This book is for Zahava Lever and Joanna Kramer

Elissa

A little before dawn; the maidservants’ bedroom/the palace corridors/a royal bedchamber

YOU KNEW THAT you were in a dream when the edges of everything you gazed at were blurred and when figures bent and blended into the background and arrived and disappeared magically, moving in a way that wouldn’t be possible in normal life. She’d been deeply asleep but now Elissa could feel herself floating up into wakefulness and the memory of her dream was leaving her. She blinked and turned over in her bed. There had been someone over there, by the door. Did he fly away? She tried to cling to what she’d seen: a slim man, wearing a strange-looking helmet. It had wings attached to it on either side, a little like an extra set of ears. Thinking this made Elissa start to giggle even though she was only half awake. Wings on his head and also on his feet. He’d hovered up and out of the door, and she most distinctly saw greenish feathers edged with gold, flapping gently at his heels as he rose up from the floor.

She’d even heard him speak but the words had disappeared almost entirely. ‘Come, Maron,’ she thought he’d said. ‘Hermes cannot wait. You must come with me now.’ Why was this winged creature speaking of Maron? She opened her eyes properly and leaned up on one elbow, forgetting her dream in the shock of seeing Tanith, her friend and one of the two girls with whom she shared this maidservants’ bedroom, sitting on her bed, crying quietly – and yes, there was Maron with his arm around her. Men were not allowed anywhere near the women’s rooms, and though Maron wasn’t quite a man, he wasn’t exactly a boy, and what did he think he was doing, whispering with Tanith while she and Nezral were sleeping? Well, I’m awake now, Elissa thought. Those two must have woken me up. Tanith’s snifflings were growing louder and louder.

‘Tanith!’ Elissa whispered too, wondering how Nezral could sleep through the noise. ‘Maron! What are you doing? Someone will come. What’s the matter?’ She got out of bed and went to stand in front of them. Maron, his gingery hair and sharp features making him look more than ever like a young fox, seemed sad. His smile, which could make the most churlish and bad-tempered person smile in return, was nowhere to be seen and his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

‘It’s happening,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving. I have to go. Now. Tanith’ll tell you. Goodbye, Elissa.’

He stood up, kissed the top of Tanith’s head and ran out of the room.

‘Tanith? Tell me what he said . . . please. When are they going?’

For a moment her friend did nothing but sniff and wipe her eyes. Elissa sat down on the bed beside her, overcome with sadness. Everyone in the palace knew this time had to come. From the day Aeneas had moored his ships in the harbour, the court gossips had been quite sure that he’d be on his way to somewhere else as soon as possible, but then he and the queen had fallen in love and for a while it seemed as though the Trojan and his crew would stay in Carthage for a long time. Then, more recently, everything became . . . Elissa couldn’t name exactly what the change had been, but something was different, and lately the shadow of Aeneas’ departure had hung over everything like a cloud billowing up and gathering darkness into itself before a storm. Dido’s entire court – advisers, servants, hangers-on – had been wondering for days. They knew it would happen but no one could say exactly when, and now it seemed . . . But Elissa had to be sure. She said, ‘Please tell me what Maron told you.’

‘You heard him. They’re leaving. They’re down at the harbour. The ships are being loaded and prepared; they won’t sail till tomorrow morning but Aeneas and his men are already at the dock. Maron says the queen took a sleeping draught so that she’d be spared the sight of him walking away from her, but how can he know such a thing? Oh, Elissa, what shall we do now they’ve gone? Maron . . . I’ll never see him again.’

Tanith flung herself into Elissa’s arms and sobbed. Elissa stroked her back and blinked back her own tears. Ascanius – even Aeneas’ little son, who had been in her care since his father came to Carthage, hadn’t been allowed to say farewell to her. Tanith moved away and found a cloth with which to wipe her eyes and nose. Her face was blotched with red from too much crying.

‘Can we see them?’ she said. ‘From the window?’

Nezral gave a snore and a snuffle and turned over in her bed. Elissa and Tanith smiled through tears as they looked at their friend.

‘She’d sleep through an earthquake,’ Tanith said. ‘Lucky Nezral.’

Their room was high up, on the first storey of the palace, above the kitchens. Leaning over the sill as far as she dared, Elissa could see a corner of the gardens, then a slice of the city: the yellow stone of the houses along the road that led from the palace to the harbour was almost glowing in the pale grey light just after dawn. The night, she thought, is hardly over and he’s gone. He must have left in the dark, like a thief, creeping out of the palace. Not wanting to speak to anyone.

‘There!’ Tanith pointed. ‘Behind the harbour master’s house. Can you see?’

Elissa looked at the tiny, insect-like creatures moving in the distance. It was hard to believe that these were men, Aeneas’ crew, loading his ships. Leaving. She gazed down on them for a while, unable to think or move.

Then a scream tore through the silence, ripping into Elissa’s thoughts. It was horribly loud in the still air of the early morning and was followed at once by more screams, and then shouting and sobbing and a shrieking that sounded like a trapped animal.

‘It’s Dido. It’s the queen,’ Tanith said. ‘Quick, Elissa, we must help her. Come.’

They ran down the steps to the main corridor of the palace and found Dido standing in the doorway of her bedchamber, her hair wild and tangled around her face, her eyes wide and horrified, her mouth agape. The Queen of Carthage, Elissa told herself, shrieking like someone demented. She was still screaming, but her words were clear.

‘Master of the guard!’ Dido’s eyes blazed. She was beyond tears. ‘Where in the name of all the Gods is everyone when I need them? Elissa! Tanith . . . Where are my courtiers? Where is everyone?’

Elissa and Tanith watched as, from all over the palace, they came running. The master of the guard reached Dido first.

‘Madam,’ he breathed, falling to his knees, ‘I’m here. I’m at your service.’

‘Then see to it that the bed in this room is got rid of. As soon as possible. I no longer want it here. Take it away. Now. As soon as you can gather enough men to carry it. Put it in the courtyard. You’ – she turned to Elissa and Tanith and two other women of the household who had appeared in the corridor – ‘all of you. Follow me, please.’

Dido set off down the corridor and Elissa found herself almost running to keep up with her. When the queen reached the chamber that used to be Aeneas’, she flung open the door and stepped inside.

‘Here,’ Dido said, walking past the bed and into the adjoining room where he kept his armour and his clothes. ‘Take these. Take everything.’

There were two trunks carved from sandalwood standing against one wall. The queen opened them both and a fragrance like old forests rose in the room. ‘These are his shirts, his robes, his footwear, his sword – here . . . take them all and put them in the corridor outside. When the soldiers have dealt with the bed in my chamber, I’ll give orders for them to come and help you carry out this rubbish.’

‘But there’s so much here, my lady,’ said one of the serving women. ‘And of excellent quality. There are many down in the city who’d be grateful for such garments.’

‘No one will wear them. I’m going to burn them. I’m going to burn everything, every single thing that reminds me of him. All his possessions. They’re tainted clothes. The leather and the wool and the fine dyes and the metal clasps and the rich embroideries – I want them destroyed, d’you understand?’

Dido sat down on a stool near one of the trunks and wiped tears from her eyes with a corner of her scarf. ‘They’re my things, if the truth be told. Mine. I gave him all of it. Every single thing in here: the garments, the weapons, the ships even. I’m the one who saw to it that the broken-down wrecks he sailed in on were made seaworthy again. I can’t get the ships back. Maybe I’ll make a sacrifice to Poseidon and beg him to send storms, to wreck my bastard husband on the rocks, which is what he deserves.’

She put her hands to her eyes and bent over, with her head nearly on her knees. Elissa could feel something in her own throat that was like a great lump of grief and sorrow. The queen began to moan. Elissa wanted to go and comfort her, just as she’d comforted Tanith, but her own sadness prevented her.

Another of the women came forward and said, ‘Lady, don’t cry. I’ll take everything outside now. You’ll feel better when you don’t have to look at it any longer.’

Dido stood up. ‘When you’ve finished in here, I want you to search through every single room in the palace. Collect everything – everything – that used to belong to Lord Aeneas, then take it to the courtyard, and when our accursed bed is in place, you can pile all his belongings on it.’ She looked round at them and must have seen the horror on every face. ‘And stop staring at me like that. I know exactly what I’m doing. I no longer wish to see a single reminder of Lord Aeneas anywhere near me. That’s all. Go. I want this done at once.’

She swept out of her chamber, almost running. Elissa left the others to their work and ran after her.

Cubby

Just after dawn; the palace kitchen/the courtyard

HE KNEW THAT they’d only chosen him to carry the bed because he was strong and big for his age. If they’d wanted someone clever, they’d have taken any one of the other lads who did menial jobs around the palace. Cubby (he’d practically forgotten his real name) had a pretty good idea what everyone thought of him. They’d called him Cubby for two reasons. When he was small, he’d been fair-haired and lively and had bounced around the kitchen and the servants’ quarters like a small animal. Like a lion cub, perhaps. That was what he liked to think. But it was also true that he spent his early days sleeping in a room that was as small as a cupboard and was used to store brooms and cleaning materials. So Cubby more probably came from cupboard. He’d stopped being like a lion cub when he got older and slowed down a little. He grew heavier and his hair became a kind of muddy brown and he had a round face and often looked puzzled. They called him dim-witted: if not exactly backward, then certainly not advanced when it came to thinking clever things. As for speaking, he was useless at that and knew it and therefore generally kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself. He didn’t have many friends – well, none really, until Maron fetched up at the palace with his master, Aeneas.

Maron had come into the kitchen on the very first day after the Trojans arrived and spoken to Cubby just as if he were a normal person who could chat and exchange jokes and banter like anyone else. Maron, Cubby thought, always said a pleasant word whenever he happened to bump into you. And now he wouldn’t do that any more. Yesterday he’d come specially to see him. They’d sat down together on the bench near the kitchen door and Cubby couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d said.

‘We’re friends, aren’t we, Cubby?’ Maron smiled at him. He had very white teeth and always seemed happy. He smiled a lot and his hair was gingery and stuck up all over his head.

Cubby nodded. Maron said: ‘I’m going to tell you a secret, Cubs, but you mustn’t say a word, right?’

‘I won’t,’ Cubby said.

‘That’s why you’re such a good person to tell things to. You don’t blab, do you?’

Cubby shook his head. Maron went on, ‘I’ve come to say goodbye. We’re leaving tomorrow. And I didn’t want to go without saying something. Didn’t want you to find out about it later on.’

Cubby felt as though someone had come along and scooped out his insides. He’d seen the cooks pulling the innards out of lambs and chickens and wild boar but those animals were dead. He was alive so it really, really hurt, and when he’d got used to how much it hurt, he felt a hollow space where his guts used to be. He wanted to say: Why do you have to go? But somehow the words didn’t come into his mouth in time, and Maron just carried on speaking. Cubby only half listened because it was hard to concentrate when you were feeling so bad.

‘He says he has to go because the Gods have told him he must over and over again. Hermes has come to him many times, he says. Actually, I thought I saw Hermes once, just flying along down by the ships, but maybe I was dreaming. Anyway, we’re off. And I have to go too. Ascanius . . . he’s got attached to Elissa while we’ve been here, but before that I was like a kind of brother to him – know what I mean? And Aeneas will need some help with the kid, right? He’s getting bigger every day and boisterous as a young puppy. You know that, Cubs.’

Cubby nodded. He would miss little Ascanius too. The child didn’t seem to care that no one thought very much of Cubby and he used to come to the kitchen quite often, sometimes with Elissa, and if there were sweet cakes in the larder or just out of the oven, he’d steal one for the boy and move the others around on the tray so Cook wouldn’t notice that anything was missing.

‘So . . . I’m going to say goodbye now.’ Maron stood up. ‘We’re off very early in the morning. Before you’re awake.’ He held out his hand and Cubby took it and they stood there for a bit, and then Maron flung his arms around Cubby and hugged him, and then he left the room and Cubby hadn’t seen him again. He hadn’t slept well and now he felt tired and sad because he knew Maron wasn’t coming back. Not ever.

But then the master of the guard came to find him in the kitchen. He’d been right in the middle of bringing in some heavy sacks of flour from the storehouse, ready for the morning’s baking, and when he’d finished doing that, there were the carcasses brought down from the market to dismember and hang up in the meat pantry. This was the coolest place to be because it was underground, but it smelled of congealed blood and you started to feel sick if you stayed there too long.

‘You! The fat boy – I need you,’ said the master of the guard.

‘Me, sir?’

‘You heard me. Drop what you’re doing and follow me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Best wash your hands first.’

Cubby dipped his fingers into a bowl of water that didn’t look altogether clean but had to be a bit cleaner than his hands. The master of the guard said: ‘That’ll do. Come along. Haven’t got all day.’

Things were mad after that. Not like daily life – more like a dream where one thing happens after another with none of them making much sense. First he was led into the palace. He was almost pushed along the dim corridors, where flaming torches still burned in holders on the walls even though the sun had risen, and into a vast chamber, which was quite empty apart from a bed, standing in the middle of the floor. This was enormous. Four or five people could sleep in it, Cubby reckoned, and not bump into one another all night long. It was made from black wood, and the high bedhead was carved with patterns of flowers and leaves and other stuff he couldn’t quite make out from where he was standing. Seven soldiers stood around the bed, which was spread with a fur coverlet and heaped with cushions at the end where someone’s head might rest. He’d never seen such cushions in his life before. They were plump and soft and embroidered in threads of every colour, and just looking at them made Cubby want to lay his head on one of them and sleep for hours.

‘Right. Let’s move it. We’re late already,’ said the master of the guard. ‘Orders are: out of here and into the central courtyard. Pick it up, men. You’ – he pointed at Cubby – ‘you go there, near the middle. Ready? One, two, three, lift!’

Cubby couldn’t imagine why the queen would want a bed moved from a bedroom into a public courtyard, but he did know why he’d been picked. He was strong. They needed one more person to carry this thing. Fine, he was up for that. Made a change to be doing this instead of some boring task he’d done a thousand times before. Also, it took his mind off thinking about Maron. And he was with the soldiers so he could pretend to be one of them. For a moment a crazy dream filled his head. Maybe he’d do so well at this bed-moving lark that the master of the guard would say: Leave the kitchen and come and be a soldier. I’ll train you myself.

So taken up was he with imagining his glorious career in the military that at first he didn’t really notice where they were going. It was just one step after another, and as strong as he was, and even with seven other men bearing their part of the weight, this bed was a monster. His shoulder felt bruised already and they’d only just lifted the blasted thing off the ground and got it into the corridor.

Down one passage, then round the corner into another – it seemed to Cubby as though they were walking through a kind of maze. He’d never been any further into Queen Dido’s palace than the kitchen and the corridors around it, and he’d never realized that it had so many rooms and turnings and spaces and halls. After taking what seemed like thousands of steps, they were in the courtyard. This was a giant version of what you’d have found in a normal house. It was so huge that it took quite a long time to walk across it from one side to the other. Cubby made up his mind to count his steps next time he wasn’t carrying a bed. The courtyard was crowded with statues. Cypress trees and palm trees grew there in gigantic glazed earthenware pots, and right in the middle there was a raised circle paved with flat stones. In the middle of the circle, a fountain spilled its water into a wide stone basin. Cubby and the others manoeuvred the bed into position beside the fountain. Now that they’d got rid of the weight, the soldiers started whispering to one another:

‘Seen some action, this bed, so they say . . .’

‘Surprised it’s still in one piece.’

‘But what’s she doing getting rid of it? She must be getting rid of it or why would she put it out here, eh? It’s in good enough nick for a few more shags, I’d have thought.’

‘There won’t be much of that. He’s buggered off. She’s in despair. That’s what I heard.’

‘Yeah, but how long will that last, eh? Someone else’ll come along and then what’ll she do without a bed?’

‘It’s not the only one in the palace, bonehead.’

‘No, but it’s the bed. Right? It’s, like, the main bed. The bed of beds.’

‘What’ll happen to it now? That’s what I want to know. Who puts a bed in the middle of a courtyard? Ridiculous, that is. She could have done anything with it. Moved it to a guest room. Made a gift of it to a poor family. It’ll get wrecked out here. Criminal waste, I call it.’

Cubby sat down on one of the stone benches that were set under the trees. He rubbed at his shoulder, which was going to have a massive bruise on it, for sure. He hadn’t realized till that moment how sore it felt. Suddenly he became aware of someone standing behind him and he sprang to his feet. He knew it couldn’t be one of the soldiers, for they were all down near the bed, laughing and talking, happy to have got shot of their burden. He turned and saw a woman leaning against one of the columns that rose from the marble floor to the roof of the colonnade. How could that be? Who was this? Cubby had never seen anyone half as beautiful in his life. Even the queen looked quite ordinary next to this lady. He gulped and shuffled his feet.

‘Don’t bother to speak, boy,’ said this princess. She had to be at least a princess, Cubby reckoned. He had no intention of speaking, but he could see that the lady was crying. She was doing it very neatly. No bawling or red eyes for her, whoever she was. She just had a line of tears, like little pearls, creeping down her cheek. She lifted a corner of the flimsy-looking scarf she wore over her head and brushed them away.

‘There! I’ve stopped crying now. There is no point in tears. Zeus has had his way again and that’s all there is to it. Don’t look so puzzled. You’re too stupid to understand the ways of the Gods. I’ve spoken to you before – don’t you remember? Never mind. You’ve clearly forgotten our last meeting. Dullards find it hard to keep any memory in their heads of the Gods they meet.’

‘Gods? What’re you on about?’

It occurred to Cubby that the woman might be drunk. Or mad. Who else would be wandering around the palace courtyard? But now that she mentioned it, she did look a bit familiar. He tried to think where he might have seen her before, and for a few moments something fluttered at the edge of his memory, but then it was gone and no matter how hard he racked his brains, he couldn’t remember a thing. He decided not to worry about it.

‘You have no idea who I am, have you?’ she said. ‘I’m Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love. My sister, Hera, and I fostered this love and now Zeus has sent his messenger, Hermes, to speak to Aeneas, and that’s that. He’s seen to it that it’s all over. He’s taken him away from her.’

‘Who? Taken who away?’

‘Fool! You’re nothing but a dimwit. My son, Aeneas, and his men and ships will leave Carthage very soon and it’s Zeus’ doing. Dido is bereft. That’s why she’s given orders for the bed to be brought out here.’

What did bereft mean? Cubby had no idea but knew it couldn’t be anything good from the way she said it. Perhaps it just meant that Dido would be sad because Aeneas was leaving. Everyone knew who he was. He’d been part of life at the palace for ages. Maron had explained on the very first day that his master was a prince who came from far away, from somewhere called Troy. You couldn’t live here and not know that, but how come this creature who said she was a goddess also said she was his mother? She didn’t look old enough to be anybody’s mother. Cubby was feeling more confused than he usually did when people told him things, and that was saying something. He asked, ‘What’s going to happen to it – to the bed?’

The lady came to sit next to him on the stone bench. He blinked. Perhaps, he thought, I’m asleep and this is my dream. There was a kind of music in the air as she moved, which came, he realized, from silver bells sewn on to the hem of her dress. He could smell her now too: a fragrance like roses and almond blossom. If I put out a hand, Cubby told himself, I could touch her scarf. He imagined how it would feel under his fingers, like mist or a stream of water, but pale green and pink and threaded with gold.

She shouted at him, right in his face: ‘You’re stupid and witless and shouldn’t be here at all. This is wasted on the likes of you. Nothing good will come of it, you can be sure of that.’

Cubby blinked. When he opened his eyes, she’d gone. The beautiful lady was nowhere to be seen.

‘You!’ The master of the guard was shouting at him again. ‘Back inside now. Look sharp. Plenty more to bring out here. This bed’s just the start of it.’

Cubby plodded along behind the other men, frowning and trying to remember what she’d said her name was. Aphra-something. What else was there to bring out? What did that mean? When would he be getting back to the kitchen? He was starting to feel a bit sleepy and stared down at his feet as they covered the ground back to the bedrooms. One foot in front of the other. Suddenly it came to him where he’d seen her before. Aphrodite – that’s her name, Cubby told himself, and felt quite clever for a change, because he’d remembered after all. It made him go red in the face just thinking about that day. He was glad the light was dim and was pretty sure the others, the real guards, hadn’t noticed him blushing like a silly girl. He’d tried to put everything that had happened then out of his mind, because thinking about it made him feel confused and wobbly inside. Mostly he succeeded, but bits of what happened on the day he met Aphrodite sometimes came back to him, and then he felt a mixture of shame and a sort of longing for something he didn’t quite understand. He tried to concentrate on what he was doing. He counted steps and tried to make a list in his head of all the bits and pieces he’d carried from various rooms to put on the bed, and soon the beautiful lady he’d met in the courtyard and everything she reminded him of had been pushed firmly to the back of his mind.

Elissa

Early morning; a palace corridor/a small bedchamber

THE QUEEN HAD hidden herself in a small room, right at the end of one of the longest corridors in the palace, and Elissa had been sitting just outside it on a wooden bench for what seemed like a very long time. Anna, the queen’s sister, had told her to stay there just in case Dido wanted anything. Elissa was wondering if she could slip away for a while and go down to the harbour. How could she let Ascanius go without kissing him goodbye? Her eyes filled with tears as she imagined the boy being dragged on to the ship and begging his father, asking over and over, Where’s Elissa? I want Elissa . . . She could hear his voice clear in her head, as though the child were beside her. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t see Iopas till he was standing in front of her.

‘Elissa? Are you all right? You seem to be . . . in some distress.’

‘Thank you, Iopas,’ Elissa answered, making an effort to sound cheerful and strong. Iopas, according to Nezral and Tanith, was hiding a deep love for her, but as far as she could see, all he did was look at her searchingly from time to time. He never followed her, nor tried to make sure he stood next to her when the opportunity arose. He had never even spoken to her much, so perhaps her friends were exaggerating. They loved gossiping and Elissa didn’t believe half the things they told her. But now, here he was, standing with his hands hovering in the air as though he wanted to stroke the top of her head and looking (Nezral’s words for him) all moony-eyed. Elissa hoped very much that if she sounded firm and happier than she felt, he’d put his hands down by his sides again. He wasn’t bad-looking: thin and tall with fairish hair and long eyelashes, but he didn’t seem special in any way that she could see. Just lately, he seemed to spend most of his time following Dido or Anna about, making sure he didn’t miss anything of interest that might turn into a poem, and most people in the palace thought he was nosier than he needed to be: always glad of any scraps of information or rumour that he might use. Some said he was cruel in the uses he made of his knowledge, but Elissa hadn’t seen this unkindness for herself.

‘D’you mind if I sit down and talk to you for a moment?’ Iopas said, and Elissa nodded. I can hardly say no, she thought. He sat down next to her and went on: ‘I’m still tired. I was woken up so early by the queen. Did you hear her? You must have. No one in the palace could have slept through her screams. It was terrifying. I thought at first it must be some wild creature – that was when I was still half asleep – but of course as soon as I raced out into the corridor I could see what it was. Poor Dido! My heart aches when I think of her sorrow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so much in love. In fact’ – he turned a little so that he was looking at Elissa – ‘I was in the hunting party on the day they were married. That’s what the queen called it. Have you heard that story, Elissa? Shall I tell you about it? I have the tale on good authority from Maron, who spoke to someone who was actually in the cave . . .’

That was another thing she’d heard about Iopas. He was boastful about his inside knowledge of the queen’s household and liked telling stories he hoped would impress his listeners.

‘Not now, Iopas,’ she said. ‘I’m not in the mood for stories. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude but I feel so sad. Both for the queen and for myself.’

‘You? And why are you sad?’

Elissa was caught off-guard, wondering what to say, when Iopas struck his forehead with the heel of his hand and said, ‘I’m a fool. Of course I know why you’re sad. You’re missing Ascanius. I’d noticed how fond of him you are. But why are you sitting here?’

Would he never stop his questioning? Elissa said, ‘I’m waiting to see if the queen needs anything. You don’t have to stay and keep me company, you know. I’ll be perfectly all right on my own.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Elissa regretted them. I sound churlish and ungrateful, she thought, and whatever I think of him, perhaps he is only being kind to me. She went on: ‘I don’t mean to be horrible, Iopas. I’m grateful for your sympathy, but I’m sure you have things to attend to.’

‘Well,’ Iopas said, standing up, ‘there’s always something waiting to be written. Some verse or other. Especially now. Perhaps the queen will require a lament for Aeneas’ departure. I’ll ask her when I see her. Be happy, Elissa.’

‘Thank you, Iopas,’ Elissa said, relieved to see him walking quickly away from her.

As he left, he passed Tanith, who was making her way towards Elissa along the corridor. She usually wore her dark, curly hair bound up in a scarf but today it hung over her shoulders, uncombed. When she reached the bench, she said, ‘I’ve found you at last. What’re you doing here?’

‘Tanith! I’m not doing anything really. I was thinking of Ascanius and—’

‘I’m not supposed to be here. There’s yesterday’s laundry to be done and the others will wonder where I am. But I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You’re the only one who understands how miserable I am.’

It was true that Tanith, who almost always smiled a great deal, looked quite unlike herself. Her mouth was set in a straight line and she was pale and you could still see she’d been crying. She had come into Dido’s service just before Elissa, and the two girls, together with Nezral, had shared a room and been friends since those days, more than four summers ago.

‘Maron’s gone,’ Tanith said, sitting down beside Elissa on the bench and sighing. ‘I’ll never find someone like him again. No one else has ever paid me so much attention. No one has ever liked me in that way, but he did. Oh, the things he said to me! He spoke such beautiful words to me, and now when I remember them, I just want to cry.’

‘I know, Tanith. It’s a sad day for everyone. The queen herself is crying. I’ve heard her, sitting here, weeping like anyone else. And Maron was a lovely person and we’ll miss him, but of course it’s worst for you. But don’t say you’ll never find anyone else. Of course you will. Other young men will like you just as much.’

Tanith shook her head. ‘No, Elissa. I’m not pretty like you, nor clever like Nezral, and Maron was the first person to notice me. In that way.’

Was she pretty? Elissa knew that her hair was glossy and dark; that her body was straight and quite tall; that her eyes were brown and flecked with green – but pretty? She’d never thought of herself as that. She changed the subject.

‘Do you remember when we first met Maron? How he came into the room where we were playing with Ascanius and said, You might not think I look much like a nursemaid but that’s what I’ve been up till now.’

Tanith smiled in spite of herself. ‘Yes, I remember. He picked up a cloth lying over the linen chest and tied it round his head and walked about the room pretending to be a fat old nanny! And we couldn’t help laughing. He knew how to do that – make everyone laugh. That was what Ascanius liked about him.’

The girls were silent for a moment, remembering Maron, who had come into the palace and immediately made friends with everyone. That was his gift. Elissa said, ‘He liked people. He was happy to speak to anyone and treat them as a friend. Look at Cubby. No one ever speaks to him, do they? They think he’s stupid and ignore him most of the time. I’ve always felt quite sorry for him, but I’d never dare to speak to him. I’d feel . . . I don’t know. A bit strange, in case he didn’t understand me properly, or something. Maron didn’t think about things like that, though. I saw him quite often, chatting with Cubby in the kitchen. I expect Cubby’s sad today too.’

‘He doesn’t look sad. They’ve got him standing guard by the bed in the courtyard. He looks the same as always. He doesn’t feel as sad as I do, I’m sure. I can’t stop myself from crying, Elissa.’

Elissa put an arm around her friend and Tanith wiped her eyes on a corner of her skirt. She said, ‘I have to go. What are you doing now?’

‘I have to stay here,’ Elissa said. ‘I’m supposed to wait here in case the queen needs anything.’

‘Farewell then.’ Tanith stood up and her mouth made the shape of a smile, but Elissa could see that her eyes were still sorrowful. She made her way towards the laundry, with her head bowed.

Just then, Dido called out from within her chamber. ‘Elissa? Is that you?’

Elissa sprang up at once and went to the door. ‘Yes, my lady,’ she said, coming into the room. The light was dim and Elissa could tell that it would be in shadow till late afternoon. The queen sat on the narrow bed, which was one of only three pieces of furniture in the chamber. There was a small chair and a table under the window. The bed was spread with a coverlet made from the skins of wild animals, stitched together. Dido lifted one corner of it and smiled up at Elissa.

‘You know the story about the ox hide, don’t you, Elissa? Sit down, child. I don’t want to be alone just now.’

Everyone knew the story, but Elissa didn’t want to say anything to stop the queen from telling it again. If she was remembering the old days, when she was young, she’d be distracted from her sorrow. It might make her feel better. Elissa said, ‘You were very young when you came to Carthage, I know.’

‘But clever. Everyone still says how clever I was!’ Dido smiled. ‘The chieftains promised me that I could do what I liked with all the land that could be bounded by the skin of an ox. Silly creatures! They thought I meant an ox hide spread out over the earth.’

‘But you tricked them!’

‘It was easy. They all had their eyes hanging out, looking at me. It wasn’t every day that a young widow on the run from her husband’s murderer came to their attention. They all thought they wanted to help me, but the truth was they fancied themselves as suitors for my hand and couldn’t understand that I didn’t want any power through them. I wanted it for myself. On my own. And yes, I tricked them. I ordered my best and most skilful seamstress to cut the hide as though she were making a garment of softest cloth. Oh, you should have seen her! She had a glinting silvery-sharp knife and she traced its tip over the leather, slicing a thin border from the outer edge and then moving in a circle that grew smaller and smaller, till there was a long strip of leather, as narrow as a ribbon, lying on the ground. And when I laid it out, it stretched out so far that it took in most of the land on which the city now stands. The chieftains couldn’t believe it.’ Dido laughed, though there was little mirth in the sound. ‘Well, that’s not quite true, of course – it wasn’t that long, but it took in so much more than they expected, and they were so stunned by my cheek that they agreed to give me everything: the land Carthage stands on and even more besides. And I allowed them to think that there might be hope for one of them as my husband . . . Too late for that now. I started work on building the city almost at once. And I asked for their help with stonemasons, carpenters and engineers, which made them happy. I paid well, of course. It’s amazing, isn’t it, how much a little gold greases the wheels.’

Elissa said, ‘It was clever trick. Perhaps the chieftains admired your cleverness.’

‘Yes,’ Dido said, and went to stand at the window is