They'd stopped on a hill-top above the Danube's flood-plain. Linz was below. The departure of the armies had shrunk it to a tenth of its recent size, leaving a scar on the earth like the pale skin after a big scab has fallen away. 'Things will be loose there just now – many discharged soldiers will be passing through. They can't all be hanged – not enough rope in Austria for that. I count half a dozen corpses hanging from trees outside the city gate, half a dozen more heads on pikes along the walls – low normal, for a town of that size.'