His instinct proved right. As they came to a large door, the two men clasped each other’s hands. He entered with them into a great hall, where, seated on a raised platform, a large stone throne overshadowed the room. On it was a slumped figure.

Could this be Orestes, King of Mykenai, greatest king of all the Achaeans? Surely not.

This man was glugging from a goblet of wine, and laughing as he spilled a little of it on his robe. Beside him, standing with her arm resting on the back of the throne, was a pale, black-clad woman. Her eyes were half-closed, and she swayed a little, as if dancing to some tune that nobody else could hear.

A woman came scurrying away from the throne, and she whispered at the two who’d just come in. ‘Don’t try Orestes now – he’s in his cups.’ So it was him. She scuttled off. The two men faltered for a moment, then after a few muttered words went back out. The door slammed behind them.

Silvius had heard all the stories about Orestes. That he had killed his own mother. What would stop this man from killing him? Though at the moment, it did not look like that was possible.

The king raised his left hand, and a servant came forwards with a wineskin, filling the heavy gold goblet that Orestes held in his right. He drained it, and smacked his lips, then stood up, leaning heavily on a stick.

‘All of you – all of you. Go. The king commands you. All of you get out of this room – except my sister.’ So that was Electra beside him.

A councillor stepped forwards to whisper something in his ear, but Orestes waved him away. ‘No more today. No more.’

There was a great murmuring and a movement of feet as they all streamed away. Silvius hung back in the shadows until the last person had left, and the door clanged to.

Orestes sat on the steps. Then, much to Silvius’s surprise, he began to sob. His sister Electra joined him, embracing him with her slender arms, and though she did not weep, there was a great sadness in her eyes.

When Orestes finished, with one final, racking rasp, there was a luminous silence in the room, and the king stood up; he regained his throne carefully. Electra lifted herself up by the arm of the throne and steadied herself. Orestes cleared his throat, looked directly at where Silvius was skulking and said, ‘Child. Come out.’

Gathering his strength, Silvius stepped into the circle of light that came from the light well above.

‘What a handsome boy,’ said Electra. ‘That skin, and that black hair.’

‘Tell me, child, why are you spying on the King of Mykenai? And tell me why I should not have you killed?’ There was a coiled power in Orestes, Silvius felt. He had to tread carefully.