Chapter 42In the dining hall of Dido’s palace, the Karkhedans and the Trojans joined in the feast beneath the roaring torchlight. They mingled at the tables, swapping stories like long-lost kin. Wine flowed and servers offered bread from baskets. Bowls of fresh fruit lay upon white tablecloths. A bard strummed upon a lyre and sang a jaunty song of a pitched battle between flies and spiders. Aeneas was seated at Dido’s left, Anna on the right. Dido led the libations, splashing a little wine to the floor from her golden goblet.
Julos was asleep in Aeneas’s lap, sucking on his fingers. It had been a big day, after all.
Aeneas sighed in contentment, his belly satisfied for the first time in ages. He felt a twinge of discomfort, remembering the words of the harpy Kelaino: that he would know h
