“He doesn’t have to,” said Lothar Gersdorf, “for I also know who it is. I recognise him. He’s a Silesian, Reinmar of Bielawa. Said to be a sorcerer. An alchemist. A heretic and a Hussite spy to boot. He made an attempt on Duke Johann’s life in Ziębice when I was present. He was allegedly hired by the Hussites to commit that crime, but I’m inclined to believe it was the result of crazed jealousy and concerned a lady. The Devil only knows where the truth lies, but the fact is that Bielawa is wanted throughout Silesia. And there must be a bounty on his head since Sir Janko is ready to pay two thousand four hundred for him without even haggling. But nothing will come of it. The Hussite spy will make a pretty bauble on the scaffold in Bautzen town square, it will be a beautiful execution. Folk will flock from miles around to see it. I’ll beat down your price, Schaff. Bautzen, gentlemen, gives three thousand!”

“What is a sorcerer, a Hussite spy and a hired killer doing in my castle?” asked Lord Bergow slowly and forcibly. “At whose instigation is he here? Eh?”

“I’ve offered that Silesian of yours to m’Lady Douce as a gift,” said Hartung Klüx, as though he hadn’t heard. “And I’ll pay—”

“I doubt you have coin enough,” interrupted Gersdorf.

“This concerns my honour and knightly virtue!” roared Klüx. “I’m ready to lay down my life, never mind the three thousand groschen! I shall easily find the sum, if necessary!”

“But will you find six?” asked Ulrik of Biberstein, who hadn’t spoken for some time. “For I top that. I’ll give six thousand groschen for him. And let no one bleat about honour, for this is a matter of honour. Don’t ask me to explain. But if this is indeed Reinmar Bielawa, he must be mine. I’ll give six thousand for him. Sir Otto of Bergow? What say you?”

Bergow looked at him for a long time. Then swept his gaze over them all.

“I say: nothing doing.” He raised his head. “I annul the transaction and withdraw this Bielawa from sale.”

“But why?” Biberstein asked.

“Because,” said Otto of Bergow, with a steady gaze, “it pleases me to do so.”

“Very well.” Biberstein hawked at length and spat. “It’s your castle, your will, your right. Except if that’s your will, I’ve lost interest in being your guest. Let’s thus finish the business and be gone.”

“Indeed.” Lothar Gersdorf nodded.

“Agreed,” said Janko Schaff, also nodding. “I’m also somewhat in a hurry, so let’s strike the deal and say our farewells.”