Hades Daughter (43 page)

Brutus grinned at the eagerness in Deimas’ voice. “If we find a suitable landing spot today then we will eventually have to reboard to move further north—if negotiations with the Gormagog and MagaLlan go well. If we land today, then how ready will people be to reboard in some weeks’ time?”

“For a few more days sailing only?” Deimas said. “They will not be unwilling. And if it brings us rest and comparative safety, then I say that we land now.”

Blangan lowered her head at Deimas’ “comparative safety”, but she made no comment.

Brutus laughed, and held up his hand to stop Deimas. “I submit. And I agree, too. It is best that we find a congenial landing spot as soon as we can, and rest our people.”

He rose. “Hicetaon, where did you put that fore-looker? We will need him, as all other fore-lookers in the fleet, to keep their eyes wide for possible bays or river mouths. I do not want this fleet trying to offload in ocean swells.”

I
think that had I not the distraction of my love for my new son, I would have thrown myself overboard if I thought I might reach this land the faster.

It was the land of my dream, the land beyond the stone hall. If I had thought it when Brutus had first mentioned the name Llangarlia during his speech at the Altars of the Philistines, then I
knew
it now. I caught sight of those cliffs and the thick green woods atop them, and such a burst of emotion boiled up from my belly I thought I would cry.

It was the most extraordinary sensation of relief, and of homecoming, and it was so beautiful, so comforting, that I did not even think to question it.

All I know is that when I emerged from the cabin, and walked (slowly and stiffly, for my lower parts felt heavy and bruised and more sore than I had thought possible) to the deck rail, and stood there with my hands upon it, and saw that line of cliffs, I knew I had come home.

Home.

I drew in a very deep, very emotional breath. This new land of Llangarlia represented so much. I looked at the cliffs and the green swathe that topped them and I saw a new life and a new beginning. It had appeared—very literally—on the horizon at the same time as two other discoveries: the totally unexpected love for my
son, and the realisation that Brutus and I might have a future together that was defined not by hate and mistrust, but by liking and respect.

Since that night when Brutus had talked to me and taken on his own shoulders a part of the blame for the debacle surrounding Achates’ birth, we had managed a respectful and an almost friendly dialogue (although that very friendliness created difficulties, for we had no understanding of
how
to be friends to each other). We had a shared love—Achates—and a new understanding. It was as he’d said: we were doomed each to the other, so perhaps we ought to make the best of it.

Thinking of that stone hall, remembering how I had turned from the laughter of my daughter towards a man I loved beyond life, I wondered if I might dare to hope that the “best” I could hope for Brutus and myself might also, one day, include love.

I shook myself, a wry grin on my face. A few days ago I had been sure he was about to kill me; now I was daydreaming about him as a lover. Perhaps that was the sight of the distant cliffs talking, perhaps all the unresolved emotion of birth, perhaps just the foolish thoughts of the young girl I was desperate to leave well behind.

Respect was enough to hope for now, and even that might be asking for too much.

Blangan eventually joined me at the deck railing. She put her arm about me, and we leaned in close to each other, and I knew, somehow, that she was indescribably sad. Over the past weeks we had talked of many things, but apart from that first night when she’d offered me so much comfort, she had rarely mentioned her homeland, or the child she had lost.

“Blangan?” I said, and she somehow knew what I asked.

“I will not be welcomed here,” she said, and then her arm squeezed my (newly refound!) waist, “but I
think that somehow you will find yourself a true home. But beware, Cornelia. There will be those who will seek to harm you.”

That man Hera warned me against?
I thought. Gods! I hadn’t thought about Hera’s warning for months!

And what was his name? Birth must truly have muddled my wits to have forgotten that…there was something she’d said…some description…

“The Horned One?” I said, relieved that something had finally come to me, but Blangan frowned.

“Loth?” she said. “I would not have thought so. I admit, he was only a baby when I held him, but surely I would have felt any malevolence—”

“No. Not Loth. Another name…I’m sorry. It was so long ago. I can’t recall. I was warned against him. A long time ago. Ah, do not worry about it, Blangan. I am sure it is nothing.”

“Well…” Blangan faced me fully, and pulled me yet closer, and kissed my cheek and then my mouth, almost as a lover would. “Whatever happens to me,” she said, very low, “keep safe, Cornelia. Keep safe.”

I opened my mouth to ask her why she should think
she
was in danger, but she had turned and was gone. I was left staring foolishly after her with a profound sense of loss and sorrow that was as unknown and as unsettling as my strange reaction to this new land.

W
ithin the hour Brutus heard the combined shouts of several of the fore-lookers. Already standing close to the stem of the ship, he raced forwards, Hicetaon and Corineus at his side, to see at what they shouted.

On their port bow the cliffs had drawn back into what appeared to be a wide bay, or perhaps the mouth of a river, flanked on both sides by high headlands. As they drew close to the opening, Brutus could see that the bay stretched back as far as his eye could see. It was so big it could easily hold five hundred vessels; his fleet would almost be lost within its vastness.

He turned to Hicetaon and Corineus. “Well?”

“We take five ships and sail in,” said Hicetaon without hesitation. “If this is as good as it appears, then the rest can follow at our signal.”

Brutus looked at Deimas who had joined them. He nodded his agreement.

“Good,” Brutus said. “We take this ship, and those of Assaracus, Aganus, Meleus, and Serses. Signal them, Corineus.”

Brutus stepped up to the stem post, the fore-looker moving aside for him.

“I can hardly believe such a land exists,” the fore-looker said with the reverence of a man who had
hitherto been used to the thinner soils and harder climate of western Greece.

“Aye,” said Brutus. He leaned over the stem post, hanging on with one arm, and shaded his eyes against the now bright sun. “I see no smoke, nor sign of habitation. You?”

The fore-looker strained his eyes, then shook his head. “It is a paradise, waiting for us.”

“Aye,” said Brutus. “Waiting for us.”

Oarsmen ran to their benches and slipped their oars on the five ships Brutus had selected. Their captains ordered the sails lowered and stowed.

Within minutes the ships had come to, navigating through the wide opening between the headlands.

“Order the men to keep close lookout,” Brutus said softly although there seemed no signs of danger, or of other watching eyes, in the wide bay. Formed by the mouth of a river estuary, the bay was flanked on either side by steep wooded hills that rolled away into the distance.

There were no smoke trails, no sign of habitation, no tracks that led from the woods to the foreshore, no fishing boats drawn up on the occasional sandy beach.

On the other hand, there were numerous water birds, the flash of fish schools within the water, and the mouths of several creeks that emptied into the bay.

The river estuary itself stretched wide and deep, and wound into the hills in a general north-westerly direction.

“Even if there are archers hiding in those hills,” Hicetaon said, “the estuary is wide enough to allow the entire fleet entry without danger.”

Brutus took a deep breath, considering. The five ships were now deep into the bay, the river stretching invitingly before them, and they could see nothing, nor had their presence elicited any reaction from the close woods.

It could be a trap…but…

“Signal the other ships to follow us in,” Brutus said, “but signal also that the archers are to stand ready, should we have need of them. We need to land somewhere, at some time…and I can see no sweeter place than this. We have to risk it.”

“Do we land here, on one of these sandy beaches?” Hicetaon said.

“I think not. None of them are large enough to allow for the size of our fleet, nor for the numbers of our peoples. There is no place here to establish an easy camp for twelve thousand. Besides, this bay is still too open to the sea. If a storm should blow in then the ships would be dashed against the rocks. We follow the river, and see what we may see.”

Slowly, single file, the black-hulled ships of the Trojan fleet sailed into the mouth of the estuary and up the river. On either side reared the steep wooded hills; now and again, among the trees close to the waterline, the Trojans caught a glimpse of deer or hare, and even once of several slow-blinking wild sows standing at the water with their piglets watching the gradual progression of oared ship after oared ship pass up the channel.

Corineus’ vessel led the file, Brutus standing alert close to the stem post. His eyes continually moved between the two shorelines, looking for signs of human habitation—or human ambush.

Once they’d left the wide bay at the mouth of the estuary, and moved into the river, Cornelia came to stand with him.

“Achates?” Brutus said, glancing at her.

“Aethylla is feeding him,” Cornelia said, her eyes on the passing hills.

Brutus opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and merely nodded instead.

“This is a mysterious land,” Cornelia said after a few minutes.

“You said it was green earlier.”

She shrugged. “It is green
and
mysterious. What lives in those woods, do you think, Brutus?”

“Deer, hare, birds, wild boar. All the creatures woods harbour.”

“But what
else
? There is surely something else in these woods…”

Brutus looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

Cornelia took a moment to reply, staring into the forested slopes to either side of the river as if she looked for something…or someone.

Eventually she shrugged, giving a small embarrassed smile. “I don’t know. Maybe my thoughts remain muddled from Achates’ birth. Forgive me, Brutus.”

He smiled himself, very gentle. “I will allow you a few muddled thoughts in return for the gift of Achates. It is not a heavy price.”

He reached out a hand, and after a small hesitation, she took it. “I have been impossibly foolish, Brutus, and my thoughts and hopes mired in the past. We have a marriage to make, you and I, and I think…I
know
I would very much like to make the best of it that I can.” Tears glinted in her eyes. “As you said, perhaps we should make the best of our doom. Perhaps—”

“Perhaps,” he said, making the effort to respond to her effort, “we can even make something good of it.”

One of her tears spilled over, and he lifted his other hand and wiped it away with his thumb, gently, almost caressingly.

“We have wasted too much time,” he said softly.

For two turns of the river the landscape remained unchanging: steep, rolling and closely wooded hills, sometimes plunging to the water’s edge in cliffs,
sometimes easing down more gently to small sandy beaches.

Nowhere, thus far, was there a good place to land such a large fleet.

As the leading ship rounded the third turn, Brutus suddenly swore, and let go Cornelia’s hand, pushing her none too gently away from the stem post.

Cornelia, who’d been about to protest, scrambled even further back when she saw what it was that had grabbed Brutus’ attention.

On the north side of the river there was a small valley created by a merrily tumbling stream, and at the point where the valley flattened out to join the river stood a moderately sized village surrounded by well-cultivated fields and orchards. The village was unwalled or fortified—which surprised Brutus—and consisted of some twenty or twenty-five circular huts made from logs, stone, daub and thatch.

People were running from the huts, standing to stare at the ship as it came about the bend, then turning on their heels to race deeper into the village where a larger and well-fortified round house stood on higher ground.

Corineus and Hicetaon had joined Brutus. Behind them the Trojans crammed into the ship muttered and pointed as the villagers continued to rush for the safety of the large round house.

“What do we do?” asked Corineus.

“Nothing,” said Brutus. “They will see soon enough that we have an army of ships following…they will not risk an attack.”

“And if they warn others of our presence?”

Brutus shrugged. “There is not much we can do about that save protect and fortify our eventual camp as best we can. We will have to meet these people sooner or later, Corineus. We can’t hide forever.”

“They are well clothed,” remarked Hicetaon. “Even from this distance I can see their tunics and robes are
woven with fine patterns. And look—they have herds of sheep and goats.”

“Only a few of them carry weapons of any note,” said Brutus. “These are not an aggressive people.”

From among the scurrying villagers walked forth one woman. She was old, but not ancient, with long, greying brown hair and a thin, weary face. She wore no mark of leadership, but somehow exuded an aura of power that made her stand out from her villagers as no torc or golden band could.

As she watched them, standing close to the shoreline, she laid a hand to her belly and looked directly at Brutus, as if she knew who he was, then her eyes slid momentarily to where Cornelia stood several paces away from Brutus.