‘What are you doing?’ Tisamenos turned to Elissa. ‘These things will kill us!’

‘We will not help you.’ It was the largest who spoke. Her breath was foul.

Tisamenos knew it. How could these creatures be of use to them? He shrank from them, not knowing where to turn.

‘But it is in our interests that Python be destroyed.’

This could not be true. ‘And so we will fly you to the gates. Climb on our backs. You will be the first and only mortals to have been so close to a Fury, and lived.’

Elissa flashed a grim smile at Tisamenos. He could not hide his astonishment.

The three Furies crouched down, facing the distant gleam of the gates. The Sibyl said, ‘I thank you, great goddesses. But there is no room for me. You three will go alone. I will return through the dark ways to Sicilia.’

‘Don’t leave us now!’ Elissa threw her arms around the Sibyl’s neck, and the Sibyl bent to kiss her on the top of the head.

The Sibyl said, ‘Go through the golden gate – it will take you to the ruins of Troy.’

‘Will the lion go with you?’ asked Elissa. Tisamenos could tell she was missing Ruffler.

‘The lion is me,’ said the Sibyl, and for a moment, confusingly, it seemed as if the two were as one, not joined together like a centaur but taking up the same space, superimposed on each other.

And then they separated, and were lion and woman once more, the Sibyl’s white sightless eyes stark in the darkness. She drew the folds of her white robes apart, and placed her golden staff back beneath them. The lion roared, and his roar dispersed into the echoes and booms of the Underworld.

‘Sibyl, I give you thanks,’ said Silvius. ‘For me, for my father, for my people, for the whole world …’

‘And I too,’ Tisamenos joined. ‘You have been our guide and our comfort. I wish that you would not go.’

‘I must. You do not need to give me thanks. I am the mouthpiece of Apollo, and I must help him. Just go, and do what you must do. Python must not retake Delphi.’ She kissed each of them in turn.

With a few bounds, she and her lion had vanished, leaving Tisamenos and his companions facing the Furies alone.

Trembling, Tisamenos neared the first Fury. The stench was unbearable, like sulphur and rotting flesh. Her back was slimy and scaly, her wings leathery and huge, her black hair long and lank. Her claws were curved like a hawk’s. He gulped, and, carefully holding the sack behind his back, clambered on.

The other two had mounted. He looked to see if Elissa was safe, and she shot him a glance of determination. Silvius was holding on, knuckles white. Each Fury began to lumber forwards, and then with a horrible lurch they were in the air, soaring above the shadows, bellowing like bears.