“We have divided Upper Silesia among ourselves, as you see,” he said to the Poles. “Korybut will receive Gliwice, Bedřich’s Taborites—Niemcza and whatever else they wrest from the bishop. The Duchy of Opole must also acquire gains, of course, and generous ones. I want the Namysłów lands, Kluczbork, Rybnik and Pszczyna. And half of Bytom, the half currently held by that fucking Teutonic Knight Konrad the White, the bishop’s youngest brother. The border posts, I have been promised, will be shifted to benefit the victors. So come on then, let us conquer and shift them!”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” said Mikołaj Kornicz Siestrzeniec, “for I’ve eaten and drunk so much I cannot stand up.”

“The day after tomorrow suits us,” announced Spytek of Melsztyn. “Isn’t that right, Lord Bedřich? M’Lord Reynevan? So we can ride together.”

Reynevan glanced at Bedřich and raised his eyebrows enquiringly. The preacher sighed.

“We’re going back to Racibórz,” he said, “and from there to the Krakow road.”

“The Krakow road, you say. So to Poland?”

“We shall see.”

“You, Reynevan, are sitting there still glum,” said Wołoszek, now ruddy-faced from wine. “It’s Easter, the Day of our Lord’s Resurrection. Spring, changes in nature, changes in politics, the New is coming, the Old is passing, lux perpetua will brighten the gloom, Good is prevailing, Evil is fleeing, power is quailing. The angels are rejoicing, they are singing in the heavens, Gloria, Gloria in excelsis, the greyhound has whelped and the prettiest lady-in-waiting of my wife the duchess finally let me fuck her. In a word, the body rejoices, the soul rejoices, let us rejoice tandem all together—so Reynevan, rejoice with us, too. Rejoice, dammit! Drink; I’m drinking to you. And say what’s vexing you, brother scholar.”

Reynevan told them what was vexing him.

“The Inquisition has abducted your maid?” said the duke, frowning. “Grzegorz Hejncze has sunk to abduction? Unbelievable. Were it Bishop Konrad, he would stoop to anything… But Gregorius? Our comrade from Charles University? Ah well, times change; men, too. Listen, brother, you supported me, helped me with my decision, so I shall help you, too. I have sources of information, I have men—the bishop would be surprised if he knew how close they are to him. Hejncze would be surprised, too. Jutta of Apolda, you say? I’ll have them keep their ears open for that name. Eventually, somebody will happen upon a trail, for nothing can be kept hidden for long, the proverb is right: quicquid nix celat, solis calor omne revelat.”

“Very true,” Bedřich of Strážnice confirmed with a strange smile.

Marching out at daybreak had become the tradition for the mission and this time it was no different. Before the sun had properly risen above the fog, they had left Głogówek a long way behind them and were heading briskly eastwards. They soon reached a crossroads.