In which the reader, although they make the acquaintance of several historical figures and persons important to the story, in principle doesn’t find out much apart from that you know a good bird by its song. But, all in all, the most important thing they learn in this chapter is which crowned heads and prominent notables fucked a wench in 1353 who is now an old woman.

Reynevan and Scharley were invited to supper. Berengar Tauler, in spite of the medical attention, was still lying unconscious. Amadej Baťa offered to watch over him. Samson—as usual—was quartered in the stable. As usual, he was playing dice with the stablemen, who were keen to fleece the simpleton. It probably needn’t be stated who finally lost their shirt to whom.

Supper was served in the main chamber of the upper castle, decorated with a wooden figure of the Archangel Michael, a tapestry with a unicorn and a large red coat of arms depicting a silver lion rampant hanging just below the ceiling. In the corner, a fire roared in a hearth and beside it on a stool sat a hunched old woman, absorbed with a spinning wheel, a distaff and a merrily hopping spindle.

All the Hussite hejtmans—both local and neighbouring ones visiting the castle by chance—were dining. In addition to Jan Čapek of Sány and Brázda of Klinštejn, sitting at the table was a tall, swarthy man with a hooked nose and evil, piercing eyes, his neck encumbered by a heavy gold chain, a decoration more usually worn by town councillors than soldiers. Reynevan knew him and had seen him among the Orphans in Hradec Králové. But only now were they introduced to each other: it was Jan Kolúch of Véska.

On Kolúch’s left sat Štěpán Tlach, the hejtman of an outpost in nearby Český Dub, a not old, yet very grey-haired man with a red, plebeian face and the gnarled hands of a carpenter, wearing a padded and richly embroidered knightly doublet in which he clearly felt uncomfortable. Seated beside Tlach was a scrawny, fair-haired man with a scar on his cheek. The scar looked menacing, but it was a souvenir of a simple, amateurishly incised boil. The scar’s owner introduced himself as Vojta Jelínek.

As was customary among the Orphans, there was a priest at the hejtmans’ table—so between Čapek and Brázda sat a short, stout, bearded man dressed in black, presented as Brother Buzek, servant of God. The servant of God had evidently begun dining earlier, for he was already more than tipsy.