Returning to the courtyard, he was amazed to see Duke Kantner and Haugwitz emerging from behind the pigsties. But why should it surprise me? he thought. Even princes and seneschals go behind pigsties to see a marshal about a hound.

“Listen carefully, Bielawa,” said Kantner bluntly, washing his hands in a pail that a serving wench had hurriedly brought him. “You will not ride with me to Wrocław.”

“Your Grace—”

“Shut your trap and don’t open it until I give the word. I’m doing this for your own good, idiot boy, for I am certain that in Wrocław my brother the bishop will lock you in a tower quicker than you can say benedictum nomen Iesu. Bishop Konrad the White is very hard on adulterers, no doubt because he doesn’t like the competition. Instead, you will take the horse I’ve lent you and ride to the headquarters of the Knights Hospitaller in Mała Oleśnica. You will tell the commander, Dietmar of Alzey, that I have sent you there for a penance. Then you will sit there quietly until I summon you. Clear? And here is a pouch for the journey. I know it is meagre—I would give more, but my bailiff advised me against it. This inn has unduly eaten into my expense account.”

“You are too kind,” Reynevan muttered his thanks, although the weight of the pouch by no means deserved them. “Many thanks for your generosity. It is just that—”

“Fear not the Sterczas,” interrupted the duke. “They won’t find you in the house of the Knights Hospitaller, and you won’t ride there alone. It so happens that my guest is travelling that way, towards Moravia. You must have seen him at table. He agreed that you may accompany him. He didn’t agree immediately, truth be told, but I convinced him. Do you wish to know how?”

Reynevan nodded.

“I told him your father fell in my brother’s company at Tannenberg, for my guest was also there. Except he calls it ‘Grunwald’ because he was on the other side. Cheer up, laddie, cheer up. I have helped you as best I can. You have a horse and some coin. And safe passage guaranteed.”

“In what way guaranteed?” Reynevan plucked up the courage to mutter. “Your Grace… Wolfher Stercza is riding with five men, and I with one knight. Even if he has an esquire, Your Grace—he is but a single knight!”

Rudiger Haugwitz snorted. Konrad Kantner pouted condescendingly.

“Oh, you dolt, Bielawa. Supposedly a learned bachelor and you didn’t recognise a man of such renown? For that knight, believe me, six is but a trifle.”

And seeing that Reynevan still hadn’t understood, he explained: “He is Zawisza the Black of Garbów.”

Chapter Four