Текст книги "The Enemy"

Автор книги: Charlie Higson

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

It was as if all the evil inside Nick was erupting, forcing its way out of his body. Two lines of boils pushed out from behind his lower eyelids, peeling them back and down. They began to pop one by one, leaking blood and pus down his face. His eyes were swelling, too, the blood vessels in them showing dark red. They bulged out of his face. Sam could imagine that someone had stuck a bicycle pump in Nick’s ear and was inflating his whole head.

Then Sam had to look away as the eyes burst.

Nick let go of Sam and put his hands up to cover the wounds. He opened his mouth wide to scream, but Sam saw that it was filled with swellings and lumps and ulcers, his tongue a fat warty toad-thing, forcing its way out from between his teeth. His throat was completely blocked, so that he could neither breathe nor speak.

He no longer looked human. His whole body was bulging and writhing. He dropped to his knees. Blind. His hands groping the air. They looked like two udders and were still filling with liquid so that in a few moments the fingers had all but disappeared, the blackened stubs of the fingernails all that remained.

Sam saw the knife lying on the ground and picked it up, ignoring the stickiness on the handle. He felt almost sorry for the thing that had once been Nick. He wondered if he should put him out of his misery. But before he could bring himself to do anything Nick’s skin split and he seemed to disintegrate completely. He collapsed to the pavement, a mass of putrefying, liquefying flesh and steaming entrails that bubbled and hissed in the sunlight.

Sam retched, and then felt The Kid’s hand on his arm.

He sang a little ditty.

‘TV highlight of the week…’

‘What happened to him?’ said Sam.

‘Blame it on the sunshine. That’s why Mrs Spiderlady wouldn’t come out. She’s going to be so angered, but what can she do about it? Now let’s get gone from here.’

‘Shouldn’t we go back for Rhiannon?’ said Sam.

‘Can’t,’ said The Kid. ‘Look…’

He nodded to where a group of grown-ups was lumbering along the road towards them.

‘We need to get out of here sharpish, skipper. Poor girl’s probably dead as a dormouse already. Just thank her in your prayers.’

‘I don’t pray,’ said Sam. ‘I don’t believe in God.’

‘Well, somebody up there’s looking after you, titch. Now let’s motor.’

They ran off down the road, hand in hand, Sam glad of the human contact.

51

They arrived at sunset. Carl, the pirate, had brought ten of the meanest, toughest-looking squatters with him, plus a couple of smaller kids. Wiry little bruisers with even more attitude than their larger mates. They were escorted to the Throne Room and came in intending to be unimpressed, to play it cool, to show the stone face, but now they were all standing there with eyes wide, mouths hanging open.

‘Oh, my days,’ said Carl. ‘This is unreal.’

Everything about the scene was unreal. The decrepit Royal Family were slumped in their thrones, drooling. Just John was standing to one side, his hands tied behind his back, his feet loosely roped together, so that he could walk but not run. There was a wad of cotton wool taped across his nose and his eyes were ringed with purple bruising. He looked uglier than ever.

David and Jester were stood on the other side, arms folded. David’s suit was clean and pressed, his tie immaculate. The palace guards were stood to attention in front of the thrones, wearing their red-and-black uniforms, their rifles at the ready, trying their hardest to look like professionals.

Pod and his team of fighters were along one wall. Maxie and the chief Holloway kids were along the other wall. Maxie thought it was like some ridiculous school play, like Shakespeare or something, with kids pretending to be kings and queens and soldiers. But she was interested to see how the scene would play out. She could see a faint smile curling David’s lip. For the moment he had the upper hand. The squatters were thrown, their guard was down.

He raised his hand for silence and started to speak.

‘This morning my ambassador spoke to you.’

Maxie bit her lip. Since when was she David’s ambassador?

Just John obviously didn’t like the idea of an ambassador any more than Maxie did.

‘Ambassador?’ he said, his voice sounding choked and nasal. ‘What you talking about, you ponce?’

‘The girl, Maxie, was speaking on my behalf. Now I will speak for myself.’

‘Listen, mate,’ said Carl. ‘We didn’t come here to talk, we came to get John.’

‘That wasn’t the deal, though, was it?’ said David. ‘The deal was – if you wanted John back you’d have to talk.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ said Carl. ‘As I see it we won the fight.’

‘But we’ve got John,’ said David.

‘This doesn’t need to get heavy,’ said Jester. ‘We don’t have to be enemies.’

‘Who says?’

‘We have food here,’ said Jester. ‘We have security. We also have many more kids than you do. We have weapons as well, good weapons, and a well-organized army. All we’re saying is – why not join us? Together we can be strong. We can take on any other gang of kids we like. We can rule London.’

Again Maxie winced. She had no desire to rule London. She just wanted a roof over her head, food on her plate and to be able to sleep at night without waking every half-hour in a sweat of fear and anxiety. But maybe this was the only language the squatters would understand.

‘We don’t want you to change,’ said David.

‘That’s big of you,’ said Just John.

‘You can keep your camp,’ said David, ignoring the interruption. ‘You can still be in charge, John. But we make peace. We grow food together. We share everything. If there is an outside threat we stand shoulder to shoulder against them.’

A couple of the squatters sniggered at David’s fancy language. But Carl was looking at Just John with a questioning look.

‘You say you won this morning,’ Pod chipped in. ‘But we could have destroyed your whole camp if we’d wanted.’

‘You didn’t fight fair,’ said John. ‘You cheated.’

Now it was the turn of some of the palace kids to snigger. The idea of someone like Just John complaining about fair play was more than faintly ridiculous.

‘I could have beaten you with a blindfold on, man,’ said Achilleus. ‘You are sad.’

‘Oh, tough guy, aren’t you?’ said John, and Achilleus shrugged. ‘I was trying to talk to you and you whacked me. If I’d’ve been ready for you, you wouldn’t be standing there now.’

‘If you was any good you’d have been ready,’ said Achilleus. ‘But you ain’t nothing.’

‘All right, all right,’ said David, raising his hands again. ‘That’s enough of that. We don’t need to start an argument. This isn’t about fighting each other, it’s about becoming allies.’

‘This is boring,’ Achilleus muttered. ‘It’s too much like politics.’

‘All I’m asking for is a truce,’ said David.

‘There’s unfinished business,’ said John darkly.

‘What unfinished business?’ said Jester.

‘Me and him.’ John pointed at Achilleus.

‘You want another fight, I’m ready,’ said Achilleus.

John spat on to the carpet and shuffled over to Carl. The two of them had a quick quiet chat, which ended with Carl slapping John on the shoulder.

‘We’re ready to make a deal,’ he said.

‘As long as you understand that we might not accept it,’ said David. ‘As I see it, we have the upper hand. We have John prisoner, and –’

‘You gonna listen to our deal or are you gonna blab, posh boy?’ said John.

‘I’ll listen,’ said David. ‘But it better be good.’

‘It’s good,’ said John. ‘It’s the best you’ll ever get.’

‘Go on then.’

‘It’s like this. We’ll do everything you say. We’ll help you grow food; we’ll join up with you if anyone attacks. All that what you’ve said. We’ll make a truce. On one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘Him there.’ John was pointing at Achilleus. ‘If he can beat me in a fair fight.’

‘It’s a deal,’ said Achilleus without any hesitation.

‘Wait,’ said Maxie. ‘That’s just stupid.’

‘Yeah?’ said Carl. ‘Well, it’s our deal. Take it or leave it.’

‘What do you say, David?’ asked John, his chin raised cockily.

‘What if we lose?’

‘If you lose you can forget any kind of truce, and if you want to start a war that’s fine with us. We’ll be ready for you.’

‘Wait a moment.’

David and Jester went over to Achilleus. It was their turn for a quiet chat.

‘Can you beat him?’ David asked.

Achilleus smiled. ‘No problem. I took him before. I can take him again. He’s all talk.’

‘Are you sure? A lot rests on this.’

‘You don’t think I can do it?’

‘He can do it,’ said Jester.

‘All right.’ David broke away from the huddle. ‘You’ve got a deal.’

‘Wait a moment,’ said Maxie, pushing between David and Jester. ‘We need to think about this.’

‘I have thought about it,’ said David. ‘It’s agreed.’

‘Wait…’ said Maxie, and Achilleus put his hand on her arm.

‘Don’t you want revenge?’ he said. ‘For what he did to Freak? Don’t you want to see him dead?’

‘If I’d wanted that I could have killed him myself this morning.’

‘Revenge, Maxie.’

‘I don’t want revenge. And I don’t want any more fighting.’

‘It’s not your decision,’ said David, and he walked over towards John.

‘The two of you will fight for it,’ he said. ‘Our champion against yours.’

‘All right.’ John smiled, showing his small jagged yellow teeth, and shook hands with David. He didn’t let go. Instead he leant closer until their faces were only about an centimetre apart. ‘The winner decides what happens between us. The loser gets buried with a nice ceremony and some flowers.’

David laughed, trying to pull his hand free. ‘I don’t think we have to go quite that far,’ he said. ‘We’re not talking about a fight to the death.’

‘Oh yes we are,’ said John, and he grinned wider. ‘It’s the only way to decide it. A fight to the death. We’ve shook on it.’

A great hubbub broke out in the room. There were cries of protest, and angry accusations. John stood there, smiling his smile, clutching David’s hand in an iron grip. David looked unsure of himself. Once again he turned to Achilleus for reassurance.

Achilleus was unfazed.

‘What’s the problem?’ he said once the noise had died down. ‘That’s my kind of fight.’

He walked over to Carl and the other squatters. ‘Better get your spades ready, chaps. You’re gonna have some digging to do.’

‘No,’ Maxie shouted. ‘This is horrible. We’re not animals.’

‘Speak for yourself, bitch,’ said John, and the room erupted into a chaotic frenzy of shouting and shoving.

John stood there in the middle of it all with his broken-toothed grin, his hard bony head nodding slowly on his long neck.

52

Sam and The Kid were sitting at the bottom of the Gherkin. The weird skyscraper that looked like a huge vegetable. They were finishing off the last of the provisions from The Kid’s leather satchel. Some murky water in an old plastic bottle, and a tin of peas.

They’d been wandering, lost, through the empty canyons of the City of London for the last hour. The street plan made no sense. There were no straight lines, roads twisted and turned and came to sudden stops. The boys were trying to reach the river so that they could get their bearings, but it was proving impossible. Every direction they tried seemed wrong, or took them back to where they’d started. So time and again they made their way back to the Gherkin as the chief landmark in the area.

And now it was growing dark.

Paper fluttered in the air. Sam looked up to see that it was spilling from a broken window high up on the Gherkin.

He didn’t like it here. The glass walls of the towers that loomed on either side reflected each other back at themselves. It was like a city designed by a madman. The scale was all wrong and none of the buildings matched. There would be an old church right next to an office block made of metal that looked like a giant engine. Everywhere there were abandoned building sites, some little more than deep holes in the ground, others home to the steel skeletons of office blocks that would now never be finished. Cranes stood over them, and the boys had seen three that had fallen, smashing into the buildings next to them.

‘Shall we try again?’ said The Kid.

‘OK.’

They got up stiffly and set off, trying a new route.

‘We need to keep our eyes peeled like spuds, Frodo,’ said The Kid.

‘It’s Sam,’ said Sam tetchily.

‘Oh yeah, sorry, I knew it was one of them hobbits.’

‘And besides,’ said Sam. ‘You don’t have to tell me to look out. I can look after myself. I’ve survived on the streets all by myself.’

‘Not these streets,’ said The Kid.

‘They’re all the same,’ said Sam.

‘Not so,’ said The Kid. ‘You never know what you’re going to find round here. This part of London is bare weird. Things happened differently here to how they did everywhere elsewhere, I reckon. That’s why your bully-butcher friends down below didn’t become sickos. This is an old place. There’s some kind of special magic here. Some old power, from the dark days, the storybook time, maybe even before Caesar and his Romans came, eh?’

‘I don’t believe in magic,’ said Sam.

‘I believe in everything, titch,’ said The Kid.

‘Don’t call me “titch”. You’re not much bigger than me.’

‘I know I ain’t, but you’re still small, buster-boy. You’re a right tiddler.’

‘I’m a giant killer.’

‘I can believe it. As I say, I believe everything, shrimp.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ said Sam. ‘Or I’ll call you rat-boy.’

‘Midget.’

‘Tree frog.’

‘Crumb.’

‘Scab.’

‘Plankton.’

‘Poo-poo head.’

‘Poo-poo head?’

‘Yeah,’ said Sam, giggling, ‘that’s what you are. You stink.’

‘Not as bad as you, pipsqueak.’

‘No, you smell worse, you smelly sock.’

‘Don’t you call me a smelly sock, you hairy yellow vetch.’

‘Rat-boy, rat-boy!’

‘Squirt.’

‘Arsehole.’

‘Hold up.’ The Kid tensed and went into a crouch. He was looking intently down the street, like a hunting dog. Sam looked in the same direction.

It was another group of grown-ups. The third they’d seen since they’d been up here.

‘We need to be somewhere else, microbe,’ said The Kid.

‘You’re a microbe, you sod,’ Sam muttered wearily as they turned and ran.

53

Achilleus was sitting alone in the palace kitchen eating a big bowl of spaghetti with tomato sauce. It was warm in here and quiet. He wanted a little time to himself before the fight, to get his act together. He was loading up on carbs. Like a runner before a marathon. He’d fronted it out upstairs, put on his macho hat, but he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Just John was one mean bugger.

There was a knock on the door and he glanced up from his bowl.

It was Jester. He was carrying a small round shield.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he said, coming into the kitchen.

‘You’ve found me.’

‘Yeah.’ Jester dropped the shield on the table with a clatter.

‘Thought this might be useful,’ he said. ‘It’s ceremonial, really, but it’ll be better than nothing.’

Achilleus got up from the table and picked up the shield. It was made of lightweight steel backed with wood and leather. He slipped his arm through the strap and held on to the grip.

‘Yeah,’ he said, experimenting, moving his arm, raising and lowering the shield. ‘Feels good. I could have done with one of these before.’

Jester sat down.

‘You really think you can win?’

‘I gotta think that, dog, or I ain’t got no chance.’

‘I could see if I could find you a piece of armour, or something,’ said Jester.

‘Nah,’ said Achilleus, taking the shield off and returning to his dinner. ‘It’d only slow me down. Wouldn’t be used to it. I’m all right like this.’

He had changed into a fighting outfit. Sweat top and trousers. Trainers. A marked contrast to Jester in his patchwork coat.

What was with that coat anyway? He’d been meaning to ask, and now might be his last chance to find out.

‘Tell me something, Mister Magic,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘David goes round in that nasty suit, everyone else here is kind of straight, like they’re all at public school, or something. But not you, you wear that tatty old coat. What’s that all about?’

‘I used to live in Notting Hill,’ said Jester. ‘West London.’

‘Posh.’

‘I suppose so. Anyway, when it happened, what you call the disaster –’

‘Ain’t it that? What do you call it?’

‘I don’t call it anything,’ said Jester. ‘It’s what it is. It happened. So, as I was saying, I ended up in this big house. Massive place. With a load of other kids. Mostly mates to start with, but more and more joined us. It was easy back then. There were loads of big houses round there. A lot of rich people. They’d hoarded stuff like you wouldn’t believe. It was rich pickings at first. We thought we had it made. But then…’

‘Grown-ups.’

‘Grown-ups. Bad ones. And a lot of them. We didn’t have anyone like you, Akkie. We didn’t stand a chance. There was a girl with us, Persephone.’

‘Greek name.’

‘I suppose so. But anyway, the first of us to get it was her sister. We divided her things up among us. But Persephone, she took one of her sister’s party dresses, her favourite, and cut a patch from it. Sewed it on to a piece of cloth. To remember her. Then every time another kid died, Persephone made a patch from their clothes. Made a sort of quilt. She showed me how to do it. You know what it was like, there wasn’t much to do to pass the time. And when Persephone was killed I added her patch. Kept the cloth. In the end we had to leave Notting Hill, it got too bad. Headed into town where it was quieter. Some of us died on the way. But not everyone. Rose was with us. One or two others in the palace. And when we got here I made the quilt into this coat. To carry those dead kids with me. You know how many patches there are on here?’

‘How many?’

‘Forty-three. No, forty-four. I added Freak today.’

He showed Achilleus a fresh patch.

‘And this one here is Arran.’

‘You took his shirt?’

‘He didn’t need it any more.’

‘You’re deep, man,’ said Achilleus. ‘Well deep. You happy to let David boss you around?’

‘Are you?’ said Jester.

‘As long as I got something to eat, somewhere dry to sleep, I’m OK. I don’t want to be no boss. Too much to think about. But you… do you even like David?’

‘He’s bonkers,’ said Jester. ‘Gets nuttier every day. But it kind of works. For now. He’s fifteen, you know? Quite old.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I sometimes wonder if that’s what’s making him the way he is. I watch him all the time for any signs – you know, boils and that. Nothing yet. We none of us know what’s going to happen as we get older…’

‘Don’t like to think about that stuff, man,’ said Achilleus. ‘Don’t like to talk about it.’

‘No. I’m sorry.’ Jester paused. Studied Achilleus. Then went on. ‘If you win tonight, Akkie, you’re going to be in a very strong position, you know. I don’t know if David understands that. You could topple him if you wanted.’

‘Told you, Magic-Man, don’t want to be no boss.’

‘No,’ said Jester. ‘But you and me. We’d make a very good team.’

‘Excepting I couldn’t never trust you, man. I’d fear to turn my back on you. You’re a backstabber.’

‘I’m a survivor, Akkie, a winner like you. There are forty-four kids on this coat that didn’t make it. And I’m the one wearing it.’

‘You gonna add another patch tonight? After I’ve fought John?’

Jester shrugged and stood up.

‘Let’s hope it’s not your patch.’

‘Yeah. Well, with this shield you’ve give me I reckon I’m safe. It’ll give me the edge over Johnny-boy.’

‘You do realize I’ve had to give him one as well.’

‘You what?’

‘We can’t have them crying foul.’

‘You’re one slippery bastard, Jester, you know that? I suppose you’ve had this exact same chat with Just John, haven’t you?’

Jester laughed and went out.

54

The quadrangle, the large central courtyard of Buckingham Palace, was crowded. Kids hung out of the windows, waiting. Others stood round the edges of the space, looking towards the centre where flaming torches had been set up to make a ring.

Not all the kids were here. The younger ones and the more squeamish had been kept away. Some hadn’t even been told what was happening. Many of the smaller kids still woke from nightmares, screaming in the dark hours. They had had a very traumatic time. They didn’t need to be exposed to any fresh violence. Any more killing.

Maxie wished she wasn’t here, but she couldn’t bear to leave Achilleus to fight alone. She had to know who was going to win. She still couldn’t really believe that this was happening. It was like some awful barbaric Roman gladiatorial contest. She had never exactly liked Achilleus. He was a typical boy – a bully, used to throwing his weight around, lazy and rude and full of himself – but she nevertheless respected him as a fighter. Valued him. He had saved them all on many occasions. Before the disaster she would never have hung out with someone like him. In these tough times, though, he was a good person to have on your side. They’d been through a lot together. The thought that he might die today was too terrible to contemplate. And what was the alternative? That Just John would die.

Another kid.

Yes. He was a truly horrible person. Like Achilleus ten times over. And he had killed Freak.

That morning, she would gladly have seen him dead. She’d almost killed him herself. But not any more. And not like this.

She didn’t want to ever see anyone die again.

She’d had enough. Holding Freak as he slowly slipped away had been awful. And what had made it worse was that afterwards she hadn’t felt anything. Just a numbness. A blankness.

Maybe there were no more tears left inside her.

She looked around at the faces of the assembled kids. Some were excited, some slightly glazed and shocked like herself, some sitting on the ground, nervous and quiet. The thirteen kids from the squatter camp stayed together in a huddle. The younger ones at the front, like they were about to watch a show, shoving each other, jostling for position, chatting nineteen to the dozen.

And there was David with Jester and his uniformed guard clustered around him. David looking all high and mighty. An emperor. His champion ready to fight the barbarian champion. She noticed that Ollie was with them. She wondered sadly if he’d gone over to the other side.

There was no one for Maxie to talk to any more. Ollie was with David. Arran was dead. There was always Whitney, but she was in the ballroom with the little ones, trying to distract them from what was going down.

In a funny way she missed Blue. Even if he had been somewhat condescending. At least he understood what she was going through. He knew how hard it was to be a leader.

Was she still a leader? She didn’t know any more. Everything had changed since they’d come here. Things were slipping out of her control.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.

Sophie. Standing there with her archers.

Maxie was torn. Under different circumstances they would have been friends. Sophie was someone Maxie could talk to. She would understand. But Maxie couldn’t tear down that wall between them.

‘What do you want?’

‘I’ve come to tell you we’re leaving,’ said Sophie.

‘What?’

‘We just can’t stay. If it hadn’t been for Arran maybe it might have been different. As it is – we don’t like David, and you don’t like us. We’ve never fitted in. And then that fight today. And this. We’ve made up our minds, we’re going to get away while everyone’s here. But I didn’t want to go without saying anything.’

‘Where will you go?’

‘Don’t know, but we survived on the streets for a year, and it does seem to be safer round here, so…’

‘Good luck…’

Sophie gave her a quick hug.

‘I wish things had been different,’ she said, and she slipped off into the shadows.

Maxie stood there stunned. Had she driven Sophie out…?

Before she could get things straight in her mind a great shout went up as Achilleus walked into the centre of the ring.

Maxie looked around.

There was Pod with his fighters, like schoolboys at a football match, cheering their side on. Couldn’t they see how obscene this was? How disgusting? Had they really come to this? Was a human life worth so little now? She supposed this must have been what it was like in the Colosseum. No different to a cup final. Cheer on your favourite, boo the losers.

No matter that they were going to be slaughtered.

She winced. The pain in her side was worse than ever. It hurt just breathing. She’d give anything to be able to rewind the events of the last day.

Achilleus did a circuit of the ring, pacing it out, then took his sweat top off and went over to Big Mick who was standing with Lewis. Achilleus gave Mick the top and nodded as his friends urgently talked at him from either side. They seemed to be giving him advice. Meanwhile, Just John emerged, carrying a shield and his spear. He strutted backwards and forwards in front of his crew, like a caged lion, bouncing up and down on his toes, flexing his arms, throwing challenging glances over to Achilleus.

Achilleus ignored him. He looked to be slowly withdrawing into himself. Gathering his strength, sharpening his concentration, holding himself in.

‘Come on then, Gaylord!’ John shouted over to him, spinning his vicious three-bladed spear round his head. ‘Kiss your boyfriends goodbye and come over here. Or are you going to bottle it?’

Lewis handed Achilleus his spear. Maxie noticed that it had been freshly sharpened, the tip glinted silver, honed to a needle point. It was made from a long steel spike, with a pommel at the blunt end and thick leather bindings just behind the head to stop another weapon from sliding down it. Achilleus was always working on it, getting the balance just right. It was lethal, but John’s looked more lethal, with the three knives strapped to the end of its sturdy wooden shaft. One jab from that would cause a terrible wound, and he handled it expertly. He must have practised for hours every day, twirling it round from hand to hand.

Lewis scratched his head. He looked half asleep as usual, but he was nervous.

‘That’s a bare evil spear he’s got there,’ he drawled.

‘It’s clumsy,’ said Achilleus. ‘It looks nasty but it’s not aerodynamic, not with them stupid knives stuck on the end. It’s not weighted right.’

‘Don’t matter,’ said Lewis. ‘It’s a killer. And he looks like he’s killed some.’

‘And I haven’t?’ said Achilleus.

Lewis shrugged. ‘This is different, bro,’ he said. ‘This is another kid. He’s fit, man, and strong. He ain’t no shuffling zombie like the grown-ups.’

‘He’s flesh and blood like anyone else,’ said Achilleus.

‘Don’t he scare you?’

‘Course he scares me,’ said Achilleus. ‘You think I’m nuts? He’s a hard-nosed son of a bitch. So I’m gonna keep on my toes.’

‘Not so hard-nosed now,’ said Big Mick. ‘You land him one in the middle of his face he’s gonna feel it.’ He handed Achilleus his shield.

‘Thanks,’ said Achilleus, shoving his arm through the strap. ‘Shame John’s got one of these too. But them knife blades of his aren’t going to be as strong as my spear. If I can get him to keep knocking them against my shield they’re gonna bust.’

‘Just make it quick,’ said Mick. ‘He’s taller than you, with a longer reach. He’ll be hard to get at.’

‘He’s full of it,’ said Achilleus.

‘Hey!’ John was yelling again. ‘Gay boy? You coming out to play?’

Achilleus sniffed, stepped away from the crowd and swung his own spear through a couple of gentle arcs.

‘Ready,’ he said, and strolled casually into the centre of the yard. He moved gracefully, like an athlete. Still holding it back. Unlike John who was pulsating with wired-up energy, his head bobbing, his muscles jittery.

‘I’ve never fought a gay before,’ he said and spat at Achilleus’ feet.

‘What’s with all the insults?’ said Achilleus.

‘Oh sorry,’ said John. ‘Am I upsetting you, darling?’

‘If you fancy me why don’t you just say?’ said Achilleus affably.

‘That the best you got?’ said John.

‘It’s all you deserve, loser. Now, are you going to talk or are you gonna fight?’

David pushed forward from behind his line of guards, chin up, a snooty expression on his pale freckled face.

‘When I give the word, the fight will begin,’ he said. ‘And let’s not forget that this contest will decide what –’

But Achilleus and John weren’t listening. Before David had finished speaking they ran at each other, roaring, spears at the ready.