‘I could never abandon the home of my birth,’ Hui said. ‘And to his credit, neither could Hurotas – or Zaras, as he was known when he lived here in the Land of the Nile. He fought a long battle within himself between the needs of his old home and the needs of the new. But once he made his decision there were no half-measures. He committed the full weight of the Spartan force to come to your aid.’ Hui poured more wine in his cup. ‘Do not underestimate what Hurotas has done. The risk he has taken. His gamble could have resulted in the destruction of the Spartan army and the loss of all he has fought for in Mycenae – not least the king’s throne, and indeed, his head.’

Piay raised his cup. ‘Then we will always be in your debt.’

With a sly grin, Hui wagged his cup at Piay. ‘I warn you . . . Hurotas will strike a hard bargain in payment for this service Sparta has offered Egypt. Our terms for trade may bring tears to the eyes.’

‘A small price to pay,’ Piay said. ‘I promised the contents of the Pharaoh’s coffers to another, but that debt will no longer need to be paid. You can put no value on freedom.’

Hui smiled. ‘We will see if the new Pharaoh feels the same.’

Piay looked across the deserted deck. ‘Why do you wait here and not join the celebrations?’

‘The time for celebration will come. For now, I am waiting for a meeting with my past . . . with the man I used to be . . . when my destiny was still being carved out of the bedrock of this land. A meeting with my old . . . friend? . . . Taita.’

Piay bowed. ‘Then I will take my leave. I must speak with Taita first before he is distracted with too much wine.’

A warm wind whistled through the deserted Egyptian camp, billowing the tents and cracking the lines. The soldiers who had survived the battle with the Hyksos had abandoned this place, which had become associated with so much misery, and were now joining the festivities around Thebes.

Piay, Hannu and Myssa strolled past the dead campfires and ragged shelters to Taita’s tent.

‘You want a peaceful life?’ asked Hannu. ‘Why?’

‘So I can spend my days with Myssa without worrying about having my head removed at every moment.’

‘What would you be, then? A farmer?’

‘Perhaps.’

Hannu snorted. ‘You’d be driven mad by the end of the first planting season.’

Piay sighed. He’d thought long and hard about this and still couldn’t find the right answer.

Myssa squeezed Piay’s hand, whispering, ‘It matters not where we are, as long as we are together.’

‘If you become a farmer, I’m not digging ditches,’ Hannu said.