“Well?” he asked proudly, content with the effect. “A pretty thing, isn’t it?”

Grzegorz Hejncze cleared his throat. And confirmed with a nod of his head. He had to. It was a pretty thing. Unquestionably pretty.

The only piece of furniture in the chamber was an immense table, covered entirely by a gigantic map of Silesia and the neighbouring countries, made of sheets of fabric embroidered with silk. Although the Inquisitor had never seen the map before, he was aware of its existence. He knew it had been made and embroidered by the Dominican Sisters of Saint Catherine based on drawings by the Cistercian Sisters from Lubiąż. And that it had taken the nuns over a year to fashion it.

There were elaborately carved figures on it, since the map mainly served to track and analyse military activities. The figures had been carved by Ambroży Erler, the best woodcarver in Wrocław, according to the strict instructions of the bishop himself. The Catholic army units were portrayed as white and gold winged angels with fiery swords, and the Hussite formations were depicted as horned devils, crouching and sticking out their backsides.

Every morning the priests recreated for the bishop the current military situation, arranging the figures according to troop movements in the theatre of operations. Since the thirteenth of December, Saint Lucy’s Day, that is from the beginning of the large-scale Hussite plundering raid on Meissen and Thuringia, the theatre had occupied territory between ODERA FLV and ALB FLV embroidered in blue thread, and the figures were placed by the priests in the regions indicated by the names SAXONIA, MISNIA, TURINGA and LUSATIA INFERIOR, bordered from the north by MARCA ANTIQUA, and from the south by BOHEMICA SILVA.

“If you would, Grzesiu,” said the bishop, urging him. “Have a look.”

The Inquisitor did. He knew the military situation, but he could enjoy the pretty figures. The devils with protruding arses were arranged in the region of Oschatz, a town that Prokop the Shaven’s army had torched four days before, on the twenty-ninth of December. The Czechs were marching along the Labe towards Pirna, destroying everything in their path with iron and fire. They wreaked havoc in the mining regions of Marienberg and Freital. Then, burning down villages on their way, they reached Freiberg, Dresden and Meissen, but didn’t waste time besieging fortified towns. The fast pace of the march put a spoke in the wheel of the Prince Elector of Saxony, Frederick, by forcing him and his allies into a tactical retreat. Meaning, the winged angels were now standing in a tight group north of the word LIPSIA.