“Philistine!” A black-coated preacher with a ridiculous goatee beard sprang forward and spat in Reynevan’s face from close up. “Abomination of Moloch! We shall send you to Hell, O scoundrel! Into the eternal fire, to the Devil and his fallen angels!”

“Kill the German!”

“Take the flails to him! The flails!”

“Silence!” thundered Jan Pluh. “We are the Warriors of God; it shall be done in accordance with God! Justly and rightly! Fear not, we shall avenge the death of our brother and hejtman, he won’t get away with it! But there must be order! According to the verdict of our revolutionary tribunal! There is evidence! There are witnesses! Come on, call the witnesses!”

The crowd roared, howled and bellowed, shaking voulges and flails.

The first witness called before the court was the apprentice apothecary from Chrudim, trembling and as white as a sheet. His voice shook and his teeth chattered as he testified. The excision of the ulcer, he testified, shooting apprehensive glances at the revolutionary tribunal, was carried out by the accused Bielawa contrary to the clear wishes of Hejtman Půlpán, and he carried it out with extreme brutality and cruelty unbefitting of a doctor. During the operation, the accused was mumbling something under his breath, undoubtedly magical spells. Indeed, everything the accused did, he did according to the customs of sorcerers.

The crowd howled.

A few more witnesses were found, since when it’s necessary, witnesses can always be found.

“A fellow told me… I forget who, but I do remember that it was last year, at Shrovetide. He said that this Bielawa treated Neplach at White Mountain. Using witchcraft! Everybody said he used witchcraft!”

“It is known to me, your honours, that this Bielawa is in league with the Devil, that he learned spells for cheating at dice from the Devil! I heard it from one of Brother Rohač’s captains, who saw it with his own eyes. It was two years ago, in the autumn… Or was it winter? I don’t rightly recall… But I accuse him!”

“I swear on the grave of Brother Žižka that I saw this Bielawa during last year’s plundering raid on Silesia quarrelling with our Reverend Pešek Krejčíř about some papist superstitions or other. Bielawa was looking strangely at the reverend and must have cast a spell. And then what? As a result of that spell Brother Pešek died in agony soon after.”

“For he’s no Czech, brothers of the tribunal, not one of us, but a German! In Hradec Králové I heard people saying that he’s a Catholic spy. The papists are planting secret criminals among us to murder our hejtmans treacherously! Remember Sir Bohuslav of Švamberk! Remember Brother Hvězda!”