“Aye, indeed,” said Brázda, swallowing. “The Black Cloaks, it appears, followed us almost from the ford. Our patrols kept disappearing and then we would find them slaughtered. But always one on a branch. Hanging by his legs. Over a fire. They’re were clearly interrogating them. And when your head’s in a fire you’ll talk. You’ll tell them everything.”

Jan Kolda hawked and spat.

“It finally needled us,” he said, “so we set an ambush. We fell on them, but they fled and we seized only these five. What are they looking for, Reynevan? What do they want to know, burning men with fire? What can you tell us about this?”

“Nothing. Because I’m in a great hurry.”

When the black cat dashed right in front of his horse’s hooves, Jakub Dancel ought to have turned back to Bayreuth. Jakub Dancel, however, only treated the cat to a coarse word and continued on his way. For if he had returned, Tybald Raabe would have shamed him for believing in superstitions. And the comely Weronika of Elsnitz might have, horror of horrors, reviled him as a coward.

Jakub Dancel rode on along the Kulmbach road, where he was expecting to come across Hussites. Had he not done that, had he turned back, he would have had—despite the war raging around him—a chance of living to seventeen.

They surprised him, a force of over a dozen horse, and surrounded him. One of them snatched the reins from him. A girl with blue, inhuman eyes knocked him from the saddle with a blow of a javelin. When he tried to stand, she struck him with the shaft and knocked him down.

The man standing over him had black, shoulder-length hair. A birdlike nose. An evil smile. And the gaze of a devil.

“I’ll ask you a question,” he hissed like a snake, “and you will reply. Have you seen two unaccompanied maidens on the road?”

Jakub Dancel shook his head at once. The black-haired man smiled hideously.

“I’ll ask you again. Have you seen them?”

Jakub Dancel shook his head. Closed his eyes tightly and pursed his lips. The black-haired man stood up straight.

“String him up on a branch,” he ordered. “And kindle a fire.”

“I don’t know where Reynevan is now,” said the goliard emissary. He had introduced himself to the girls as Tybald Raabe. He was accompanied by two assistants, the second as young as the first.

“Five Hussite armies entered Upper Franconia,” he explained, “each operating independently. I suspect Reynevan to be in the Tábor army, which is marching here via Hof and Münchberg. I’ll also send word there. With that young man there, Jakub Dancel.”

The young man, Jakub Dancel, glanced over at Weronika and blushed. Weronika fluttered her eyelashes.

“We, however, will wait here, in Bayreuth,” continued the goliard.