“If that love is so great,” Zawisza replied, feigning interest, “why then are you not with your lady? In order to be with Isolde, Tristan disguised himself—if my memory serves me right—in the rags of a shabby beggar. In order to rescue his Guinevere, Lancelot took up arms against the massed ranks of the Knights of the Round Table.”

“It’s not so simple.” Reynevan blushed like a beetroot. “What will she gain if they catch and kill me? Or I, for that matter? But I shall find a way, never fear. Even if I have to disguise myself as Tristan did. Amor vincit omnia.”

Zawisza raised himself up in his saddle and broke wind. It was hard to tell if it was a comment or just the cabbage.

“One profit of this dispute,” he said, “is that we’ve begun to talk, for it is mournful to ride in silence with head hanging. Let’s talk on, my young Silesian. On any subject.”

Reynevan plucked up the courage to ask: “Why do you ride this way, sir? Isn’t it quicker to get to Moravia from Krakow via Racibórz? And Opava?”

“Perhaps it is,” agreed Zawisza. “But I, you see, cannot bear the Lords of Racibórz. The recently deceased Duke Jan, may the Lord keep him in His care, was a whoreson who sent assassins to dispatch my comrade Přemysl. Jan’s young lad, Mikołajek, follows boldly in his father’s footsteps, so they say. Furthermore, I chose a roundabout route because I had things to discuss with Kantner in Oleśnica and am to report what Jogaila had said about him. On top of that, the route through Lower Silesia usually abounds with… attractions. Although I see that opinion is something of an exaggeration.”

“Ah!” Reynevan guessed astutely. “That is why you ride in full armour, and on a war horse! You are looking for a fight. Am I right?”

“You are,” Zawisza the Black calmly agreed. “They said that Silesia teems with Raubritter robber knights.”

“Not here. It’s safe here. That’s why it’s so thronged.”