Aided by the mighty arms of Samson, Reynevan and Scharley climbed up onto a coal heap and then onto the roof of the blacksmith’s shed. From there, Reynevan carefully inspected the now-close stand.

“By God,” he gasped very loudly. “Adèle is there! Yes, as I live and breathe!”

“Which one is she?” asked Samson.

“The one in the green dress… Under the canopy… Beside—”

“Next to Duke Jan himself,” Scharley remarked. “Beauteous, indeed. Why, Reinmar, I congratulate you on your taste. But I cannot congratulate you on your knowledge of the female soul. Sadly, this confirms my view that our Ziębice Odyssey was a misguided idea.”

“It can’t be,” Reynevan assured himself. “It can’t be… She… She’s a prisoner…”

“Whose, I wonder?” Scharley shielded his eyes with his hand. “Sitting next to the duke is Jan of Biberstein, Lord of Stolz Castle. On the far side of Biberstein is an elderly woman I don’t know…”

“Euphemia, the duke’s older sister,” said Reynevan. “Next to her… Could it be Bolko Wołoszek?”

“The Lord of Głogówek, son of the Duke of Opole.” As usual, Scharley impressed them with his knowledge, rattling off a detailed list of the great and the good in attendance. “The one person I can’t see, Reinmar, is anyone who could be considered your Adèle’s guard.”

“Right over there,” mumbled Reynevan, “is Tristram of Rachenau. He’s a relative of the Sterczas. As is Baruth, the one with the aurochs in his coat of arms. And there… Oh! Dammit! It can’t be!”

Scharley grabbed him firmly by the arm or Reynevan would have fallen from the roof.

“The sight of whom has shaken you so?” he asked coldly. “I see that your goggling eyes are fixed on a wench with fair plaits. The one whom the young Lord Dohna and some Polish Rawicz are courting. Do you know her? Who might she be?”

“Nicolette,” Reynevan said softly. “Fair Nicolette.”

The plan, which Reynevan had believed ingenious in its elegance and audacity, had failed utterly. Scharley had predicted it, but Reynevan couldn’t be restrained.

Adjoining the tournament stand were makeshift constructions built from wooden frames with canvas stretched over them. The wealthier spectators spent the breaks in the joust there, entertaining one another with conversation, flirting and showing off their costumes. It was also a place for enjoying food and drink, and a constant stream of servants moved between the kitchen and the marquees, rolling barrels and carrying kegs and baskets. The idea of stealing up to the kitchen, mingling with the servants, grabbing a basket of rolls and heading towards one of the marquees seemed excellent to Reynevan. He was mistaken.