Skull-face threw back his cloak, which was draped over the horse’s side, revealing a loaded crossbow. The small size and manufacture told Reynevan that it was a hunting weapon rather than a military one. Crossbows like that were no match for military ones in terms of range and penetration but were definitely superior regarding accuracy. A skilled bowman couldn’t miss with such a weapon and from a range of up to twenty paces would hit an apple as surely as William Tell from the Canton of Uri.

“I’ll graze your horse.” Skull-face appeared to read Reynevan’s thoughts. “I’ll just graze him with a bolt. The horse will kick and toss you off the bridge. Your masters from the Inquisition will treat it as an accident when they find your broken corpse at the bottom of the ravine. They’ll simply write you off and forget about you.”

“I don’t serve the Inquisition.”

“It matters not to me whom you serve. I recognise the stench of a spy. Even from this distance.”

“I have no less sensitive a nose.” Reynevan, though petrified with fear, remained defiant. “And I can smell a traitor, thief and embezzler, and on top of that a common thug. I don’t wish to talk with you further. Shoot, kill me, you venal rogue. Oh, the thought of what Neplach will do to you when he catches you fills me with delight.”

“You’re shaking like a leaf, spy,” said the fair-haired man. “Every spy is a coward.”

Reynevan let go of the bridle and drew his dagger.

“Come onto the bridge, O bold gentleman with his cronies behind him,” he snarled, “There’s room for two here! Come on, have at you! Or do you only use that Spanish knife when your victims are asleep?”

Skull-face lowered the crossbow and laughed dryly. First the swarthy apprentice and then the fair-haired man joined in.

“I swear,” he said. “The spit and image of his brother.”

“The spit and image,” repeated Skull-face. “Come to us, Reinmar of Bielawa, brother of Piotr of Bielawa. Let us shake your hand, Reynevan, brother of our comrade, the late lamented Peterlin.”

Reynevan pulled the snorting horse from the bridge. He was scowling, but he had overcome his shaking knees. Skull-face shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder. His thinness and cadaverous complexion were shocking at close quarters.