Reynevan didn’t comment. Bedřich looked him straight in the eyes, for a long time, as though expecting a response. Hearing none, with a sweeping gesture he pointed at the glow of fires lighting up the sky in the east and south.

“All we needed was a week,” he said, “to terrorise Racibórz by fire and sword, to put the fear of God into Duke Mikołaj and blockade the widow, Duchess Helena, in Pszczyna. Any day now we’ll be joined by Bolko Wołoszek, and we’ll jointly attack the Duchy of Koźle, the lands of Konrad the White. And when we capture the borderlands, when we seize the castles, the regular Polish Army will invade as planned to take Zator, Oświęcim and Siewierz. Upper Silesia will be ours. Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“But I do,” said Bedřich, turning to face him and looking him in the eyes again. “As has been agreed, I will assume the function of director of the Silesian Tábor outposts. For we mean to establish ourselves here, settle here permanently and solidly. I’d like to have you beside me, Reynevan. I’m offering it to you now, before Wołoszek or Korybut do. You don’t have to respond at once.”

“Very well. Where is Scharley?”

“Over yonder,” said Bedřich, pointing at the far-off glow. “He is busy reducing the economic health of the Duchy of Racibórz. He’s been promoted. He is commanding a special unit. They call them the Fire Starters.”

Two days later, on Laetare Sunday, in the early morning, preceded by a ten-horse foray, Bolko V Wołoszek, Duke of Głogówek, heir to Opole, recently become a follower of Hussitism, joined the plundering raid. Riding under a gonfalon with a train with the golden Opole eagle on the silk sheet and under the multicoloured pennants of the Opole nobility, the young duke led fifty lances of knighthood with mounted archers and five hundred foot soldiers, mainly spearmen. While a powerful and stout fifty-pound bombard rode proudly at the end of the Opole procession. Jakub Kroměšín smiled at the sight: it was a precious acquisition for his siege artillery, which chiefly consisted of foglers and twelve-pounders.

Wołoszek looked proud and grave in his Milanese armour. He was not manifesting his neophytism in any way, wasn’t sporting any emblems of his new religion. Among the Opole knighthood, numerous men were, however. Whether it was sincere or ingratiating, some of the knights had decorated their shields, tunics and horses’ caparisons with crimson Chalices, and there were also crowns of thorns and Hosts. Typical Hussite symbols could also be seen on the Opole infantry’s pavises.