“Sit you down, gentlemen,” said Bartłomiej Sachs, the burgermeister of Oleśnica, to the councillors. “What’s your pleasure? Truth be told, I have no wines to regale you with. But ale, ho-ho, today I was brought some excellent matured ale, first brew, from a deep, cold cellar in Świdnica.”

“Beer it is, then, Master Bartłomiej,” said Jan Hofrichter, one of the town’s wealthiest merchants, rubbing his hands together. “Ale is our tipple, let the nobility and diverse lordlings pickle their guts in wine… With my apologies, Reverend…”

“Not at all,” replied Father Jakub of Gall, parish priest at the Church of Saint John the Evangelist. “I’m no longer a nobleman, I’m a parson. And a parson, naturally, is ever with his flock, thus it doesn’t behove me to disdain beer. And I may drink, for Vespers have been said.”

They sat down at the table in the huge, low-ceilinged, whitewashed chamber of the town hall, the usual location for meetings of the town council. The burgermeister was in his customary seat, back to the fireplace, with Father Gall beside him, facing the window. Opposite sat Hofrichter, beside him Łukasz Friedmann, a sought-after and wealthy goldsmith, in his fashionably padded doublet, a velvet beret resting on curled hair, every inch the nobleman.

The burgermeister cleared his throat and began, without waiting for the servant to bring the beer. “And what is this?” he said, linking his hands on his prominent belly. “What have the noble knights treated us to in our town? A brawl at the Augustinian priory. A chase on horseback through the streets. A disturbance in the town square, several folk injured, including one child gravely. Belongings destroyed, goods marred—such significant material losses that mercatores et institores were pestering me for hours with demands for compensation. In sooth, I ought to pack them off with their plaints to the Lords Stercza!”

“Better not,” Jan Hofrichter advised dryly. “Though I also hold that our noblemen have been lately passing unruly, one can neither forget the causes of the affair nor of its consequences. For the consequence—the tragic consequence—is the death of young Nicolaus of Stercza. And the cause: licentiousness and debauchery. The Sterczas were defending their brother’s honour, pursuing the adulterer who seduced their sister-in-law and besmirched the marital bed. In truth, in their zeal they overplayed a touch—”

The merchant stopped speaking under Father Jakub’s telling gaze. For when Father Jakub signalled with a look his desire to express himself, even the burgermeister himself fell silent. Jakub Gall was not only the parish priest of the town’s church, but also secretary to Konrad, Duke of Oleśnica, and canon in the Chapter of Wrocław Cathedral.

“Adultery is a sin,” intoned the priest, straightening his skinny frame behind the table. “Adultery is also a crime. But God punishes sins and the law punishes crimes. Nothing justifies mob law and killings.”