“Indeed. Chapter forty-two, verse seven.”

“That’s beside the point. It was his nickname. And he led you to the Tower of Fools?”

“I wasn’t that surprised, given the… unique manner in which he communicates.”

“And then,” Scharley said, “a daring raid by the Hradec Hussites entered the Kłodzko region, rode all the way to Frankenstein—a good six miles over the border—burned down half the cottages outside the castle and seized the Hospice of the Holy Sepulchre and the Narrenturm. And all—if I understood it correctly—just for me and Reynevan. Master Tybald Raabe, I don’t know how to thank you, indeed I don’t.”

“The reasons will soon be made clear.” The goliard cleared his throat. “Patience, m’lord.”

“Patience isn’t one of my greatest virtues.”

“Then you will have to work a little on that virtue,” said Brázda, the commander of the troop, who had ridden up and come to a halt beside them. “The reason we got you out of that plight will be explained when the time is right, and no sooner.”

Brázda, like most of the Czechs in the troop, had a chalice cut from red cloth sewn to his chest. But he was the only one to have pinned the Hussite emblem directly onto the coat of arms visible on his paltock.

“I am Brázda of Klinštejn, from the Ronovic family,” he said, confirming their guesses. “And now we are done talking—time is short and this is enemy territory!”

“It’s dangerous indeed to wear a chalice on your chest here,” Scharley agreed mockingly.

“On the contrary,” replied Brázda of Klinštejn. “Such an emblem protects and defends.”

“Really?”

“You may have an opportunity to see for yourself, m’lord.”

One soon arose.

The troop rode swiftly through Silver Pass. Beyond it, in the region of the village of Ebersdorf, they encountered a military detachment consisting of heavily armed cavalry and bowmen numbering at least thirty men, riding under a red standard decorated with a ram’s head, the Haugwitzes’ coat of arms.

And indeed, Brázda of Klinštejn was absolutely right. Haugwitz and his men stood their ground only until the moment they saw the sign of the Chalice, then the knights and the crossbowmen reined their horses around and rode away at a gallop, mud splashing from their hooves.

“What do you say about the sign of the Chalice now?” Brázda turned to face Scharley. “Effective, isn’t it?”

It couldn’t be denied.

They galloped on, driving their horses unrelentingly. As they rode, they gulped down flakes of falling snow.