Tristram came to himself first, although his hands were still full of flowers. But he remembered the camera was watching him and even managed to scrape up a smile…

Like wolves out for prey in a thick mist, forced blindly onwards by hunger’s incessant torment and the thought of their cubs left behind and waiting with parched throats for their return, we drove on amid the spears to certain death…

In the front of the entrance hall, and right in the gateway of the palace, stood Pyrrhus, a figure of armed insolence sparkling in a sheen of bronze…