“Which also gives rise to the affluence you rightly remarked upon, Samson,” Scharley went on. “Indeed, such towns are worth visiting for more sensible reasons than the one we are driven by, for example, in order to fleece one of the affluent citizens of this demesne, which shouldn’t be difficult since prosperity breeds masses of halfwits. But we are here to… Never mind… Waste of breath.”

Reynevan didn’t utter a single word. He didn’t feel like it. He had been listening to similar comments for a long time already.

“Christ,” gasped Reynevan as they rode out from behind the hill. “What a lot of people! What’s going on?”

Scharley reined in his horse and stood up in the stirrups.

“A joust,” he said after a moment. “This is a joust, gentlemen. A torneamentum. What’s the date today? Does anyone remember?”

“It’s the eighth,” said Samson, counting on his fingers. “Mensis Septembris, of course.”

“Well I never!” Scharley said and looked at him askance. “So you have the same calendar in the beyond, do you?”

“Generally speaking, we do.” Samson didn’t react to the taunt. “You asked for the date, so I told you. Would you like more detailed information? It’s the feast of the Birth of the Virgin Mary, Nativitas Mariae.”

“Which is why the joust is taking place,” concluded Scharley. “On we go, gentlemen.”

The common outside the town was full of people. Makeshift stands, covered with colourful cloth and decorated with garlands, ribbons, Piast eagles and the knighthood’s escutcheons, had been erected for higher-class spectators. Beside the stands were craftsmen’s booths and stalls selling food, relics and souvenirs, and above it all fluttered an extravaganza of multicoloured flags, standards, pennants and gonfalons. From time to time, the brass voices of trumpets and horns sounded over the clamour of the crowd.

They could see the lists from the hill—250 paces long, a hundred paces wide and enclosed by a double-pole fence, especially robust on the outside and capable of holding back the weight of the commonalty. At that very moment, two knights were charging at each other, lances lowered. The crowd roared, whistled and applauded.

“This tournament, this hastiludium we are admiring, will make our task easier,” said Scharley. “The whole town is gathered here. Look over there, they’ve even climbed up trees. Reinmar, I bet no one’s guarding your beloved. Let’s dismount, so as not to be conspicuous, then stroll around this vulgar pageant, mingle among the farmers and enter the town. Veni, vidi, vici!”

“Before we follow in Caesar’s footsteps,” said Samson, shaking his head, “we ought to check if Reinmar’s beloved isn’t by any chance among the spectators. If the entire town is gathered here, perhaps she’s here, too?”

“But what would Adèle be doing in this company?” asked Reynevan, dismounting. “They’re holding her captive here, let me remind you. Prisoners aren’t invited to jousts.”