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arrogant, and think of his Trojan slaves as little more than despicable beasts, fit only to be worked to death and then discarded. I say that if the goddess has directed you south to Mesopotama, then I am glad, for I have a great longing to free my mother’s people.”
    “ Our people,” Brutus said softly. “Trojans all.”
    “And when we have freed our fellow Trojans,” Membricus asked, startling Brutus a little, for he had forgotten Membricus sitting so silent to one side, “where then do we sail?”
    “Artemis will show me once we have taken our people from Mesopotama, and sailed one day south to an island where she has promised to meet me.”
    Later, when the men were breaking camp and wading out to their low-slung warships, Membricus pulled Brutus to one side.
    “My beloved companion,” he said, murmuring so that no one else would hear them, “I feel a great wariness in my gut.”
    Membricus moved very close to Brutus, so close their shoulders touched, and Membricus shivered.“Artemis?” he said. “How can this be so? None of the priests or seers have felt, let alone spoken to, any of the gods in at least three generations. But lo! Suddenly Artemis appears strong and powerful and full of promises of future glory and Troy reborn. Have you no wit, Brutus? No caution?”
    Brutus’ face went dangerously expressionless. “Jealous, Membricus? Jealous that she should approach me rather than you?” He grabbed Membricus’ hand and held it hard against one of his golden bands. “ I wear these, my old foolish friend. Not you.”
    “But—”
    Brutus sighed, relenting. The fact that he and Membricus had once been lovers constantly disturbed their current relationship, and Membricus, as Brutus’ adviser, was right to question. His hand softened on Membricus’, patted it, then allowed it to drop.
    “Do you think I was not dubious, my friend? That I did not narrow my eyes and think, Who is this? Was it truly Artemis?” Brutus gave a half shrug, then an ironic smile. “For a virgin goddess she was remarkably…forthright, but, well, for now I listen to her. These,” again he touched one of his bands, “responded to her. The power that is in these and which was in her was sympathetic, not antagonistic. I did not feel evil or darkness or ill will from her. Only—”
    “Oh, I can see well enough what you felt from her, Brutus. Let not this,” one of his hands brushed gently against Brutus’ groin, “direct your thoughts, and thus our lives.”
    Brutus stepped back a half-space, his eyes flinty. “I let power direct my thoughts, Membricus. That is, after all, what I was bred for.”

C HAPTER S IX
    B rutus’ sandalled feet slipped across the loose rock and gravel, and he had to bend down a hand momentarily to steady himself. He took a deep breath, forced himself to ignore the pain in his calves and chest, then scrabbled to the top of the rocky ridge, laughing breathlessly as he gained its summit.
    “Come on, my friends!” he shouted to his still-climbing companions. “What ails you both? Age? Infirmity? A girlish fear of falling?”
    Membricus and Hicetaon, both breathless and flushed of face, nevertheless managed a laugh, although Hicetaon’s ended on a soft curse as he jammed his fingers between two rocks.
    Brutus, still smiling, reached down an arm and aided first Membricus and then Hicetaon to the summit of the ridge that they’d been climbing since dawn.
    “Ah,” Membricus grunted, staggering a few paces away before sinking down to rest against a stubby pine tree that had somehow managed to survive the winds atop the ridge. “Are you sure you need my old eyes on this excursion, Brutus?”
    “Ever since you confessed your fears to me, then aye,” Brutus said, looking meaningfully at Membricus, “I do.”
    Hicetaon stood a few paces away, hands in the small of his back, stretching out abused muscles. Something cracked in his spine, and he sighed in relief and relaxed.
    “I am not sure this is