Looking at the Enemy, Silvius nodded, briefly. ‘Tell me what to do,’ he said. A clammy terror gripped Elissa. Was Silvius giving in? She searched desperately for some sign in his eyes, but he was ignoring her. Had Python got to him already?

‘No, Silvius, please!’

Waves crashed over the deck, and the Enemy held out his hand and smiled.

Sixteen

News from Italia

MYKENAI, ACHAEA: KINGHOUSE OF THE LION

Orestes was drunk again. Lolling on a plush silken cushion on a chair at the head of the great table in the feasting hall, he leaned over too far and fell off, landing on his face.

The hundreds of guests all roared with laughter and banged the table with their goblets. Erigone, seated next to Orestes, joined in, adding her shrill voice to the cacophony. Sheep and oxen were roasting on spits all around the edges; the men were yelling and boasting, as usual, whilst dancing girls fluttered in the alleyways and delicate-featured boy cupbearers kept the strong wine flowing. Smoke billowed through the halls. Everyone was befuddled with drink.

Everyone apart from Tisamenos, who watched from his position nearby. He had fashioned a kind of linen bandage for his hand; he couldn’t help feeling it, where the stump was. The echoing in his head had gone, drowned out by his thoughts of revenge, but his fingers kept straying up to the stone section of his skull, as if they could not quite believe it had happened.

He was paying close attention to whatever Erigone did. She was reaching down to help Orestes up, her hand on his goblet. She released her fingers from it as he came back up, seemingly careless of it, and Orestes, with the aid of a couple of other friends, reappeared at the table to a chorus of cheers.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ Orestes stuttered. His lips were purple from wine.

Erigone caught Tisamenos looking at her, and for a moment a cloud passed over her apparently joyful features. It cleared quickly, though, and she beckoned to him.

‘Come and join your parents, Tisamenos,’ she smiled.

Tisamenos scraped his chair on the floor, and walked over, slowly, keeping his bandaged hand half-hidden.

‘My, you’ve broken out,’ said Erigone, looking him up and down. ‘All those pimples. We’ll have to get you some poultices. Isn’t your nurse looking after you properly? Come and sit by your mother.’

The babyish insinuations didn’t hurt him any more. Orestes belched, and called for another goblet of wine. Tisamenos kept his head downcast as if he were a little shy of Erigone. He would let her think that he was warming to her.

‘Now now, Tisamenos,’ purred Erigone as she arranged a cushion behind his back. ‘We’ve had our differences. But we should be friends, don’t you think so?’