To Kassu’s blank astonishment it was Palla who replied first. ‘Careful, lord – he may understand more Nesili than you think. See how carefully he has been selected.’

‘Selected?’

‘The red hair, the blue eyes – not all the Rus share that colouring. This man looks like a Rus, to us. Notice the brooch that clasps the cloak, quite expensive. A warrior and a prince of the Rus – that is who they have sent to accept our gift. This is a game of symbols, you see.’

Kassu had perceived none of this.

Himuili grunted. ‘You should know, priest, you’ve spent enough time among them. Well, I hope he can read the symbolism of the crowd of big murderous bastards I’ve brought out to meet him.’

‘I’m sure he can, sir.’

The Rus approached Himuili, recognising his authority, and began to speak in his own heavy tongue.

Palla translated smoothly. ‘His name is Jaroslav . . .’

‘I come from Kiev originally. I moved south with my family and my men, for we were starving. After the famine there was little left of our country, and what was left was ravaged by the Pechenegs and other scum, and we suffered badly, and so we moved. But in the new place the Scand came, and we fought them, but soon we were all starving again, and we moved on. And so we have come here, to Miklagard.’

‘Which is the Rus name for New Hattusa, sir,’ Palla added. ‘ “The great city.” ’

‘And he’s still starving, is that the game? Well, tell him we’ve got a load of good Hatti bread to fend off the pangs for him and his whores and his squalling Rus brats, and we’ll transport it to the riverbank for him, and we’ll be back again with more, and come the spring we’ll see what’s what.’ He glanced at Palla. ‘You could probably leave out the bit about the whores.’

‘I’m very discreet, lord.’ He repeated the general’s message to the Rus, who chattered volubly in return.

This response, that New Hattusa would feed the enemy horde, astounded Kassu. But the decision wasn’t his to make.

Himuili’s officers quickly formed up their troops to escort the bread wagons to the river. There would be a tight escort walking with the wagons themselves, and scouts on horseback riding further out. Kassu himself took a place beside one of the wagons, but barely had the party started to trundle away from the city walls than Himuili beckoned to Kassu and brought him forward, to where the priest was walking with the Rus near the head of the little caravan.

‘You are Kassu.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And this priest is the man you’re thinking of prosecuting, is it not?’

‘Yes, sir, I—’