The prince’s company appeared to scorn danger. Ostrog and his comrades rode their horses at a lazy walk, yawning or killing boredom with foolish chat.

“Heed, company,” said Jakub Nadobny, turning around in the saddle. “Why, we’re like something out of legend. Slav brothers! A Pole, a Ruthenian and a Czech!”

“A Pole, a Ruthenian and a Teuton,” said Fedor Ostrog, grimacing. “Where do you see a Czech here?”

“Reynevan sides with the Czechs,” said Tłuczymost. “And speaks Czech.”

“Fedor curses in Hungarian, but he’s not Hungarian,” said Skirmunt from the back. “And Reynevan isn’t a German, he’s a Silesian.”

“A Silesian,” spat Fedor. “Neither one thing or the other. But the greater part German.”

“And you,” Kuropatwa asked Reynevan, “what do you think of yourself as?”

“What difference does it make to you?” said Reynevan, shrugging.

“None,” agreed Kuropatwa.

“Well,” said Nadobny, happily, “didn’t I say, straight out of legend? A Pole, a Ruthenian and makes no difference.”

“Hi, Nadobny, what happened to your brother Hińcza? Did he really bed Queen Sophia?”

“Not a bit of it,” Nadobny said, bridling. “A lie and a libel! He was innocent when Jagiełło ordered him imprisoned in Chęciny. That’s why I followed Korybut to Bohemia, to spite the king for his unjust treatment of Hińcza, keeping him chained at the bottom of a dungeon like some cur.”

“Are you jesting? For they say Hińcza was fucking somebody at the Wawel.”

“He was,” admitted Nadobny. “But it wasn’t the queen, it was one of her ladies-in-waiting. Szczukowska.”

“Which one?” asked Kuropatwa, who was clearly in the know, curiously. “Kasia or Eliszka?”

“Now that I think about it,” said Nadobny, pondering on it, “probably both.”

The following day they reached Lubliniec, a small town on the road from Siewierz to Olesno, a route vital for the trade between Silesia and Lesser Poland. The members of the company rubbed their hands and rejoiced noisily at the prospect of the Lubliniec taverns and the beer brewed there; however, to their disappointment, Fedor Ostrog ordered them to stop for the night far from buildings and strictly forbade them from showing themselves. He headed for the town, accompanied by Jan Kuropatwa. Towards the evening, as darkness was falling. Promising to return at dawn.

At first, the matter didn’t especially shock Reynevan. Prince Ostrog was after all a warlord, troublemaker and mercenary in various people’s pay, involved in the kind of affairs and misdemeanours that had to be sorted out secretly and after dark. Some time later, though, curiosity got the better of him, particularly when an opportunity arose. For the company disregarded the prince’s instructions. Leaving Skirmunt and Reynevan to guard the camp, they set off towards the nearby villages in search of alcohol, vittles and possibly sex. After Skirmunt fell asleep, Reynevan mounted his horse and quietly headed for Lubliniec.