Dust blew up in a cloud over the Wrocław road. Leaving behind the flames of Rychbach, the Taborite–Orphan army of Prokop the Shaven marched north. Towards Ślęża, shrouded in clouds and darkening on the horizon.

Jesus Christ is arisen,

We must his example follow,

Therefore let us hasten,

The Lord God to hallow.

Lord have mercy!

The fires in the town were still raging, while the area outside the walls had almost burned down, was only smoking as dying flames flickered on charred beams and posts. Hearing the Hussite singing fading away in the distance, people began to emerge from their hiding places, to leave the forests and descend from the hills. They looked around, horrified, weeping, seeing the destruction of their town. They wiped the soot and tears from their faces. And sang. For it was Easter, after all.

Christ, He has risen

From all His agony

To praise Him we are bidden,

So let us joyous be!

Lord have mercy!

The Franciscan monks left their hiding places and came down from Winnik Mountain. They walked, weeping and singing, towards the blackened ruins of the town.

It was Easter.

Christus surrexit

Mala nostra texit

Et quos dilexit

Hoc ad celos vexit

Kyrieleison!

The army of Prokop the Shaven marched north. Clouds of fire and columns of smoke rose above the villages burned down by the sorties of Salava and Fedor of Ostrog. The thatched roofs of Útěchov bloomed in crimson flames. Praus, Harthau and Rudelsdorf were on fire. Soon, almost the entire horizon was aflame.

It was Easter.

The Warriors of God were marching north. With a song on their lips.

Ye Saints, please intercede

May our calls not go ignored,

Pray for us we plead

All hail the Almighty Lord!

Lord have mercy!

It was Easter. Christ was truly resurrected.

Fire consumed the land.

Chapter Twenty-One

In which various individuals watch how history comports itself—from various perspectives. History throws off its chains. Lets rip. And shows what it can do.

“Woe is Silesia.”

“Silesia is accursed!”

Located near Środa Śląska, situated by the River Średzka Woda, the refugee camp was overcrowded, simply bursting at the seams. Usually, the rotation of people coming and going meant that conditions were fairly tolerable, but that day Dzierżka of Wirsing was literally horrified by the perspective of new fugitives appearing.