“The young Lord Gersdorf will ride with us,” he said to the knight with the lance, the Amadís of Gaula, who now, in captivity, without a helmet, having lost his entire legendary aura, was revealed to be a terrified pipsqueak. “Sir Kaspar of Gersdorf, the son of Sir Lothar Gersdorf. I’m expecting a hundred grzywna for you, young m’lord. At least. Troop, we are moving out! Brother Scharley, check the rearguard!”

“What have you got me into?” Rixa asked quietly, riding over to Reynevan. “Who are your comrades?”

“This is the special sabotage-reconnaissance unit of the Tábor’s field army,” said Scharley, having overheard.

“A punitive expedition.”

“Indeed. The Tábor, a field army under the command of Jakub Kroměšín of Březovice, with contingents under Otík of Loza, the cavalry under Mikuláš Sokol of Lamberk and the Praguians of Václav Carda. Six thousand men, two hundred wagons. Our special unit serves as reconnaissance. We hunt loose horses. We catch deserters and bandits who steal the horses from us. Did you see the hanged men in the village? They were horse thieves. We tracked them for three days, but young Gersdorf was quicker and hanged them before we could. And Gersdorf and his troop were tormenting the Tábor all the way from Žitava, so Kroměšín ordered us to deal with them—”

“Where is the Tábor at this moment?”

“At Bolesławiec. Can’t you hear? That’s not a storm, Reinmar, they’re bombards. In any case, you’ll soon see for yourself, for that’s where we are headed. Unless you have other plans? Perhaps this lady whom you haven’t introduced, and who looks none too delighted by our company, has other plans and designs?”

“I’m Rixa Cartafila of Fonseca. My plans and designs are nobody else’s business. And what should I be delighted about? That a dybbuk is riding beside me?”

She turned around and pointed an accusing finger at Samson.

“A dybbuk, ha!” said Scharley, snorting. “At last, Samson, you’ve met your match. She saw through you at once. A dybbuk, I swear blind, an absolute dybbuk. A demon, an evil spirit in another person’s body. And to think I suspected you of being at most the Eternal Wandering Jew.”

“I regret to say I’ll have to disappoint you both,” replied Samson Honeypot in a tired voice. “I’m not a dybbuk. Or the Eternal Jew. I’d have known it if I was.”

“Let’s keep near the back,” said Scharley, standing up in his stirrups, checking that no one from the unit was listening or taking an interest in them. “Tell us, Reinmar, what’s been happening with you. And what brings you here.”

After Reynevan had finished, the penitent said nothing for a long time. The roar of cannons from the north-west was becoming more distinct.