On seeing it, Mikołaj Zedlitz completely lost heart. Shouting incoherent and nonsensical commands, the Starosta of Otmuchów suddenly reined his horse around, flung his shield with the gold clasp onto the ground and simply rode away. Marshal Wawrzyniec of Rohrau galloped after him. The two men were followed by the entire regiment. Or rather what was left of it.

Wenceslaus, Duke of Głubczyce, son of Przemko of Opava was next. Wenceslaus, an adept of the occult arts, had spent the entire journey pondering over an enigmatic horoscope the court astrologers had cast before the expedition. Now, as the Opava knights began to fall under the blows of Hussite flails, Duke Wenceslaus decided that the conjunctions were unfavourable and the prospects poor. And that it was time to go home. On his order, the entire Opava contingent withdrew. In considerable panic.

Jan of Ziębice, Hinko Stosz and Jerzy Zettritz were hoarse from yelling out orders. The knighthood withdrew from the wagon fort in order to regroup. It was the commanders’ final and worst mistake. The Orphans had managed in the meanwhile to load their trestle guns and cannons; harquebuses, handgonnes and crossbows were at the ready. There was a deafening roar as the wagon fort once again spat fire and smoke, and a lethal hail of missiles fell on the retreating Silesians. Once again, balls and bolts cut through armour, once again mutilated horses tumbled down, squealing. And whoever was still able set off in desperate flight.

The Starosta of Grodków, Tamsz of Tannenfeld, fled in panic, overtaking all of his subordinates. Deputy Starosta Stosz ran from the field with the remains of the surviving Świdnica knights. The Wrocław and Ziębice knights, deaf to the desperate calls of Duke Jan and Zettritz, ran away in confusion.

“Now!” bellowed Jan Královec of Hrádek. “Noooow! Have at them, Warriors of God! Have at them! Death to them!”

Immediately, several wagons were removed from the walls of the wagon fort and the Czech cavalry charged through the gaps. On lighter and fresher horses, less burdened down by armour, the Hussite cavalrymen caught up with the fleeing Silesians in no time. And cut and hacked them down mercilessly.

The infantry left the wagons to rush after the cavalry. Any Silesians who were spared by the cavalry’s swords now perished under blows of flails.

“Have at them! Haaaave at theeeem!”

Smoke and the stench of burning crept over the battlefield. The fires died down. But in the east a bloody dawn was rising.

“Have at them!” yelled Reynevan, galloping in the charge between Salava of Lípa and Brázda of Klinštejn. “Kill them!”

They caught up with the Silesians, swooping on them like hawks, and a massacre began. Swords clanged on armour; sparks shot up from blades. Reynevan hacked with all his might, yelling to give himself courage. The Silesians broke free from the fighting and fled. Reynevan galloped after them.