No delicacies were served. The large dishes of mutton and beef chops and ribs were served only with large quantities of roast turnip and a basket of bread. Several kegs of Hungarian wine were brought to the table, all with the lion of the Markvartic family branded onto them. The sight of them reminded Reynevan of Prague, as did the coat of arms hanging from the ceiling. The sixth of September. And Hynek of Kolštejn falling onto the cobblestones from the window of the House at the Elephant.

Before they began dining in earnest, there were, it turned out, several official matters to be dealt with. Four Hussites shoved a prisoner into the room—the esquire captured beside the river. The one whose horse Reynevan had shot from under him with a crossbow.

The youngster’s hair and clothes were dishevelled and a large bruise on his cheekbone was swelling and assuming a beautiful colour. Jan Čapek of Sány glared at the escort but said nothing. He only gave a sign for the captive to be unhanded. The esquire pushed away the hands gripping him, stood erect and looked at the Hussite commanders proudly, but Reynevan could see his knees were trembling somewhat.

There was silence for a while, only disturbed by the soft whirring of the spinning wheel of the old woman in the corner.

“Sir Nikel of Keuschburg,” said Jan Čapek. “Welcome, we’re glad to have you. You shall remain under our roof until a packhorse shows up here with a ransom. You know that in any case, m’lord—you know wartime customs.”

“I serve Sir Friedrich of Dohna!” said the esquire, raising his head. “Sir Friedrich will pay my ransom.”

“Are you certain?” said Jan Kolúch of Véska, pointing a bone stripped of meat at him. “For, you see, rumour has is that you are fond of Barbara, Sir Friedrich’s daughter, that you are courting her. And who knows if Lord Dohna approves of your advances? Perhaps he’s rubbing his hands together, glad to be rid of you? Pray, my son, for it to be otherwise.”

The esquire first paled and then flushed red.

“I have other kin!” he declared. “I’m a Keuschburg!”

“Then pray that miserliness hasn’t got the better of them, for you won’t eat at our table for nothing. At least not for long.”