‘Be strong,’ replied Silvius, and returned to walking, Elissa and the wolf cub skipping along beside him. She knew he was building up to ask her something, and let him take his time.

‘What did you see in your vision?’ asked Silvius, when they were in a more deserted area. ‘When you touched the casket?’

Elissa paused, and the wolf cub flopped down at her feet. She couldn’t tell all of it to him. It was too private, too pure. But she could give him something. ‘When I saw the centaur, I knew he was here for me. I’d dreamed of him. And now, since he’s died, I think I owe it to him. You know there isn’t much for me here. What can I hope for? I want to go away from here. Maybe I’ll even get to Carthage!’ Silvius’s lips tightened. ‘How about you? What did Apollo say?’

But Silvius did not answer, and Elissa saw the pain and conflict in his eyes flickering there for a second.

‘You know I think of him – all the time.’ She spoke gently, placing a hand on his arm.

Silvius squeezed her fingers gratefully. ‘Me too – and Python.’

‘Don’t.’ Elissa shivered. A group of women went by, carrying baskets of clothes to be washed, some balancing them on their heads, others on poles that they had over their shoulders. Silvius and Elissa sprang apart.

‘Elissa, come on there, lend a hand, will you?’ shouted one cheerfully, a blowsy woman with a red face.

‘All right, coming!’ And then, quietly to Silvius, ‘I’ll see you at noon.’

Unusually, there was an armed guard with the women, and there was a sense of tension in the air.

All the morning, as she went about the tedious work of scrubbing linen, her hands getting red and sore, Elissa felt the call of Apollo, his soft light, his gentle music, urging her onwards to act.

The women didn’t talk to her much, and she mostly got in the way, but as soon as the shadows shortened, she slipped off to see Silvius.

She passed the stables of Lavinium at the western gate. The stalls were mostly full of sturdy horses used to pull carts and loads, but there were a few fine, fiery beasts that Aeneas rode in battle. Perhaps they might be able to take one.

Silvius was waiting for her at the corner of the street. His hair was plastered onto his forehead from where his helmet sat. She pulled him into the shade, and they shared some dry bread and cured pork.

‘Delicious, this stuff,’ said Elissa as she licked her lips. Silvius hadn’t spoken, just eaten. She could see how tense he was, how he kept fiddling with his dagger, his buckles, how he kept scanning the faces of passers-by, as if each one might have a message for him.

‘Elissa – we need to think about how to get out.’