But all the other Hyksos warriors were engaged. Hannu swung his weapon with the strength of a man twice his size. One Egyptian soldier reeled from a deep gash on his upper arm, but he would survive.

Piay leaped to the captive. The man looked up with wide eyes, scarcely believing what he was seeing.

‘You came for me,’ he croaked.

‘Remember to tell your friends who it was that saved your life. My name is Piay.’

‘Piay.’

His name sounded from behind him in little more than an exhalation, almost lost beneath the hissing of the fire. He turned and saw the captain’s eyes begin to focus as he dragged himself out of his trance.

Piay sawed at the strips of hide that bound the captive’s wrists. He pulled the man to his feet.

‘Away,’ Piay said. ‘We will guide you home when we are done here.’

‘Piay.’ The captain’s voice was stronger now.

Piay moved round. Levelling his sword, he said, ‘You have been defeated by better men. You can keep your life if you flee. Tell the others like you that Egypt will never be vanquished.’

The captain eased himself up to his full height, a head taller than Piay, without a hint of bewilderment from the blue lotuses he had consumed. A grey fire seemed to flicker in his eyes. The captain’s unkempt black hair was bound with strips of hide on which hung small bones that clacked together in a macabre music of death every time he moved his head. He drew his lips into a wolfish grin.

Piay had seen many Hyksos in his time, but none like this. He saw the swirls of intricate tattoos along the captain’s arms, symbols which seemed to tell a story.

‘I see you,’ the captain breathed. ‘Your god Anubis stands at your shoulder.’

The captain peered past him with that strange, implacable stare, as if something lurked in the shadows.

‘Flee,’ Piay said as the battle raged behind him. ‘My patience is not endless. This is the last time I will show mercy.’

‘I have walked along the shores of the black ocean to the very edge of the afterlife,’ the captain continued, as if he had not heard Piay’s words. ‘I have heard the whispers of the gods.’

He drew his own blade. The reflected firelight glinted along it in amber ripples as he waved it in front of Piay.

If the liquor of the blue lotus still coursed through his veins, it did not diminish his potency. The movements of the blade were precise, the skill of a master swordsman.