Nowhere, thus far, was there a good place to land such a large fleet. As the leading ship rounded the third turn, Brutus suddenly swore, and let go Cornelia’s hand, pushing her none too gently away from the stem post.
Cornelia, who’d been about to protest, scrambled even farther back when she saw what it was that had grabbed Brutus’ attention.
On the north side of the river there was a small valley created by a merrily tumbling stream, and at the point where the valley flattened out to join the river stood a moderately sized village surrounded by well-cultivated fields and orchards. The village was unwalled or fortified—which surprised Brutus—and made of some twenty or twenty-five circular huts made of logs, stone, daub, and thatch.
People were running from the huts, standing to stare at the ship as it came about the bend, then turning on their heels to race deeper into the village where a much larger and well-fortified round house stood on higher ground.
Corineus and Hicetaon had joined Brutus. Behind them the Trojans crammed into the ship muttered and pointed as the villagers continued to rush for the safety of the large round house. “What do we do?”
asked Corineus.
‘Nothing,” said Brutus. “They will see soon enough that we have an army of ships following… they will not risk an attack.” “And if they warn others of our presence?”
Brutus shrugged. “There is not much we can do about that save protect and fortify our eventual camp as best we can. We will have to meet this people sooner or later, Corineus. We can’t hide forever.”
‘They are well clothed,” remarked Hicetaon. “Even from this distance I can see their tunics and robes are woven with fine patterns. And look—they have herds of sheep and goats.”
‘Only a few of them carry weapons of any note,” said Brutus. “These are not an aggressive people.”
From among the scurrying villagers walked forth one woman. She was old, but not ancient, with long graying brown hair and a thin, weary face that was enlivened with very bright, very intelligent eyes. She wore no mark of leadership, but somehow exuded an aura of power that made her stand out from her villagers as no tore or golden band could.
As she watched them, standing close to the shoreline, she laid a hand to her belly and looked directly at Brutus, as if she knew who he was, then her eyes slid momentarily to where Cornelia stood several paces away from Brutus. When her eyes came back to him, Brutus raised a hand over his head and very
slowly waved it back and forth several times, then pointed upriver. We greet you, and mean you no harm. We continue forward . The woman stared, then, very slowly, lifted one open-palmed hand to shoulder height, acknowledging the message.
‘I wonder how many more villages we will pass?” Corineus murmured.
* * *
TWO MORE, AS IT TURNED OUT, BEFORE THEY AP-proached a site Brutus thought suitable for landing.
In similar fashion to the first village, the people of the next two villages tended to panic at first sight of the ships, then they would slow to stare as they—and their headwoman—realized the foreigners meant no harm. Not yet, at least .
None of them moved to attack, and Brutus dared to hope that his Trojans would remain unmolested.
At noon the leading Trojan ship moved about a bend in the river—although still wide, the main channel of the river was now growing considerably shallower, and Brutus knew they’d need to find a suitable site before long—and found the landscape flattening to flowery meadows on either side of the riv-erbanks, the woods sparser, and, on the northern bank, a very large and relatively clear meadow surrounded by marshes and tidal mudflats.
Behind the clear area rose a steep-sided hill topped with a rocky outcrop. The riverside flank had a gradual incline, but on every other side the hill fell away steeply.
It would be a good defensive location: with all the Trojan men to hand, and all the wood surrounding them, Brutus knew he could build a wooden palisade within a week. It wouldn’t be large enough to contain all the Trojan campsites… but with luck it would be large enough for them to huddle within should there be need for protection.
He turned about slowly on the deck, studying the surrounding landscape. It was good. The site itself was large, relatively level, high enough to escape any tidal fluctuations in the river level, and with a covering vegetation that would soon be cleared away for a campsite. There was a stream… no, three streams emptying into the river at a close distance. The woods in the nearby hills were full of game. There were too many trees too close to where Brutus wanted camp set up, a potential concealing place for attackers, but again the thousands of able-bodied men could clear those within a day or two.
And the riverbank at the foot of the clearing was wide and broad enough for a score of ships to unload at the same time.
It was unlikely that he could find a better spot in time for them to disembark before nightfall.
He nodded, smiled at Corineus and Hicetaon. “This is the place ,” he said.
S6V6>IISEMBARKATION TOOK MANYHOURS, AND IT WAS ,’ ,’ not completed until very late that night. Oarsmen maneu-*1fe • upt*^ vered ship after ship to the beach where strong men waited with ropes to haul its stem partway onto the sand. They were helped by a good high tide, and by a sharp drop away into the river so that the ships found it easy to move to the beach. Part weary, part wary, shipload after shipload of people clambered down to the dry land, hauling out their possessions, carrying struggling sheep and goats and children, and standing, once landed, to stare about at this land to
which Brutus had brought them.
Brutus’ first task was to establish a secure perimeter about the landing area and the hill that rose behind it. The first several hundred people to disembark were warriors, swords drawn, fanning out to scout the woods that not only surrounded the landing site and the hill, but the bank on the other side of the river as well.
Brutus wanted no surprises.
Once he was certain the immediate area was secure, Brutus and his immediate subcommanders—Corineus, Hicetaon, Assaracus, and Deimas set about establishing a camp for the night: no easy task for some twelve thousand people. At best they could hope for campfires and enough space to allow everyone to stretch out; over the next few days everyone would have to work as hard as possible to build temporary shelters.
As people milled, bustled, shouted, laughed, and occasionally wept in the doing of their tasks, Brutus climbed to the top of the hill while it was still light. It was a large hill, very high, its almost-level crown large enough for a moderate-sized fortress, and it commanded a good view of the surrounding countryside.
From the river the landscape had seemed to be composed of almost-endless undulated and densely wooded hills; from his vantage point atop the hill Brutus could see that the wooded hills extended for many miles in every direction. There were small patches of open land where diseased trees had fallen, but generally the forests looked almost impenetrable. In the very far west, however, Brutus saw that the hills leveled out into flat and mostly unwooded plains. Looking back toward the coast he could see a few twists of smoke rising from the riverside villages they’d passed, but there were no smoke trails rising from anywhere farther inland. Brutus guessed that unless word had spread about his fleet and fires had been doused, the only villages in the immediate area were on the river itself where transport was possible.
There were very obviously no large towns or fortresses within several days’ march at the least.
For the time being they were relatively safe.
Hicetaon joined him on the hilltop, puffing a bit after the steep climb, and for a few minutes they studied the landscape together, discussing what they would need to accomplish in order to build a secure campsite for the Trojans.
‘And if this is not to be Troia Nova,” Hicetaon said, “what shall it be, then? What name will you give to this first Trojan settlement in the new land?”
Brutus gave a short laugh, caught by surprise. He thought a moment, then grabbed a knife from his belt and leaned down to a patch of damp moss-covered rock. He scraped industriously for a few minutes, then stood back to admire his handiwork: heue i stand and heRe i Rest, this place shall be called totnes.
‘Totnes?” Hicetaon said.
Brutus grinned. “When I was a toddler and still suckling at the breast of my nurse, she used to sing over me that I would be a great king and go to lands far distant. ‘Tis only fair I name this first landing spot after her—Totnes. Besides, the shape of this hill reminds me most particularly of her full breasts.”
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128