Kroměšín gestured everybody away, until only Carda and Otík of Loza remained. Reynevan, who also wanted to go away, was stopped by Rixa. It didn’t escape Kroměšín’s attention.

“I’ve seen you before, I believe,” said Kroměšín, eyeing up the young man in the beret. “With Prokop. They call you Piotr Preischwitz, you are the town scribe from Bautzen. And apparently a spy of ours. Go on and speak. What do you wish to tell me?”

“I am to tell you: it is not a good moment to attack Żagań.”

Václav Carda laughed and Otík of Loza snorted. Kroměšín didn’t react.

“Do you see what I’ve done to this town?” he said, making a sweeping gesture towards the bodies, the bloody cobbles, the flames and smoke over the roofs. “I have exacted revenge for the Battle of Kratzau. The Lusatians and Silesians grew big-headed, they turned our defeat at Kratzau into a symbol to cheer folk’s hearts. But I shall give them a symbol, so that at the sound of the word ‘Kratzau’ even their grandchildren will soil their britches. Bolesławiec has paid. Žitava, Bautzen, Zgorzelec, Chotěbuz, Kamenec and Gubín will pay, their time will come. And Żagań will soon pay. Herzog Jan of Żagań and his brother, Henryk, were at Kratzau, they have Czech blood on their hands; that blood demands vengeance. I won’t leave a single stone standing in Żagań.”

“Duke Jan of Żagań and Henryk of Głogów,” said Piotr Preischwitz slowly and emphatically, “approached the King of Poland for protection, promised to stand loyally by the Kingdom of Poland and support Poland in all events. And right now, a Czech mission is residing in Krakow. Prokop the Shaven; the Englishman, Peter Payne; Bedřich of Strážnice; and Sir Vilém Kostka of Postupice. They are debating about an alliance, displaying goodwill and friendship, while you, Brother Kroměšín, want to ravage and burn down a duchy under Jagiełło’s protection? I was instructed to tell you: Director Prokop does not support the idea of attacking the Duchy of Żagań. He suggests accepting the ransom offered.”

“I have received no ransom from Żagań.”

Preischwitz looked at Rixa and then at the soldier in the half-armour. The soldier stepped forwards and spoke.

“His Lordship Duke Jan, illustrissimus dux and Lord of Żagań, states his diplomatic position through me. He is prepared to—”

“Eight hundred Rhine gold pieces,” Kroměšín interrupted bluntly. “If he pays, I shall spare him. I have spoken. And farewell, Brother Carda, order the army into marching formation.”

“Marienstern,” said Rixa, pensively. “The convent of the Cistercian Sisters. That’s halfway between Zgorzelec and Bautzen. Around three days’ ride from here.”

“Two if one pushes the horses,” said Piotr Preischwitz, correcting her. “It’s Via Regia, one can make good speed. And I happen to be going that way. I’d be happy to lead you.”