A/N Trigger Warning: there is implied SA in this chapter
Briseis placed a crown of rosemary atop her head to keep her flowing veil in place. She'd stuck dried cloves in her braid because, like rosemary, cloves were supposed to keep miasmas away. And, even if these precautions weren't enough to protect her from the plague, she had her dependable bouquet of lavender which had kept her safe so far.
"They've arrived," Achilles called to Briseis from the entrance to the tent.
Briseis finished adjusting her crown and veil and rose from the dressing table. "I'll be there in a moment," she replied.
Achilles had invited some of the other Greek kings and their consorts to dine with them that evening.
Hagne nuzzled Briseis' skirts.
"Sorry, little one." Briseis bent down to pet the lamb's fleecy head. "You can't join us. Unless you'd like to be roasted on a spit and served for dinner."
Hagne licked Briseis' hand and looked up at her with big, pleading, dark eyes.
"Alright! Alright!"
The lamb tottered after Briseis on her unsteady little legs.
Achilles and his most important guests sat around a table underneath the tent's awning. They rose when Briseis and Hagne joined them.
Next to Achilles at the head of the table were Ulysses and Patroclus. Ajax and Techmessa had also been invited to sit at the top table. So had Menelaus, and Pisistratus and Iphis. Pisistratus' father, Nestor, sat the closest to Briseis' place at the foot of the table.
Nestor took in Briseis' crown of rosemary, her lavender bouquet, and the little lamb at her side. "How charming you look, My Lady," the old man said. He kissed Briseis' hand. "Like a shepherdess in a ballad."
The Greeks were fond of pastoral poetry, where nymph-like shepherdesses wove garlands of flowers which they wore as they frolicked with handsome shepherds. Briseis had borrowed a book of this type of poem from Ulysses to try to keep herself occupied when she was mad with restlessness during a rainstorm. Unfortunately, reading it had the opposite effect on her than she'd hoped, but that hadn't been the poor book's fault.
Briseis greeted Nestor with a slight bow of her head. "No need for My Lady, sir. Tonight, I'm just a simple shepherdess."
She'd carefully chosen her garments, a green homespun dress and a plain veil of unbleached linen, and her only ornaments were the rosemary crown and lavender bouquet. It wouldn't do to appear in silks and jewels while people suffered. A queen must set an example for her countrywomen, as Aunt Hecuba always said.
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The Pearl of Troy
FantasyWar has raged outside the walls of Troy for the past seven years. Safe inside the royal palace, Briseis, a spirited young Trojan princess, sits back as her famous cousins, Hector and Paris, fight against the Greeks, who encroach upon Troy's borders...