‘What other fate is there for a captive woman?’

Grinning – which did make him look more like other men because grinning thins the lips out – he let my hair go. I put my hand to my head, wondering if he had torn my scalp, then I walked ahead of him. His hand shot out, fingers fastening about my bruised wrist in a hold I had no hope of breaking.

‘Dignity notwithstanding, my girl, I am no fool. You’ll not escape from me through sheer carelessness.’

‘As your leader let Aineas escape on the hill?’ I gibed.

His face didn’t change. ‘Exactly,’ he said impassively.

He led me through rooms I hardly recognised, their walls spattered with blood, their furnishings already heaped for the plunder wagons. As we entered the Great Hall his feet spurned a pile of corpses, tossed one on top of the other without respect for their years or standing. I stopped, seeking anything in that anonymous collection which might let me identify my father. My captor halfheartedly tried to pull me away, but I resisted.

‘My father might be here! Let me see!’ I begged.

‘Which one is he?’ he asked indifferently.

‘If I knew that, I wouldn’t have to ask to look!’

Though he wouldn’t help me, he let me tug him wherever I willed as I plucked at garments or shoes. At last I saw my father’s foot, unmistakable in its garnet-studded sandal – like most of the old men he had kept his armour, not his fighting boots. But I couldn’t free him. Too many bodies.

‘Ajax!’ my captor called. ‘Come and help the lady!’

Weakened by the terror of the day, I waited as another giant strolled over, a bigger man than my captor.

‘Can’t you help her yourself?’ the newcomer asked.

‘And let her go? Ajax, Ajax! This one has spirit, I can’t trust her.’

‘Taken a fancy to her, little cousin? Well, it’s high time you took a fancy to someone other than Patrokles.’

Ajax put me aside as if I had been a feather, then, still holding his axe, he tossed the bodies about until my father lay uncovered, until I could see his dead eyes staring up at me, his beard buried in a gash which almost severed him across the chest. It was an axe wound.

‘This is the ancient who faced me like a fighting cock,’ the one called Ajax said admiringly. ‘Fiery old fellow!’

‘Like father, like daughter,’ the one holding me said. He jerked at my arm. ‘Come, girl. I haven’t the time to indulge your grief.’

I got up clumsily, tearing my hair into disorder as I saluted him, my father. Better by far to go knowing him dead than have to wonder if he had survived, hope the most foolish hope of all. Ajax moved away, saying he would muster any left alive, though he doubted there were.

We halted at the doorway into the courtyard so my captor could strip a belt from a body lying on the steps. He fastened the leather tightly about my wrist, then secured its other end to his own arm, forcing me to walk closely beside him. Two steps higher up, I watched his bent head as he completed the small task with a thoroughness I fancied typical of him.

‘You didn’t kill my father,’ I said.

‘Yes, I did,’ he answered. ‘I’m the leader your Aineas outwitted. That means I’m responsible for every death.’

‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

‘Achilles,’ he said shortly, tested his handiwork and hauled me after him into the courtyard. I had to run to keep up with him. Achilles. I should have known. Aineas had said it last, though I had been hearing it for years.

We left Lyrnessos through its main gate, open as Greeks wandered in and out, looting and wenching, some with torches in their hands, some with wineskins. The man Achilles made no effort to reprimand them. He ignored them.

At the top of the road I turned to look down into the Vale of Lyrnessos. ‘You have burned my home. There I dwelled for twenty years, there I expected to dwell until a marriage was arranged for me. But I never expected this.’

He shrugged. ‘The fortunes of war, girl.’

I pointed to the tiny figures of plundering soldiers. ‘Can’t you prevent their acting like beasts? Is there any need for it? I heard the women screaming – I saw!’

His eyelids drooped cynically. ‘What do you know of exiled Greeks or their feelings? You hate us, and I understand that. But you don’t hate us as those men hate Troy and Troy’s allies! Priam has cost them ten years of exile. They delight in making him pay. Nor could I stop them if I tried. And frankly, girl, I don’t feel like trying to stop them.’

‘I’ve listened to the stories for years, but I didn’t know what war is,’ I whispered.

‘Now you do,’ he said.

His camp was three leagues distant; when we reached it he found a baggage officer.

‘Polides, this is my own prize. Take the belt and harness her to an anvil until you can forge better chains. Don’t let her free for one moment, even if she pleads privacy to relieve herself. Once you have her chained, put her where she has everything she needs, including a chamber pot, good food and a good bed. Start for the ships at Andramyttios tomorrow and give her to the lord Phoinix. Tell him I don’t trust her, that she isn’t to be freed.’ He took my chin and pinched it lightly. ‘Goodbye, girl.’

Polides found light chains for my ankles, padded the cuffs well, and took me to the coast on the back of an ass. There I was given to Phoinix, an upright old nobleman with the blue, crinkled gaze and rolling gait of a sailor. When he saw my fetters he clicked his tongue, though he made no attempt to remove them after he ensconced me on board the flagship. He bade me sit with gentle courtesy, but I insisted upon standing.

‘I’m so sorry for the chains,’ he said, grief in his eyes. But not grief for me, I understood. ‘Poor Achilles!’

It annoyed me that the old man thought light of me. ‘This Achilles has a better idea of my mettle than you do, sir! Only let me within reach of a dagger and I’ll fight my way out of this living death, or die in the attempt!’

His sadness vanished in a chuckle. ‘Ai, ai! What a fierce warrior you are! Don’t hope for it, girl. What Achilles binds fast, Phoinix won’t free.’

‘Is his word such sacred law?’

‘It is. He’s Prince of the Myrmidons.’

‘Prince of the ants? How appropriate.’

For answer he chuckled again, pushed a chair forward. I looked at it with loathing, but my back ached from the donkey ride and my legs were trembling, for I had refused to eat or drink since my captivity. Phoinix pressed me into the chair with a hard hand and unstoppered a golden wine flagon.

‘Drink, girl. If you want to maintain your defiance, you’ll need sustenance. Don’t be silly.’

Sensible advice. I took it, to find that my blood was thin and the wine went straight to my head. I could fight no longer. I propped my head on my hand and went to sleep in the chair, waking a long time later to find I had been put down on the bed. Shackled to a beam.

The next day I was taken on deck, my chains fastened to the rail so I could stand in the weak, wintry sun and watch the busy comings and goings on the beach. But when four ships hove into view over the horizon, I noticed a huge scurry and flutter pass through the toiling men, particularly among their supervisors. Suddenly Phoinix was there releasing me from the rail, hustling me not to my previous prison but to a shelter on the afterdeck which stank of horses. He took me inside and locked me to a bar.

‘What is it?’ I asked, curious.

‘Agamemnon, King of Kings,’ said Phoinix.

‘Why put me here? Aren’t I good enough to meet the King of Kings?’

He sighed. ‘Have you no mirror in your Dardanian home, girl? One look at you and Agamemnon would have you in spite of Achilles.’

‘I could scream,’ I said thoughtfully.

He stared at me as if I had gone mad. ‘If you did you’d regret it, I promise you! What good would changing masters do? Believe me, you’d end in preferring Achilles.’