‘Of course,’ said Zoltan. ‘You had already betrayed your god. Betraying a few mere men was nothing.’

So saying, Zoltan walked out and James heard his footsteps fading into the distance.

Smiler said something to the guard and, before James knew what was happening, he was being dragged out of the cell.

Smiler marched him down through the mine, the young guard kicking him occasionally to make him keep up. After a few minutes they came to a sentry post built into a wall. Two more guards were sitting in here keeping watch over an exit to the outside world. One of them glanced up and nodded to Smiler, who shoved the gate open and booted James through it.

James stumbled out into the heat of the day, blinking in the harsh sunlight. There was a racket of insects and James felt suddenly light-headed and confused, but a kick in the backside brought him quickly back to his senses.

They were some way below the palazzo. Above them were the steep sides of the ravine and the tall arches of the aqueduct. They walked across an open rocky area and joined a track that wound down through the scrubby maquis. James considered trying to break away and make a run for it. But where would he go? All his energy had been used up. He looked down at himself and was shocked to see how filthy he was. His torn clothing was crusted with dried blood and where his skin showed through the rips it was a livid patchwork of cuts and bruises.

Flies buzzed everywhere through the still, hot air and the two men slapped them away and grumbled to each other. Further along the path they stopped to drink water from a shared canteen and, after a little deliberation, Smiler gave James some. He drank thankfully and then poured some water on to his hands and washed his face. It was hardly a hot shower and brush-up, but for now it would have to do.

At Eton a maid brought round water for him to wash with every morning, and when his clothes were dirty he’d simply leave them out for her to pick up. He’d collect them a few days later, neatly folded and pressed, from a wooden shelf at the bottom of the stairs called the slab. He’d always taken the system for granted, but never again.

After a while they came to the river where the run-off from the dam flowed down into the valley. A smaller muddy trickle fed into it and they followed this stream into a soggy, steep-sided gorge thick with tangled vegetation. They had to pick their way carefully through the soft ground, which became even mushier the deeper they went.

The men’s mood got worse as they pressed into the heart of the bog, and they obviously had no more desire to be here than James.