And Grellenort. Grellenort twice looked at me strangely.

Something rustled behind him. Grajcarek shuddered and started, reached for a knife and at the same time formed his fingers into a magical sign.

It was a rat. Just a rat.

That evening, Konrad of Oleśnica wasn’t alone in his chambers. The Wallcreeper knew it and guessed who he would find there. The rumour about the bishop’s new lover had spread quickly through Wrocław, quickly stopped being a rumour and became absolutely official news. The seventeen-year-old Miss Klaudyna Haunold wasn’t the first burgher’s daughter to catch the bishop’s eye and become carnaliter copulata as a result of that.

Klaudyna, though, was the first of them towards whom the Patriciate behaved appropriately. Meaning, in a nouveau riche manner. An official delegation of Wrocław patricians visited the bishop’s residence in order officially to demand financial compensation in exchange for Klaudyna’s virginity. The bishop paid without batting an eyelid. Everybody was content.

The financially regulated Klaudyna, the daughter of the powerful Haunolds, was sitting on a Turkish stool beside the bishop, doing what she usually did, that is devouring candied fruit and exuding charm. She had let her gleaming golden hair down like a married woman and every now and then stuck out her attractive bust, clearly visible in a gown with a plunging neckline. Every time she put a piece of candied fruit between her crimson lips, she stopped in mid-motion long enough to examine and delight in the rings the bishop had given her.

“Welcome, Birkart.”

“May God keep Your Eminence.”

Miss Klaudyna Haunold treated him to a smouldering look with her sapphire eyes and a glimpse of an expensive slipper peeping out from the edge of her gown. The Wallcreeper knew that in her presence one could talk freely about anything at all. Nature had counterbalanced her breathtaking looks and exceptional physical beauty with certain deficits. Chiefly of the intellectual kind.

The bishop sipped wine from a goblet. Despite the late hour, he appeared to be stone-cold sober. That had become more and more common lately. The Wallcreeper made a mental note to accost the bishop’s physician at the next opportunity and force him to account for it. It might have been symptomatic of an affliction. Or the result of one.

“How are you, Birkart? You haven’t met with any accidents… or had any adventures lately, have you?”

“Adventures? No.”

Klaudyna pinched the bishop’s thigh. Konrad extended a hand and chucked her under the chin like a cat.

“I didn’t have time to ask you about one matter,” he said, looking up. “Your men, you know who I mean, were massacred by the Hussites at the Battle of Wielisław. How long will it take you to recruit new ones? When can one expect it?”

“The more unexpected the joy, the greater,” mocked the Wallcreeper. “Please expect away, while you still have breath in your body.”

Klaudyna laughed gutturally, but the bishop wasn’t in the mood.