You have a sword, and there’s a bunch of lads following me as would be less likely to give me any trouble if they see me walking along with a man with a sword.” He smiled ingratiatingly and Kormak understood that this was for the benefit of anybody watching them, to make it look as if they knew each other.

Kormak glanced back over his shoulder. A large group of youths glared at him and the boy.

“What if those likely lads decide we are friends and give me some trouble as well?”

“They wouldn’t do that, sir. Bors and his lads are cowards, all the Krugman lickspittles are. They won’t trouble a man with a blade, particularly not a big scarred man like yourself who looks like he knows how to use it.”

“It seems to me that I should charge you for bodyguard work,” said Kormak.

“That is only fair, sir,” said the boy. “But there’s one problem . . . I don’t have any money to pay you. The Angels and Saints will surely smile on you though. It would be downright charitable and this here is a Cathedral town, leastwise it will be, and you’re closer to the Holy Sun’s heaven and his sight here because of it.”

He nodded and then smiled as if Kormak had said something particularly funny, still holding an imaginary conversation with an imaginary friend for the benefit of their observers. It came to Kormak then that the boy was genuinely frightened.

“What have you done to upset Bors and his boys?”

“Nothing, sir. Oh, I may have passed a few remarks about the Moon-loving Krugmans and the way Bors kisses Jurgen Krugman’s arse whenever he sees it but it was mostly in fun. They just don’t have a sense of humour and that’s the Holy Sun’s own truth, sir.”

A group of youths emerged from an alley mouth and fanned out in a half circle blocking their way. The ones that had been walking behind moved closer, cutting off any retreat. Kormak could hear their feet crunching in the snow.

The gang surrounded them. Many were just boys, little older than the one he was talking to. Some were larger and surlier and a few were hulking brutes almost as big as Kormak. One of them spoke now.

“Well, well,” he said. “If it’s not little Jan. Who is this you’re talking to, Jan? Some wandering adventurer you’ve mistaken for your father again?”

The boy took a step behind Kormak, into his shadow. Kormak moved slightly to keep him in sight, aware that all of this might be just play-acting to set him up for purse-snatching.

The boy was still there. He had raised his hands in front of his body as if already warding off blows. “Piss off, Bors,” he said. There was a scared bravado in his tone.

“Come here, Jan,” said Bors. “You’ve shot your smart mouth off once too often and now we’re going to stomp you flat.”

Kormak stared at the boys. They glared back at him with feral menace. He could see they all had scarves tied around their arms although of a different colour from the one Jan was wearing. This one looked dirty white or maybe grey. It was hard to tell, the lights were dimmer here, and there were less people about. It was clear the youths had waited for an opportune moment before accosting them.

The one called Bors saw Kormak looking at him and smiled easily enough, showing the gaps caused by two missing teeth.