She looked at Mi, this urgent fourteen-year-old with her bad news. It had been five months since the Trojans had landed, three since Noli’s showdown with Qirum. The summer was long gone, the season when the soldiers liked to fight. They were safe, for this year at least. Weren’t they?
‘I saw purple hairstreaks today,’ she said.
‘What?’ Mi snapped. ‘What?’
‘Near the oaks, when we were gathering the acorns. What pretty butterflies they are. The sun was shining right through their wings. It’s been a funny year for butterflies and moths, but-’
‘Butterflies? Didn’t you hear what I said?’
Vala got up and put an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. ‘Mi? Are you sure?’
Mi pointed to the south, in the direction of New Troy. ‘I saw their fires, mother. Smoke. I crept closer.’
‘That was foolish-’
‘I took care!’ Mi snapped, defiant. ‘They would not see me! But I saw them. Men. Horses. Chariots. Weapons everywhere.’
‘They were hunting,’ Hadhe said. ‘That is what they do. They eat the bread from their farms, but they hunt for sport.’
‘These were too many for hunting. There were a hundred men — maybe more. I counted! And they had breastplates, plumes in their helmets, shields. I have seen this before. I have watched them train. It is a phalanx.’ Another Greek word that had entered the Northlanders’ vocabulary since the coming of King Qirum. ‘They are marching. They will be here tomorrow at the latest.’
Hadhe might be hesitating, but the alarm was spreading. The circle at the fire was breaking up, and the men emerged from the houses. One woman was calling for her children. Caxa came out of the shade of a house. Hadhe saw that the slender Jaguar girl had been sketching designs on a clay tablet.
‘What’s going on?’ Hesh came walking over from the house, pulling a rope belt around his tunic. Hadhe’s second husband was a heavy-looking man with an odd little ring of beard around his mouth. His first wife had died in childbirth, and he had no children of his own. He leaned over Hadhe and hugged his wife, his breath rich with stale Trojan beer. ‘You woke me up,’ he said, grinning at Mi. ‘All I could hear was your voice.’ He flapped his fingers like a duck’s beak. ‘Quack, quack.’
Mi was furious. Hadhe recalled she had already fought against the Midsummer Invasion, had already killed Trojans. She had a right to be furious, Hadhe supposed. ‘You’re a fool,’ Mi snapped at Hesh. ‘If my father was here-’
‘But he’s not,’ Vala said sternly. ‘And as Hadhe’s husband he is your uncle, girl. Show some respect.’
‘Respect?’ Mi stamped her foot in frustration. ‘Why won’t any of you listen to me?’
Hadhe, still sitting, said, ‘I believe you saw what you say, Mi. But — well, we must be sure. Maybe it’s just another show of force.’ And there had been plenty of those, including spectacular chariot drives along the wide straight avenues of Northland. All meant to intimidate. ‘And besides, we should be safe.’ The new defensive rampart that circled the community’s central hearthplace was a bank of earth taller than the tallest warrior, and out of sight beyond it was the ditch from which the earth for the bank had been dug, implanted with broken spears, arrowheads and thorns laced with various exotic poisons. All this had been set up at Raka’s order. ‘None of us wanted to build such a thing. You know I argued against it as a waste of effort.’
Vala knelt by Hadhe and took her hand. ‘Listen, Hadhe. I heard the fire mountain’s shout, but did not believe its warnings. Just as we did not believe Qirum would raise an army, but he did. We did not believe he would land in Northland, but he did. Now we don’t want to believe he will start a war. And yet-’
‘And yet his soldiers are coming,’ Mi insisted.
And Hadhe was sitting here as if trying to make it all go away. She pushed herself to her feet, laying her hand on her belly. I’m sorry, she told the child within. Maybe I have been lost in your dreams of the womb. She faced Mi. ‘You say a hundred. How long would it take them to get here?’
‘Less than a day.’
‘We cannot fight a hundred,’ Hesh muttered.
‘But we must,’ Mi insisted, young, earnest, defiant.
He nodded. ‘Yes. I will gather the men and older boys.’ Of whom there were about forty in the settlement. ‘We should check the rampart, man it. Burn the bridges over the ditch. Ready our bows and spears…’ These were all actions they had planned under the tutelage of the Hatti warriors Raka had brought, actions they had never really imagined would need to be taken.
‘Use the women too, and the older girls,’ Vala snapped. ‘I can throw a spear. Remember what that Hatti corporal said. The Trojans will need more attackers than defenders, two to one, three to one. The more of us we can muster the better chance we will have.’
Hadhe glanced around, trying to think, to contribute. What else? ‘What about the children? The infants should be taken to the flood mound, with their mothers. If the Trojans do break through the rampart, at least we can fall back there and make a stand. As for the older children, Mi-’
Mi stood with Hesh. ‘I’ll fight.’
‘Oh, no, you won’t,’ Vala snapped.
Mi flared, ‘Mother, I’m old enough to choose.’
Vala held her shoulders. ‘Oh, child, but you’re not old enough to die!’
Hadhe stepped forward. ‘Mi — listen. We need someone to evacuate the older children. Those old enough to walk, not old enough to fight. Your brother Puli, he’s only four. And my kids, Keli, Blane… There are plenty of others. Round them up and get them out of here before the Trojans come — if they come. Take them to the Wall, where they will be safe. Please, Mi. Find a couple of others to help you.’
‘They won’t leave their mothers.’
Hadhe squeezed her arm. ‘That’s why it must be you. Tell them it’s a treat, a hunt for eels or grass snakes. They’ll believe you. Go.’ She pushed her away, gently. ‘Take blankets, water flasks, fire-making gear, mashed food for the little ones. Oh, and take Caxa. I think the Annids would want her to be kept safe. She can help with the children. And, Mi. This is most important.’
‘Yes?’
‘When you get to the Wall, tell them what’s happening here. Tell them we need help.’
Vala hugged Mi. ‘Maybe you’ll be back here in a few days and the sun will be shining and everybody will be fine, and nothing will have happened.’
‘I’ll have been wrong,’ Mi pointed out. ‘But I could live with that.’
‘Good girl,’ Vala said. ‘Go now. Go!’ She turned away quickly, and Hadhe saw how she was fighting back a sudden tear.
As Mi ran off to find the children, the adults huddled, talking urgently. Through his wooden teeth the priest began muttering prayers to the little mothers, while checking that his bronze knife was in its sheath at his waist.
The Trojans had marched through the night, behind their king.
The hundred or so warriors were mostly Anatolian, equipped in the Hatti fashion, and some even sported thick Hatti queues. But in the months since the landing Protis the Spartan had trained them up as infantry in the disciplined Greek style. So they marched as quietly as a hundred such men could be expected to, though there were always muffled coughs, muttering voices, the creak of leather shields and the clank of bronze weapons and armour. Further back came the chariots, and the neighing of horses carried in the moist night air. The soldiers had grumbled about being woken for the march, but soldiers always grumbled, and the promise of the first real action since the landing was enough to stir most of them. And there would be women, and boys for those who preferred that kind of thing. The women of Northland had proven to be big healthy animals, a much better ride than the dead-eyed forced whores of the booty people brought over from the Continent, or the dusty, worn-out, slack-uddered farmers’ wives you would find on a raid in Anatolia or Greece. They were ready. Qirum was sure of it.