“I saw as soon as you entered,” she whispered, “and knew that they were after you. But I won’t let them catch you. Too few of us remain, and if we don’t help each other, we shall vanish for good. Eat, take no notice.”

He ate very slowly, feeling shivers running down his back under the gaze of the men in the corner. The serving wench clanged a frying pan, shouted something to somebody in the other room, threw a log on the fire and returned. With a broom.

“I’ve had your horse taken to the threshing floor behind the pigsty,” she murmured as she swept. “When it all starts, flee through that door at the back beyond the straw mat. Once past the threshold, be heedful of this.”

Still sweeping, she picked up a long stalk of straw and furtively but quickly tied three knots in it.

“Don’t worry about me.” Her whisper dispelled his qualms. “No one will pay me any attention.”

“Gerda!” yelled the innkeeper. “The bread needs taking out! Move, slattern!”

The girl went away. Stooping, plain, inconspicuous, no one paid any attention to her. No one except Reynevan, to whom she tossed a parting glance as fiery as a flaming brand.

The four men at the table in the corner moved and stood up. They approached, spurs jingling, leather creaking, chainmail clanking, their fists resting on the hilts of swords and daggers. Reynevan once again cursed his lack of good sense under his breath, this time more crudely.

“Sir Reinmar of Bielawa. Look, boys, see for yourself how experienced hunters work. The quarry well tracked, the forest well surveyed, just a little fortune needed to bag something. And fortune has verily smiled on us today.”

Two of the characters were flanking him, one to the right, the other to the left. The third took up a position behind Reynevan. The fourth, the one who had spoken, moustachioed, dressed in a densely studded brigantine, stood opposite. Then, without waiting for an invitation, sat down.

“You won’t put up a fight,” he didn’t ask, but rather stated, “make any trouble or brouhaha. Eh? Bielawa?”

Reynevan didn’t reply. He held the spoon between his mouth and the edge of the bowl, as though not knowing what to do with it.

“You won’t,” the moustachioed character assured himself. “Because you know, don’t you, that would be most foolish. We have nothing against you, it’s just another job, but we prefer our work easy. If you begin to kick and yell, we’ll make you docile in a trice. We’ll break your wrist on the edge of this table, and after that we won’t even have to tie you up. Did you say something, or am I hearing things?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Reynevan overcame the resistance of his numb lips.

“Very good. Eat up. It’s quite some way to Sterzendorf, why should you ride hungry?”