“We know for what,” Jakub Nadobny of Rogów said grimly. “To a certain death, that is sure.”

“Does the name ‘Ungerath’ ring any bells?” Reynevan asked.

“No. Ought it to?”

Reynevan told them about his capture and the journey he had been on for the previous three days. About how the escort was probably in the service of Ungerath, a rich Wrocław patrician. Kochłowski, Nadobny and Kuropatwa racked their brains intensively. Without much effect. So they would have remained ignorant and uncertain of their fates had it not been for the new arrival to the wagon, who joined them that very day.

The new passenger was young and had fair hair, tousled like a scarecrow’s. He was also cheerful and jolly, which was surprising considering the circumstances.

“If I may, m’lords,” he said, smiling and sitting up, “I am Hlas of Libočany, a good Czech, a Tábor captain. A prisoner, for the time being, ha ha! Such is war, ha ha!”

Several days earlier—Hlas of Libočany, the good Czech, continued, pausing every now and then for a loud burst of foolish laughter—Sir Hynek Krušina of Lichtenberk invaded the Hradec lands. Formerly a loyal defender of the Chalice, Sir Hynek broke faith by going over to the Catholics and was now tormenting good Czechs with raids. The plundering raid on Hradec hadn’t ended too well for him; his squad was defeated, dispersed and forced to flee. But Lord Krušina managed to take Hlas of Libočany prisoner.

“Such is war, ha ha,” laughed the good Czech. “But I didn’t tarry long in Lord Krušina’s dungeon! My ransom was paid and they brought me here. And now, I overheard, they’re taking me to a place near Fryštát.”

“Why Fryštát? And who paid your ransom?”

“Ha, ha! Why, the same man that captured you. He who’s transporting us now!”

“Who the hell is that?”

“Gebhard Ungerath. The son of Kasper Ungerath. Didn’t you know? That’s a good one, ha ha. See how I have to explain things to you!”

Kasper Ungerath, explained the Taborite, was a Wrocław merchant, indecently wealthy, in his lordliness so cocksure and pompous that he bought a castle in Gniechowice near Wrocław and was ruling it like a nobleman. Now a title appealed to him and he was soliciting for a coat of arms, ha ha. As part of his solicitations, he had made his sons, Gebhard and Gilbert, esquires in the bishop’s army. The Taborites from Odry captured Gilbert in a border skirmish. Quickly realising what a golden goose had fallen into their grasp and what golden eggs it could lay, they demanded for the prisoner a ransom of exactly thirty thousand groschen.