As they neared the river they sought out scraps of cover, staying away from the high ground, keeping to the shade of desiccated copses. Soon Kassu could smell the river itself, a stench of rot. The water was no more than a dribble through a bed of sour mud.

Then Kassu smelled woodsmoke.

He and Zida found a lying-up point in the ruins of a farmhouse, which they entered cautiously. This must once have been a favoured location, a bit of high ground close to the river, even if it was near the boundary of the city’s hinterland. Now the house was long looted, burned, looted again, and the interior was open to the sky. There was a huddle of bones lying in one corner, which Kassu didn’t look at too closely. The snow, falling heavier now, was collecting on what had once been quite a fine floor of stone tiles.

Crouching behind a broken wall the two of them peered out at the river valley. On the far side they saw a line of sparks, along the bank. Kassu tried to count the fires, but gave up when he got to thirty.

‘There they are,’ Zida muttered.

‘The river won’t be hard to cross. Not with the water as low as it is. You could just ford it.’

‘They might have started already, before it’s fully light. I would. Lucky for us a scout spotted them and came running back with the news. This is supposed to be part of the outer defence, along with the New Wall. If I were Himuili I’d build up this border. Walls and ramparts. The river isn’t enough of a barrier any more, you said it yourself.’

Kassu shrugged. ‘But Himuili can only do what the King and the Hazannu and the rest tell him to do.’ The Hazannu was the city’s top administrator, its mayor, a tough ex-soldier called Tiwatapara. ‘They haven’t got the manpower to do everything, not any more.’

‘So I’d buy some in. Rus. Scand even. Big hairy idiots the pack of them, but they can fight if you point them in the right direction.’

‘Who do you think they are? Turks? Franks, maybe?’

‘Hard to tell yet. Listen. You go back, take the bad news. I’ll wait until it’s lighter, identify them, count them, maybe spot when they cross if they haven’t started already.’

Kassu nodded. Splitting up had its obvious dangers, but the sense of it was obvious too. ‘All right. Jesus protect you.’

Zida, no theologian, laughed at the childish prayer. ‘Oh, stop off at your farm and tell that priest the Turks are on the way. Watch how fast he runs back to his church so Jesus can protect him.’

11

By the time Kassu had got to the city, and had talked his way into the Lower Town through the Sphinx Gate in the Old Wall, the day was well advanced and the nuntarriyashas festival was already under way The narrow alleyways and public places of the Lower Town were crowded with townsfolk, with farmers like himself who’d come in from the country, with traders and merchants hoping to make a quick profit on this day of autumn celebration – and, no doubt, with hungry folk from far and wide who had used the excuse to get into the city in the hope that King Hattusili would be generous in opening up the grain silos.