“Blessed be the Lord,” he thundered as though from the pulpit, raising his hands in a preacher’s gesture. “My rock! He is preparing my hands for the fight, my fingers for the war! Brothers! Faith has vanished! In Bohemia, the heretical plague has gained new strength, and the vile dragon of Hussite heresy is raising its loathsome head! Will you, noble knights, look on indifferently as the banners of the crusade draw throngs of people from the lower orders? When, seeing that the Hussites still live, Our Lady weeps every morning? Noble gentlemen! I remind you of the words of Saint Bernard: to kill an enemy for Christ is to win him for Christ!”

“Get to the point,” Buko of Krossig interrupted gloomily. “Be brief, Pater.”

“The Hussites are despicable to God!” Pater Hiacynt slammed both his fists down on the table. “So, it will please God when we smite them with our swords, preventing them from luring more souls into their error and filth! The wages of sin are death! So death, death to the Czech apostates, fire and destruction on the heretical plague! Thus, I tell you and ask you, brother knights, on behalf of His Eminence Bishop Konrad—don the sign of the cross over your armour and join the Angelic Militia! Your sins and faults will be forgiven, both in this world and at the Final Judgement, and what anyone plunders is his.”

There was silence for some time. Someone belched; someone else’s stomach gave a long rumble. Markwart of Stolberg cleared his throat and scratched behind his ear as his eyes swept all around.

“Well?” he began. “What do you say, noble knights? Gentlemen of the Angelic Militia?”

“We ought to have expected it.” Bożywoj of Lossow was the first to speak. “Cardinal Branda was residing in Wrocław with a wealthy entourage. I wondered about robbing him on the Krakow road, but the escort was too strong. It’s no secret that Cardinal Branda is appealing for men to join the crusade. The Hussites have irked the Roman Pope!”

“It is also true that things are hard in Bohemia,” added Jaśko Chromy of Łubnia, the Raubritter with the moustache like a Tatar. “The fortresses of Karlštejn and Žebrák are besieged and may fall any day. If we don’t do something about the Czechs in time, they’ll do something about us. We ought to consider it.”

Ekkehard of Sulz, the knight with the slanting scar on his forehead, swore and slapped his sword hilt. “Indeed we ought!” he snorted. “Pater Hiacynt is right: death to the heretics, fire and destruction! Whoever is virtuous must strike at the Czech! And if a chance arises, get rich, for it is right for sin to be punished and virtue rewarded.”

“It is true,” spoke up Woldan of Osiny, “that a crusade is a large war. And it’s easier to make a fortune in a large war.”