“On my travels I met a priest who reminded me about yet more words from the Bible, from the Gospel of Saint John. Ego sum lux mundi, qui sequitur me non ambulabit in tenebris sed habebit lucem vitae. I’ve had enough of wandering in the shadows, I need the light of life. Briefly: I renounce the world, for without Jutta there’s nothing for me in it. I’m going far away, as far from Bohemia, Lusatia and Silesia as possible, for everything here reminds me of her…”

He fell silently under the penitent’s gaze. And it blew away the pathos like a gust of wind.

“Vodka didn’t help me,” he uttered. “Brothels didn’t help me. I can’t fall asleep. And if I do, I awake soon after with the pillow wet, my face covered in tears like a child. When I shave, the soap dries on my face and I stare at the veins on my wrist with a razor in my hand. Can I live like this?

“I shall enter a monastery, Scharley. To make peace with the Creator. Say something.”

“What is there to say?” asked Scharley, looking at him keenly. “I’m able to recognise a severe personality crisis, even if you’re concealing it deeply. I don’t mean to dissuade you from your idea—why, from a purely pragmatic point of view I’ll tell you you’re acting sensibly. In your spiritual and mental state, it’s dangerous to fight in a war, because that demands concentration, a cool head and complete conviction regarding the rightness of the deeds and acts being carried out. Dammit, I’m your friend, and the lesser of the two evils would be to see you in a monk’s habit rather than in a common grave.”

“So you support me, then?”

“No. I said: the lesser of two evils. But before you go and take your monastic vows, I have a request for you. It’s the last thing we’ll do together. Help me in the matter of that dandy from the Fuggers. Agreed?”

“Very well, Scharley.”

“We’ll pass over needless preliminaries,” said Scharley, passing over needless preliminaries. “Let’s get to business at once. I know who you are, m’lord. For last year I destroyed with fire some mines and foundries in Saxony. As you instructed.”

“That will make communication easier,” said the clerk from the Fuggers, holding Scharley’s gaze. “Since the business I bring today is the same as that in Saxony. And similarly lucrative. You’ll destroy the building I designate and there will be lucrum in it for you.”

“Is that all?” asked the penitent, curling his lip. “Such a trifle? And why do you approach me with it and not Kroměšín? Not Puchała, Korybut or Wołoszek?”