“It’ll end in humble pie,” the bishop cut him off again, “as it did at Canossa for King Heinrich IV when he demanded that the clergy, including Pope Gregory VII, stop meddling in politics and busy themselves only with prayer from Matins to Compline. That self-righteous prig stood in the snow for two days while Pope Gregory enjoyed the delights of the table and the renowned charms of Margravine Matilda. That should be a lesson to all, not to raise one’s voice against the Church. We shall always rule, until the end of the world—”

“And even beyond,” interrupted the Wallcreeper scathingly. “For even in the New Jerusalem, in a city of gold behind walls of jasper, someone must still wield power, after all.”

“Quite so,” snorted the bishop. “Our enemies will endure penance, shame, snow and frozen heels. But for us a warm chamber, mulled Tuscan wine and a willing margravine in a feather bed.”

“At this very moment, in Bohemia,” said the Czech softly, “the Orphans and Taborites are sharpening their blades, readying their flails and greasing the axes of their battle wagons. They’ll soon be here, and they’ll take everything from you. You’ll lose your palaces, wine, margravines, power, and ultimately your reportedly competent heads. It will happen. I would say that God clearly wants it, but I won’t take His name in vain. Instead, I say: let’s do something about it. Let’s take countermeasures.”

“I give my word that Holy Father Martin—”

“Oh, forget the Holy Father, King Sigismund, all the dukes of the Reich and the rest of that European shambles!” the Czech burst out. “Another bevy of legates is already embezzling money collected for a crusade! For God’s sake! You order us to wait until we reach some agreement, while death stares us in the face every day!”

“You cannot accuse us of idleness, m’lord,” said the Wallcreeper. “We are taking action—you admitted as much yourself. We are praying zealously, our prayers are being heard, sinners are being punished. But there are many sinners and their numbers are ever growing. We are asking for further help from you.”

“You mean further names?”

Neither the bishop nor the Wallcreeper offered an answer, and the Czech was clearly not expecting one.

“We shall do everything in our power,” he said. “We’ll send lists of Hussite henchmen and merchants who trade with the Hussites. We’ll give you names so you’ll know who to pray for. Meanwhile, the demon is striking straight and true. An operation like that could serve us in Bohemia, too—”