“Why would you give us a list?” asked the Wallcreeper calmly. “The people of whom we speak were guilty and deserved their punishment, and God punished them. Pfefferkorn was killed by a lessee, jealous of his wife, who then hanged himself from remorse. Piotr of Bielawa was killed in a rage by his brother, who is an insane magician and adulterer. Albrecht of Bart was killed by Jews out of envy, because he was wealthier than them. Several have been arrested and will confess under torture. The merchant Throst was killed by highwaymen; he liked to roam around at night and brought it on himself. The merchant Neumarkt—”

“Enough, enough,” the bishop said, waving a hand. “Stop, don’t bore our guest. We have a more important subject to discuss, so let’s return to it—namely which of the Prague noblemen are ready to collaborate and negotiate.”

“Forgive my frankness,” said the Czech, after a moment’s silence, “but it would be better if Silesia were represented by one of the dukes. I know we need balance, but in Prague we’ve had so much trouble and strife thanks to radicals and zealots that the clergy provoke negative connotations in Bohemia—”

“Something is out of kilter, m’lord,” said Bishop Konrad, “if you conflate Catholic clergymen with heretics.”

“Many consider,” continued the Czech, unperturbed, “that zealotry is zealotry, the Roman kind being no better than the Taborite. Hence—”

Bishop Konrad cut him off harshly. “I am King Sigismund’s viceroy in Silesia and a Piast of royal blood. All the Silesian dukes and Silesian nobility accepted my leadership, electing me Landeshauptmann. I have borne that exacting duty from Saint Mark’s Day, Anno Domini 1422, long enough for it to be known even in Bohemia.”

“All the same—”

“There is no ‘all the same.’” The bishop cut him off again.

“I govern in Silesia. If you wish to negotiate, do so with me. Take it or leave it.”

The Czech was silent for a long time.

“Oh, Reverend,” he finally said, “how you adore governing, meddling in politics, sticking your fingers into everything. Verily, it will be a dreadful blow for you when somebody finally snatches that power from your greedy paws. How will you survive? Can you imagine it? No politics! Nothing from Matins to Compline but prayers, penance, teaching and charity. How does that appeal to you, Bishop?”

“It clearly appeals to you,” the Piast declared haughtily, “but as a wise cardinal once said, the barking of curs won’t stop the caravan. This world is and will be ruled by Rome. I’d say that’s how God wants it, but I won’t take His name in vain. So I’ll say that it is meet for power to be given to the most competent. And who, m’lord, is more competent than Rome? You, perhaps?”

“Some powerful king or emperor will come along,” said the Czech, not giving up, “and then it will end—”