Hades Daughter by Sara Douglass Page B

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    Brutus did not sleep the rest of the night. Instead, he paced up and down the beach, staring out to sea, watching the light catch on the crescents of the breaking waves, waiting impatiently for the dawn and the start he could make towards his heritage.

C HAPTER F IVE
    I n the morning, when the men rose and were set to break their fast, Brutus called them to stand before him and announced that they were to sail two days south to a city called Mesopotama.
    “And from where has this idea sprung, Brutus?” asked Membricus, laying down the bowl of maza one of the other men had handed him. The older man looked tired and drawn, as if the fear of his dream still lingered within him.
    “Last night, as we slept, the goddess Artemis came to me,” Brutus said, addressing the crowd of warriors rather than answering Membricus solely. “She announced to me that it was time for me to resume my great-grandfather’s inheritance.” He drew in a deep breath, his face joyous. “We are to rebuild Troy in a land untouched by troubles! Troia Nova! A city, not of ill luck and trickery, but of strength and nobleness, blessing and peace.”
    Instantly, men shouted questions at Brutus, but he held up his hands and hushed them back to silence. He still had not dressed, and, standing naked under the morning sun, the golden bands gleaming against his deeply tanned skin, his wild black hair flowing about his shoulders, Brutus looked like a god himself.
    “For years you have followed me, giving me your loyalty and your swords,” he continued. “I could haveasked for no better. And neither could the gods! We are to be blessed again, my friends. Handed back the favour of the gods!”
    One of the warriors stepped forth. He was of an age with Membricus, but tightly muscled and barrel-chested and completely bald above his hook-nosed face.
    He strode up to Brutus, leaned close, and touched his mouth to the band that encircled Brutus’ right biceps. “I am always proud to serve you, Brutus. But today my joy transcends my pride. Troy. Oh gods! That we shall rebuild Troy!”
    His voice trembled, but he controlled himself. He was one of Brutus’ most respected officers, and had travelled widely before joining Brutus’ band some eight years previously.
    Brutus smiled, and laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Hicetaon? I can see by your eyes that there is something more you want to tell me.”
    “I know of this Mesopotama,” Hicetaon said.
    “It is ruled by a man called Pandrasus,” Brutus said. “This the goddess told me.”
    “Oh, aye,” Hicetaon said. “And did she say more?”
    “That it contains a test I must endure before we travel further.”
    “Ah.” Hicetaon nodded. “I think I may know to what she refers. My mother came from Mesopotama. She and her mother escaped when she was but a babe in arms—”
    “Escaped?” Brutus said, and his hand tightened on Hicetaon’s shoulder.
    “Escaped. If the goddess has commanded you to rebuild Troy, then I wonder not that she directed you to Mesopotama, Brutus. When Troy fell, the cursed Pyrrhus, son of the even more accursed Achilles, herded several thousand Trojan men and women and children into deep-bellied merchant ships and brought them tothis city of Mesopotama, where he sold them for good coin as slaves to the Dorians who live there. The Dorians kept—and still keep, for all I know—the Trojans in vile confinement within the city walls, and made them to haul timber and stir pots and wipe the shit from the arses of their Dorian masters. This must be your test—to free the Trojans held in captivity, and to lead them to Troia Nova.”
    A murmuring rose from among the ranks of the Trojan warriors. The fate of all Trojans since the fall of Troy had been poor, but this slavery…this was obscene!
    “This king, Pandrasus,” Brutus said, “tell me of him.”
    Hicetaon shrugged. “If he is like the king of my mother’s time, and the ones before that, then he will be cruel and