Should she go for the bulky woman, or the young man? The woman looked stronger, but they were both rowing with equal intensity. The woman had long, curling brown hair. It could have been any of the women in Lavinium. She wondered who was waiting for her, back on land. Whether there was a little girl, feet bare, asking for her mother in some village.

The man was on the side nearer to Elissa. So, biting her tongue, she imagined she was simply shooting a grouse, and twanged the bowstring, letting loose the arrow.

The arrow struck the port side of the boat and skittered into the waves.

Silvius was now beside Elissa. ‘I’ll hold you steady,’ he said, bracing himself, gripping her by the waist. The extra weight was just what she needed.

No longer trembling, she fitted another arrow, sighted, took into account the motion of the rowing boat. A twang of the bowstring. This time the arrow stuck firmly into its keel.

‘It’s too difficult!’

‘Let me try,’ said Silvius. They swapped places, Elissa steadying him, but his arrow overshot, making a white splash in the red sea.

‘We’re losing too many arrows,’ she said.

‘We’ll have to fight them here.’ Silvius sounded uncertain.

‘They’ll have to climb on board first – we’ll get them before that.’

‘Push them back into the sea.’

It seemed impossible. But it was the only thing they could do.

They found two oars, and stood waiting with their bows as the Enemy’s boat beat remorselessly onwards.

These moments were unbearable. Ruffler was whimpering at Elissa’s chest. She could hear the relentlessness of the Enemy’s oar strokes; the cries of the ship nymph; Silvius, trying to breathe calmly next to her. All was held in tension, waiting for something to snap.

Elissa could now see the young man clearly. He was handsome, with black curly hair and a pale, sensitive face. A sick feeling surged through her. She knew this young man. She’d seen him, one of the traders from the outlying settlements, bringing pottery for sale to Lavinium. He’d shown her how to paint the figure of a god on a stone. She glanced at Silvius, but he showed no glimmer of recognition.

With an expression of blank determination, the trader threw a grappling hook over the ship’s side. As if she had been bitten, the ship nymph screamed in response.

Elissa was ready, and rushed to try to prise the hook off, Silvius clawing at it too. But it was biting, hard.

A pebble hit Elissa sharply on the cheek, and she staggered and lost her grip. The woman was throwing them. It was enough time for the young man to hurl another hook and lock the two craft together.

As quickly as a cormorant swooping into the sea, the woman vaulted onto the ship. Elissa shot from close range.