Brutus had returned, and with him he had brought his immediate command: Membricus, who I caught watching me carefully from the corners of his sly eyes; Assaracus, Idaeus, and Hicetaon, who had kept to other ships during the voyage, and who I’d managed to virtually forget existed; Deimas and, of course, Aethylla, my “companion,” twittering and blushing with pleasure at the company she found herself in.
Of course, Corineus sat with us as well, and to my delight I found myself seated on the cushion next to him. The food he caused to have spread before us was mouthwatering: fine maza and turon made of the best flour, honey, and cheese; sweet fresh figs; almonds and plump olives; sweet roasted game, both partridge and venison; salads sprinkled with mint and oregano; honeyed cakes and fresh apples and pears.
Corineus served me himself, taking the best and sweetest from every platter and lifting it to my mouth on a golden prong. I smiled agreeably, but no more than was respectful or due, and tried not to allow our eyes to meet.
Brutus watched with an unreadable expression, and from time to time I had to bury my hands in the skirt of my robe to conceal their shaking. I was both angry and fearful. All I would have liked was to enjoy the company of Corineus, but Brutus had effectively managed to ruin that simple joy with his cruel barbs.
Fortunately, Corineus made no attempt to make me the entire center of his universe during the meal.
Once our group had eaten sufficiently, Corineus put down the prong with which he had fed both himself and me, and leaned toward Brutus.
‘Tell me what you do with such a great fleet, and so many Trojans, Brutus,” Corineus said. “By the gods, I had thought that my city held the only sizable population of Trojans left alive.”
‘I am here as the instrument of the gods,” Brutus said, and at my side I heard Corineus breathe deeply in awe.
Brutus continued to talk, much of it new even to me (why had I never asked him this myself? I’d been dragged across oceans… and I had never talked to him about it). Some of the others, Membricus, Idaeus, and Hicetaon, put in their words as well, as did Deimas and Assaracus when it came to the means by which Brutus had so horribly tricked my father and destroyed Mesopotama.
This was uncomfortable for me, and I kept very still, my head bowed, my concentration all on the empty plate before me. I did not want to live this through again.
But I was forced to. Every word that was said cut through to my heart.
Then Brutus began to talk of how he had forced Antigonus to trick the guards into opening the gates.
He described his murder of Melanthus and how he had used that murder to force Antigonus to his will. He described Melanthus’ death in detail—
although he never mentioned his name—and I knew that detail was meant for me, although as a warning or as a punishment I was not sure.
‘The instant I had torn out the boy’s throat, Antigonus capitulated,” Brutus said, leaning toward Corineus and stabbing in the air with an eating prong to underscore his words, “and I had my entry unopposed into Mesopotamia.”
I think Corineus was about to say something but I, stupidly, opened my mouth first.
‘The ‘boy’s’ name was Melanthus,” I said, “and he was my intended husband. I loved him dearly.”
‘But I slit his throat and took her instead,” Brutus said and, I could hardly believe it, laughed.
Corineus glanced at Brutus, then took one of my hands from my lap and held it. “I am sorry for you,”
he said, and indeed, I could hear the sympathy in his voice, and it almost undid me. “We men rush to war, and we never think of the sorrow and heartache we cause in the homes of the dead.”
‘But Cornelia had her revenge,” Brutus said in a hard, hateful voice.
My heart almost stopped. Oh! Why had I given him this chance? He would now tell Corineus all of my shame, how my arrogance had murdered my father and all my people, and Corineus would now regard me with the same contempt that all the other Trojans about me did… and I suppose I could not blame him for that.
I tried to pull my hand from his, but Corineus held it tight.
Brutus began to speak, relating in vivid detail what I had planned, what I had done, what I had, in the end, accomplished. Genocide.
I closed my eyes, waiting for Corineus to drop my hand.
Brutus finished. There was silence.
Then…
‘Can you blame her, Brutus?” Corineus said softly. “Would you have done any different in her place?”
And he gave my hand the tiniest of squeezes.
A vast silence, this time. I could not believe what Corineus had said. That he had offered me a little understanding. My heart was thudding so heavily I felt sure that it was audible to everyone around me.
I could not imagine what Brutus would make of it.
‘You do not know the half of it,” Brutus said, his voice tight.
‘I am sure that I do not,” Corineus said, “and I apologize if I have offended, Brutus. I am only saying that we can all do foolish things in our youth and you are… what? How old, Cornelia?”
‘Fifteen,” I whispered.
‘Fifteen,” Corineus said, giving my hand another brief squeeze. “We all did foolish things when we were that age. I know I did, and—”
‘Gods, Corineus, she murdered—”
‘And I am sure,” Corineus continued through Brutus’ interruption, “that you also did things you may have regretted at fifteen. Yes?”
Yet more silence, this time one of deep-drawn breaths and averted eyes and suddenly, suddenly I remembered what my father had said of Brutus that first day he’d mentioned him in the megaron. He tore
his mother apart in childbirth and then, when he was a youth of fifteen, slew his father with a
“misplaced” arrow .
And Corineus, as most of the civilized world, it seemed, had heard of it also.
I removed my hand from Corineus’—he made no attempt to hang onto it this time—and raised my head to look at Brutus.
‘You cannot compare an accident with what I did, Corineus,” I said. “You cannot use my youth to excuse my foolishness.”
Brutus was staring at me with such flinty eyes that I knew he was furious.
‘I am weary,” I said, despair making every one of my bones ache. Oh, what a day this had been.
Anger to joy to despair. What else would it offer? “And I think my presence is troubling. Will you excuse me, Corineus? I will retire, I think.”
Corineus rose and helped me to my feet and, as he gently kissed my cheek, whispered, “I will talk with him, Cornelia. I have made him angry, not you.”
Not daring to look at Brutus, nor any of the other Trojans present, I nodded, turned, and made my way to the cabin.
CbAPGGR GUDGCVG HAT NEEDED TO BE SPOKEN, BRUTUS,” CORINEUS said, sitting down as Cornelia vanished into the gloom, “and it were easier said by a man who is a stranger to you than someone close. I meant no disrespect by it, not to you nor to any of yours. Cornelia has been a fool, but all of us here, all of us, have been fools at one time or another.”
‘Cornelia is a murderess!” Membricus snapped.
‘She had just seen her lover murdered, and she had just been forced into a marriage with the man she could think of only as his murderer. She repaid violence with violence, and I am not excusing that, I am simply understanding it.”
Membricus made as if to speak again, but Brutus laid a hand on his arm, and Membricus subsided.
‘It was not welcome, what you said,” Brutus said, looking steadily at Cor-ineus, “but I will respect your reason for saying it.”
Corineus nodded. “If my words have caused ill will and ill feeling, then do remember that they were my words, and not those of Cornelia. And remember also that what she said following were the words of a wise woman, not those of a silly girl.”
‘She has a fine champion in you,” Brutus said.
‘She would be better,” Corineus said very softly, “in having a fine champion in you .”
” I think,” Hicetaon put in, “that we have spoken enough of guilt and youth and misdemeanors for this night. Troia Nova awaits us. Can we not discuss that?”
He finished on such a plaintive note that everyone laughed, the sound breaking the tension even if the
merriment was a little forced.
‘Well said,” Brutus remarked. “Troia Nova does await us, and all our mistakes and follies lie well behind us.”