Dalip had heard about it, briefly and in passing, but it had started before he was born, and ended when he was still a baby. That some of those responsible had gone on trial later was the only reason he knew there’d even been a war. His parents had been uncomfortable enough about what had gone on that they’d talk over the reporting, exchanging family gossip until the report had finished.

The images, however, remained: mass graves, shattered buildings, haunted people in the backs of cars and trucks piled high with their belongings.

Stanislav had been there. More than been there: had fought there, and it didn’t really matter for who, or why. What was important was that he’d brought that war with him to Down; in the same way, Dalip supposed, that everyone who came to Down brought only what they were with them. Their hopes and dreams, their fears and nightmares, the past they’d lived and the future they were destined to live.

‘You have to leave that behind,’ said Dalip. ‘It’s destroying you, and us.’

‘Do you know what it is like, to be weak?’ asked Stanislav.

‘Not until recently. I only got through that because of you.’

‘Do you want to be that weak ever again?’

‘No, of course not—’

‘Can you not see that if we fail to act now, then we are condemning ourselves to always being that weak?’

After everything that had gone on that night, Dalip was abruptly exhausted. He’d done everything asked of him, and more. His head sagged, and he gathered up his loose hair and dragged it over one shoulder.

‘We cannot do a deal with our former owners,’ said Stanislav. ‘They are not people we can trust. They will seek to own us again, and they must be stopped.’

‘We have stopped them.’

‘For now. When they regroup, they will try again.’

‘Then we’ll fight them again. Stanislav, it doesn’t have to be like this.’

‘Tell them that and see if they agree with you. They did not have to take us as slaves, but they did. They did not have to make you fight in the pit, but they did. They will do it again unless we – you and me – finish it now. There is no one else: even if we walk out of here, they will take others. Do you want that? Do you want to say to yourself, “We let the slavers go”, knowing that you have condemned others to the same state as you were?’

‘I know we have to do something.’

‘You know what you have to do. You know!’

Dalip scrubbed his face with his fingers. ‘We don’t have to do that. We don’t. We just don’t.’

‘You know the right thing to do. You refuse to do it.’ Stanislav pulled himself up by the table-top. ‘I will have to do it myself. To protect the sheep.’