with his determination to defend our people.

He loosened my hold. “Briseis, we knew this day might come, and you know I must lead our men. I’ve trained them well. The Achaeans won’t be expecting seasoned warriors. We’ll soon drive them away.” He bent to kiss my lips. “I want you safe. Promise me!”

“Aye, Mynes, I promise,” I whispered, and he left me, running down the hill to our town. I wanted to go after him, but my knees were trembling so badly I could take no more than a few steps. Besides, I’d given him my word. As he vanished from sight, I crept numbly into the cave.

Now hours had passed; the whole day was gone. I sat near the cave mouth, parched, weak with hunger, not knowing what was happening in Lyrnessos, or if it had already happened. My helplessness nearly drove me mad.

I felt torn. I wanted, more than anything, to look for Mynes, but I’d promised to wait. A deep dread twisted my gut. I thought of all the times he sat silent at our hearth, preoccupied. He carried the weight of our people on his weary, slumped shoulders. I remembered lying in his bed at night, my body unresponsive to his caresses even as, in his every touch, I felt his desire for me. He was far past his youth, his face lined, his hair thinning. Like a silly girl, I dreamed of a godlike figure in his stead, a tall, strong man who could inflame my heart. Now I cursed my shallowness.

Oh, Mynes, come back to me!

But darkness fell, and he did not return. No one came. I feared I might be the last person left alive. I made myself close my eyes, but tears seeped out. At last, I somehow slept.

I awoke to a clamor—shouts and metallic clangs, much louder than yesterday. Chills ran over my skin. I crawled to the cave entrance to peer out into the gray morning light. Oh, gods! The menacing sounds came from just over the hill where Lyrnessos lay. I was desperate to know what those sounds meant. Down the slope was a knoll that overlooked our town. I could go there to see, and if there was danger, I could run back here.

I took off running toward the knoll.

After no more than a hundred paces I stopped with a cry. A man in armor sat slumped against a tree, his helmet off, spear and shield at his side. There was blood all over his leg from a long, deep wound on his thigh. “Help me!” he called out.

Fear tightened my throat. “Who are you? Where are you from?”

“I’m Akamas from Dardania.” Dardania was an ally of Troy, so he wasn’t an enemy. I took a step closer. He was young, not much above my age, with curly black hair and a beard. His skin was ashen, his face a grimace of pain.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Achaeans,” he gasped out. “They ambushed us at the top of Mount Ida, where we’d taken the flocks.” He was breathing hard. “They stole all our livestock—captured two of the Trojan princes. But my commander, Prince Aeneas, escaped. I’ve got to find him.” He gestured urgently at his leg. “Can you bind it for me?”

“Which way did he go?”

He pointed down the hill. “That way. The Achaeans were on his heels.”

Toward Lyrnessos! His commander had led the enemy to our city. I must go—I must see— But if I didn’t staunch this man’s bleeding, he would die. Forcing down panic, I knelt to examine his wound. As a child I’d learned some healing from my mother. I pressed my hand over the place where the blood was gushing. He grimaced, and I felt his pain shiver along my skin. I untied my sash and bound it tightly over the wound. “Keep pressing there,” I told him. “And try to rest. You’ve lost a lot of blood. When the bleeding stops, you must clean it. Then keep it bound tightly.”

He sat up with a grunt. “My thanks! What is your name, fair lady?”

“Briseis, wife of Prince Mynes of Lyrnessos.” Distant cries, clashes of weapons came to my ears. My urgent fear returned. I stood. The need to run burned in me. Mynes, my brothers, everyone I knew was in the town. “I must see what’s happening.”

“Stay away from Lyrnessos! Yesterday the Achaeans raided several nearby towns. Today they’re fighting to take your city.” He spoke roughly and grabbed my skirts. “Listen! It’s a huge raid, led by their greatest warrior Achilleus. Your Mynes is no match for him. Even Aeneas fled.” He added, “Your city is already lost.”

It couldn’t be. I pulled free from his grasp. “I must go…to the hillock to see…”

He said more, but I was already running and didn’t hear.

“I’ll send you help if I can,” I shouted over my shoulder as I ran.

Zeus, father of gods and men, protect our city! And Mynes and Laodokos. I froze at the thought of my youngest brother. I called his name silently. Then I reminded myself that every day he tended Mynes’s sheep up the hills. Surely, so far from the town, he’d be safe.

I ran down the slope toward the knoll and saw people swarming up the hill as they fled the town, old folk, women with children. I reached the lookout point and felt a scream of shock rise in my throat. Outside the gates of our town was a sea of crested helmets and flashing spears, warriors too numerous to count. My stomach sickened. I searched for Mynes amid the horde but couldn’t find him.

Yesterday he’d kissed me and tried to keep me safe. Now he was down there. Please gods, don’t let him die! I heard thuds, clangs, shouts, faint in the distance. The Achaeans were pressing toward the open gate, unstoppable as surging storm waves. Our men were trying to close the gate, but the invaders pushed forward relentlessly. Men vanished under their trampling feet. Cries rent the air. Even from afar, each scream pierced me.

Your city is already lost, Akamas had said. A huge weight crushed my heart. Then I saw Mynes. I recognized his stocky body and the black crest on his helmet as he broke through to the front of the battle. Fear and hope tore me apart. He would turn back the tide. He must.

A cheer arose as his men parted for him. His shouts rallied the faltering men, who surged forth with new courage, pushing the enemy back. Mynes advanced, driving his spear left and right, soon making a notable dent in the Achaean ranks. I was standing on my toes, screaming, “Onward, Mynes! Smite them!”

A sudden blaze of light caught my eye. The sun shone on a tall warrior approaching the city gate in bronze and silver armor with a golden horsehair crest springing from his helmet. He seemed to gather the light to himself. Never had I seen a man so tall or strong. A god? Goosebumps skittered up my arms. He wielded his spear with an ease and grace that belied the deadliness of his actions. I couldn’t take my eyes from the clean lines of his body, the sweeping movements of his spear arm. If only he were on our side, defending us, giving us hope! But he was clearly one of the enemy, and I felt disgusted that I had admired him even for a moment.

This was the Achaean leader that Akamas had spoken of, their greatest warrior. As he cut a swath through the melee, men fell back to give him room, shouting a name that could be heard up to the heavens: Achilleus! Achilleus!

My heart clenched with terror. His spear flashed as he made straight for Mynes.