There were no further incidents. It was dark by the time Reynevan reached the corner of Saint Stephen’s and Na Rybníčku Streets and the house with the room on the first floor that he and Samson Honeypot rented from Mistress Blažena Pospíchalová, the thirty-year-old widow of Master Pospíchal, requiescat in pace, may God bless him and keep him, whoever he was, what he did, how he lived and whatever he died of.

He gingerly opened the garden gate and entered the pitch-dark hall. He tried his best to keep the door from squeaking and the old wooden stairs from creaking. He always did when he returned after dark. He didn’t want to meet Mistress Blažena. He somewhat feared what a confrontation with Mistress Blažena after dark might lead to.

In spite of his efforts, a step creaked. The door opened and he smelled Hungary water, rouge, wine, wax, plum jam, old wood and freshly laundered bed linen. Reynevan felt a plump arm around his neck and a pair of plump breasts pressing him against the banisters.

“We’re celebrating tonight,” Mistress Blažena Pospíchalová whispered into his ear. “It’s a holiday today, my boy.”

“Mistress Blažena… But… Should one—”

“Be quiet. Come.”

“But—”

“Quiet.”

“I love another!”

The widow pulled him into her chamber and pushed him onto the bed. He plunged into the abyss of the starch-smelling feather bed and sank into it, overpowered by the downy softness.

“I… love… another…”

“No one’s stopping you, deary.”

Chapter Two

In which Flutek keeps his word, Hynek of Kolštejn brings peace and quiet to Prague, and history cuts and wounds, keeping physicians very busy.

Flutek kept his word. Which completely astonished Reynevan.

For a month had passed since that conversation, since the revelries celebrating the victory at Tachov. Since the attack. And since the incident with Mistress Blažena Pospíchalová which occurred on the night of the fourth of August. The incident with Mistress Blažena repeated itself, truth to tell, a few more times and, on balance, had more pleasant than unpleasant aspects. The former included—among others—the delicious, hearty breakfasts that Mistress Blažena began to serve her lodgers from the fifth of August. From that day onwards, Reynevan and Samson, who had previously enjoyed rather irregular and meagre meals, walked to their daily duties well fed and content with life; and as they walked, they smiled cheerfully at their neighbours and whistled merrily, remembering the taste of bread rolls, white cheese, chives, liver sausage, gherkins and scrambled eggs with grated celery. Mistress Blažena very often served scrambled eggs and celery. Eggs, she would say, shooting Reynevan glances as velvety as Alpine edelweiss, increase potency. And celery, she would add, increases desire.