They rode on, with the ridges of the Sudety Mountains blue against a background of clouds on their right. The Green Lady and Reynevan were preceded only by the outriders: a fat sergeant and two bowmen. Following the Lady and Reynevan came the rest of the soldiers, plus servants leading reserve and packhorses. Liebenthal et consortes formed the procession’s rearguard.

They weren’t alone, for the road was actually quite busy. It was unsurprising—they were riding along a busy trade route, well travelled since ancient times, linking the West with the East. The section to Zgorzelec was known as the Via Regia, the royal road, which passed through Frankfurt, Erfurt, Leipzig and Dresden to Wrocław. In Zgorzelec, the road forked into the so-called Sudety Highway, which ran along the foot of the mountains through Jelenia Góra, Świdnica, Nysa and Racibórz, to connect with the Wrocław road again in Krakow and head east towards the Black Sea. No wonder that wagon after wagon and caravan after caravan were moving along the Sudety Highway. Traditionally, oxen, rams, swine, leather, furs, wax, potash, honey and suet journeyed from east to west, towards Germanic countries. Wine was traditionally transported in the opposite direction, and goods manufactured by the advanced industry in the west, which in the east traditionally never gained a foothold to develop.

The Green Lady tugged on the reins of a shapely white mare and rode close enough to brush her knee against Reynevan’s.

“I see dried blood on your collar,” she remarked. “Whose work is it? Liebenthal and company?”

“No.”

“A short answer.” She pouted. “Painfully succinct. And to think, I had so hoped you’d elaborate on the subject, regale me with a thrilling tale. You were to amuse me, I remind you. But since it’s not to your liking, I shan’t insist.”

He didn’t answer, being simply tongue-tied. They rode on in silence for some time. The Green Lady gave the impression of being utterly absorbed by the views. Reynevan kept glancing across at her. Furtively. She eventually caught him at it, caught his gaze like a spider ensnares a fly. He fled from her look. It sent shivers up his spine.

“If I understood rightly,” she resumed the conversation quiet carelessly, rupturing the silence hanging between them, “if I understood right, you managed to flee from your guards. In order to return the following day. Voluntarily. You enjoyed one mere night of freedom. And now you’re heading to Stolz Castle, into the hands of Sir Jan Biberstein. You must have had a reason to act thus. Did you?”

He didn’t answer, but merely nodded. The Green Lady’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“A significant reason?”

He was about to nod again but restrained himself in time.

“Indeed, m’lady. But I’d prefer not to talk about it. With respect. But if I offend, I apologise and beg forgiveness.”

“I forgive you.”