When I arrived, an hour before noon, Amasai and his hundred men were already on the battleground. They were all on horses, and the grey noon light shone on leather breastplates and high polished boots, and flashed on spurs and swords. Their brown uniforms and long cloaks looked sombre. Each man wore a ribbon of white across his shoulder and down to his waist – it was my colour, that I had chosen. The men were orderly and quiet, and Amasai rode up and down their lines, instructing or encouraging them.

Zune’s men arrived shortly after. They came in a cloud of dust, thundering up the eastern approaches to the plateau, riding furiously and yelling as if they were mad. They gathered on their end of the field, unruly and eager to begin. Against Amasai’s solemn troops, they were a wild mob. They wore no uniform, but their many-coloured cloaks streamed behind them; and their ribbons – black – they wore tied across their foreheads. I don’t know where Zune called them from, but they were a zealous lot.

I stood at the front of the ridge, with the priests and temple personnel in long lines behind me. Further back thronged the citizens of Kasimarra. They made more noise almost than Zune’s men. They had musicians there, playing festive music, and some people had set up booths to sell drinks and little pies. It was not a battle they had come to see – it was an entertainment, a festival. They had no doubts that Zune would win.

Lesharo stood close beside me. He had wanted to fight for me, but Amasai had turned him away, saying that he had five times a hundred men, all soldiers zealous to fight for a noble cause, and all well-skilled in war. Lesharo was grievously disappointed, but I was glad of his company. Old Laken stood a little way to our right – a public declaration of her loyalty to me. Amasai had given me a white banner, and it streamed above us, snapping in the wind. Behind us was a river of banners … all black.

Amasai’s men formed in two lines at one end of the battlefield, and Amasai rode to the front and lifted his sword high.

Immediately Zune’s men, almost orderly, assembled at the other end behind Zune. Zune raised his sword, then rode forward to meet Amasai in the centre of the field. This was the ceremony that would begin the battle. For a few moments they spoke. Then they came cantering towards the ridge, to speak with Maelmor and me. The high priest and I went down onto the plateau and stood before them. Zune and Amasai dismounted. Their horses waited behind them, impatient, puffing and stamping, their nostrils sending mists into the icy air.