Chapters (52)
- Cover
- Title
- About the Author
- Dedication
- By the Same Author
- Author’s Note
- Map
- Domus Libris
- House of the Wolf
- The House of the Wolf
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Timeline of the Trojan Cycle
- Further Reading
- Acknowledgements
- Supporters
Elissa knew the youth was the god Apollo. He smiled, and strummed his lyre. A golden globe spun in the air around him, slowly, dancing. The most beautiful singing she’d ever heard came from somewhere far distant. There was a road leading from the tree, but she couldn’t see where the road led, only that there was a great brightness at the end of it.
She moved forwards slowly. ‘Do not come near,’ said the god. The force of his voice made Elissa bow her head. The god spoke again. ‘I slew the Python once. But he is immortal, like us, and cannot truly die. My father, the Lord of the Gods, whom you call Jupiter, has turned away. My uncle Neptune, the Lord of the Sea, has found a new world made of oceans where he sports all day with his dolphins. Even Pluto, the Lord of the Underworld, they say, has gone elsewhere. I am tempted too to find places made from light, from sound. The other gods forget you. But I remember still. I, and Mercury. You will learn his other name. Hermes.’
Elissa heard a joyous laugh, and turned to see a tall, curly-haired young man hovering a few inches above the ground, wearing winged sandals, a golden winged helmet on his head. Hermes swooped towards Elissa, plucking her on the shoulder, then dashed away as if he were a butterfly darting from flower to flower. ‘We will help you,’ he called, his voice infectious with brightness. ‘I like you mortals still.’
‘What should I do?’ asked Elissa.
‘Go to the land of the Achaeans,’ said Apollo. ‘Go with Silvius. There is much for you to do. But first, you must stop at Sicilia. There you will be told more.’ In front of her, a golden mass was floating in the air, and it formed into the shape of a bow, and suddenly she was holding it, and for one brief second it was as if she was the bow, and the power of Apollo was flowing through it.
Then it was gone, and it was as if the sun had vanished behind dark clouds.
Elissa blinked. She was back in Lavinium. She steadied herself. Lavinia was weeping, and Aeneas was talking to Silvius. She heard him say, ‘My son. Rest now. You will be punished for leaving your post in the morning. Then we will talk.’
But there was nobody to take Elissa’s arm, and, unnoticed by anyone except the centaur, she slipped away to the tiny room she shared with three Latin serving girls, and soon, whilst they snored, she was lying awake, shifting uncomfortably, playing with her little dolphin pendant.
Four
