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

If Brutus was not so consumed with anger, he might have smiled at that.

‘How many?” Cornelia said.

‘All you requested.”

‘And you have arms?”

‘Aye, more than enough to equip three times our number.”

‘Good.” Brutus could hear the satisfaction in Cornelia’s voice, and it was all he could do to keep his rage under control. A daughter of Hades, indeed!

‘You will follow me up these corridors,” Cornelia said, and Brutus tensed, ready to move, “and I will show you the way to the streets outside. Hide yourself until it is time. Now, be quiet, for the palace sleeps about us!”

BY THE TIME CORNELIA ARRIVED BACK IN HER CHAM-ber, no doubt tired and anxious lest her husband had awoken during her absence, Brutus was back in bed, his face slack, his chest drawing in the long, slow breaths of deepest sleep.

CbAPGGR JM1JMOU WERE RIGHT TO WARN ME OF CORNELIA,” BRUTUS said, his voice dangerously expressionless, “and right to think that some Dorian mischief is planned.” Treachery aside, her vicious words regarding Melanthus were still what played over and over in his mind.

He took a deep breath, and looked about at the men in Deimas’ house: Deimas himself, Assaracus, Membricus, Hicetaon, Idaeus, and several other of his senior officers and Trojan men from Pandrasus’

former slave community. Brutus had risen just before dawn, murmured to Cornelia as she mumbled a query that he wanted to check the final preparations for the boarding and that he would send for her later, and come to Deimas’ house, shouting that he wanted his senior commanders and leaders of the Trojan community here within the half hour.

‘What has she done?” Membricus asked.

Brutus briefly told them of what he had seen and heard during the night.

‘How many?” Hicetaon said.

‘I do not know. Many, I am sure. And with enough weapons to further equip Dorian men.”

‘Where are they now?” Assaracus asked.

Brutus shrugged. “Hidden in small groups deep within the city, Assaracus, but I do not know the exact ‘where.’ If they are experienced enough, and we must assume they are, they would not take the risk of hiding in one single large group.”

‘They could have disguised themselves as laborers or carriers by now,” Deimas said, “their weapons

hid within sacks of barley or beneath cloaks.”

‘You would not recognize strangers?” Brutus asked.

‘Maybe one or two, here and there,” Deimas said. “But not only do these armed men need to be out on the street for I, or any other, to recognize them as strangers, finding them in ones and twos is going to take several weeks…”

‘And they will strike today,” Brutus said, wiping a hand across his stubbly chin, wishing he’d had the time to shave this morning. “But how and when will they strike? Hicetaon, Idaeus? If you were commanding this group, and you needed to stop a crowd of seven thousand leaving this city, how would you do it?”

Hicetaon and Idaeus glanced at each other, each knowing they thought the same thing.

‘It would be easier than you perhaps imagine,” Hicetaon said. “In order to move the Trojans down to the beaches to board the ships, they will first need to leave their houses and walk down through the streets. Seven thousand people, through narrow and confining streets, the greater majority of whom will be women and children and grandparents who will panic and mill in confusion the instant an attack is started… it will be a slaughter, Brutus. Especially if they have twenty or thirty men at the gates to slam them shut at the critical moment. Even with the gates open, people will not be able to move through quick enough.”

‘These armed men need not number more than two hundred,” Idaeus put in, “to create havoc and death. And remember, you said they had arms to equip three times their number of Dorians.”

‘But if I move my men onto the streets,” Brutus began.

‘Where, Brutus?” Hicetaon said. “We do not know from which point these men will strike… and our men, to cover the entire length of the streets, will be spread too thin to be of much use.”

Brutus bit his lip, thinking. “Can we send our men through the city to find them?”

‘The Dorians will have hid them well,” Deimas said. “And it would take too long. We must leave today, Brutus. The ship captains say the winds and tides will turn by tomorrow morning, and we shall have to wait many more weeks for another suitable sailing. But by then it will be too late anyway, as the autumn storms will have set in and sailing with so many heavily loaded craft will be too dangerous.”

‘So,” Brutus said, looking about the group, “we must leave today, yet if we move our people out into the streets there is likely to be a slaughter.”

Assaracus remembered how Artemis had aided Brutus against Pandrasus’ army. “Artemis?” he said.

Brutus shook his head. “I do not think Artemis will aid us here, my friend.” He grinned wryly. “She may even have sent these soldiers to test us, to see if we are worthy. We must make use of our own cunning in this instance. Tell me, how will these armed men—strangers to this city—recognize Trojans from Dorians? Presumably Cornelia and her father do not want a wholesale slaughter of their own people.”

‘But there will be only Trojans on the streets,” Deimas put in. “No Dorian will venture out, not if they know an attack is planned.”

‘But if the streets were crowded with both Dorians and Trojans,” Brutus continued, apparently not the least bit put out by Deimas’ response, “how will the strangers recognize Trojan from Dorian?” His eyes were still amused, as if he well knew the answer.

‘By the difference in our hair,” Deimas said, waving his hand at his hairline as proof. “Every one of us have shorn our hair short to even up our hairlines from the mark of slavery. The Dorians, men and women both, have long, luxurious hair. Months have passed, yes, but not long enough for our hair to reach our shoulders. There is nothing, surely, we can do about that.”

Assaracus suddenly laughed. “Unless the Dorians have short hair as well!”

‘What?” said Deimas. “You think to shear every Dorian’s hair within the space of a few hours?”

‘Not every one,” said Brutus, grinning at Assaracus, “but many, to be sure.”

‘Children,” said Hicetaon.

‘Aye,” said Brutus. “As many children as we can, and after that as many adults. Shear their hair to the same length as your growing tresses, Deimas.”

‘Yes,” said Deimas slowly, as he thought, and then he, too, was grinning with the other men in the room. “If you lend us some of your men, Brutus, Assaracus, we can force our way into enough homes, and shear enough of their curly locks to make a difference.” He looked about. “And if Trojans took Dorian clothes, and spoke in the Dorian manner, then their Trojan features would fade into obscurity, and in the heat and haste of crowded streets strangers would find it all but impossible to teli them apart.”

Brutus nodded, smiling, well pleased. “Then send out your men,” he said to Hicetaon, Assaracus, and Idaeus. “And arm them well with sharpened shears.”

‘But this will only work to our advantage if the streets are crowded with Dorians as well,” said Idaeus.

“How do you intend to manage that?”

Brutus’ smile stretched into a mischievous grin and he nodded at Deimas and the three other Mesopotamian Trojans in the room. “Tell the bakers to stoke their ovens, and to leave the doors ajar.

With straw and spare lumber laid out before them. When Mesopotama catches fire, the Dorians will flee into the streets in as great a number as we could wish.”

‘This will take time to organize,” Membricus observed.

‘Aye,” Brutus said. “We will delay our departure until the early afternoon—that should give people enough time to prepare. I’ll tell Cornelia that there’s been some problem with the ships.”

I7O ‘And what are you going to do with Cornelia and Pandrasus?” Deimas said.

Brutus’ face lost its smile. “Ensure neither lays an obstacle in our path again,” he said.

As the group broke up, Brutus drew Membricus aside. “My friend, can we talk alone a moment?”

Cb&PGGR G6JMHERE IS SOMETHING I NEED TO TELL YOU. SOME-

( thing we can use to our advantage,” Brutus said.

^,’1 – “Yes?”

‘The Game lives on in this city, my friend.”

” What? How do you know this?”

‘Artemis told me. She said that Ariadne left the Game alive in one insignificant city. This is it.”

‘When did she tell you this?”

‘On that night I journeyed alone to Mesopotama to speak with Assaracus and Deimas. I needed power to persuade them, and I drew on the power of the Game. It is here.”