The raven finished its meal and flapped off.

Tarquinius gazed after it balefully. 'Why shouldn't I have killed that damn bird?'

'We are standing above what was the temple of Tinia. The most powerful of our gods . . .' Olenus paused for effect.

Looking down, Tarquinius noticed a red clay tile protruding from the soil.

'And the number of buzzards above is twelve.'

Tarquinius' eyes searched the sky, counting. 'Why do you always speak in riddles?'

Olenus tapped his lituus, a small crooked staff, on the broken tile. 'Not the first time today, is it?'

'I know twelve is our people 's sacred number, but . . .' Tarquinius watched the dog, which had begun herding the flock towards them as he wished. 'What has that got to do with the raven?'

'That lamb was the twelfth this morning.'

Tarquinius did a quick calculation. 'But I didn't tell you about the one in the gully earlier,' he said with amazement.

'And Corvus wanted to feed right where sacrifices used to take place,' the haruspex added enigmatically. 'Best leave him in peace, eh?'

Tarquinius frowned, frustrated that he had not noticed the buzzards first and made the link with the location. He had been too busy thinking about killing wolves.

It was time to hunt some down. Rufus Caelius, his evil-tempered master, tolerated these excursions only because he could question Tarquinius afterwards about Olenus and the state of his flocks. The noble would be displeased to hear about further losses and Tarquinius was already dreading his return to the latifundium, Caelius' huge estate at the foot of the mountain.

'How did you know about the lamb in the gully?'

'What have I spent all these years teaching you? Observe everything!' Olenus turned around, seeing what was no longer there. 'This was the centre of the mighty city of Falerii. Tarchun, the founder of Etruria, marked out its sacred borders with a bronze plough, over a mile from here. Four hundred years ago, where we are standing would have been thronged with Etruscan people going about their daily business.'

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.

'It was our destiny to be conquered,' Olenus replied. 'Remember that when the foundation stone of the temple was laid many centuries ago . . .'

'A bleeding head was found in the soil.'

'My predecessor, Calenus Olenus Aesar, stated it foretold that the people would rule all of Italy.'

'And he was wrong. Look at us now!' cried Tarquinius. 'Little better than slaves.' There were almost no Etruscans left with any political power or influence. Instead they were poor farmers, or like Tarquinius and his family, workers on large estates.

'Calenus was the best haruspex in our history. He could read the liver like no other!' Olenus waved his gnarled hands excitedly. 'That man knew what the Etruscans could not – or would not – understand at the time. Our cities never unified and so when Rome grew powerful enough, they were defeated one by one. Although it took over a hundred and fifty years, Calenus' prediction proved correct.'

'He meant those who crushed us.'

Olenus nodded.

'Bastard Romans.' Tarquinius flung a stone after the raven, now long gone.

Little did he know the haruspex secretly admired his speed and power. The rock flew fast enough to kill any man it struck.

'A hard thing to accept, even for me,' sighed Olenus.

'Especially the way they lord over us.' The young Etruscan swigged from a leather water bag and passed it to his mentor. 'Where is the cave from here?'

'Not far.' The haruspex drank deeply. 'Today is not the day, however.'

'You've dragged me all the way up here for nothing? I thought you were going to show me the liver and sword!'

'I was,' replied Olenus mildly. The old man turned and began to walk downhill, humming as he used the lituus to steady himself. 'But the omens are not good today. It would be best if you return to the latifundium.'

It had been eight years since he first heard of the gladius of Tarquin, the last Etruscan king of Rome and the bronze liver, one of only a few such templates for soothsayers to learn their art. Tarquinius was chafing to see the ancient metal artefact. It had been the subject of so many lessons, but he knew better than to argue with Olenus and a few more days would make little difference. He hitched his pack higher, checking that all the sheep and goats had come down.

'I need a trip up here with my bow anyway. Spend a few days killing wolves.' Tarquinius affected a nonchalant tone. 'You can't let the bastards think that they can get away with it.'

Olenus grunted in reply.

Tarquinius rolled his eyes with frustration. He wouldn't get to see the liver until the haruspex was good and ready. Whistling the dog to heel, he followed Olenus down the narrow track.

Tarquinius left the haruspex sleeping in the little hut halfway down the mountain, the dog curled up by his feet, wood crackling gently in the fireplace. Even though it was a balmy summer night, Olenus' bones had felt the chill.

The young man picked his way along well-used paths through the sprawling fields, olive groves and vineyards that surrounded Caelius' enormous villa. When he finally reached it, the thick limestone walls were still warm from the sun.

The slaves' miserable shacks and the simple farm buildings housing indentured workers were situated to the rear of the main complex. He reached these quarters without seeing a soul. Most people rose at dawn and went to bed by sunset, making escape and return in darkness relatively easy.

Tarquinius paused at the entrance to the small courtyard and peered into the gloom, seeing nothing.

A voice broke the silence.

'Where have you been all day?'

'Who's there?' Tarquinius hissed.

'Lucky the foreman's asleep. You'd get a beating otherwise!'

He relaxed. 'Olenus was teaching me about our ancestors, Father. That's far more important than digging in the fields.'

'Why bother?' A short, fat man wove into view, clutching an amphora. 'We Etruscans are finished. The butcher Sulla made sure of that.'