“You asked for help.” The penitent shrugged. “And I have pledged to protect you. I told you as much, but you refused to believe me, Doubting Thomas. Didn’t the first-hand evidence convince you, or do you have to touch the wounds?”

“If the guard had arrived sooner,” Reynevan pouted, “or the comrades of the men you beat up, then there’d be something to touch. I’d be dangling from a noose by now. And you, my guardian and defender, would be hanging right beside me.”

Scharley didn’t reply, just shrugged again and spread his hands. Reynevan smiled in spite of himself. He still didn’t trust the strange penitent or understand where Canon Otto Beess’s trust in him came from. He was no closer to Adèle, and only seemed to be getting further away. Strzegom had been added to the list of places where he couldn’t show himself. But Scharley, he admitted, had impressed him a little. Reynevan could already envision Wolfher Stercza kneeling and spitting his teeth out one after another. Morold—who had tugged Adèle by the hair in Oleśnica—sitting and howling like a baby.

“Where did you learn to fight like that? In the monastery?”

“Indeed,” Scharley calmly agreed. “Believe me, laddie, monasteries are full of teachers. Almost everybody there can teach you something. All you need is the desire to learn.”

“Was it the same in the penitent house at the Carmelite priory?”

“Even better regarding learning, of course, as we had a lot of time on our hands. Especially if Brother Barnabus wasn’t your cup of tea, for while he’s as plump and pretty as a girl, he’s not actually a girl, which bothered some of us a touch.”

“Spare me the details, please. What shall we do now?”

“Following the example of the Four Sons of Aymon,” Scharley stood up and stretched, “we will both mount your Bayard and ride south, towards Świdnica. Avoiding main roads.”

“Why?”

“In spite of acquiring those three pouches, we still suffer from a lack of argentum et aurum. I’ll find a solution to that in Świdnica.”

“I meant why avoiding main roads?”

“You rode to Strzegom along the Świdnica road. There’s every chance we’ll come face-to-face with the men who are pursuing you.”

“I lost them. I’m certain—”

“They’re also counting on that certainty,” interrupted the penitent. “It appears from your account that you’re being tracked by professionals. It’s not easy to lose men like that. Let’s go, Reynevan. It would be wise to get as far away from Strzegom and Lord Laasan as possible before nightfall.”

“On that, we can agree.”