‘I don’t know, and we need to find out. But not from them.’ He looked forward, then back at the river. ‘We’re going to have to go that way.’

‘We can’t just leave the others,’ she said, and straight away doubted her words. ‘Can we?’

‘We have literally nothing. If we can cross the river without being seen, it might mean we can get away. Go. I’ll be right behind you.’

There was another scream, and more shouting. Something that sounded like a laugh.

‘I can’t swim.’

‘Bank to bank, it’s not even the length of the local baths. Just do it.’

‘I really can’t swim.’

‘You can probably walk halfway across.’ He raised himself up again, and dropped down immediately. ‘They’re coming.’

They were several shapes he could barely make out, as tall as a man but blending with the background in a way he couldn’t quite believe. They were close and closing.

‘Come on!’

He sprang to his feet, grabbed Mary’s wrist and pulled her toward the river. She wasn’t even standing by the time he got her to the bank and he pushed her in.

There were noises right behind him. If she was to get away, he would have to stay. Even if she drowned because for some inexplicable reason she hadn’t learnt to swim, and he wasn’t there to hold her up.

He reached into his boilersuit and drew his kirpan, then turned to face them.

Perhaps they realised by the way his hand shook that he’d never used the blade in anger before. Perhaps it was because there were three of them, lean, toothy, skin tanned like leather, all used to casual violence and pain.

Could he keep them at bay for long enough for Mary to escape? They had knives in their hands: proper knives, almost swords, thick bladed and curve-edged. Never mind. It was his duty. It was his honour. It was the first time he’d had to act out his faith on his own accord, and it felt like something inside him had finally shifted into place.

Any fight would be quick and dirty, and it’d be him losing and losing badly. These men in brown and green were fighters, warriors. He was an engineering student with decent batting average and a fierce spin.

And still. He jabbed forward with his kirpan at the face of the man on the left, causing him to dodge back. The man on the right caught his arm, stepped close and punched him hard in the kidneys.

The pain was extraordinary. He felt his legs start to fold, and decided that he’d be better on his feet. He brought his arm back, elbow first. He made some sort of contact because the grip on his wrist loosened.