Page 2 of Odette's Vow

No one asked why I was wearing shoes.

Not sandals, either; buskins my husband had gifted me, that weaved their way halfway up my calves to protect my legs from dirt and bristles. I had told him if he expected me to work on the farm, then I needed proper attire. I had worn them in the fields all six years of our marriage.

Then, once I’d heard the Greeks had begun raiding villages and towns not far from our own, I had worn them to bed every night.

Our Trojan soldiers had met the Greeks when they’d arrived, of course, but there were no natural defences on a beach. It didn’t take a seasoned general, like Hector, to figure that out. You only had to look at the land to realise a force mighty enough could push Troy’s army back behind the citadel – exactly as the Greeks had.

I discovered that for myself when I surveyed the land, hours after we had started walking from our village. The sun was beginning its descent, a heavy summer’s dusk settling in the sky and signalling a cloyingly warm night, despite the breeze blowing off the ocean. The Greeks had occupied the land around the beach, which was grassy but still plagued by sand. Tents were pitched haphazardly, as if the soldiers had anticipated a swift victory and thus a swift departure.

As we trudged through the camp, the men began to gather in front of their tents. Some followed us, some jeered, some grabbed their cocks and waved them at us, as if we had never seen them before. We were farm girls and women, did they really think we did not know the realities of life? Most of these women had not actually waited to lose their maidenhoods in marriage, but practised in the hay bales and empty fields with boys desperate to know what lay between a woman’s legs, what it felt like to hold heavy breasts in their palms.

The jeers continued until we reached what I assumed was the centre of camp. A rug woven with rich reds and golds was spread across the grass and sand. At each corner stood a column and ropes stretched up to support the tent overhead. Fire torches were planted at each point, and in the middle of the rug was a throne on which sat a large, red-faced man. If the soldier who stood to the right of him was a boar, this man was a pig.

“I am King Agamemnon,” he declared.

As if that meant anything to us.

The women didn’t say anything, didn’t bow their heads or curtsy, and I could have sworn this turned the man redder. We heard murmurs from the crowd of Greek soldiers that had now gathered around us, and then the king gestured to one of the soldiers by his side.

“A good haul, men of Greece! I shall take this fair, shapely female at the front as mine, along with the gold pieces youfound. Bring them to my tent. For the others who won their loot today, come forward and claim your prizes.”

A bronzed blonde soldier stepped forward first. Hard narrowed eyes roamed the collection of us and then lithe, muscular arms gleaming with sweat grabbed the second-prettiest.

“Very well, Achilles.”

The women realised what was happening and started to panic, their heads turning this way and that. It must have looked like chickens in a coop because the men started laughing again. I grabbed the hand of the woman closest to me and stroked it in reassurance.

The boar’s eyes zeroed in.

The woman whose hand I held did the same to the woman beside her, and that woman beside her, and so on. Eventually, all the women calmed.

Agamemnon chuckled. “You next, Odysseus. You led the raid, after all.”

No man stepped forward, so I did not know who the king was talking to until the boar man lifted his chin. He didn’t even bother to survey the other women as he looked me dead in the eye.

“I want her.”

“Very well,” the king said again.

The boar,Odysseusas he was called, did not step forward to claim me. Instead, he continued to look me in the eye, as if he knew I could understand him. But, the gods would be damned before I took a step. We eyed each other, both unblinking, until he finally stepped towards me. His calloused fingers on my upper arm gripped tight enough to bruise as he yanked me forward to stand beside him; to watch as the rest of the women were distributed like platters of meat.

Once the business of the day had been decided, the fire torches doused with water and dunked in the sand for good measure, the crowd of men dispersed with their new spear-wives and bed-slaves. Any names or titles we’d held had died with our husbands and fathers. One by one, the women left with their new masters until I was left standing on the dais alone. With him.

“Come,” he grunted.

When I refused, his eyes hardened. That was the only warning I got before he seized my wrist and dragged me along beside him.

The boar’stent was lavish compared to the others in the camp. I hadn’t seen inside them, but this was larger than the other tents around it, with a rug and plenty of cushions and blankets on the pallets. Another pallet doubled as a serving table. I had never imagined such wealth could exist in a war camp. More riches were here than had filled my modest home. I doubt they had brought this all over themselves, which confirmed the rumours – in my mind – that they’d already raided other villages, too. There would be other women here.

The tent, however, was empty except for the two of us. The minute we got inside, he released his vice-like grip on my wrist.

“Take a seat,” he grunted.

Instead, I surveyed the space and then turned to face him.

He chuckled. “I know perfectly well you can understand Greek.”

I shot him a piercing glare, but he turned his back to do something as he continued talking. I took the opportunity to scan the tent some more. The only weapons I saw were thesword still attached to his hip and the spear he had just placed on the wall beside him. There was no way I could get it in time. Even if I could, where would I go? There were a thousand Greeks out there waiting to chase me.

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