‘My name is Sakir,’ the captain said in a rumbling voice. ‘Known by many as the Red Hawk, by others as He Who Walks With the Gods. Of all the Hyksos you could have chosen to make an enemy, you have found the worst. I do not fear death. I embrace it. And now that you have stirred me from my dreams, I will bring that death to you.’

Piay laughed. ‘You think highly of yourself. But you are just another filthy invader trampling across the glory that is Egypt. You are a passing shadow on this land and soon you will be gone.’

Sakir pushed two fingers in his mouth and blasted out a long whistle.

Piay glanced at the fighting barbarians, trying to comprehend what their captain was signalling to them. They seemed unmoved, still attacking in the same chaotic manner. Suddenly Sakir swung his sword in an arc with such strength it could have cleaved Piay in two had not Piay swept up his own blade and, with a delicate flick of his wrist, positioned the weapon at an angle to deflect his enemy’s strike.

Sakir hacked again, driving forwards. Piay danced back. He felt his concentration narrow. The Hyksos captain was as good as he’d said.

They moved around the campfire. Piay’s nostrils sucked in the drifting smoke and his eyes stung with tears. Sakir appeared unmoved. He was barely blinking. Their blades sang into the night.

Sweat drenched Piay’s back and soaked into his kilt. He forced a grin to hide his unease. He had never faced an opponent as skilled as this warrior. They were evenly matched.

I will not be defeated, he told himself. I am the best swordsman in all Egypt.

Piay kicked at the campfire. A burning sod flew up and hit Sakir’s thigh. Not a wince crossed the captain’s face. It was as if he could feel no pain.

There was a sound like distant thunder. An instant later Piay heard cries ring out.

Hyksos riders pounded along the track towards them. The whistle blast had not been intended for the barbarians engaged in that furious battle. Sakir had summoned reinforcements.

Piay felt his stomach knot. Hannu had been right – he had been too confident. He should have scouted the area before launching his attack.

Dropping, he spun on his left hand and swung one foot in an arc. Sakir’s legs flew out from under him and he crashed to the ground. Piay threw himself forwards. He stamped his foot on the wrist of his opponent’s sword-arm and rammed the barbarian’s head down. The left side of Sakir’s face crunched into the hot embers. This time he howled. The stink of searing flesh filled the air.

Piay darted away. ‘Come!’ he yelled to his men.

Hooking one hand under the Egyptian captive’s arm, he dragged him away.