Tarquinius tried to imagine the scene as the haruspex had described it so many times — the magnificent buildings and temples dedicated to the Vestal Virgins, the wide streets paved with lava blocks. He pictured the cheering crowds at boxing contests, racing and gladiator fights. Nobles presenting wreaths to victorious contestants, presiding over banquets in great feasting halls.

His eyes cleared. All that remained of Falerii, one of the jewels of Etruria, were a few fallen pillars and innumerable pieces of broken tile.

The depth of its decline was brought home to him all over again. Long association with the haruspex meant that his people 's history was everpainful.

'They took our whole way of life, didn't they?' Tarquinius spat angrily. 'Roman civilisation has completely copied the Etruscan.'

'Right down to the trumpets announcing the start of ceremonies and battle manoeuvres,' Olenus added wryly. 'They stole it all. After destroying us.'

'Sons of whores! What gives them the right?'

'It was pre-ordained in the heavens, Tarquinius. You know all this.' Olenus stared at the young man before taking in the view that fell away to the east and south. A lake at the bottom of the mountain glistened, reflecting the sun's rays with blinding intensity. 'Here we are in the heartland of ancient Etruria.' Olenus smiled. 'Lake Vadimon at our feet, the foundations of the sacred city below.'

'We are almost the last pure-bred Etruscans on earth,' said Tarquinius bitterly. Defeated and then assimilated by the Romans, few families had continued to marry only others of their kind. His had. And generation after generation, the ancient secrets and rituals had been handed from one haruspex to another. Olenus was one of a long line stretching back to the heyday of Etruscan power.