“In Bohemia, things are going badly with the cause,” the preacher began a moment later. “After the victory at Domažlice, Prokop had a series of setbacks. He lost a few battles, failed to best Plzeň and lost credit in the eyes of the brethren. That’s human nature: your luck runs out once and they slander, hound and maul you to death; no one will remember your previous accomplishments and victories. It was exploited by the moderate wing, they that were always plotting to negotiate with Rome and Sigismund. Which meant, naturally, Prague Old Town and our old friend the plotter, Jan of Příbram. And the gentlemen of the nobility, who vied with each other to sew the Chalice onto their family arms for private gain and now vie with each other to unpick it. And not just the neophytes, such as Menhart of Hradec and Calixtines of the ilk of Bořek of Miletínek or Jan of Smiřice; now our old comrades, the Warriors of God from the Žižka years, are a model of moderation and compromise. They have gathered together in Prague and call with one voice for peace. And for good King Sigismund to ascend the throne of Bohemia. I do beg your pardon: Emperor Sigismund. For you ought to know that a year ago, at Pentecost, we had a great celebration. The new Pope, Eugene, the fourth of that name, after a Mass beautifully sung and celebrated in person by him, placed on the noble brow of Sigismund of Luxembourg the imperial crown before the Altar of Saint Maurice in the Church of Saint Peter. In the process, the ginger-haired rascal became Holy Roman Emperor and Lord of All Christendom. To the delight of those who were always ready to kiss his foot. And when he ascends the throne in Hradčany they will be prepared to kiss his arse.”

“And you?” asked Reynevan coldly. “How about you? Where will you kiss your new master, in order to ingratiate yourself? Or do you prefer to bargain with the Silesians for Niemcza to get the best price? And enlist for the Polish shilling? Is that your intention?”

“No, not that,” countered Bedřich of Strážnice calmly. “Something different. I don’t recognise the agreement between Sigismund and the Prague Compacts. I mean to assemble a detachment and head for Bohemia, to aid Prokop and the Orphans. It’s not yet time to give up and hand over the throne. Not without a fight. What do you say?”

“I’ll ride with you.”

“But your eyes? They look—”

“I know what they look like. I’ll cope. I’d even ride with you today. Who will you leave at Niemcza? Piotr the Pole?”