Hades’ Daughter. Book One of the Troy Game by Sara Douglass

‘That it contains a test I must endure before we travel farther.”

‘Ah.” Hicetaon nodded. “I think I may know to what she refers. My mother came from Mesopotama.

She and her mother escaped when she was but a babe in arms—”

‘Escaped?” Brutus said, and his hand tightened on Hicetaon’s shoulder.

‘Escaped. If the goddess has commanded you to rebuild Troy, then I wonder not that she directed you to Mesopotama, Brutus. When Troy fell, the cursed Pyrrhus, son of the even more accursed Achilles, herded several thousand Trojan men and women and children into deep-bellied merchant ships, and brought them to this city of Mesopotama, where he sold them for good coin as slaves to the Dorians who live there. The Dorians kept—and still keep, for all I know—the Trojans in vile confinement within the city walls, and made them haul timber and stir pots and wipe the shit from the arses of their Dorian masters. This must be your test—to free the Trojans held in captivity, and to lead them to Troia Nova.”

A murmuring rose from among the ranks of the Trojan warriors. The fate of all Trojans since the fall of Troy had been poor, but this slavery… this was obscene!

‘This king, Pandrasus,” Brutus said. “Tell me of him.”

Hicetaon shrugged. “If he is like the king of my mother’s time, and the ones before that, then he will be cruel and arrogant, and think of his Trojan slaves as little more than despicable beasts, fit only to be worked to death and then discarded. ,’ say, that if the goddess has directed you south to Mesopotama, then I am glad, for I have a great longing to free my mother’s people.”

” Our people,” Brutus said softly. “Trojans, all.”

‘And when we have freed our fellow Trojans,” Membricus asked, startling Brutus a little, for he had forgotten Membricus sitting so silent to one side, “where then do we sail?”

‘Artemis will show me once we have taken our people from Mesopotama, and sailed one day south to an island where she has promised to meet me.”

* * * LATER, WHEN THE MEN WERE BREAKING CAMP AND wading out to their low-slung warships, Membricus pulled Brutus to one side.

‘My beloved companion,” he said, low, so that no one else would hear them. “I feel a great wariness in my gut.”

Membricus moved very close to Brutus, so close their shoulders touched, and Membricus shivered.

“Artemis?” he said. “How can this be so? None of the priests or seers have felt, let alone spoken to, any of the gods in at least three generations. But, lo! Suddenly Artemis appears strong and powerful and full of promises of future glory and Troy reborn. Have you no wit, Brutus? No caution?”

Brutus’ face went dangerously expressionless. “Jealous, Membricus? Jealous that she should approach me rather than you?” He grabbed Membricus’ hand and held it hard against one of his golden bands. “J wear these, my old foolish friend. Not you.”

‘But—”

Brutus sighed, relenting. The fact that he and Membricus had once been lovers constantly disturbed their current relationship, and Membricus, as Brutus’ adviser, was right to question. His hand softened on Membricus’, patted it, then allowed it to drop.

‘Do you think I was not dubious, my friend? That I did not narrow my eyes and think, Who is this ?

Was it truly Artemis?” Brutus gave a half shrug, then an ironic smile. “For a virgin goddess she was remarkably… forthright, but, well, for now I listen to her. These”—again he touched one of his bands—”responded to her. The power that are in these and which was in her was sympathetic, not antagonistic. I did not feel evil or darkness or ill will from her. Only…”

‘Oh, I can see well enough what you felt from her, Brutus. Let not this”—one of his hands brushed gently against Brutus’ groin—”direct your thoughts, and thus our lives.”

Brutus stepped back a half space, his eyes flinty. “I let power direct my thoughts, Membricus. That is, after all, what I was bred for.”

CbAPGGR SIXRUTUS’ SANDALED FEET SLIPPED ACROSS THE loose rock and gravel, and he had to bend down a hand momentarily to steady himself. He took a deep breath, forced himself to ignore the pain in his calves and chest, then scrabbled to the top of the rocky ridge, laughing breathlessly as he gained its summit.

‘Come on, my friends!” he shouted to his still-climbing companions. “What ails you both? Age?

Infirmity? A girlish fear of falling?”

Membricus and Hicetaon, both breathless and flushed efface, nevertheless managed a laugh, although Hicetaon’s ended on a soft curse as he jammed his fingers between two rocks.

Brutus, still smiling, reached down an arm and aided first Membricus and then Hicetaon to the summit of the ridge that they’d been climbing since dawn.

‘Ah,” Membricus grunted, staggering a few paces away before sinking down to rest against a stubby pine tree that had somehow managed to survive the winds atop the ridge. “Are you sure you need my old eyes on this excursion, Brutus?”

‘Ever since you confessed your fears to me, then aye,” Brutus said, looking meaningfully at Membricus, “I do.”

Hicetaon stood a few paces away, hands in the small of his back, stretching out abused muscles.

Something cracked in his spine, and he sighed in relief and relaxed.

‘I am not sure this is an excursion at all, Membricus,” he said, grinning over to the gray-haired man,

“but a punishment for whatever sins Brutus has catalogued against us these past few years.”

They all laughed, then Brutus helped Membricus to rise.

‘You know well enough why we are here,” he said, and both his companions grunted their agreement.

Late on the morning that Brutus had announced that Artemis meant them to rebuild Troy, they’d boarded their warships and sailed south. Now the warships lay at anchor in a shallow inlet that Hicetaon said was less than a half day’s walk above Mesopotama, and Brutus had brought his two companions climbing to this vantage point.

‘Where is it?” Brutus asked softly, shading his eyes with a hand. Of the three men, he was the only one not sweating heavily.

Hicetaon scanned the coastline that stretched south, then pointed. “There,” he said. “Follow the line of the coast to that bay, then look to the southern shore of the bay. There is a hill, and—”

‘Atop that hills sits Mesopotama,” said Brutus. “Aye, I see it.”

Membricus, who had the oldest eyes, was squinting painfully under the shade of his hand. “It is well fortified,” he said, noting the high wall that encircled the entire city and the single gated entrance.

‘And rich,” added Brutus. “See the roof of the palace at the very pinnacle of the hill? It gleams with gold.”

‘Trojan gold, no doubt,” said Hicetaon bitterly.

‘It will be soon,” said Brutus, and all three men laughed again, relaxing in the shared warmth of their companionship.

‘There are some workshops but very few dwellings outside the walls,” said Hicetaon.

‘Aye,” said Brutus. “The Trojan slaves, however many are left, must be sequestered behind the walls.

To free them, we shall have to take the city.”

Hicetaon turned and looked at Brutus, raising his eyebrows.

Brutus shrugged. “That is a city full of Dorian Greeks, my friends,” he said. “When have they ever won a battle against true warriors?”

‘You want to storm the walls?” Hicetaon said.

Brutus shook his head. “I think not. At least, not with warriors. With a little cunning, I think, to draw out this arrogant Pandrasus. This is a sheltered city—I can think of no other reason it has survived so long the Catastrophe—and I am thinking that maybe the Dorians of Mesopotama have grown a little soft in that isolation.”

‘Is that a river I see emptying into the bay?”

Startled, Brutus and Hicetaon looked at Membricus. He’d been so quiet they’d almost forgot his presence.

‘Aye,” said Hicetaon, and something in his tone made both the other men stare at him in turn.

‘It is the River Acheron,” Hicetaon said. He should have mentioned it sooner. He really should, but how does one ever break bad news?

There was a momentary silence, then…

‘The Acheron?” Brutus said. “One of the rivers that leads to Hades’ Underworld?”

‘Aye,” Hicetaon said unhappily.

Membricus stared at Hicetaon, then looked back to the view of the city. For some reason the distant city seemed clearer now, more in focus, and Membricus could easily make out the river winding its sinuous way from a distant gorge, through the valley system bounded by steep wooded hills, past the fortified city atop its hill, and then emptying into the bay.

Something thick and corrupt coiled about his belly, and he moaned.

Hicetaon made as if to reach out to him, but Brutus, sharp-eyed, held him back.

Waif, he mouthed at Hicetaon.

Membricus drew in a deep, horrified breath. There was something dark crawling down the river, a great cloud that, as it reached the city, settled over it like a heavy, angry hand over the delicate crown of a baby’s head.