“And then, from a distance… Laddie, I’d never seen or heard anything like that before, and I’ve seen and heard plenty. The Taborites and Praguians marched on us, bearing standards and monstrances, in a splendid, disciplined array, their songs booming like thunder. On rolled their infamous battle wagons, from which handgonnes, cannons and trestle guns leered at us…

“And what did those brave crusaders do then? Before the Hussites were even within range, Sigismund’s entire army fled headlong in utter panic to Německý Brod. To a man, they ran screaming from a crowd of peasants in bast shoes whom they had jeered at not long before, casting down weapons they had mainly raised against unarmed men during this entire infernal crusade. They fled before my astonished eyes, laddie, as though they were scared of… the truth. Of the slogan VERITAS VINCIT embroidered onto the Hussite standards.

“Most of the Hungarians and armoured lords managed to flee to the left bank of the frozen Sázava. Then the ice broke. I advise you, lad, with all my heart, if you have to fight in winter, never flee across ice wearing armour. Never.”

Reynevan vowed to himself that he never would.

Zawisza puffed and cleared his throat. “As I was saying,” he went on, “the knights, though they had lost their honour, saved their skins. Mostly. But the foot soldiers were caught by the Hussites and bludgeoned, and the snow on the road was stained red for two miles, from the village of Habry to the outskirts of Německý Brod.”

“And you, sir? What—?”

“I didn’t flee with the king’s knights, nor when Pippo Spano and Jan of Hardegg fled—and I must salute them, for they were some of the last to flee and put up a fight as they did so. Contrary to the tales you’ve heard, I also fought, and fought hard, emissary or not. And I didn’t fight alone, for there were a few Poles and Moravian lordlings at my side, men who didn’t like running away any more than I did. All I’ll say of that battle is that we fought, and many are the Czech mothers who weep because of me. But nec Hercules—”

The servants, it turned out, were not asleep. For one suddenly jumped to his feet, as though stung by a viper, a second cried in a stifled voice, and a third drew a short sword with a grating sound as Esquire Wojciech seized a crossbow. Zawisza’s harsh voice and imperious gesture quietened them all.

Something emerged from the gloom.