Chapter 33Aeneas laid Turnus on the trampled grass of the hillock outside the city. The youth stirred, the distant firelight glinting on his helmet, but did not rise. Turnus was unarmed and stripped of his armour. There was nothing to fear from him; he could pause a moment.
The ruler of Troy sat down heavily beside the Italian, gulping down air. He flexed his fingers. His brown skin remained whole and unmarked, but his flesh continued to burn.
No stars twinkled. Darkness had fallen sooner than he had expected, but still the city glowed ruby. The pillar of smoke rose into the heavens. The air was rank with the smell of burning. Even from this distance, he could hear the wails of the townspeople as the Arkadians sacked the city. The Latins were being herded out of Laurentum in chains. Once
