Page 7 of Odette's Vow

“It is the only way kings can convince men to go to war,” he said as he moved past me and I remained standing near thedoorway, loath to be here but even more loath to leave. “That and glory. Next time, you would be wise to stay where I tell you.”

I went to thank him for what he’d done with Thersites. It was a force of habit, of manners that had long been drilled into me as I’d been raised a good woman, a good wife. Then I realised the absurdity of such a thing – to thank my captor for sparing me from degradation. He hadn’t done it for me. He had done it because to take and debase another’s property was to question a man’s social status.

The boar had no more rescued me than he had asserted his position. That was all.

He wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t a kind man. He was a feared general in the great Grecian Army. And I would do well to remember that.

3

Οdysseus

She reminded me a little of my Penelope, with that proud, strong nose and those sharp eyes that said she was noting everything, just waiting for a chance to use that information to her advantage. Just like Penelope. But, her lips were bigger – both plumper and wider on her face. My wife had more of an oval-shaped face, compared to the sweetheart shape of the slave’s in front of me. She didn’t have hair as dark as Penelope’s, nor skin as white and creamy. A splattering of freckles across her cheekbones made it clear the men in her life had put her to work in the fields. Her arms were slim but muscular and tanned. From what I saw when she lifted her chiton, her calves were, too.

I appreciated a woman who could do hard labour. I thought it would make her more useful, but that wasn’t the only reason I chose her.

It was entirely possible that she was spying for the Trojans. Why else would she have been wearing buskins on her feet when we raided her village at the fourth hour before dawn? If it were to run, she would have done so. But, no – she’d been gathered with the rest of the wailing women. We hadn’t had to chase any of them down. Had she known we were coming? If so, how?

Then, there had been that neat trick of hers at the dais, calming all the women with that show of solidarity before they were picked off one by one. The fact that she, a farmer’s girl from the provinces, could speak Greek fluently enough to understand what was going on was suspicious in itself. Why did she need to know the language of scholars and great men? One thing I was certain of: she was no fool.

Hector could have trained her in the art of speech himself, for her to report back to him, and placed her in plain sight for us to capture and retain. Most of the men in the Grecian camp wouldn’t think a woman capable of it – spying – but I’d been married to clever Penelope long enough to know it could be true. It was a smart move, a clever move, one I would have considered myself.

When I returned to the tent earlier, I half expected to find her poking her nose into things, looking for plans or something to use as leverage. Instead, she’d been evenly breathing on the pallet, her back turned to me, sleeping. As I’d suggested she should. But then, she’d gone for that little walkabout in the camp.

It was a good thing I’d waited, followed, and watched as I found her with Thersites, truth be told. Anyone smarter and quicker would have already had her, unaware what a double-edged prize she might be. She would have been ruined; I’d have had to discard her, as keeping her would have raised questions.

Besides, Thersites, with all his moaning about the state of our leadership during the war, had become a bothersome talisman of the grumbling that stirred beneath the surfaces of the men. I’d already beaten him once with a gold staff for voicing his poisonous thoughts about the war and how we were handling it. It was a pleasure to taste his fear on my tongue again, while he shrunk into the shadows like the coward he was. Those whoagreed to something and then claimed themselves the victims were the most repugnant in character.

With that, my thoughts turned back to this strange creature in front of me. She’d been watching me, a slight tilt to her head that reminded me of a feline. I could see her breathing return to normal, by the rise and fall of her slim chest. I had felt her heartbeat in her hand when she had taken mine earlier, the adrenaline flooding through her small frame. She’d stopped shaking now. I was impressed by her ability to control it so well.

Another cry pierced the air, and another round of jeers and laughter followed, like thunder chasing lightning. She didn’t flinch this time, but I saw the disgust slither behind her eyes as her gaze held mine. She was probably expecting the same treatment from me, judging me by my actions rather than my words, despite what I told her earlier this evening.

Like I said – clever.

But, my heart and whole being rested with a woman back on the isle of Ithaca. How I longed to be in those soft arms of Penelope’s and that softer bed, ruminating on the day, asking for her thoughts and opinions on how I led our people.

So, as pretty as my new spear-wife was, I had no desire to bed her. I wouldn’t be led by my cock.

There was nothing for it but to turn in and go to bed myself. If I left the tent again, who knew what she would do. Perhaps she would stay. By the look in her eyes, I suspected she worried that I’d come back with other men, or another woman, and trade her in. Although she couldn’t know that thanks to Agamemnon’s appetites, spear-wives and bed-slaves were becoming currency.

It was a foolish king who decided to play his war games in the camp we all called home.

The only way she would relax, and which would allow me to relax after this long, arduous day, was to sleep. Our Lady Dawnalways had a way of making the terrors of the night seem less fearful come morning.

“You looklike a Trojan piece of shit.”

Diomedes, a king in his own right, made the remark as he slapped me between the shoulders. I turned to survey him as we headed back to camp after another day of killing Trojans on the battlefield. What tedious drudgery.

My body ached from the constant movement; of finding steady footing on sand, soil and mud, stepping over bodies, twisting my torso to aim, lunge, thrust, and avoid blow after blow. My arms were heavy, even though my shield and spear were in the chariot being driven by one of my captains. I could have rode in it, but something about walking at a slower pace with the men back to camp seemed good for morale, and got my mind back into a calm place after being constantly on the lookout for the next threat, the next Trojan.

“If you weren’t just beside me killing those bastards, I would have thought your bed-slave had kept you up all night,” Diomedes boomed loud enough for all the men around us to hear. Several of our subordinate soldiers, those who hadn’t done anything to earn any war prizes of their own yet, sniggered.

I enjoyed fighting beside Diomedes on the field. His courage, strength, and skill had seen several Trojans sent down to the Underworld. We could have passed for brothers, I’d been told. But Diomedes’ dark curls were shorn close to his head, while mine kissed my nape. Where my beard dusted a shadow across my jawline every day, his only grew beneath his chin, as if his hair was strapped to him like the helmet he now held under his arm. We were of similar build, both broad-shouldered, but hewas a few years younger than me – and it was at times like this, when he said something childish and vulgar to gain traction with the crowd around him, that I remembered it. On the battlefield, he was the perfect general. Off it – well, he was still a young king.

“Unlike you, my friend, I happen to let her sleep.”

“Sleep? A strange concept for a spear-wife, surely?” he jabbed again.

I knew what he was angling for. He wanted to meet her. He wanted to see why I had chosen her, when I had either refused slaves in past prize collections in favour of gold or precious goods or handed them off to one of my captains in thanks instead. It would be a dangerous play. I didn’t want to tell him what I suspected until I had confirmation, which meant he might let something slip in her presence in the meantime. Then again, it could be a good way to confirm my suspicions if anything did come of Diomedes’ yammering.

---