He walked over to where a chair had been set out for him. The sand felt hot beneath his bare feet. Zoltan gave him a long drink of water and poured some more over his head to cool him down.

One of Ugo’s guards, who was acting as referee, shouted a few words to the spectators, then rang the bell for the start of the bout.

The two boys came out into the centre of the ring, circling each other warily. Fitzpaine was big, but clumsy, and plodded around in an ungainly fashion. James took Zoltan’s advice and kept on his toes

There were shouts from the crowd. James looked up to see Ugo, smiling imperiously, his chin resting in one hand. He turned to the Contessa who was watching with hooded eyes, and shouted a few words into her ear.

She looked at James and clamped a long, painted fingernail between her teeth.

Fitzpaine lumbered towards James, who dodged backwards, not letting the boy get near him.

‘Stand still, you bunny rabbit,’ said Fitzpaine and he charged at James like a bull, fists flailing the air. James ducked the blows and skipped sideways, but still Fitzpaine came on, his punches inaccurate and leaving him wide open. James nipped in and gave him a quick jab to the side of his undefended belly and Fitzpaine swore, launching a wild punch at James’s head. The glove glanced off the side of James’s face. It should have been fairly harmless, but James felt his whole head jar and he tasted blood in his mouth

Hell.

Fitzpaine’s punch was harder than it looked.

James danced backwards, shaking his head to try and clear it, and he saw Fitzpaine smiling in triumph. That gave James fresh energy and he darted forward with a straight left that Fitzpaine managed to block with his raised gloves. It wasn’t an elegant defence but it worked, and to James it was like hitting a brick wall. His hand stung badly, even within the protection of the glove.

That had nothing to do with Fitzpaine’s punch.

The boy had merely held his hands up. Why had it hurt so much?

As James was momentarily distracted and confused, Fitzpaine managed to step in and throw a good punch. James saw it coming a fraction of a second too late. He was just able to twist his body and jerk his head clear, and the punch, which otherwise would have landed squarely on his chin, caught him in the side of the neck.

Again it was like a sledgehammer hitting him. He grunted and dropped for a moment to his knees, stunned. Fitzpaine saw his chance and blundered forward, but James rocked on to his heels and threw himself upwards and backwards away from the punch.

How had he done it? How had Fitzpaine landed such a killer blow?

James remembered the whispered conversation with Ugo – Fitzpaine looking into his gloves.