The bolts made a grinding sound. The brothers Kondzioł immediately charged the gate, striking it with such force that both leaves flew wide open, knocking down the gatekeeper and his assistant, a young monk in a white Pauline habit. Tłuczymost, Pełka and Jakub Nadobny rushed after them into the courtyard. The gatekeeper, lying on the ground, caught Nadobny by the edge of his cloak. Fedor Ostrog smote him across the temple with a war hammer.

“An attaaaack!” bellowed the young monk. “It’s an attaaack! Brigands! Broooothers!”

Kuropatwa pinned him to the ground with a stab of his sword. The door to the chapter house opened and then immediately shut, the lock clanging. Pełka leaped forward, destroyed the hinges with two blows of his battleaxe, rushed inside and a moment later thudding and screams could be heard. Ostrog and the others ran towards the church. In the portal and vestibule, several white-habited Pauline monks blocked their way. One held out a crucifix towards the prince, almost touching his face.

“In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit! Stop! This is a sacred place! Do not take this sin onto your consc—”

Fedor smote him with the war hammer, Melchior Kondzioł struck another monk with his battleaxe and Mikoszka stabbed a third with his sword. Blood bespattered the wall and the baptismal font. Tłuczymost pressed a fourth monk against the wall and raised a knife. Reynevan caught him by the arm.

“Hey!” said the Pole, struggling. “Let go of my sleeve!”

“Leave him, we are wasting time! The others will reach the loot ahead of us!”

There was a frantic chase through the nave and choir. The brothers Kondzioł were pursuing the Pauline monks, slashing and hacking them, blood staining their white habits, spotting the floor, splashing onto the choir stalls and the antepodium of the altar. Ostrog ran after one of them into a chapel, and almost at once a bloodcurdling scream resounded from inside. Kuropatwa was holding another by his habit, jerking and shaking him.

“Armarium!” he roared, showering the monk’s face with spittle. “Armarium, you damned priest! Lead me to the strongroom or you die!”

The monk sobbed, shaking his head. Kuropatwa threw him onto his knees, tied a rosary around his neck and began to strangle him.

The fleeing Pauline monks rushed straight into Reynevan and Tłuczymost. Reynevan punched one, knocked another over with a kick and shoved a third hard against a stone pillar. Tłuczymost guffawed and joined in, dealing out blows to the monks trying to stand up. The brothers Kondzioł leaped at them, one wielding a battleaxe, the other a sword.

“Leave them!” shouted Reynevan, blocking their way and spreading his arms. “They’ve had a beating! I’ve given the friars a good hiding! Come on, swiftly, to the treasure, the treasure!”