And he grabbed hold of it, lifting it over Silvius’s head. The casket rippled with light.

‘I beg you,’ said Silvius. ‘Give it back to me. Please. It will only bring you harm.’

The bandit leader held the casket up close to his eye, and swung it.

‘Heavy,’ he smirked. ‘Who knows what price this will fetch?’ He caught the box in his palm. Silvius held his breath, knowing what was to come, feeling a perverse mixture of anticipation and horror.

A moment later the scream the leader uttered was so intense it pierced the air.

The other bandits gripped their weapons. One tried to prise his hand free. He let go, and the casket fell to the ground. With a stab of hunger, Silvius leapt to grab it, but the leader kicked it out of his way.

‘Keep them away from it! Whatever in Hades that thing is, we need it.’

‘No!’ Silvius kicked against the bandit restraining him. ‘It’s more important than you can possibly know!’ They scuffled, and Silvius elbowed his opponent’s stomach, which only made him tighten his grip.

Silvius tried to throw him over, but he was too heavy, and Silvius found himself on his back, with a dagger pointing at him. He scuttled backwards, and struggled to his feet, ready to fight, but the bandit pinned him to the ground.

‘Why do you need to bring that to the king?’ It was a different voice, softer, lighter than the bandits’, the words enunciated more carefully. And yet there was a haughty grit in it that Silvius had not heard before. It commanded attention.

A boy about Silvius’s age, resting on a staff, was standing by the side of the road. He was wearing a rich-looking white tunic, and gold glinted at his neck and on his arms, but he was not attended by anyone. He had very long golden hair, and curious marks on his otherwise blemish-free skin.

He was also carrying two bags, one slung across his neck and one on a stick which he was currently pointing at the casket. Silvius realised that he was missing a finger on his left hand.

‘We have a sacred message,’ blurted out Silvius. ‘We must bring it to the king. Orestes.’

‘This isn’t your business,’ snarled the bandit leader.

The boy looked like he might be from the palace. He might be of use. Silvius said, ‘These men attacked us. We are making for Mykenai, to look for help in a mission.’

‘Release him,’ said the traveller, in a tone that suggested he was used to giving orders.

‘I said,’ snapped the bandit, in between dipping his hand into a skin of water one of his men had given him, ‘this is not your business.’

‘And I say,’ continued the traveller, in cold, measured tones, ‘that it is. Release him.’