Fabel waited for the sudden chatter, including some laughter, to subside.

‘Now this is all only my supposition. I will need to run this by Frau Doktor Eckhardt tomorrow … I mean, later this morning … but this, ladies and gentlemen, is Sven. As in “Son of Sven”. His full name is Blot-Sven, Bloody Sven or Sven the Sacrificer, depending on how you interpret it. He was King of Sweden between 1084 and 1087. His half-brother, King Inge the Elder, converted to Christianity and refused to perform pagan rites of sacrifice at the temple of Uppsala. Sven took over the sacrifices and earned his name. Inge fled to Västergötland and Blot-Sven became king of Sweden, or Svealand, So, you may ask, what is the link between a Ukrainian madman and Sweden?’ Fabel taped a second, similarly heroic illustration next to that of Blot-Sven. ‘This gentleman is Rurik, the first Grand Prince of Kiev. Rurik was supposedly a Viking prince from around this part of Germany, maybe Frisia, or Friesland as we call it now. The warriors he led to conquer Novgorod and Kiev were called the Rus, or the “Rowers”, and it is from them that Russia gets its name. Rurik’s band included Varangians and other mercenaries. The story, unlikely as it may sound, is that the Slavs of what is now the Ukraine and Russia were living in anarchy and invited Rurik and his brother to come and establish order. It is the same fable that is told about the Saxons in England, in their case the brothers being Hengist and Horsa. Anyway, the point is that Rurik and his men were outsiders subjugating a strange land. Their allegiance was exclusively to each other. And their reward was wealth and success. They would go on to become the elite of this new land and the founders of Russian and Ukrainian aristocracy. Vitrenko and his men are doing the same thing here … and Vitrenko has wrapped it all up in his semi-mythical concepts of brotherhood under arms and arcane Viking ritual.’

‘But it’s all a pile of crap,’ Werner said. ‘They can’t really believe that they are a band of Vikings occupying a new land.’

‘Yes they can. And as for it all being a pile of crap, you can say that about any religion or system of belief if you stand on the outside. It isn’t what you believe in that’s important. It’s the act of believing that matters. No matter how bizarre or extreme it may seem to others. It’s what makes otherwise sane young men fly airliners into buildings full of people.’

Werner shook his head. More in dull, sad puzzlement than in any sense of disagreement. Fabel continued.

‘I have no idea if Vitrenko believed any of this stuff to start with,’ Fabel went on, ‘or whether he used the myth as a cult-like device to manipulate those under his command. But I am pretty convinced that he believes it all now …’

Fabel paused for a moment and thought back to the end of his conversation with the old Ukrainian soldier. His powerful shoulders had sagged as he spoke of Vitrenko the child. The pale boy with his father’s eyes who was capable of so much and who had revealed an early and vast appetite for cruelty. Tales of other children being manipulated, bullied and cajoled into carrying out acts of torture on small animals. Then on each other. Fabel continued.