The Sardinian got shakily to his feet, spilling wine down himself. He wiped his mouth and held out his arms as if to welcome her into them. Amy had had enough. She quickly stepped forward and gave Salvatore a shove. He tipped over the tailgate, falling into the road with a startled shout.

The following lorry had to brake sharply and veer to the side of the road to avoid running over him.

There were angry shouts and the driver jumped down in a cloud of dust, gesticulating wildly.

The whole convoy came to a halt and Zoltan galloped over on his white horse.

Salvatore lay very still in the road, spread-eagled on his back. One of his friends went to him and slapped him, trying to revive him. Then he poured water over his face from a canteen and Salvatore spluttered and groggily raised his head before he snapped back into life and stood up, yelling a stream of insults at Amy, who was looking out of the back of the lorry.

‘Shut up!’ said Zoltan, and there was silence. ‘Now, will somebody please tell me what is going on here?’

Again a stream of excited Sardinian poured out of Salvatore and one of his friends translated.

‘He say the girl push him from the truck. He say he is going to kill her.’

‘He is going to do nothing,’ Zoltan snapped. ‘I am in charge here.’ He turned angrily to Amy. ‘Is this true? What this man is saying?’

‘Perfectly true,’ said Amy calmly. ‘That man is drunk.’ She picked up the bottle and tossed it into the dirt. Salvatore looked disappointed as the dark wine spilt out into the road.

Zoltan closed his eyes and fought to control his emotions. For a moment he looked very weary, then he wiped his face, opened his eyes and walked his horse over to Salvatore, so that he was towering over him. When he finally spoke, he spoke quietly. ‘I gave orders that nobody was to interfere with my prisoners.’

Salvatore tried to interrupt and Zoltan yelled at him. ‘You should not have disobeyed my orders!’

‘You not my boss,’ said Salvatore with a note of scorn in his voice.

‘As long as you are travelling with us,’ said Zoltan, ‘you will respect my authority. Rispetto. You understand? If you go near the women again, I will have you thrashed.’

Salvatore raised his chin defiantly, made an obscene gesture and muttered a curse. One of his friends laughed and Zoltan suddenly kicked Salvatore in the face, knocking him to the ground.

Zoltan swung down out his saddle, and by the time Salvatore had scrambled to his feet the Magyar was standing next to him.

‘Do you understand?’ he said.