Smoke rose over the land of the Bavarians and from all sides the wind bore the smell of burning. In the main, though, military activities had ceased, and rumour had it that negotiations had begun. Frederick, Margrave of Brandenburg, reputedly came in person to negotiate with the hejtmans at Beheimstein Castle near Nuremberg, which had been captured and turned into the Hussite headquarters. It might have signalled the end of the plundering raid, since the Germans were ready to pay ransom. In order to speed up their decision, Prokop ordered the Hussite columns to march on Sulzbach and Amberg in the Upper Palatinate, which seriously disconcerted Count Palatine Johann of Neumarkt.

All the rumours turned out to be true. The negotiations were crowned with success. The Margrave, the Count Palatine and Nuremberg all paid up. The punitive expedition was over. Orders were issued, the Hussite army concentrated outside Pegnitz and Auerbach began its march home in two columns. But they didn’t think to be idle on their way. Marching along the southward road, the column formed up to attack Kynžvart, another castle belonging to the detested Heinrich of Plauen. Prokop led the northward column on a strenuous march towards Cheb.

The army reached Cheb on Saturday, the eleventh of February, in the late afternoon, almost at dusk, attacking at once the villages and settlements surrounding the town. The entire castle town was in flames and Jan Zmrzlík’s cavalry troop made sure that not one of the surrounding homesteads remained intact. Reynevan had pulled himself together and convalesced but did not partake in the burning and killing. Along with Scharley, Samson and Rixa, he stayed close to Mikuláš Sokol of Lamberk, who remained with the reserve unit.

Tybald Raabe had left them, heading eastwards before they even set off for Pegnitz.

Night soon fell but was as bright as day from fires. And noisy. The hammers and axes of carpenters banged unceasingly as trebuchets were set up and chevaux de frise constructed. Gunners yelled and sang as they affixed bombards and mortars to wooden mounts. Taborite soldiers shouted outside the walls, promising the defenders of Cheb hideous deaths, and the defenders answered the Taborites with promises of even more gruesome deaths, vile insults and the threat of being shot at.

“Reinmar?”

“Yes, Samson.”

“Are you bearing up? How are you feeling?”

“Very poorly.”

“I needn’t have asked.”

They were sitting by a small campfire, kindled behind a tarpaulin stretched between poles, which protected it from the February winds. They were alone, as Scharley and Rixa had wandered off somewhere. As they had been wont to do lately. Finally, Rixa came to bid them farewell and set off for Silesia.

“Something’s vexing me, too…” the giant unexpectedly stammered. “I’ve been tormented recently by thoughts of the real Samson, the one from the Benedictine monastery. I can’t rid myself of the conviction that I did him harm. I left him… There…”