The Nymph

ILION Part 2

I gasp and still, the breath of his whisper taking me by surprise. I claw at his arm and he slowly relaxes his hand away from my mouth and grips my wrist instead.

A rustling draws my attention in time to see a group of hunters step into the clearing. I shrink away from their lusty expressions, the leather breastplate of my captor pressing more firmly against my back.

"If this was the prey you were after, Captain," one laughs darkly, "you would have had better luck in the city."

"Are you blind?" the man next to him blurts, gesturing at me. "He'd never have found a wood nymph like that in Ilion."

"Well if she's a nymph," the first retorts, "then how did Androkles catch her?"

The ensuing argument gives my captor a chance to adjust his grip on me, turning me away from their view and pinning me possessively against his side. I fight against his hold, desperate to be free, but my struggle only causes him to tighten his clutch.

"Whatever she is, she's a fighter!" One laughs, proving my grunts of frustration futile except in drawing their attention. "We'd be happy to take her back to the ship for you, Captain."

"Enough!" Androkles barks impatiently, making me jump and immediately silencing his crew. "The army is returning - it's time I made an appearance before Agamemnon notices my absence," he explains. "I pray the gods will spare us for not partaking in the destruction of the city."

"Looks like Aphrodite has already rewarded you," one of the men interrupts, making the rest snicker in agreement.

"Get back to the Plain and set-up camp," Androkles orders sharply, ignoring the remark. His men obey, filing around us on either side, and I duck away from their glances as they pass.

Androkles grips both my shoulders and spins me to face him. I squirm and tremble in his grip as the crunching footsteps of his men fade away.

Suddenly Androkles grabs a handful of hair at the back of my neck, gently tipping my head back as a gasp escapes my lips. I fearfully lift my lashes from his breastplate, to his collarbone, to the cleft in his bearded chin, before finally meeting his scrutinizing gaze.

The moment my eyes find his, they swell with intensity. I stare pleadingly into those brown eyes, begging him to release me.

His hold softens and he slowly lowers one hand, caressing the hair in his fingers until the ends of the strands slip free. His other hand slides down my arm to my wrist and the pad of his thumb strokes my skin, then he abruptly turns, pulling me with him.

My hopes vanish and I follow, dejected and helpless, as he leads me back in the direction from which I just fled. His hold isn't painful like the soldier's from the city, but is equally inescapable.

We reach the edge of the Plain and Androkles makes his way to where the Kings are gathered. I've feared these men for as long as I can remember, and being steps away from them has me trembling and faint.

"Androkles, you only found one woman to your liking?" the leader I recognize as Agamemnon laughs darkly, the sound making me nauseated. Androkles tugs me behind him, and I cower away from the king's view. "Don't worry, I have my own prize," the king says, gesturing to a woman bound behind him, fighting fiercely against the hold of the men on either side of her. "Yours isn't enough to tempt me."

His sickening assurance only tightens the knot of fear in my chest.

Androkles and Agamemnon begin discussing which sacrifices must be performed before departing for Mycenae, and their plans for the journey across the Sea. There seems to be some debate over the voyage, something to do with appeasing Athena's anger.