“The facts are as follows,” she suddenly began. “Two years ago, on the fourteenth of September, in the morning, you and your comrades attacked a party in Goleniowskie Forests, in which Lady Katarzyna of Biberstein, the daughter of Jan Biberstein of Stolz, was journeying with Jutta of Apolda, daughter of the Schönau Cup-Bearer. You seized the reinforced wagon the maidens were travelling inside. The pursuers who set off a few hours after you found the conveyance. There was no trace of the maidens.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The two maidens had vanished, I said.” The Green Lady fixed him with a piercing glance. “Do you have anything to add? Any comments?”

“No. Nothing.”

“The pursuers followed your trail, but they lost it near Nysa and it was already afternoon. Only then was it decided to send a rider to Stolz Castle. The news arrived in the evening. Sir Jan Biberstein sent out a call to arms to his vassals but couldn’t take any concrete measures before dawn. Before the soldiers had gathered, the Cistercians in Kamieniec were already ringing the Sext. And when they were ringing the Nones, the two maidens, Katarzyna and Jutta, suddenly appeared at Stolz in the convoy of an Armenian merchant. Both in one piece, healthy and at first glance inviolate.

“As a result,” she continued in the face of Reynevan’s silence, “it was one of the briefest kidnappings in the history of Silesia. The commonplace affair bored everybody and was soon forgotten. Or at least until Candlemas. Meaning until Katarzyna Biberstein’s delicate condition could no longer be concealed.”

Reynevan’s face gave nothing away. The Green Lady watched him beneath her eyelashes.

“Only then,” she continued, “did Jan of Biberstein go truly berserk. He offered a reward of a hundred silver grzywna to whoever found and turned in the kidnappers, and if they were themselves embroiled in the affair, an additional amnesty to avoid punishment. Sir Jan also put the screws on his daughter, but Kasia dug in her heels: she knew nothing, remembered nothing, had been unconscious and nauseous, blah, blah, blah. Jutta of Apolda, who was suspected not to have escaped with her maidenhood intact, either, also dug in her heels.

“Time passed, Katarzyna’s belly grew quickly and beautifully, and the direct creator of that wonder of nature still remained unknown. Jan Biberstein raged and the whole of Silesia enjoyed the rumours. But a hundred grzywna is a considerable sum. Someone appeared who cast light on the affair—a participant in the robbery and kidnap, a certain Notker Weyrach. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe in the pledges of immunity, preferring to conduct the case from a distance via his kinsmen—the Bolz family of Zeiskenberg—before whom, in the presence of a priest, he swore on the cross and gave testimony. And the cat was out of the bag. Or rather you were, my ephebe.