Dalip stepped around Stanislav. He reached out, got his hand slapped away, but in that narrow corridor, it was easy enough for him to immediately bring his other hand across and pull the knife free of its scabbard. He held it high, and Stanislav reached up to take it from him.

‘Hey. Give that back.’ Pigface tried to find the space to wrestle with Stanislav, but there was none.

‘You want it back?’ Stanislav slipped his arm under Dalip’s and stabbed Pigface. Not once, but repeatedly, the blade going in and out into the man’s stomach like a sewing-machine needle. Both the other guard and Dalip watched the sudden series of impacts with shock, as if it was happening to someone else, somewhere else.

Then Pigface folded, leaning against Dalip before sliding wetly to the floor.

The remaining guard stared and stared, then tried to run for it.

‘Stop him.’

Dalip, used to obeying that voice, and that tone of voice, leapt after him, brought him down and tangled his fingers in his hair. Then he jabbed his wrist forward, and the man’s forehead connected with the stone flags. His captive went limp.

‘Did you have to?’ Dalip said, getting to his feet.

Stanislav rolled Pigface flat to search him for anything else useful. Pigface wasn’t dead yet, but would be very soon, and as he was turned, he made a sort of wet, gurgling noise that elicited quiet moans of dismay from the others.

‘He is the enemy. He is complicit in our slavery. You want to show him mercy?’ He slid the bloody blade over to Dalip. ‘Then do so. It will be more than he would have done for any of us.’

Dalip wasn’t going to stab a dying man. And neither was he going to have the other guard stabbed either. He dragged him into his own cell, pulled the door closed and started to lower the bar across it.

‘You have not finished him.’

‘No. I’m not going to either.’

Stanislav scooped up the knife with an exasperated sigh. ‘This is weakness. This will get us all killed.’

‘We can just leave him there.’

‘When he begins to scream and shout, others will come and free him. Then we will have to kill them to escape.’ Stanislav jabbed his finger hard against Dalip’s temple. ‘You are not thinking.’

‘We cannot kill an unconscious man.’

‘You want to wait until he wakes up?’

‘We can’t.’ Then: ‘I won’t let you. You might not have any scruples, but I do.’

Stanislav made to lift the bar, and Dalip slammed his hand on top of it, holding it in place.

‘We don’t have time for an argument,’ he said.

Pigface coughed, his whole frame shaking, and Stanislav broke the stand-off. ‘The pit, then. Mama, go to the guard room and bar the outside door. Elena, Luiza, bring the table there through into the pit, and a chair.’