Irisis was astounded. The scrutator was known for decisiveness, but to select a stranger so quickly was unprecedented. 'I hope you're a good judge of character,' she said out of the corner of her mouth as they slogged through the bloody mire.

'I chose you, didn't I?'

'That's what I mean.' She grinned. Irisis, with her yellow hair and that long, ripe figure, was a beautiful woman, even covered in mud and gore.

'You didn't see, did you?'

'The badge? No.'

'That was no badge. It was the Star of Valour, and it falls to few living men to wear their own.'

They angled across the field towards the command-post hill, skirting a wallow in which lay the head of a soldier like a single flower in a brown bowl. The eyes stared right at them. Irisis looked the other way. They'd seen a thousand such sights in the past day but still it made her stomach roil.

'Your name would be Flangers, would it not?' said the scrutator.

'That's right, surr/ said the soldier. 'How did you know?'

'It's my business to know the names of heroes. Do you know who I am?'

'Of course. You're the People's Scrutator.'

'Where did that name come from?' Flydd exclaimed.

'I can't say, surr,' said Flangers. 'The soldiers have always called you that.'

Disrespectful louts,' growled Flydd. 'I'll have a detachment or two whipped, and then we'll see if they dare such cheek.' There was a twinkle in his eye, though, and the soldier saw it.

Irisis chuckled. Flydd liked to be in control and to know everything; it was a rare sight to see him surprised. 'I'm Irisis.' She offered Flangers her hand.

'You're not from these parts, Flangers?' the scrutator went on as they began to climb the hill.

Flangers shook his head. He was grey eyed and fair haired, with neat, sunburnt features set off by a jutting jaw. Though not overly tall or muscular, he was lean and strong. 'I'm a Thurkad man,' he said, staring blankly at a pair of bodies that lay side by side without a mark on them. The swarming flies were already doing their work.