“Hynek of Kolštejn,” Flutek announced through clenched teeth. “From the Štěpanice line of the Valdštejns, from the great house of Markvartic. A hero from Vyšehrad, currently Lord of Kamýk and Hejtman of Litoměřice. He’s come a long way, from greatness to treachery. Look around among his companions, Reynevan. Look closely. Something tells me you’ll see an acquaintance.”

The Old Town Square reverberated with the thud of horseshoes; clattering and clanging echoed against the frontages and rose above the roofs. Hynek of Kolštejn, the knight with the lion, reined in his grey horse before the portal of the Old Town Hall.

“Sacred peace!” he roared. “It is time for sacred peace! Enough blood, violence and crime! Release the captives! Release Sigismund Korybut, our rightful lord and king! Enough rule by bloody cliques! An end to violence, crime and war! We bring you peace!”

“Sacred peace!” The horsemen took up the slogan in unison. “Sacred peace! Pax sancta! ”

“Folk of the city of Prague!” bellowed Hynek. “O capital of the Kingdom of Bohemia and everyone loyal to the kingdom! Join us! Lord Burgermeister of the Old Town! Gentlemen councillors! Join us! Come to us!”

The doors of the town hall didn’t even budge an inch.

“Prague!” screamed Hynek. “Free Prague!”

And Prague replied.

Shutters banged open, crossbow stirrups and prods peeped out alongside the barrels of hook guns and handgonnes. Suddenly, in unison, the Old Town Square vanished in a deafening thudding of shots, in smoke and the stench of gunpowder. A hail of lead balls and bolts rained down on the soldiers crowded into the square. The screams, roars and yells of wounded men and the neighing and wild squealing of mutilated horses exploded and rose. The horsemen teemed chaotically, bumped into each other, fell over and trampled on any men who fell from their saddles. Some of them immediately urged their horses to a gallop, but there was no escape. The streets had quickly been barricaded with beams and fenced off with chains stretched across them. Bolts rained down from the barricades as soldiers ran into the Old Town Square from all sides, from Iron Street, from Michalská Street, from Dlouhá třída, from Celetná Street and from Týn.

The horsemen, protecting each other with shields, herded together in a huddle in front of the town hall. Hynek of Kolštejn tried to restore order, his voice growing hoarse from yelling. But the firing hadn’t let up, balls and bolts still raining down from the windows of the houses surrounding the Old Town Square—from the Unicorn, the Red Door, the Lamb, the Stone Bell and the Swan—from windows, roofs, hallways and gateways. One after the other, knights and esquires tumbled from their saddles onto the ground; horses fell, kicking.