Reynevan slammed the knight hard with a plank picked up from the ground. Samson caught the man by the shoulder, shook him, jerked him up and shoved him hard against the wall. Astonishingly, rather than sliding inertly down the wall, the knight pushed off against it, jerked a short sword from a sheath and attacked. Samson dodged and Reynevan swung the plank again. The knight parried powerfully, then thrust with the blade so quickly and expertly that had Reynevan not taken lessons from a swordsman, he would have bidden farewell to his liver and his life. The knight nimbly turned the short sword around in his hand and delivered a rapid blow. Had it not been for a dodge Reynevan had learned, the knight’s blade would have ended up buried in his cervical vertebrae. Samson neutralised the dangerous situation, knocking the knight’s weapon out of his hand with a blow from a stick and felling him with a punch. The punch was powerful, but the knight had no intention of staying down that time, either. He leaped to his feet, seized an empty barrel in both hands, lifted it up, grunted and, red in the face from the effort, threw it like a missile at Samson Honeypot. And here he met his match. Samson caught the barrel in mid-flight and sent it back like a ball. The knight was knocked off his feet and tumbled into a pile of straw.

This time, he didn’t manage to get up. Reynevan and Samson were upon him, pinned him down, twisted his arms behind his back and bound them. They wrapped his head around with the blouse to blindfold him and then bound his legs at the ankles with a long rope, which they used to drag him to a nearby cellar. They didn’t go easy on him, oblivious of the fact that the knight’s head was banging rhythmically against the stone steps and he was groaning and cursing.

Shoved down into a pile of cabbages, he sat up, groaning and fulminating. When Reynevan tore the blouse from his head, he blinked. The cellar had a small window and a little light was coming through. The knight scrutinised Reynevan for a long time, then glanced at Samson, and at once decided that of the two, only one was a partner in negotiations. He looked Reynevan straight in the eye and cleared his throat.

“Sensible,” he forced himself to smile, “judicious, Brother. Why share with others when you can have everything for yourself? The times are too hard and unpredictable to turn one’s nose up at a penny. And you’ll end up with a penny, I promise.”