Chapter 37Lavinia dropped the bow, then picked up the staff and the helmet of the gods. The cold metal burned her palm. How long ago had she demanded this gift? She took up her staff, then lurched on her wounded leg. Her breathing was so shallow that she felt like a walking ghost.
Behind her, Latins and Trojans alike were surging forward, pressing around Aeneas as she limped away. Shrill cries filled the morning, thousands of questions, a rabble of confusion. Though all saw the arrow fly, nobody could say who had loosed it. None dared boast of killing the new god. She could not stir herself to own the deed, she felt so empty.
Her only urge now was to disappear, vanish, make herself as small as possible. If she could become invisible, be silent enough, then neither god nor human could fin
