It was indeed to his greed that Bohuchval Neplach owed his nickname. In 1419, Catholic noblemen captured Kutná Hora, the most important centre for extracting ore in Bohemia. Cut off from the mines and mints in Kutná Hora, Hussite Prague began striking its own coin, pennies with such low silver content that were practically worthless. Consequently, the Prague coins were scorned and contemptuously nicknamed “fluteks.” Thus, when Bohuchval Neplach began to serve as the head of Žižka’s intelligence, the nickname “Flutek” stuck to him in a flash, for it soon turned out that Bohuchval Neplach was prepared to do anything for even a single flutek—even stooping to pluck one from a pile of shit. Bohuchval Neplach never, ever passed up a chance to steal or embezzle one.

How Flutek managed to keep his position with Žižka, who harshly punished embezzlers in his New Tábor and fought thievery with an iron fist, was a mystery. And why Flutek was later tolerated by the no less principled Prokop the Shaven was also a mystery. Only one explanation was possible: Bohuchval Neplach was an expert at what he did for the Tábor. And experts can be forgiven a great deal. Should be forgiven. For experts are rare and hard to come by.

“If you want to know,” Flutek continued, “I have had extremely little confidence in your tale, as indeed I have had in you, from the very beginning. Clandestine meetings, secret counsels and international conspiracies are all very well in literature and suit someone like, let’s say, Wolfram of Eschenbach. It’s pleasant to read Wolfram’s stories of mysteries and conspiracies… about the mystery of the Holy Grail, Terre de Salvaesche and all sorts of Klinschors, Flagetanises, Feirefizes and Titurels. There was just a bit too much of that literature in your account. In other words, I suspect you were simply lying.”

Reynevan said nothing, just shrugged. Quite ostentatiously.

“There can be various reasons for your confabulations,” continued Flutek. “You fled Silesia, you claim, because you were persecuted, threatened with death. If it’s true, you didn’t have any other choice than to curry favour with Ambrož. And how more effectively than to warn him about an attempt on his life? Then you were brought before Prokop. Prokop usually suspects fugitives from Silesia of being spies, so he hangs the lot of them and per saldo comes out on top. So, how to save one’s skin? Why, for example, by making revelations about a secret counsel and a conspiracy. What do you say, Reynevan? How does it sound?”

“Wolfram of Eschenbach would envy you. And you’d be bound to win the tournament in Wartburg.”

“So you had enough reasons to confabulate,” continued Flutek imperturbably. “But I think there was really just one.”

“Of course,” said Reynevan, knowing full well what he was getting at. “Just one.”