“Necessitas in loco, spes in virtute, salus in victoria! ” yelled Sir Půta. “I vow, here, before you, on our Lady of Kłodzko and the Holy Cross, that I shall not take a step backwards. I shall defend the town or fall doing so!”

“I shall not leave undefended a single one of you, even the most meagre servant,” added Prior Vogsdorf, without emphasis. “Not a single one of you. I swear on this Holy Cross.”

“We’re out of luck,” said Bisclavret unemotionally. “It couldn’t be worse for us. That sodding Půta sans peur et sans reproche and a bloody valiant and honest priest. What were the chances of that? Bad luck!”

“Bad luck,” Scharley calmly agreed. “We simply don’t have any fucking luck. Let’s sum it up. Not a chance of opening any of the gates, and it will be difficult to sow panic among the defenders. What does that leave?”

“Murder.” The Frenchman grimaced. “Assassination. An act of terror. We can try to eliminate Půta and the prior. In that regard, we can count on Reynevan, who in Żelazno yesterday demonstrated hitherto—”

“Enough.” Reynevan cut him off. “Not another word about it. I’m waiting for serious suggestions. What’s left to us?”

“Fire.” Bisclavret shrugged. “To start a fire—or rather several fires. In several locations at once. But that’s impossible. Count me out of that.”

“Why?”

“Reynevan.” The Frenchman’s voice was cold and his expression even colder. “Play the idealist if you wish, or if you think it suits you. You may, if that’s your will, fight for Wycliffe, Huss, God, the sacrament sub utraque specie, the good of the people and social justice. But I am a professional. I want to do my job and get out alive. What, don’t you understand? Strategic fires, to be effective, must be started at the very moment of the attack. Understand?”

“I understand,” said Scharley, “at the very moment of the attack. When there’s no chance of fleeing. The men who capture the town with our help will cut us down during the customarily joyful bloodbath.”

“Perhaps we could agree on a signal—”

“By hanging a cord made of scarlet thread like Rachab at Jericho? You’ve listened to too many sermons, laddie. Don’t mix literature up with serious matters. I’m with Bisclavret and say: I won’t take part in any insane schemes like that. I am also a professional, may I remind you. And have several professions. Each of them dear to me. Dear enough to make me love and value life.”

“There may be a way,” said Reynevan after a long pause, “to start fires here without risking the precious skin of our gentlemen professionals.”

“Oh! Might there?” Scharley said.

“Indeed. For I, gentlemen, am also a professional.”