Prince Fedor Fedorovich Ostrogski from Ostrog, the Starosta of Lutsk, was leading. Behind him, on a beautiful grey, rode Jan Kuropatwa of Łańcuchów of the Szreniawa coat of arms. Behind him was Jakub Nadobny of Rogów of the Działosza coat of arms. Jan Tłuczymost of the Bończa coat of arms from somewhere in Greater Poland. Jerzy Skirmunt, a Lithuanian from a family recently honoured by being granted the Polish Odrowąż coat of arms. Achacy Pełka, whose Janina coat of arms was doubtful enough to invite derision. The brothers Melchior and Mikoszka Kondzioł of a dubious coat of arms, dubious family and clearly dubious reputation.

Reynevan’s mental state meant that it didn’t matter at all to him; little mattered. He did experience some surprise to see Ostrog. He had heard rumours and gossip, according to which the prince had once again betrayed the Hussites and offered his services to Sigismund of Luxembourg. It was meant to have happened the previous year, shortly after that stormy meeting in Odry when knives were drawn. Rumour had it that Sigismund had taken Fedor as an agent provocateur and ordered him imprisoned along with his entire company. Why, some even said he had been executed in the town square in Pressburg, and one could even find eyewitnesses able to describe the beheading in picturesque detail. And now—to Reynevan’s astonishment—here were the executed men riding blithely along the Przemsza’s green valley. In other circumstances, Reynevan might have been suspicious, might have thought twice about joining this questionable group. But those were the circumstances. Things were the way they were.

To the west, in the region of Gliwice and Bytom, black columns of smoke were rising into the sky. There was no sense of panic in the villages they passed and nor were there any refugees on the tracks. The local people clearly had faith in their dukes, Konrad the White and Kazimierz of Oświęcim, trusting that they would defend their lives and property, for after all it was for that eventuality that they extorted duties from them. Irrespective of their actual plans in this regard, the dukes made a good impression. The further north they went, the more striking was the presence of soldiers. Every now and then a proud trumpeting of horns was heard, and several times they saw armed detachments on the horizon, galloping with unfurled pennants. Fedor’s cavalcade kept to unused roads and tracks, owing to which during the two-day ride they didn’t chance upon any army detachments or patrols. Danger was ever-present, however. Reynevan, despite his resignation, felt anxiety. If caught by mercenaries they could be strung up on the first branch, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the thought of bidding farewell to the world quite like that.