“It leads to the simple conclusion,” repeated Dzierżka of Wirsing, scrutinising him, “that the honourable young Sir Reinmar of Bielawa is the object of the hunt and the pursuit. The fact that I didn’t guess it at once, young man, is because you rarely lose out in such matters if you count on Scharley. Oh my, you’re perfectly matched, perfectly—”

She suddenly sprang up and rushed over to the window.

“Hey, you!” she yelled. “Yes, you, you sodding prick! Strike that horse again and I’ll have it drag you around the paddock!”

“Forgive me,” she said, returning to the table and folding her arms under her heaving bosom, “but I have to keep an eye on things. As soon as my back’s turned, they get up to no good, the wastrels. Where was I? Oh, yes. You’re a perfect match, you buffoons.”

“So you know all about it?” Reynevan asked.

“I’ll say! Folk talk of nothing else. Kyrie-eleison and Walter of Barby are racing around the highways, while Wolfher of Stercza is combing Silesia with five men, asking questions, making threats… Even so, you’re fretting needlessly, Scharley, and you, laddie. You’re safe with me. I don’t care about your amorous adventures or family feuds; the Sterczas are no flesh and blood of mine. Unlike you, Reinmar of Bielawa. It may surprise you to learn that we are related—don’t gape—for I’m de domo Wirsing, from the Wirsings of Reichwalde. And the Wirsings of Reichwalde are related to the Nostitzes through the Zedlitzes. And, after all, your grandmother was a Nostitz.”

“That’s true,” said Reynevan, overcoming his astonishment. “Why, m’lady, you’re well versed in familial connections—”

“I know a thing or two,” she cut him off. “I knew your brother, Piotr, well. He was a friend of my husband’s. He supped oft with us at Skałka and used to ride horses from our stud.”

“You speak in the past tense, m’lady,” said Reynevan, his face darkening. “So you know…”

“I do.”

Dzierżka of Wirsing interrupted the lengthening silence. “Accept my heartfelt sympathies,” she said, and her expression confirmed her sentiments. “The events at Balbinów are a tragedy for me, too. I knew and liked your brother. I always esteemed his good sense, his sober views, the fact that he never played the upstart lordling. No two ways about it—my Zbylut learned some gumption thanks to Peterlin. He stopped swaggering, saw how the world really works and began to breed horses. Piotr was his model, building a dyeing works and a fulling mill, making money and ignoring what other knights might say about it. And soon he was a true lord, powerful and wealthy, and the noblemen disdaining him bowed and scraped as long as he was gracious enough to lend them cash—”

Reynevan’s eyes flashed. “Peterlin used to lend money?”