‘Silvius. You must go to Orestes himself. Since Tisamenos was exiled, he spends his time with his sister Electra. They sit in silence among the ashes of their past. Find him, and tell him that you suspect a plot against his life, and bring him to the tombs at the same time as Erigone.’

‘Why will he trust me?’ Silvius bit his lip.

‘You will have to persuade him. When both of them are by the tombs, Tisamenos will know what to do. And then we can cleanse the citadel.’

There was something about the fire in this girl that made Elissa uncomfortable. She was part Trojan, though, living in the heart of the enemy. How she must have suffered.

‘Return to the kinghouse through the streets.’ She led them through a series of small, dark chambers, before reaching a blue-painted wooden door which opened out onto a dusty thoroughfare.

‘May the gods that remain go with you,’ she said, and ushered them out.

It wasn’t far to the kinghouse, but they were certainly dustier and hotter when they arrived.

‘Here we split,’ said Silvius when they came within a few steps of the great bronze doors. He took Elissa’s hand. ‘Be careful.’

He felt hot, and she thought she could detect trembling. She nodded, and then kissed him on the cheek, which made him blush. She thought she saw a brief flicker of need in his eyes, before he regained his composure.

Just as she was about to disappear around a corner, she turned back to acknowledge Silvius.

He was standing, half-facing away from her, determined.

She raised a hand, and then she set off into the depths of the kinghouse.

Twenty-Seven

The Throne Room

Silvius waited, listening to the echoes and footsteps around him. Tisamenos had said that Orestes would be in the throne room after noon, attending to problems of law. He reminded himself that Orestes was the son of the killer Agamemnon.

What would Aeneas be thinking of him now? He felt a sudden shiver of hatred as he watched the complacent, well-fed kinghouse inhabitants going about their business. They had never known hardship, never known what it felt like to be at the mercy of raids and wolves.

But he had to discard all of that. There were more important things now.

Python’s threat was bigger than old quarrels. Even now Silvius could feel the Arrowhead pulsing with power against his chest.

Two men came past, one gaunt and hollow-eyed but sleek-looking, the other shorter and sturdier, talking animatedly about a field whose boundary stone had been moved. That sounded like the right sort of thing for Orestes to be presiding over, and, resolutely, he fell into step behind them, trying to look as if he knew exactly where he was going.