Reynevan, Scharley, Samson and Rixa waited on the far side of the river, by the causeway of the road leading south towards Oelsnitz and Cheb, suspecting that fugitives might flee that way. Their hunch was borne out as some fugitives even appeared, with blackened faces, wounded, panicked and stupefied by fear. Rixa and Scharley looked around, Reynevan and Samson called. In vain. Jutta wasn’t among the people who managed to leave Plauen.

Reynevan remained deaf to arguments. He struggled free of his comrades and set off for the town. With a firm resolution. He wandered among the burning houses, trying to enter the blocked streets. What he saw made him turn back. He gave up. The bodies piled up in the town were too numerous, and most of them were already charred, already turned to ash along with the town.

Jutta, he thought in horror, might have been in those ashes.

Hope remained that she hadn’t been there.

The following day, another snowstorm broke out, so violent that it all but prevented Jutta and Weronika from riding on. They had to seek shelter. By a stroke of luck, they found a shepherd’s hut.

The weather cleared up in the morning. The sky brightened. Enough for them to be able to see columns of smoke. Almost the entire sky to the north and west was blackened by smoke so dense that darkness soon veiled the earth. It was as though the prophecy of the Apocalypse was coming true.

“And the fifth angel sounded,” whispered Jutta, “and I saw a star fall from Heaven unto the Earth and to him was given the key of the bottomless pit. And he opened the bottomless pit; and there arose a smoke out of the pit, as of a great furnace; and the sun and the air were darkened by the smoke of the pit.”

Weronika said nothing.

Before two days had passed, the roads were teeming with refugees. It wasn’t difficult to find out what was happening. One only had to ask.

“The Hussites are marching from the north,” said Weronika, repeating the news she picked up from the refugees. “Burning everything in their path, marching on Naumburg, Jena and Gera, and apparently they have already been seen near Altenburg. That means they reached Leipzig, turned back and headed for Thuringia and Vogtland. It’s hard to believe, but it is nonetheless the truth. The lecherous pfleger on the bridge outside Zwickau will be surprised when they approach him from behind and seize his fat arse. And we must head north in this situation,” she said. “Towards Altenburg. In order to meet the Hussites.”

“Let’s ride.”

“Let’s ride. And pray that we encounter your beloved. Or somebody who knows him.”