“Prokop doesn’t have a chance!” snorted Kuropatwa. “I’d wager anything. This host is too mighty. Riding with this crusade are knights from the Jörgenschild, the Order of the Shield of Saint George, the flower of European knighthood. And the papal legate is reportedly leading hundreds of English bowmen. Have you heard, O Czech, of English bowmen? They have bows the height of a man, shoot from five hundred paces and from that distance pierce armour and puncture mail as though it were linen. Why! Such archers can—”

“Do such archers,” Tvrdík interrupted calmly, “stay upright after being struck over the head with a flail? Various fine men have come here, the flower of knighthood of all descriptions, but thus far none of their heads has withstood a Czech flail. Will you take a wager on that, m’Lord Pole? I, mark you, state that when an Englishman gets whacked on the head with a flail, that Englishman won’t bend his bow a second time, because that Englishman will be a deceased Englishman. If there’s any other result, you win. What shall we wager?”

“They’ll crush you.”

“They’ve already tried,” observed Reynevan. “Last year. On the Sunday after Saint Vitus’s day. At Ústí. But you were at the Battle of Ústí, Sir Adam.”

“Aye,” admitted the Wielkopolanin, “I was. We were all there. You, too, Reynevan. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”

“No. I haven’t.”

The sun was beating down mercilessly and visibility was poor. The dust cloud kicked up by the hooves of the attacking knights’ horses was mixed up with the thick gunpowder smoke that had filled the entire inner square of the wagon fort following the salvo. Suddenly, the crack of breaking wood and triumphant cries rose above the yelling of the soldiers and squealing of horses. Reynevan saw men in flight spilling from the smoke.

“They’ve broken through,” gasped Diviš Bořek of Miletínek loudly. “They’ve rent open the wagons…”

Hynek of Kolštejn cursed. Rohač of Dube tried to bring his snorting horse under control. The face of Prokop the Shaven was set hard. Sigismund Korybut was very pale.

Yelling, armoured cavalry poured out of the smoke, the knights falling upon the fleeing Hussites, knocking them over with their horses, smiting and hacking any men who hadn’t managed to shelter in the inner square of the wagons. A wave of heavy cavalry poured into the breach.