They sat down at the next bench and shooed away the innkeeper who came to take their order. They silently surveyed Reynevan and the Sovinec soldiers. Obtrusively enough to attract the attention of Houžvička, who returned their stares. And muttered.

“My greetings to you, company,” said Scharley slowly, twisting his mouth in the imitation of a smile. “And where is the company headed? Where, I wonder, does your road lead?”

“Prague,” said Smeták before Houžvička managed to shut him up with a kick.

“And what…” Houžvička said and gulped down the large dumpling he had been eating. “And what’s it to you, eh? What business is it of yours?”

“Prague,” Scharley repeated, utterly ignoring him. “Prague, you say. A lousy idea, brothers. Very lousy.”

Houžvička and his squad goggled. Scharley stood up, moved to their table and sat down with them.

“There’s unrest in Prague,” he declared, exaggeratedly modulating his voice. “Riots, disturbances, fighting in the streets. Not a day goes by without a stabbing or a shooting. Easy for a stranger to take a beating.”

Samson Honeypot, who had also joined them, confirmed each statement with a vigorous nod.

“Why go to Prague, then?” continued the penitent. “It makes no sense. If I were you, I wouldn’t go. And why, it’s Easter soon. Where do you mean to greet the Resurrection, where will you sample the contents of your blessed Easter basket, where will you nibble on a boiled egg? In a roadside ditch?”

“Why do you care?” exploded Houžvička. “Eh?”

“Because we care for you,” said Scharley. He kept smiling and Samson kept nodding. “And for your comfort, brethren in Christ. I advise you to return to your homes. And don’t tell me your duties won’t permit you. I shall gladly relieve you of your duty—meaning this young man. I shall buy him from you. For thirty Hungarian ducats.”

He swiftly unfastened a pouch from his belt and tipped a pile of gold coins out on the table. Zahradil almost choked. The others all goggled. Houžvička swallowed loudly.

“Whaaat?” he finally managed to blurt out. “Whaaat? Whaat? You want… You want… him?”

“Indeed I do,” said Scharley, seductively arranging his mouth and delicately smoothing down the hair on his temples. “I would like to possess him. Purchase him. I’ve taken a great liking to him. I adore such comely boys, particularly blonds. Why do you look at me so strangely, brother? You surely aren’t prejudiced? Surely not intolerant?”

“Damn you!” roared Houžvička. “Not on your life! Get out of here! Go buying boys elsewhere! There’ll be no trading here!”