Once he’d outlined the details, Piay scrambled up the ladder. He swung himself over the side and crouched on the moonlit deck. All was still. The shipwrights hadn’t finished their labours and the boards were strewn with pieces of timber and rolls of sailcloth, and tools discarded when the day’s work had ended. Instantly Piay knew he had made the right choice. The firepot had been lit for warmth, the red embers glowing like the eyes of a feral beast through the ventilation holes in the side of the pot.

‘Egyptian.’ The voice rumbled from the shadows beyond the benches where the captain’s shelter stood.

Piay drew his sword.

Sakir emerged from under the shelter and stretched the kinks from his muscles. His charred face was lost to the dark.

‘I knew you would come.’

‘Where is Myssa?’

‘Your woman is dead.’ The Red Hawk’s voice was emotionless. ‘I cut off her head and tossed her body into the river for the crocodiles to feast on.’

Piay felt despair consume him. He had refused to consider this outcome, but it was what he had feared all along.

‘Why should I keep her alive?’ Sakir continued, taking pleasure in the pain he knew he was inflicting. ‘She was of no use to me.’

Piay’s anger roared like a furnace. He gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands and stalked along the deck. The moonlit world seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces until his vision focused on the form that was the object of all his loathing. The charred black head tipped back, and though he couldn’t be sure, Piay thought his enemy was smiling.

Sakir drew his sword and levelled it.

You will die, Piay thought, even if I have to die to end your days.

As he prowled forwards, Piay felt movement that jerked him from his trance. Beneath his feet, the galley jolted. He knew Hannu had hacked through the hide ropes that held it in place, and was now knocking away the wooden blocks and scaffolding that stabilised the vessel during repairs. Shouts rang out from across the shipyard.

Piay prayed that Hannu would get away. With his injured leg, he couldn’t move fast and he had four barbarians on his trail. A part of him knew Hannu was willing to sacrifice his own life so Piay could wreak his vengeance in the same way that Piay was giving up his own for Myssa’s memory.

The galley lurched forwards, gathering speed. The ladder crashed away. At least the other men would not be able to clamber on board. This was between him and Sakir alone. It would all end here.

The ship slammed into the water, a fan of spray washing over the prow. Piay crashed onto his back from the impact. Scrambling to his feet, he saw Sakir with one arm curled round the mast. The Red Hawk seemed unmoved. Did nothing trouble him?