The great bell of Ostrów Tumski began to toll, hollowly and slowly, ominously and grimly, and also intermittently, since it could clearly be heard that the clapper was striking only one side of the bronze bell. Elencza of Stietencron grasped Reynevan’s hand and squeezed it hard. Reynevan squeezed back.

Exaudi Deus orationem meam cum deprecor

a timore inimici eripe animam meam…

The portal leading to the vestry was graced by reliefs portraying the martyr’s death of Saint John the Baptist, the cathedral’s patron. A dozen prelates, members of the chapter, were emerging from the portal, singing. Attired in ceremonial surplices, grasping fat candles, the prelates paused before the main altar, facing the nave.

Protexisti me a conventu malignantium

a multitudine operantium iniquitatem

quia exacuerunt ut gladium linguas suas

intenderunt arcum rem amaram

ut sagittent in occultis immaculatum…

The murmur of the crowd suddenly grew in intensity. For on the steps of the altar had appeared in person Konrad, Bishop of Wrocław, a Piast from the line of the Oleśnica dukes. The highest-ranking ecclesiastical dignitary in Silesia, the representative of His Majesty Sigismund of Luxembourg, King of Hungary and Bohemia.

The bishop was in full pontifical regalia. Bearing a mitre decorated with gemstones, a dalmatic worn over a tunicle, a pectoral cross on his chest and a crosier coiled like a pretzel in his hand, he looked distinguished indeed. He was veiled in an aura of such dignity that you’d have thought it wasn’t just any old Wrocław bishop descending the steps of the altar, but an archbishop, an elector, a metropolitan bishop, a cardinal—why, even the Roman Pope himself. Perhaps a man even more dignified and more pious than the incumbent Roman Pope. Considerably more dignified and pious. Plenty of the people gathered in the cathedral were of that opinion. As indeed was the bishop himself.

“Brothers and sisters.” His booming, resonant voice, which seemed to rumble right up to the top of the high vault, electrified and hushed the crowd. The cathedral bell tolled once again and fell silent.

“Brothers and sisters!” said the bishop, leaning on his crosier. “Good Christians! Our Lord, Jesus Christ, teaches us to forgive the wayward their sins, teaches us to pray for our enemies. It is a good and merciful teaching, a Christian teaching, but it does not pertain to every sinner. There are transgressions and sins for which there is no forgiveness, no mercy. Every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven, but blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven. Neque in hoc saeculo, neque in futuro, neither in this age, nor the next.”

A deacon handed him a lit candle. The bishop extended a besleeved hand and took it.

“Reinmar Bielawa, son of Tomasz of Bielau, has sinned against the One God in the Trinity. He has committed the sins of blasphemy, sacrilege, witchcraft, apostasy. And also, when all’s said and done, a common crime.”