“Listen, nomen omen Parsifal,” said Scharley, leaning over the wounded boy. “Your patron saint, Saint Parsifal, was watching over you today. The entire sacred Round Table and Saints George and Maurice were watching over you. If you get out of this alive, light a few candles in church and ask your father to pay for a few Masses. You met with great fortune today, great luck, greater than if you had found the Holy Grail. You happened upon a physician. Were it not for him, your mouth and eyes would be full of fragrant spring earth. Remember the physician, Parsifal. And say a few prayers for him. Will you?”

“I will, m’lord.”

Joining forces, pushing and pulling, they got the wounded Parsifal of Rachenau into the saddle, while he groaned and moaned like the damned.

Then Scharley took Reynevan aside.

“I won’t dissuade you from your idea,” began Scharley. “But I shall ask you for form’s sake: will you postpone your plans until a later date? In order to rob the black wagon with me?”

“No.”

“Consider it thoroughly. The character from the Fuggers told me what we are likely to find on the wagon. You wouldn’t have to look for other people’s monasteries. You could found your own and be its prior. Doesn’t that tempt you?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Then off you go. Hint number one: the Duke of Oleśnica’s army is most probably on the Pyskowice-Toszek border, but its patrols will already be in the region of Rudki. The smoke will guide them. Take Parsifal there and try not to get caught.”

“I shall.”

“Hint number two: head eastwards, towards the Polish border, and cross the Przemsza as quickly as you can. You’ll be safer in Poland than in Silesia.”

“I know.”

“Hint number three: regarding your future as a monk. If you really decide to undertake such a radical act, be aware of its practical aspect. Monasteries, convents and religious orders are by no means institutions with their doors open to tramps and strangers; even less so are they asylums for criminals and outlaws on the run. Otherwise, every brigand by the name of Madej would escape punishment by becoming Brother Madius and taunt justice from behind the monastery gates. From my own experience I’ll tell you, friend, that entering the gates is much more difficult than leaving them. In short, you don’t have a chance without connexions.”

“What are you driving at?”

“Well, I do have some, if that interests you,” announced Scharley calmly. “In Poland. Ten miles beyond Wieluń—”

“Wieluń,” said Reynevan, shaking his head, “is a little too close.”