That evening Tamza was left in the bed chamber with a soldier at the door whilst King Edgar met with his council. It was the first time he had left her behind since she had enchanted him. She needed to dance for him, to refresh the spell. His mind is distracted and it is pulling his attention away from me. Away from my influence over his actions, however small that might be.

Edgar came to the bedroom late and Tamza suggested she dance for him to help him unwind, but he pushed her away and took to his bed, not even undressing. Snoring almost immediately.

Tamza crawled in next to him and gently pressed her fingertips to his cheekbones. She knew it wouldn’t work without him looking in her eyes, but she did it anyway, desperately.

They were awoken by shouting outside and thumping on the door. This time, Orpey didn’t wait to be told to enter, and burst in. “Lights spotted in the desert, in the passageway between the two colossal dunes that Dabecki says is the only way to Parchad. The fuckers are coming right at us, as brazen as a broke whore.”

Edgar stood, stepped into his boots. Tamza pulled on her cloak, headscarf and slippers and ran with him out the room.

They jogged through the town’s alleys and at the southern edge, where the reed hut district used to be until it had burned on the day that Vaasar fell, they were given horses. Edgar mounted and rode away, not waiting for Tamza. He dismounted at the beginnings of a great wall, four hundred paces away, and hunkered behind it with the other soldiers there. Tamza looked back at the town, it was dark. No lights in any windows. Dead. Even the palace was in darkness. The moon gave off enough light that they could just see one another.

Edgar looked out from behind a low section of the wall at the lights in the desert. They were slowly advancing, a long trail of them. Dabecki was hunched low behind the wall, sweating, drunk. He looked nervous, as well he should, the traitor who had helped the Ferts to capture Vaasar. Tamza hoped he was imagining all the horrific things that the Parchad fighters would do to him when they found out.

To either side of them, Fert archers lined the wall where it was built. And a group of armed horsemen stood a way off behind her, the horses scraping at the dusty, rocky earth. Not quite desert, but another few steps and the sand started. Tamza had never gone out onto the dunes. Her brothers had, as dares, like so many of the young men of the town. A kind of rite of passage for teenage boys, claiming they were discovering their desert roots. But they only ever went the once.

The lights were slowly getting nearer.

“The advance party?” Orpey asked Edgar. “There’s not many of them. Is the rest of the army behind that dune waiting for some signal to attack?”

Edgar narrowed his eyes. “Archers get ready.”

The men along the walls bristled with acknowledgement of the order. Nocking arrows to bowstrings.

The tinkling of bells floated on the wind. The bells that Dromedar camel-pullers always tied around their camels.

“It’s a camel caravan,” Tamza whispered. “Dabecki, you said we were due one.”

Dabecki, looked up at her, and his eyes widened. “Yes, yes, Tamza is probably right.” He slurred. “It’s a water caravan coming back from Parchad. The Parchad army, even if coming at full speed, could not get here this quickly.”

Edgar glared at him, and looked back at the dunes. “Archers, when in range, take your shots. Aim for the men, not the animals. Those beasts might be useful.”

Tamza leaned in to Edgar, desperate to influence him, to save the lives of the poor men. “Edgar, these aren’t fighters, they are nomadic desert people, they pose no threat. They will be useful, keep them alive…”

He slapped her face and shoved her so hard that she fell on her rump in the dirt. “Simeon, silence her would you. Her twittering in my ear is distracting.”

Simeon pulled Tamza up, cupped a dusty hand around her mouth and pulled her away from Edgar. She squirmed but the soldier held her tight. More unnecessary death, and I can’t stop it.

The Fert soldiers readied themselves, a silence descended and soon the whistling of the camel-pullers could be heard, steadily getting closer. Whistling into a slaughter.

The caravan stopped a few paces from the wall, so close that Tamza could hear one man shout to another, in the Dromedari tongue that the Vaasarians also spoke, “Is this new? What is it?”

“Some kind of wall?” came the reply.

The camels bunched up in a line, parallel to the wall. The camel-pullers gathered together to stare at this new landmark in their desert. The perfect targets.

“Now!” Edgar shouted.

The archers loosed their bows and the whizzing arrows rained down on the camel-pullers, who screamed and tried to run for cover.

Tamza bit Simeon’s hand and he released her with a yelp. She yelled, “Edgar, stop this!” before the soldier muffled her voice again.

But Edgar ignored her. “Horses,” he shouted at his mounted soldiers behind her, “pick off all who remain alive.”

Tamza saw an old man with huge, misshapen hump, chased down by a Fert soldier on horseback and stabbed. The camels did not stir, did not spook or notice that their masters were being slaughtered around them.

Edgar joined his men in celebrating when not one Dromedar remained alive, jeering and kicking sand on their bodies. He left the corpses in the sand and his men led the docile camels into their usual pens at the unloading area near to the edge of town. Edgar watched as the soldiers emptied the sacks and untied the great, empty water containers that the camels had been carrying. The small glass trinkets and jewellery he distributed amongst the men, keeping one of larger glass crystals for himself, declaring, “This can go in my new crown!”

Tamza observed the scene, mute. Edgar is pure evil. I was foolish to think I could influence that dark heart.

She was still held by the same soldier, impatient now with his task and eager to release Tamza to join in the pillage, shouting to friends to save him some treasures, but he didn’t dare defy the King’s order.