“Thus,” Apeczko finished his account, cleared his throat and moved on to his conclusion, “Wolfher asked me through an emissary to inform you that he will deal swiftly with the matter. That Reinmar of Bielawa will be seized on the Wrocław road and punished. But for the present, Wolfher’s hands are tied because the Duke of Oleśnica is journeying with his entire court and diverse eminent clergymen, so there is no way to pursue him. But Wolfher vows to seize Reynevan and claims he can be entrusted with the family’s honour.”

Balbulus’s eyelid twitched and a dribble of saliva trickled from his mouth.

“Bbbhh-bhh-bhh-bhubhu-bhhuaha-rrhhha-phhh-aaa-rrh!” reverberated through the chamber. “Bbb… hrrrh-urrrhh-bhuuh! Guggu-ggu…”

“Wolfher is a bloody moron,” Ofka of Baruth translated in her high, melodious voice. “An idiot I wouldn’t even trust with a pail of puke. And the only thing he’s capable of seizing is his own prick.”

“Father—”

“Bbb… brrrh! Bhhrhuu-phr-rrrhhh!”

“Silence,” translated Ofka without raising her head, busy with her doll. “Listen to what I say. To my orders.”

Apeczko waited patiently for the wheezing and croaking to finish and then for the translation.

“First of all, Apecz,” Tammo of Stercza ordered via the little girl’s mouth, “you will establish which of the women in Bierutów was charged with supervising the Burgundian. She obviously didn’t realise the true aim of those charitable visits to Oleśnica or alternatively was in league with the harlot. Give that woman thirty-five sound lashes with a birch on her naked arse. Here, in my chamber, in front of my eyes, that I might at least have a little diversion.”

Apeczko of Stercza nodded. Balbulus coughed, wheezed and slobbered all over himself, then grimaced dreadfully and gaggled.

“I order the Burgundian, meanwhile, to be taken from the Cistercian convent in Ligota, where I know she is in hiding,” translated Ofka, tidying her doll’s oakum hair with a small comb, “even if you have to storm it. Then imprison the trollop among monks favourably disposed towards us, for example—”

Tammo abruptly stopped stammering and gobbling, his wheezing caught in his throat. Apeczko, pierced by the old man’s bloodshot eye, saw that he had noticed his embarrassed expression. That he understood. That it was impossible to hide the truth any longer.

“The Burgundian escaped from Ligota,” he stammered. “In secret… No one knows whither. Busy with the pursuit of Reynevan… they—we—allowed her to escape.”

“I wonder,” Ofka translated after a long, pregnant silence, “I wonder why this doesn’t surprise me at all. But since it is so, let it be. I won’t bother myself with the whore. Let Gelfrad deal with the matter on his return. He can handle it himself, whether or not he’s a cuckold. It’s nothing new in this family, actually. It must have happened to me, for it can’t be possible that such fools sprang from my own loins.”