On the list of things Briseis missed about home, the extensive bathing complex in the palace harem stood close to the top. The epitome of luxury and comfort with its vast halls of blush-colored marble and wide pools, lined with blue and white tiles. The steam in the hamam smelt of roses and jasmine. The water was always the right temperature in the bathing pools, neither too hot nor too cold.
And most important of all, men weren't allowed anywhere near you.
The men-at-arms always found excuses to pass by the bathing tent whenever Briseis and the other royal consorts were there. Some of the bolder of them would peek through the tent flaps to get a glimpse of what their betters enjoyed, though Agamemnon had declared it a flogging offense.
Techmessa shrieked when two young longbow-men spied them huddled around a bucket of steaming coals. "My Lord Ajax will flay the skin off your backs." She stood up and threw a lump of hot coal at the two voyeurs. They fled but not before getting an eyeful of Techmessa's shapely, nude form.
"May Apollo strike them blind," said Cressida. She wrapped her arms around her bare chest.
Briseis rolled her eyes. What man would want to see Cressida, who was all freckled skin and gangly bones, naked?
To get warmer, Briseis moved closer to the bucket of coals. The biggest problem with the bathing tent: drafts always managed to get through no matter how hard they tried to keep them out. It was all you could do not to catch a chill, even when the water in the tub was scalding hot rather than ice cold.

"Sit still, child!" Hecamede swatted Briseis' shoulder. She picked up a fine-point brush she'd been using to paint designs in henna on Briseis' hands and continued where she left off.
When Hecamede was done, Briseis admired her work. The tips of her fingers were stained. Vine-like designs of swirls and dots spread out across the backs of her hands and climbed up to her knuckles.

Briseis then looked down at her feet, where Iphis was drawing similar patterns. How long had it been since she last had her hands and feet adorned with henna tattoos? The ones she wore when she was captured had long since faded.
Techmessa spread out a blanket on the ground. "Lay back," she said.
Briseis laid down on the blanket. Hecamede poked Briseis in the belly with a henna brush, making Briseis cringe.
"What are you doing?" Briseis said.
"What did I tell you about staying still?" Hecamede painted a stripe of henna across Briseis' stomach.
When Iphis finished with Briseis' feet, she came and added to the design Hecamede was working on. The henna paint soothed Briseis' nicked and inflamed skin. The modest patch of hair between her legs had been removed using a foul-smelling paste that was then scraped off using a mussel shell. This process hadn't been pleasant for Briseis, who'd only ever shaved the hair on her legs and armpits. A kind of bizarre initiation ritual into womanhood.
Vines and flowers formed a tree whose branches reached beyond Briseis' navel, and roots stretched across her thighs.
"What is this?" Briseis asked.
Techmessa giggled above her. "It's for fertility."
"Thessaly will be needing an heir," Iphis added. She had a silly grin on her face and nudged Techmessa.
Briseis flushed. Helen had explained the process by which women had children when Briseis first flowered two years ago. Would Achilles expect that of her tonight?
Memories of Achilles' hands and lips on her skin were in the back of Briseis' mind like a guilty secret.
Techmessa nudged Iphis back. "Who knows, maybe an heir is already on his way?" They both looked down at Briseis' belly.
"Tell us, Briseis." Iphis snorted with laughter. "Could there be an heir on his way?"
Briseis turned her gaze away from them. Would this be more or less embarrassing if she actually were Achilles' lover and could be carrying his child?
"Let her be," Cressida said. She had been washing her hair over a bucket with lye and hot water.
Techmessa winked. "Try the powder from a dried hare's womb and drink it with wine for a boy. That's how my little Eurysaces came to be."
Such a vile-sounding concoction made Briseis want to gag. She would never drink something so disgusting, even if she did want to give Achilles a son.
Iphis and Techmessa laughed. Cressida rolled her eyes. "Please," she said. "She's already nervous enough."
Briseis took a deep breath. Damn Cressida. Why did she have to bring up that Briseis would officially be Achilles' betrothed in a few hours?
"And make sure you eat plenty of porridge and spinach," Techmessa said.
Hecamede frowned. "Both of you, that's enough."
Briseis looked down at her hennaed stomach. A betrothal was as good as a marriage in Greece and Troy, and a wedding was technically only a formality. So, Achilles had the right to consummate the marriage once the betrothal ceremony was finished. Would he try to take advantage of that right?
Achilles' rough, warm hands on Briseis' legs and his sweet, chapped lips on her mouth were frightening but not repulsive.
Once the tattoos on Briseis' hands, feet, and belly dried, Hecamede helped her sit up. "Come, child," she said. "It's time to dress you."

A gown made from cloth of gold had been laid out on the bed. The metallic fabric weighed Briseis down like a knight's chainmail. She could have drowned in all the silk woven with strands of gold when she first tried the gown on before it was altered to fit her. The queen, princess, or noblewoman it had been made for must have been built like an amazon.

Next to the gown was a mantle of blue and white brocade, which might have once been a high priest's chasuble. Whichever god that priest had served, Briseis prayed that they would forgive her for wearing something stolen from them.

Briseis' betrothal robes were pulled from the hoard of treasure that Achilles had plundered from cities and kingdoms that fell to the Greeks. How fitting it was, dressing up a trophy in some of his other prizes.
"Chin up, girl," Hecamede said. "Let's see those lovely eyes of yours." She reached over with a cosmetic brush to line Briseis' eyes with kohl.
Iphis held up a mirror. "You'd make Helen herself envious. Achilles won't be able to take his eyes off you."
"Thank you." Briseis looked like a doll. Heavily-adorned and beautiful but blank and passive.
Techmessa offered Briseis a glass of the potent, syrupy wine made from the grapes that grew on the slopes of Mount Ida. "You'll need this," she said.
Briseis took small sips. The wine gave her the strength she needed to bear a day like this, but it wouldn't do to get tipsy.
Cressida went to meet a page boy at the entrance to the tent. The page boy bowed and presented a small wooden box.
"A present for Princess Briseis," he said. "From Prince Achilles."
"Bring it over, please," Briseis said.
The page boy knelt at Briseis' feet and opened the box. Inside was a golden circlet with flowers made from pearls and sapphires. It gleamed and sparkled on top of a velvet cushion.

Briseis sighed with delight. "It's beautiful. Send my thanks to Prince Achilles."
Iphis held up the mirror, and Hecamede placed the circlet on Briseis' head. With a band of gold and jewels across her brow, Briseis looked like a princess again.
The page boy rose to leave. Briseis lifted a hand to stop him.
"Wait," she said. "Has the Trojan delegation departed yet?"
"About an hour ago, Milady."
"And who is a part of it?"
Some of Briseis' relatives must undoubtedly be among the Trojan delegation. Her cousin, Hector, perhaps? Maybe even her uncle, Priam? Briseis would have even been happy to see Paris.
"Your brother," the page boy said. "Prince Aeneas is leading it."
Briseis turned and stared at the page boy. Aeneas? He would be there today?
In all the weeks she'd been away, Briseis alternated between missing her brother and cursing him for being the one to get her into this mess in the first place. When they met again, would Briseis embrace Aeneas or throttle him?
Hecamede tutted. "What strange days these days are, when little boys play politics."
Aeneas was only seventeen, and Achilles probably wasn't much older. Too much responsibility rested on their young shoulders. Small wonder they were both such pig-headed asses.
Iphis took Briseis' hand. "Prince Aeneas," she said. "Is he as handsome as your cousin, Paris?"
Cressida rolled her eyes. "I doubt she thinks of her brother and her cousin as handsome."
"If my memory serves me right," Techmessa said. "You once had a thing for Trojan princes, Cressida."
Cressida glared at Techmessa. Her cheeks turned a vivid scarlet.
Briseis giggled. You could have had a Trojan prince, Cressida, if you weren't such a pious prude.
A horn announced that they must leave for the summit. Briseis took a deep breath. She was as ready as she'd ever been.
"Come see for yourself." Briseis took Iphis' hand. "My brother awaits."

A large pavilion stood a league away from the camp in a meadow in neither Greek territory nor Trojan. The golden suns of Troy and white hounds of Thessaly both fluttered atop its spires.

Briseis closed the curtain of her litter. The mules slowed their pace before coming to a stop and making Briseis' stomach go thud.
"We're here, Madam," one of the knights in her escort said. He offered a hand to help her down from the litter.
The ground heaved like the deck of a ship. The sky was a blur of blue and white. What little food Briseis had managed to eat that morning threatened to come back up again.
Achilles dismounted his horse and came over to her.
"Here's your lord to steady you," another knight said.
Briseis took Achilles' arm. His solid form made her surroundings heave and blur less.
"Are you unwell?" Achilles said.
"I never liked traveling in litters." Briseis leaned against his shoulder. "It always makes me sick."
Achilles smirked. "You prefer to travel on foot by yourself."
"Not anymore." The first and last time Briseis traveled on foot by herself, she got into this mess.
Trumpets announced the approach of the Trojan delegation. Briseis' heart pounded. This was it.
Patroclus dismounted his horse. "Which one is Prince Aeneas?" He said. A groom took the horse's reins.
"The one in the front," Briseis replied. "Wearing red."
Aeneas looked grown-up and handsome in his scarlet velvet and silver brocade robes. He carried himself with dignity and a sense of purpose well beyond his seventeen years.

Aeneas proceeded toward Achilles and bowed to him. Achilles embraced and kissed Aeneas.
"Well-met, my brother," Achilles said. "My Lady, your sister, has told me a great deal about you."
Briseis curtsied. "My Lord," she said. Let's see if you can win back the name of brother.
Aeneas swept Briseis into his arms. He still smelt of salt, vinegar, and olive oil from polishing Hector's armor. "I'm sorry," he whispered. His big, earnest eyes showed that he meant every word of this apology.
Briseis took Aeneas' arm and allowed him to lead her into the pavilion. Achilles' threw an arm around Patroclus' shoulder, and they followed them.
The pavilion's interior had been set up for a banquet with a large top table on a raised dais. Banners depicting blue rampant stallions and green centaurs firing bows hung on the walls. Symbols of Troy and symbols of Thessaly.

Aeneas was seated at Briseis' left. "How is everyone back in Troy?" She asked him.
"Paris and Troilus have both vowed to get revenge on Achilles." Aeneas took a sip from his goblet of wine. "Paris says he's going to fill Achilles with so many arrowheads that his corpse will be more steel than flesh."
"Hush. They'll hear you."
Every Greek there must be watching them out of the corner of their eye. Or had an ear pricked up to catch what they were saying.
Aeneas took another sip of wine. "And Hector's doing nothing to check them."
Briseis sighed. Hector was the only one who could knock sense into his impulsive and reckless brothers and keep them in line. If he wasn't stopping them, who knew what trouble they'd cause.
"How are Priam and Hecuba?" she said, "And Helen?" Priam and Hecuba were fine with selling her off to the Greeks. Helen probably hadn't even noticed Briseis was gone.
Aeneas flagged down a waiter to refill his goblet. "Priam has been busy arranging marriage alliances: yours to Achilles and mine to a Lydian princess. His grey hairs have now all turned to white. Hecuba goes to the Temple of Venus everyday and prays to be forgiven for not taking better care of you. She almost tore out all her hair when you went missing. Helen's either weeping because she misses you or is giddy about how romantic it is that you're going to marry Achilles. To her, it's a romance to rival her and Paris."
Briseis bit her lip. The reckless stunt she'd pulled had disrupted her entire family. Paris and Troilus were running wild, Priam was exhausted, Hecuba was torn up by remorse, and Helen was delusional. May the gods forgive her for being so foolish.
"Do you know why I came here?" Aeneas said.
Briseis smirked. "Because our uncle sent you here to punish you?" She was still deciding if she should forgive him or not for abandoning her.
Before Aeneas could answer, Achilles tapped his knife against his goblet to get everyone's attention. Aeneas took this as a sign to gesture for a servant to bring forward a box.
"Please accept this gift." Aeneas said these rehearsed words through gritted teeth. "On behalf of Troy."
The servant opened the box and revealed a heavy golden chain set with emeralds, sapphires, and pearls. Achilles smiled and picked up the chain to inspect it. Such a lavish piece of jewelry elicited gasps of amazement.
"This is exquisite," Achilles said. "Your generosity astonishes me, my brother. Especially since Troy's already given me their most precious treasure." He gestured to Briseis, who couldn't help but smile.

Achilles removed the necklace he'd been wearing and put on the new one. It suited the blue-green robes he wore perfectly. "I regret that this is all I have to give in return."
Two servants brought forward a massive pie crust and removed its lid. Out flew a dozen brightly-colored songbirds, greeted with a round of applause.
The songbirds flying out of the pie crust were among the few things about the betrothal ceremony Briseis paid attention to. All she was expected to do was sit there and try her hardest not to yawn as the men discussed which side would get what. Achilles would receive the gold originally intended for Briseis' ransom as her dowry while the Greeks would release all the Trojans they held prisoner.
Menelaus made a joke about a pretty girl being worth any number of men's lives, which was in poor taste coming from him of all people. Cressida, who'd bothered to put on something nice for a change, gave Briseis a sympathetic look, as if to say: this is all horse-shit, isn't it. Aeneas tried not to roll his eyes or laugh whenever the Greeks spoke of "goodwill" and "friendship."
Once the contract was signed, Achilles placed a heart-shaped garnet ring on Briseis' right hand and kissed her cheek. The faint stubble on his upper lip from when he'd shaved tickled her skin.

Both Greeks and Trojans applauded. The only one who did not was Aeneas.
"Try to smile," Briseis whispered to him after she'd sat down. "You're not getting a brother, you're getting rid of a sister."
Aeneas raised an eyebrow. "And that sister is getting all the pretty baubles she could wish for."
Briseis fingered the centaur pendant Achilles gave her when they first met. She must look like a reliquary with her golden dress and the jewels on her head, neck, and hands. Pretty robes and jewelry were probably just signs of her Greek ownership to Aeneas.
Achilles leaned over toward Briseis. "Are you hungry, my lady?"
Briseis' stomach rumbled. Her lack of appetite from earlier in the day had long gone.
"I could eat a horse," she said. "No, I could eat the whole Trojan cavalry."
"Princess Briseis is famished. Bring in the feast."
Achilles gestured to his servants. Dish after dish was carried out on silver and gold platters. So many mouth-watering delicacies passed before Briseis' eyes that she couldn't decide where to start.
A servant brought a dish of roasted pheasant in a wine, mushroom sauce served on a bed of saffron rice to the top table. Achilles nodded, and the servant piled pheasant and rice onto Achilles' plate.

Then, Achilles nodded to the right, and the servant brought the dish over to Aeneas.
Briseis smiled. Most of the other guests had to be satisfied with stewed chicken or pease pottage with bacon. Aeneas being served the same food as Achilles was a great honor.
But, apparently, Aeneas didn't see it this way. "No thank you," Aeneas said. He sent the servant away.
"What are you doing?" Briseis whispered to him. He was going to ruin everything Priam was trying to do.
Achilles raised an eyebrow. "Is the dish not to your liking, my brother?"
"Violating my sister doesn't make you my brother."
The entire room went silent. Even Agamemnon, who Briseis expected to laugh or make some snide remark, said nothing.
Patroclus put a hand on the shoulder of a dumbfounded Achilles. Achilles swatted away his friend's hand and stood up.
"And what are you implying by that?" He said.
Aeneas also stood up. "Exactly what I said! And you Greeks say that we Trojans can't be trusted with women."
"Are you accusing me of behaving un-chivalrously?" Achilles seethed like a pot boiling over a fire. "Are you questioning my honor?"
Aeneas scoffed and turned to Patroclus. "He's slow to catch on, isn't he?"
Briseis gasped, then turned her face away, then balled her hands into fists. Should she be shocked, embarrassed, or angry about her brother's behavior?
How could Aeneas do this? Did he think provoking Achilles would bring credit to Troy?
Agamemnon's laughter shook the tent posts. "Will you suffer him to speak to you like that?" he said to Achilles.
Achilles drew his sword. "Draw," he said. "Let's see if your weapon is as valiant as your tongue."
Aeneas' eyes widened. He considered for a moment, then reached for his scabbard.
Briseis' fingernails dug into her palms until they almost drew blood. Aeneas was a good swordsman. She'd watched him spar with Troilus and the other squires many times. But, Achilles had been undefeated since childhood, according to what Briseis had heard from Patroclus and Ulysses. So anyone could predict how this duel would end. But, as rash and infuriating as Aeneas was, Briseis didn't want to watch him die at the hands of her future husband.
She could no longer remain silent. Venus, mistress of the silver tongue, please grant me some of your powers of persuasion.
All eyes fell on Briseis when she left her seat, stepped down from the dais, and knelt in front of Achilles. Hecuba and Andromache often adopted this pose to beseech their lords to show mercy. If pleas for compassion worked on Priam and Hector, would they be successful with Achilles?
Achilles' initial fury appeared to have cooled, perhaps, after the magnitude of what he might do, slaughter his brother-in-law had registered. He looked from Aeneas to Briseis and back again.
Aeneas drew his sword. "Get out of the way," he said to Briseis.
But Briseis didn't move. Neither Achilles nor Aeneas wished to harm her. So, if she stayed in their way, it might keep them from fighting.
"My Sweet Lord," Briseis said to Achilles, who blinked at her. "I beg of you, please, put away your sword. And you too, Dear Brother."  She turned her head toward Aeneas. His mouth gaped like a fish.
Briseis caressed Achilles' hands where they clasped his sword. She did her best to imitate the smile Helen gave Paris when she wanted him to tarry in their bed chamber just a little longer. "My Sweet Lord.  You are young in years but old when it comes to judgment. But unfortunately, Prince Aeneas doesn't possess this quality. He hasn't yet mastered self-control."
Achilles' grip tightened on his sword hilt. "But Prince Aeneas spoke out of turn," he said. "He deliberately provoked me!"
"Boyish taunts that only a child would heed."
"Enough of this, Briseis," Aeneas said. The tip of his sword was close enough to brush against the back of her neck. 
Briseis turned away from Achilles and Aeneas and toward the assembled Greek and Trojan nobles looking on with bated breath. She undid the fastenings of her gown and smock and bared her breast. "If anyone's blood will be shed today, let it be mine." 
Her neck and chest were exposed and vulnerable. She pushed aside her necklaces, the jeweled centaur pendant from Achilles, and the misshapen pearl she wore on a ribbon, making it easier to slit her throat or stab her in the heart. Please let this do the trick.
"I would rather die than be the cause of any more strife." But, of course, if Achilles and Aeneas wanted to kill each other, it would somehow be her fault.
"Very well, My Lady," Achilles said. He put his blade back into its scabbard.
Aeneas also sheathed his sword. "Cover yourself up," he said to Briseis.
Briseis re-fastened her gown and smock. Was the battle over, or was this just a temporary respite? Pleading for mercy wouldn't work a second time.
Nestor leaned in toward Ulysses. The two men were seated to the far right of the top table, but Briseis could hear them as well as if they were right next to her.
"We all should have made a pact that weapons weren't allowed today," Nestor said.
Ulysses grunted. "What use? Those boys would have gone at each other even if they just had carving knives."
The servants brought forward more dishes of food to the top table. Briseis was served the roasted pheasant and saffron rice which had started this mess. It tasted even better than it smelt. The meat fell from the bone when Briseis picked it up, and the sweet, earthy flavor of the wine and mushroom sauce made her mouth sing. Such a dish was worth all the trouble.
"This is divine," she said to Aeneas, who had to make do with stewed chicken. "You're missing out."
Aeneas simply scoffed and continued eating.
Achilles leaned in close to whisper into Briseis's ear. "Can I come to see you tonight?" he said.
The hairs on the back of Briseis's neck prickled. All the teasing she'd received from Iphis and Techmessa about providing an heir for Thessaly flooded back. "If you wish," she said. "They're your quarters." She was sleeping in his bed. If he wanted to join her there, what right had she to refuse him?
The seemingly endless parade of food continued when a servant presented Briseis with rose-flavored pudding and pears poached in red wine.

"I'll take both," she said. The servant dished the pudding and pears onto her plate.
Aeneas grabbed Briseis' hand. Briseis turned to look him in the eyes. "I never told you why I came here?" Aeneas said. He scanned the room to make sure no one was watching or listening in on them, then lowered his voice. "I came to rescue you."
"Are you mad?" Briseis withdrew her hand from him. The Trojans offering her to Achilles as a bride might not end the war, but stealing her away directly afterward would undoubtedly make everything worse. Aeneas had some nerve to suggest such a thing after the stunt he pulled earlier.
"I asked our uncle to send me. It's my fault you were captured and it's my responsibilty to bring you back."
Briseis took a deep breath. She wouldn't draw attention to herself by looking angry or upset by Aeneas' foolishness. "And how do you plan on rescueing me?"
"There's a spring not far from the Greek camp." Aeneas paused to chew and swallow a piece of chicken. "Meet me there tonight after everyone goes to sleep, and by tomorrow morning, you'll no longer have to be a sacrificial lamb for those beasts."
I am a sacrificial lamb who had to bare her neck and breast to the sword because of your stupid actions. "And what next?" Even if Briseis managed to leave the camp without being caught and rendezvous with Aeneas, the chances were slim that they wouldn't be apprehended before the walls of Troy were even in their view.
"Everything goes back to normal."
Briseis sighed. If only that were true.
Aeneas put a hand on Briseis' shoulder. "So what do you say?"
"I'm sorry." Briseis lowered her eyes so she wouldn't have to see her brother's accusatory stare. "You do your duty by fighting Achilles, and I'll do mine by marrying him." You'd only drown if you tried swimming against the current of a raging river. All you can do is follow its course and hope to find safety.
Aside from the cursory farewells they exchanged before departing that evening, this was the last time Briseis spoke with Aeneas that day.