“Reinmar, Reinmar,” he said, with exaggerated dismay. “How could you? How could you so offend the law of God and man? For, after all, it is said: marriage is honourable in all, and the bed undefiled, but God will judge whoremongers and adulterers. All too often, however, betrayed husbands consider God’s justice to be too tardy and mete it out themselves—and viciously.”

Reynevan cleared his throat even louder and lowered his head even more.

“Aha,” guessed Otto Beess. “Are they after you already?”

“They are.”

“Are they hard on your heels?”

“They are.”

“O, young fool!” said the priest a moment later. “You ought to be locked away at once in the Narrenturm, the Tower of Fools! You would fit in perfectly with its residents.”

Reynevan sniffed and made a face which he hoped was remorseful. The canon nodded, sighed deeply and interlaced his fingers.

“You couldn’t resist temptation?” he asked with the tone of an expert. “And you dreamed about her at night?”

“I could not,” admitted Reynevan, blushing. “And I did.”

“I know, I know.” Otto Beess licked his lips and his eyes suddenly flared wide. “I know that forbidden fruit is sweet, as is the desire to experience a stranger’s embrace. I know that the lips of a strange woman drop as a honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil. But in the end, the Proverbs of Solomon teach us wisely: she is bitter as wormwood and sharp as a two-edged sword. Beware, my son, that you don’t burn up like a moth in a flame. That you do not follow her to death and fall into the Abyss. Listen to the wise words of the Bible: remove thy way far from her, and come not nigh the door of her house.

“Come thee not nigh to her door,” repeated the canon, and then the preacher’s exultant cadence vanished from his voice as though blown away by the wind. “Listen carefully, Reinmar of Bielawa. Note well the words of the Bible and mine. Etch them into your memory. Listen to my advice: stay well away from the person concerned. Don’t do what you intend or what I read in your eyes, young man. Stay well away from her.”

“Yes, Reverend Father.”

“The scandal will somehow ease with time. The Sterczas will be threatened with the Curia and the Landfriede, placated with the customary fee of twenty grzywna, and the standard penalty of ten grzywna will also have to be paid to Oleśnica town council. All told, it’s little more than the price of a good thoroughbred horse—you’ll manage to raise that with your brother’s help, and if necessary, I’ll pay the rest. Your uncle, the scholaster Henryk, was a good friend and teacher of mine.”

“May my thanks—”