The men nodded, and after Coel, Jago, and Bladud had retrieved their swords and the flasks of wine that had hung behind their saddles, Brutus led them toward the hill.
AFTER THEY HAD REACHED ITS ROCKY SUMMIT, COEL and his companions spent a long moment studying the crowds below them, and the infinity of black ships that were either moored in the shallows of the river or drawn up on the foreshore.
When he finally turned to Brutus, Coel’s eyes were bleak. “What do you here, with so many women and children and flocks of animals?” he said. He knew very well why the Trojans were here, but he wondered if Brutus would prevaricate.
‘I will not lie to you,” Brutus said, standing easy with one foot resting on a small rock before him. “We come here to make a home. We are Trojans, vagabonds for these past ninety-eight years. Now we will make our home here.”
” Why here?” Coel’s voice had a hard edge to it, and Brutus could not blame him for that.
‘The great Artemis, goddess of the hunt, has directed us here.”
‘This is the land of Og and Mag,” Coel said, both voice and eyes now flat. “Your ‘huntress’ will have no place within our forests and fens.”
‘Is that what your MagaLlan and Gormagog told you to tell me?” Brutus said softly, holding Coel’s stare.
Coel held Brutus’ gaze for a few more heartbeats, then dropped his eyes to the flask he held in his hand, and managed a small and not altogether unnatural smile. “We have brought the welcoming wine,”
he said. “Will you sit, and share it with us, while I pass on the message I have for you?”
Slowly, infinitely slowly, he raised his dark, deep eyes back to Brutus.
For no reason at all, Coel’s movement and expression made Brutus recall Siangan’s words about her undoubted death.
There was something here, a power, that was unknown to him, and Brutus knew that wariness and temperance would do more for his cause than any untoward display of arrogance and incaution. There was something behind Coel, something powerful, and Brutus knew better than to tempt it forth now.
He needed to win for himself a kingdom among these people, and he would do it the more easily by listening than by shouting.
He nodded. “The sun is warm here, and I fancy that your wine will be more than welcome.” He glanced to his left as footsteps sounded, and Hicetaon and Corineus joined the group of four men atop the hill.
Coel instinctively tensed, then relaxed as he saw that the two older men wore no weapons apart from small eating knives. The older man, bald and muscular and with a deep wound scabbed on one side of his head, was clearly a warrior, while the thinner-faced man looked more the intellectual than the soldier.
Brutus introduced them to Coel, Bladud, and Jago, and motioned everyone to sit down.
Coel unstoppered his flask of wine and took a long draught himself (See, this wine is not poisoned) before passing it to Brutus.
‘Drink,” Coel said, “of the welcoming wine, and as you do, I will speak the words I have carried so far south with me.”
Brutus drank, managing to swallow without grimacing. The flask contained a rich, honeyed liquid, far sweeter than the wines Brutus was used to, and he gave Corineus a warning glance as he handed it to him.
Brutus hoped this land was warm enough to grow vines, because he didn’t think he wanted to get too used to this syrupy draught.
Coel cleared his throat, and when he began to speak, it was with the melodious rhythmic voice of a poet, so beautiful that Brutus had no doubt he could win any woman he wanted into his bed.
‘Greetings, Brutus, heir of Troy,” he said. “We wish you health and life, and we also wish you to know that we understand why you are here, and for what purpose: to rebuild Troy, on these our meadows and forests.”
Brutus’ face remained impassive, but those words confirmed what he had suspected for weeks: Artemis had never once come to him. Only Genvissa, in a guise he would trust.
By the gods, he thought, she has so much power !
‘We know your longing for a home,” Coel continued, “and for Troy so long dead, but we also need you to understand that your purpose causes our people and our gods great dismay. But rather than dismiss you, and ask you to leave—”
Despite himself, Brutus couldn’t resist a smile at that. “Dismiss him,” indeed! Genvissa had a fine sense of humor to complement her power.
‘—we ask instead that you and a small band of your companions travel to the heartland of Llangarlia there to meet with us, and to see if our mutual fears and needs cannot be mutually accommodated.”
Coel’s voice slipped back to normal. “These are the words of the MagaLlan and the Gormagog combined,
united as the living representatives of the gods, and the unified voice of the people.”
‘They want me to travel to the Veiled Hills?” Brutus said, and saw Coel’s composure slip at the mention of Llangarlia’s sacred heartland.
‘Yes,” said Coel, reasoning that most of Brutus’ knowledge must have come from Blangan, the traitorous bitch. He looked weary now, as if his delivery of the message had come at the expense of his own strength.
‘Just myself and a small band of my companions? What reassurance do I have that we will not be killed?”
Coel, in his turn, managed a wry smile. “What guarantee do we have that you will not set your tens of thousands against us?”
All humor dropped from Brutus’ face. “We have a mere few thousand warriors,” he said. “The rest of my people are wives and children, the elderly, and untrained youth. As an ‘invading force’ we are severely hampered by those we need to protect. We defend, we do not attack. And we are not’tens of thousands.'”
‘You are more than we could ever hope to assemble in one place,” said Coel softly.
There was a cold silence as both groups of men stared at each other.
‘Perhaps I may suggest a compromise?” Corineus said eventually.
Eyes swiveled in his direction.
‘If Brutus and his companions travel into Llangarlia’s heartland, not knowing what they may find, or how they will be received,” Corineus said, “then perhaps a small band of Llangarlians, of similar standing, enjoy our Trojan hospitality here within Totnes camp.”
‘Reciprocal hostages,” said Hicetaon, always blunt and to the point.
Brutus raised his eyebrows at Coel. “Your younger companion, Jago, can surely escort us to the Veiled Hills. Will you stay here, with Bladud?”
‘You will need me to escort you through the territories between here and the Veiled Hills,” Coel responded. “Only my name and word can get you through. But your companion Corineus has suggested a good compromise. Although I cannot offer my family to dwell among you—they also dwell close to the Veiled Hills, and it would take weeks to send word and then for them to travel down to the Dart River—may I suggest asking the three Mothers of the three villages close to this location? As Mothers of their Houses and villages, they are greatly revered. No one would ever risk their lives, most certainly not either Gormagog or MagaLlan. If these three Mothers agree, then, Brutus, will you and your immediate companions, as well your wives and children, accompany me back to the Veiled Hills? If we both risk our most valued and honored, then both surely will rest assured that peace will be maintained.” Brutus exchanged glances with Corineus and Hicetaon, then nodded. “I agree.” coRnelia speaks ^Tc Vi CONTINUED TO BE ENTHRALLED BY THIS NEW LAND.
I, who once had never thought to be enthralled by anything save a new jacket or a bauble thrown my way by my father! Yet here I was, with an infant in my arms I had once thought to loathe, a husband I had once thought was little more than a brutish goat, not a single remaining remnant of my Mesopotamian finery, living in an overcrowded camp that was growing muddier by the day—and I was so enjoying myself anyone would have thought me born in a meadow.
Achates was a great joy, but I must admit that lying next to Brutus at night made me wonder when I would heal enough to make love with him again. Once the thought of bedding with my husband had caused me physical revulsion and mental torture; now I found myself daydreaming about it as I had once daydreamed about Melanthus. Over the past few weeks I had become more and more aware of his…
well, of his desirability. It had begun that night at the Altars of the Philistines where I had run my hands through his hair, felt his tongue graze mine, and had continued ever since. I had noticed how other women watched him as well, had noticed his magnetism, had realized that they looked at me with envy underlining their contempt.