“You are excommunicate,” he said finally, quite blithely. “A significavit was issued promising a reward for you, dead or alive. If you mean to trail around Silesia on a wild goose chase, you will be killed by the first person who recognises you. Most likely by the sorcerer, Birkart of Grellenort, who is still on the lookout for you. And even if you survive, consider this: you are of interest to us as a Hussite, as someone close to the commanders of the Orphans and the Tábor. As a private individual engaged in your own private matters and investigations, you mean nothing to us. We will lose interest in you. Shall quite simply strike you from our list. And then you will never see your Jutta again. So, take it or leave it: either collaborate or forget about the girl.”

“You’ll kill her.”

“No,” said Bożyczko, without taking his eyes from Reynevan. “We shan’t. We’ll return her to her parents, in accordance with the promise they were given. As per the agreement we struck, according to which we are temporarily holding the maid in isolation. For when the matter quietens down and the whole thing blows over, we’ll give her back and let her parents do with her whatever they finally decide to do. And they have a dilemma, they have food for thought. A daughter infatuated, seduced and possessed by an excommunicate heretic, on top of that mixed up in the activities of the heretical sect of the Sisterhood of the Free Spirit… Cup-Bearer Apolda and his wife are thus hesitating between giving away their ignoble child in marriage and locking her away in a convent. By the by, they have decided that the convent should be as remote as possible, and the potential suitor live as far away as possible. For you, Reynevan, it’s actually immaterial what they decide on. In both cases your chances of seeing Jutta again are meagre. And of having a liaison with her, none.”

“Were I to obey you, what then? Would you return her to me, contrary to the promises given to her parents?”

“You said it. And guessed right, as it happens.”

“Very well. What do you want me to do?”

“Hallelujah,” said Bożyczko, raising his hands. “Laetentur caeli, may Heaven and Earth rejoice. Verily, the ways of the Lord are simple, the just walk boldly along them and swiftly reach their goal. Welcome to the straight and narrow, Reinmar.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Łukasz Bożyczko’s face grew grave. He said nothing for a while, biting and licking his lips.

“Your Bohemian friends, the Orphans,” he finally said, “until the day before yesterday, until Candlemas, were outside Świdnica’s walls. Having achieved nothing there, they headed for Strzegom and are besieging the town. Those destructive Myrmidons have ravaged the glorious Silesian lands quite long enough. So, first you will ride to Strzegom. You will convince Královec to end the siege and leave. Go back home, to Bohemia.”