“Difficult to glean anything from these tracks,” he said without being asked. “All I know is that there were plenty of horses.”

“We knew that already,” said Buko, glaring at Reynevan evilly. “But I’d rather know some details. Were there many men with the tax collector? And who were they? I’m talking to you, Hagenau!”

“A sergeant and five soldiers,” mumbled Reynevan. “Aside from them—”

“Aye? Speak! And look me in the eye when I ask you a question!”

“Four Friars Minor…” Reynevan had already decided to refrain from mentioning Tybald Raabe, and after a moment’s consideration broadened his decision to omit Hartwig of Stietencron and his plain daughter also. “And four pilgrims.”

“Mendicant friars and pilgrims,” said Buko, his lip curled to reveal his teeth. “Riding iron-shod horses? Eh? Something doesn’t add—”

“He isn’t lying.” Kuno Wittram trotted over and threw down a piece of knotted cord at their feet. “It’s white,” he announced. “Franciscan!”

“Bugger.” Notker of Weyrach frowned. “What happened here?”

“Whatever happened, happened.” Buko slapped his hand against his sword hilt. “What do I care? I want to know where the money is! Can anyone tell me? Master Huon of Sagar!”

“I am eating.”

Buko swore.

“Three paths lead from the clearing,” said Tassilo of Tresckow, “and there are tracks on all of them. It’s impossible to say which way the tax collector went.”

“If he went anywhere,” Scharley said, emerging from the bushes. “I believe he didn’t. I believe he’s still here.”

“How do you come to that conclusion?” Tassilo asked.

“By using my wits.”

Buko of Krossig swore crudely. Notker of Weyrach restrained him with a gesture and looked pointedly at the penitent.

“Speak, Scharley. What have you found? What do you know?”

“You didn’t want to give us a share of the spoils, gentlemen,” the penitent said, raising his head imperiously, “so don’t make me into a tracker. I know what I know. It’s my business.”

“Just wait till I…” Buko growled furiously, but Weyrach restrained him again.

“Not long since,” he said, “neither the tax collector nor his money interested you. And now suddenly you’re wanting a share of the loot. Something must have changed. I wonder what.”

“A great deal. If we’re lucky enough to get our hands on the loot now, it won’t be by attacking a tax collector. Now we’ll be retrieving it by robbing the robbers. I’ll gladly join in with that, because I judge it moral to rob stolen loot from robbers.”

“Be clearer,” Weyrach said.

“He can’t,” said Tassilo of Tresckow. “Everything is clear.”