He reached his chambers, pausing at the door to listen. His imagination filled his room with agents of Erigone. Perhaps Erigone herself was in there already, searching through his things. He kicked the door open.

Of course, it was empty.

He flung himself onto his silken sheets.

He lay there for some time, as the day drifted onwards, turning over what he might do. He seemed to be at an impasse. If he accused Erigone, he would have to prove it. And he had no proof – only what the Swallows had told him. And he still did not know what they wanted, why they were helping him. But if he waited, then Erigone might act further.

When the sun began to set, Agatha hobbled in, and scolded him roundly for not eating anything. She left him a plate of dates, but he could not touch them. He washed, enjoying the steaming, scented water on his face and hands. He paused when he rubbed them together, feeling the unfamiliar stump. Then he lay down.

Drifting into an uncomfortable sleep, he heard the steady dripping noise of water on stone, leading him back into the horror of the Last Gorgon’s cave … No, he thought, not now … Then the drips became footsteps. Real footsteps, hurrying down the corridor outside. The door to his room creaked open, and a glow of torchlight spilled over the threshold. There was the outline of a breastplate, and a long narrow shadow pointing across the floor.

Now he sat up fully awake. More footsteps approached.

‘Search the place,’ snapped a voice. Erigone’s voice.

‘What …’ Tisamenos half-stumbled out of bed. She marched into the room, past the guard, and with a half-asleep Orestes following her.

Another guard followed, and the two diligently opened presses and chests whilst Erigone looked over them, a cruel expression distorting her features.

‘My dear, this really is not necessary,’ said Orestes.

‘Father, what’s going on?’

‘A misunderstanding. It will be cleared up in no time at all.’

Tisamenos felt groggy. His throat was parched. Something in his mind, a knocking.

One of the guards was looking through his clothes chest. He paused, and stood up sharply.

‘Here, my lady.’

‘Careful!’ Erigone came to the chest and peered over the guard’s shoulder. ‘Yes, that’s it.’ Her expression twisted into one of triumph. She put both hands into the chest and pulled out some silvery cloth.

‘P … p … please, Father, what’s happening?’

Erigone gave a sharp command. Another guard entered, leading a pig by a ring in its nose.

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know, Tisamenos,’ snapped Erigone. ‘We have knowledge. We have a witness. A slave who saw what you were doing, who heard what you said.’

‘I’m sure there’s some explanation,’ said Orestes, looking hard at Tisamenos. ‘You can explain this, can’t you, my boy?’

‘I don’t know what it is! I don’t know what you’re talking about!’