‘You are not the first person to defy me,’ Kabaya said. ‘They all swore the oath in the end, and you will too.’

‘I will not.’

The tension in the hall tightened still further. One man shouted, ‘Take the oath, Joseph! For God’s sake, take it!’

‘Listen to your friend,’ Kabaya said. ‘Heed his words.’

Only those closest to Joseph could hear him say, ‘I will not.’

Kabaya heard.

‘I have had enough of this foolishness,’ he said. ‘I will make you swear.’

To Gitiri he said, ‘The rope.’

Gitiri walked to where the dead goat lay. He put down the cup and bowl. He picked up the rope. Each movement was slow, deliberate, almost as if they too were solemn components of the oathing ceremony.

He faced Kabaya and tied the rope into a noose with about two feet of its length protruding from the knot.

Kabaya nodded.

Gitiri put the noose over Joseph’s head. He tightened it until it was snug against Joseph’s throat, then he stepped behind Joseph, holding the end of the rope.

‘One last chance,’ Kabaya said. ‘Will you swear?’

Joseph shook his head.

Kabaya said to Mary. ‘Take the oath and I will spare you.’

Mary stood taller, squared her shoulders, looked up at Kabaya and, to his face, declared, ‘No.’

Kabaya gave a shake of his head and shrugged, as if he did not want to take the next step but had been left with no choice. He nodded at Gitiri.

Gitiri closed the noose more tightly against Joseph’s neck. Gitiri’s expression betrayed no emotion.

Joseph was struggling to breathe.

‘Look at me,’ said Mary, and he obediently turned his eyes towards her.

‘This can stop now,’ Kabaya said. ‘You can go free. Just swear.’

Joseph did not respond.

Again Gitiri pulled the noose, slowly constricting Joseph’s throat, completing the task in tiny fractions.

Kabaya looked over to the rest of his men, picked out three of them with his finger and nodded in Mary’s direction. They took up station around her, brandishing their machetes.

The two remaining men, the ones armed with rifles, raised their guns at the crowd, which recoiled, pressing closely to the mission walls.

‘If you will not save yourself, save her,’ Kabaya said to Joseph.

‘Don’t!’ Mary cried. She started intoning the words of the 23rd Psalm. ‘ “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil . . .” ’

There was a murmur from the crowd, a rumble that formed the word, ‘Amen.’

‘You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head—’

Kabaya lost his patience. ‘Do it,’ he ordered.

The soldiers obeyed their commanding officer. Gitiri gave a brutal tug on the rope, tightening the noose so violently that it smashed through Joseph’s larynx and crushed his windpipe.