Blangan had caused a platter of fruits, bowls of maza, and some well-watered wine to be brought to the group, and they sat cross-legged on the deck, sharing food, and watching the cliffs to the port bow of the ship. The ships were close enough to the cliffs now that they could hear the sound of the surf breaking at their base, and see the shape of the trees and the richness and variety of the undergrowth.
‘It is a good land,” Deimas noted, and none present could mistake the relief in his voice.
‘It is so… green,” Cornelia said, and Brutus found himself agreeing with her. He’d rarely seen a land with such abundant vegetation—and the mere fact of that abundance augured well for their future life here. Game would abound, and the soil was obviously fertile beyond anything he could have imagined.
It would be a fine place in which to raise both flocks and children.
‘Blangan,” Brutus said, laying aside his empty bowl and taking a fig from the platter. “Is this Llangarlia?
Is this your home?”
Blangan had hardly eaten since she’d joined the group at the stem post. Her eyes were weary, the gray shadows underneath suggesting she’d slept even less than Hicetaon, and her thin fingers toyed ceaselessly with the dangling tassel of her waistband.
She’d scarcely taken her eyes off the cliffs rising to their port.
‘Blangan?” Brutus said again, after she’d failed to answer. Corineus, sitting beside his wife, looked at her worriedly, and took one of her hands in his.
Her other hand jerked, suddenly bereft of its companion in fidgeting.
‘Yes,” she said, very low, finally looking away from the cliffs and back to Brutus. “This is Llangarlia.
But do not call this my home. My true home I have left far behind me.”
Irritated, Brutus ignored the second part of her answer. “Do you know this coastline? How far does it stretch? How many people live along here? And is there a place where we may safely land, and continue in safety once we are on land?”
‘So many questions,” Blangan said. Then she sighed. “The coastline of the southeastern portion of
Llangarlia is much like this for its entire length. It has many entrances to bays and rivers where you might land… but where we are exactly I cannot tell you. It has been so very many years since I was last here.”
‘There is a great river to which we must travel,” said Brutus. “It is surrounded by marshland and is grouped about by low rounded hills—the Veiled Hills. It is here that we are bound. Are we close?”
‘To the Veiled Hills?” Blangan responded. “No. We are far to the south. The wind”— Genvissa, she thought, wondering why Genvissa wanted them this far south—”has pushed us well away from the Veiled Hills.”
‘How far?” Brutus said.
‘The River Llan is much farther to the north. Perhaps two or three days’ sail, or more, if you must tack against this wind.”
‘Thank you.” Brutus leaned back, suddenly realized he still held the fig in his hand, and took a bite out of it as he looked at the others. He thought for a moment, then spoke to Blangan again.
‘Where is the main population of Llangarlia grouped? In these hills to our west, or in the lands about the Llan, and the Veiled Hills?”
‘In the lands about the Veiled Hills to the north,” Blangan said. “The land is far richer there—”
Richer than this? thought every Trojan, as well as Cornelia. Richer than this sweet land of rolling wooded hills ?
‘—and the climate milder. Also, most people like to live not too far distant from the Veiled Hills, which is a place of great mystery and sacredness and… power.” She smiled a little, but it was sad. “We are a lazy people, and do not like to walk longer than two or three days to reach the site where most of our festivals are held.”
‘Your advice?” Brutus said, now looking to the others. “Should we sail straight north for the Llan and the Veiled Hills, or look for a landing spot along this coastline?”
‘We seek a landing spot as soon as possible,” said Hicetaon. “For two reasons. One, we need to replenish our fresh water and meat, and secondly, we are truly unsure of our reception among the Llangarlians. I, for one, do not fancy sailing directly into their lair around these Veiled Hills, even if we do number twelve thousand. But our numbers will serve us well this far south where the population is less and likely to be scattered. An isolated village of thirty or forty people will give this fleet no problems. The larger and stronger communities to the north may.”
At that moment Aethylla returned with Achates who she handed to Cornelia, who smiled and took her son eagerly.
‘I admit myself intrigued by these Veiled Hills,” said Cornelia, cuddling her son close to her breast.
“But I should be grateful to sleep on dry and firm land as soon as I might.” Then she added, “I want to see this land, my new home. Can we land now? Today?”
‘There are many who would add their plea to that of Cornelia,” Deimas said. “Cornelia is not the only woman among us who has recently given birth, nor the only one who feels tired, dispirited, or ill. The ships are crowded, the people are tired, and I think I speak for most when I say my desire is to land as
soon as possible, and as safely as possible. If the risk to us is lesser in these southern regions of Llangarlia, then I say we land here. Soon.”
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 farther north—if negotiations with this Gormagog and MagaLlan go well. If we land today, then how ready will people be to reboard in a few 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.”
Five coRnelia speaks THINK THAT IF I HAD NOT HAD THE DISTRACTION OF my love for my new son, I would have thrown myself overboard if I’d 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 line of cliffs and the green swath 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 great discoveries: the totally unexpected love for my son, and the realization 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 O 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 toward a man I loved beyond life, I wondered if I might dare to hope that the “best” I could hope for for Brutus and myself might also, one day, include love.