The relief army had swept over the eastern side of the Danish camp, which appeared to be filled with wounded men hobbling around or sitting listlessly round campfires. He could see freshly dug earth covering what he presumed was a burial pit; beside it another pit was being dug. The Danish soldiers looked exhausted, their faces pale, cheeks sunken with black rings around their eyes. They just stood and stared with vacant expressions as the Sword Brothers made their way to the royal pavilion. The stench of human and animal waste and dead flesh made Kaja twist up her face. ‘Death has come to gorge itself on this camp, Susi.’ Conrad spat on the ground as the odour tickled the back of his throat. ‘I fear you are right.’ At Valdemar’s pavilion Rudolf spoke to a herald who disappeared inside. After less than a minute he reappeared and ordered guards wearing ripped surcoats bearing the king’s insignia of three blue lions surrounded by red hearts on a yellow background to escort the Sword Brothers inside.
