“Bullshit. You’re a servant of the Inquisition, an institution meant to strangle thought at birth and intimidate people who think, rebuke and oppress minds, sow fear and terror, and make sure the mob are afraid to think. Because that institution was founded with that purpose. Pity so few people remember that, which is why heresy is spreading and flourishing. It is flourishing thanks to people like you, fanatics with their eyes fixed on Heaven, barefoot and begging, in imaginary imitation of Christ. They who talk of faith, of humility and of divine service allow birds to perch on them and shit on them and from time to time receive the stigmata. Do you have the stigmata, Grzesiu?”

“No, Your Eminence. I do not.”

“Well, that’s something, at least. To continue: what you see around you, Father Inquisitor, is not God’s plaything but a world that needs to be governed. Ruled. And power is a privilege of princes. Of lords. The world is a dominium that has to surrender to rulers, bowing low to accept droit du seigneur, the right of the lord. It’s the natural order that power is wielded by the Princes of the Church. And then their sons. Yes, yes, Grzesiu. We rule the world and our power will be inherited by our sons. The sons of kings, princes, popes, cardinals and bishops. And sons of mercers, forgive my frankness, are—and will be—vassals. Subjects. Servants. They are meant to serve. Serve! Do you understand, Gregorz Hejncze, son of a Świdnica merchant? Do you see?”

“Better than Your Eminence realises.”

“Then go and serve. Be as vigilant towards signs of heresy as your name—Gregorikos—ought to suggest. Be uncompromising towards heretics, heathens, deviants, monsters, witches and Jews. Be merciless to those who dare to raise their minds, eyes, voices and hands against my power and my possessions. Serve. Ad maiorem Dei gloriam.”

“Regarding the latter, Your Excellency may count on me absolutely.”

“And remember.” Konrad raised two fingers, but there was no trace of a blessing in the gesture. “Remember: he who is not with me contra me est. Either with me, or against me, tertium non datur. He who is tolerant of my enemies is himself my enemy.”

“I understand.”