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

Then I had been a girl, and had not truly appreciated its beauty and power.

Now I was a different person entirely, and I could see that this ship was the vessel of a proud and noble man.

I could see Brutus—dripping wet—talking with a richly dressed man on board, and I overcame my revulsion of Membricus enough to stand with him in the stem of our ship so I could see the better.

‘It is a Trojan ship,” said Membricus, no doubt hoping to impress me. He was far too late. I was already hopelessly impressed.

The beautiful vessel had drawn very close now and I saw that the man who talked with Brutus had turned to look at me.

He smiled, wide and genuine, and it stunned me. I suppose I had vaguely supposed that Brutus’

contempt of me would have already infected this man. I had not expected such open delight and even—no, that could not be possible, not in my state—frank and open admiration.

The strange warship and the vessel in which I stood were now no more than two or three arm’s lengths distance and men from both ships hastened to position buffers of close-packed straw so that neither ship should stave in the other.

Before all the buffers were in place, the man leapt gracefully between the rapidly narrowing gap, landing not two paces distant from me.

‘My lady Cornelia,” he said, stepping closer to me. “I am pleased beyond measure that you have survived such a dreadful ordeal. Will you join me on my O ship, where you may rest on silken pillows, and eat from the sweetest figs I could gather?”

I could do nothing but stare. There was not a shadow of contempt in his eyes, not a spark of hatred, not even a single measure of speculation. There was merely good-natured acceptance and curiosity and, I still couldn’t believe it, an unabashed admiration.

I was horribly conscious of my sodden, shapeless, crinkled robe, my great belly, my hair all in oily tendrils, my bare feet. I was wearing no jewelry, no perfumes, not a single accruement of nobility.

And yet here he was, standing there with the friendly smile all about his mouth and eyes, treating me with friendliness and respect.

I grinned. Under the circumstances, with both Membricus at my side and Brutus on the deck of the stranger’s ship watching me, it wasn’t the most advisable thing to do, but I grinned anyway.

‘You know my name,” I said, studying him with as much frank admiration as he gave me. He was not a young man, older even than Brutus, and even though he wore a sword at his hip he carried about him the air of the ambassador rather than the warrior. His robes and jewelry were rich and finely made… but none of this mattered much to me.

All that mattered was the acceptance I saw in his mild brown eyes. He reached out his hands, and took one of mine between them. “I am Corineus, of Locrinia,” he said, “and you are most welcome to me.”

Then he leaned forward and planted a polite, but very warm and very soft kiss on my mouth.

When he leaned back, all I could see was Brutus glowering at me.

I pulled my hand from Corineus’ as gently as I could, and as well bred as Corineus very obviously was, he understood the message immediately.

He turned to Membricus, exchanged greetings, then asked after the injured. “Brutus tells me you have wounded among your fleet, and your people are hungry and sore.”

‘Aye,” said Membricus, and then the two men proceeded to discuss how best to distribute the three physicians Corineus had brought with him, as their herbs and unguents to replace those we’d lost during the storm.

I just stood there happily; in fact, I don’t think I’d had a happier moment in my entire life. Everything before Brutus’ arrival in Mesopotama had been so superficial, everything after so terrible (and, yes, so much of that my own fault), that this man’s simple gesture of unreserved friendliness had the power to totally transform me.

I even smiled at Brutus, still staring down to where Corineus, Membricus, and I stood.

Eventually Corineus and Membricus had arranged matters to their satisfaction, and Corineus turned to me again.

‘Will you join your husband aboard my vessel, princess?” he said.

I shifted my eyes doubtfully toward his ship—although the gap between his vessel and this was not overly large, the two vessels ground against each other, and anyone who fell between them would surely be crushed to death.

‘Ah!” he said, perceiving my doubts. “Allow me…”

And in the next moment I found myself swung into his arms as he turned to the gap.

I gasped, all my joy lost in concern, and my hands tightened about Corineus’ neck.

‘Do not be afraid,” he said softly. “I will not drop you.”

With that, he began to climb into his slightly higher vessel, one arm about me, one hand on the rope, his feet braced against the outer planking of his ship: he was much stronger than I had thought him and my fear subsided somewhat.

He even made me laugh, for he thought to amuse me by singing under his breath a silly seafaring ditty about the dangers of ravenous marine worms to beautiful princesses.

We were both laughing by the time he’d hauled me to the deck railing of the ship, and there Brutus was to take me from Corineus. I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt my two feet on firm decking again, and straightened out my robe as best I might, still smiling at Corineus.

I was about to thank him when Brutus spoke.

‘You are a strong man, Corineus, to carry such a load!” he said, and—oh, the insult!—patted me on my belly.

I flushed with humiliation, then caught a glint of empathy in Corineus’ eyes, and managed to regain my composure.

‘Do you have a maidservant, Cornelia,” Corineus asked, “that I can have brought aboard to help you with your ablutions and toilet?”

‘My wife has a companion , Aethylla,” Brutus said. “Corineus, if it would not be too much to ask…”

‘Then this Aethylla shall join your wife,” said Corineus. “Please,” he continued, “I have a well-appointed cabin on the aft deck. If I may escort your wife?”

I SIGHED, DEEPLY CONTENT. THIS WAS A TRULY WELL-furnished cabin. Tapestries and linens hung from the walls, hiding from view the wooden planking. Luxurious furs covered the floor, allowing the eye only a peek of the mosaics beneath.

And it had a bath. A real bath in one corner that I sank my swollen body into gratefully—only the gods knew how Corineus had caused the water to be heated, but I cared not to think on such trivialities.

I luxuriated in the comfort, closed my eyes, and leaned my head back against the rim of the bath.

I heard a step.

‘Could you toss in some more of the herbs, please, Aethylla,” I murmured.

‘These?” Brutus’ voice said, and my eyes flew open. He was holding a jar, his eyebrows raised.

I nodded slowly, my joy evaporated.

‘Do not worry,” he said, and scattered some of the herbs over the surface of the water, “I have no thought to join you. I need to show Corineus’ physicians where they are the most needed.”

Then, in part lie to his words, he sank down to sit on the side of the bath. He reached out a hand, and ran it over my belly, then raised his eyes and looked at me.

‘What was that I saw?” he said.

‘What?” I said, confused.

‘Did you think to make me jealous?”

I sat up in the bath as far as I was able. “I do not know what you mean.” His hand was still heavy on my belly, rubbing back and forth, back and forth.

‘Your little display with Corineus. It shamed me.”

My mouth fell open. “He was courteous to me! And I was no more than courteous in turn! What do you accuse me of?”

He did not answer, but continued to stare at me with hard eyes, his hand now very heavy on my belly.

My temper snapped. “Did I put my hand to his hair, and caress it, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear? No! I am not one for such things!”

‘He kissed you.”

‘I did not ask for it!”

‘Did you beg him?”

‘It was a greeting only!”

‘Beware, Cornelia. Do not think to use Corineus as a weapon as you have tried to use Melanthus.”

And with that he gave my belly a hard, painful slap, rose, and was gone.

I burst into tears, consumed with the unfairness of his attack.

I was too young then, too inexperienced, to recognize Brutus’ temper for what it was.

MUCH LATER THAT EVENING WE ATE ON THE SPACIOUS aft deck of Corineus’ warship.