The red light in his eyes dimmed, went out, and he slumped, toppling to the ground. Silvius was shaking, and Elissa ran to comfort him. He was stricken, staring from the corpse to his sword. ‘You had to do it. It wasn’t a man, remember that. It was something else.’ Still trembling, he knelt to wipe the edge of his sword on the grass, until it was clean of gore.

Tisamenos shook Silvius’s hand. ‘There will be more. We have to keep going.’

But from across the plain, Elissa saw a greater crimson light was growing.

Helenus paled. ‘Rally the men. Get them formed up. Pass the message along.’ The front ranks began to line up. Orestes was to command the rearguard.

Elissa heard Orestes calling her and the other two. She saw how tired he looked, and yet resolute. ‘Python attacks. Get ready, now.’

Orestes pulled Tisamenos towards his chest, whispering. ‘I have made mistakes, my son. Now go well, and fight well.’

Helenus blessed the three of them, touching their foreheads in turn. ‘By the light of Apollo, go well.’ Tisamenos stood upright, hands clasped behind his back. Silvius could not conceal his trembling. Elissa bowed her head and prayed to the god. This was their final attack. If they did not succeed, then Python would take the Arrow and the Bow, and he would be unstoppable. The white bands on Helenus’s head began to shine with the radiance of the god. ‘Apollo hears!’

It was a joy to Elissa to see the god’s light, and she felt the Bow humming gently with his power. In the darkness there was still light. And she knew she was the bearer of that light. She, and Silvius, now gripping the quiver, ready to pass her the Arrow; and Tisamenos, flinty and strong beside her.

There was a great mass in the distance pushing over the plain, and a terrible sound like a thousand snakes.

‘Ready!’ Helenus’s voice rang above the clamour. ‘Front ranks – march!’

The forces of Achaea moved forwards in unison, shields and swords clanking, leather armour chafing them, helmets clamped down. The rank smell of people facing a terror unknown.

Onwards they marched, javelins bristling, and in the centre of the second rank were Tisamenos, Silvius and Elissa, grimly in step.

The opposing army seemed to be a long way away. For a few moments it was as if the two would never meet. In front of Elissa was a dark mass of ragged rage: rank upon rank of men, women and children, all possessed with the power of Python. Around her, determined, fighting for life and light, were the Achaean soldiers.

The white bands on Helenus’s head gave out a burst of light.

Elissa held her breath. Then, just as she exhaled deeply, like two waves crashing together, the two armies met.

The Enemy struck.