Just then, Bisclavret returned and the Poraj guessed right away what was happening. And insisted that it was the right time. There was no choice.

“Jan Královec’s Orphans,” Bisclavret began reluctantly, “besieged some stronghold or other in Bohemia, my informer couldn’t recall which one. Their provisions were running out, the siege didn’t look like ending, so they decided to send a few regiments to Lusatia on the pillage. They set fire to Frydland on the sixth of November and on the following days ravaged the land around Zgorzelec, Löbau and Žitava. They loaded their wagons with spoils, rounded up the cattle and set off on the return trip along the road via Hradek and Nysa. And were—”

“—were attacked here, right?”

“Indeed,” Bisclavret reluctantly admitted. “Královec was too cocksure… He disregarded the Germans, underestimated them. And in the meanwhile, the Six Cities mobilised a powerful contingent under the command of Lothar Gersdorf and Ulrik Biberstein. Landvogt Hans of Polenz marched quickly from Lower Lusatia to help and Albrecht of Kolditz approached from Świdnica. They were soon joined by Duke Jan of Żagań and his brother Duke Henryk the Elder of Głogów. Gocze Schaff added his men from Gryf Castle. They set off in pursuit of Královec and at dawn of Saint Martin’s Day suddenly attacked the Orphans’ marching column. A mile outside Hradek. At Kratzau.”

“And defeated them.”

“Depends what you mean.” Bisclavret wore the expression of a man who had to swallow something foul. “Královec fled… Losing… Losing several—”

“Several hundred men,” finished the Pole. “The wagons. And all the spoils.”

“But plenty of German corpses were left on the battlefield,” snapped Bisclavret. “Including Lothar Gersdorf.”

“Nonetheless,” muttered Jakubowski, “Kratzau has shown that you aren’t invincible.”

“Only God is invincible.”

“And they who are in God’s grace and favour.” The Pole smiled wryly. “Have you Hussites perhaps fallen from grace?”

“God works in mysterious ways.” Horn looked him straight in the eyes. “His wonders to perform, m’Lord Jakubowski. His works are not to be predicted. Men are different, their works can. But there’s no sense in wasting time on deliberations. Let’s get back to our business. It’s become important.”

Urban Horn had plenty of other important matters. And the chances for Reynevan—now promoted to the rank of assistant—of a rapid return to Jutta were diminishing.

They didn’t stay in Świdnica long but travelled to Nysa, after saying farewell to Bisclavret.

“We’ll meet again.” Bisclavret looked Reynevan deep in the eyes as they said goodbye. “We’ll meet again when the time comes. Lest you forget, I shall reappear in your snug little convent and remind you of your duties.”

It sounded a little like a threat, but Reynevan wasn’t concerned. He didn’t have time. Horn was hurrying him.