Reynevan sighed. Assembling the equipment Scharley had ordered took a little longer than planned. Instead of three, they spent four whole days in Świdnica. The penitent and Samson didn’t grumble; they were, in fact, delighted to be able to roam around the famous Świdnica cellars and thoroughly test the quality of that year’s March ale. Reynevan, on the other hand, who was discouraged from wandering around drinking dens for the sake of secrecy, sat bored in the workshop accompanied by the equally boring Simon Unger, feeling cross, impatient, in love and pining. He feverishly counted the days of his separation from Adèle and not for all the world could he come up with anything less than twenty-eight. Twenty-eight days! Almost a month! He wondered if and how Adèle was able to bear it.

His wait ended on the morning of the fifth day. Having bade farewell to the wood carvers, the three wanderers left Świdnica via the Lower Gate, joining a long column of other wanderers, on horseback, on foot, with heavy loads, driving cattle and sheep, pulling carts, pushing wheelbarrows, and riding on vehicles of all sorts of construction and appearance. A foul smell and a spirit of enterprise hung over the column.

On his own initiative, Justus Schottel had come up with a good deal of varied, though clearly chaotically gathered, items of clothing that weren’t on Scharley’s kit list, so the three wanderers had the opportunity to put on new outfits. Scharley wasted no time and now looked grave, battle-hardened even, dressed in a quilted armoured doublet bearing the rusty imprints of a breastplate. The sober apparel also uncannily transformed Scharley himself—once rid of his clownish costume, he also rid himself of his clownish manner and quips. Now he sat erect on his beautiful chestnut, fist resting on his hip and looking down on the merchants they passed with a grim visage, bearing an appearance if not of Gawain, then at least of Gareth.

Samson Honey-Eater’s appearance had also changed, although the giant had found it difficult to find anything that fitted in the parcels Schottel supplied. Finally, they managed to replace his ample smock with a loose, short journade and a cowl with fashionable serrations cut into it. It was a garment common enough for Samson to no longer stand out from the crowd—as far as that was possible. Now, all the other wayfarers in the column saw was a knight accompanied by a student and a servant. Or at least Reynevan hoped so. He also hoped that Kyrie-eleison and his band—even if they knew that Scharley was with him—would be asking about two travellers, not three.

Reynevan himself, having discarded his tattered and rather stale things, selected from Schottel’s offerings a pair of tight trousers and a doublet with a fashionably padded front, giving him a slightly bird-like look. He completed his outfit with a beret of the kind worn by scholars.