“It’s a completely idiotic idea,” he stated. “It’s utter madness to return to Silesia in search of revenge. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you haven’t grown any wiser during the last two years—why, I’d say you’ve become even stupider. But that’s not true, after all. You have grown wise, Reinmar, proof of which is your deed with Smiřický. You had him in your clutches, at your mercy. And then what? You released him. You’re embittered by your brother’s death and vengeful, but you released him. Because—even with him in your grasp—you understood the pointlessness of that kind of revenge. For Smiřický isn’t to blame for your brother’s death; nor that Birkart of Grellenort, although perhaps he killed Peterlin with his own hands; nor, paradoxically, Konrad, Bishop of Wrocław, although he gave the order. For what killed Peterlin is the historical moment. It was the historical moment in the winter of 1425 that took Ambrož to Radkov and Bardo. It was history—not the citizens of Kutná Hora—who threw those captured Hussites down the mineshafts. It wasn’t Sigismund’s Hungarians but history that raped and butchered the women in captured Louny. It wasn’t Žižka but history that murdered and burned alive the people in Chomutov, Beroun and Český Brod. It was also history that killed Hynek of Kolštejn. Are you seeking revenge on history? To be like King Xerxes, lashing the sea?”

Reynevan shook his head but didn’t say anything.

They sailed to the island of Trávník. A smell of burning was still drifting from the left bank. In May 1420, during fierce battles with the army loyal to the king, the Lesser Quarter was almost entirely reduced to ashes, and so it remained. There had, admittedly, been attempts to rebuild it, but they somehow lacked passion and enthusiasm. For there were countless other worries; history was doing its best to make sure there were plenty.

“In the light of historical processes,” Scharley continued, looking at the blackened remains of the riverside mills, “one can thus assume you’ve already avenged your brother, since you are following in his footsteps and continuing the work he left incomplete. As part of your brother’s inheritance, you’ve received Communion sub utraque specie and you’re a Hussite. Peterlin, I happen to know, because information has reached me, was indeed a loyal Utraquist and served the cause of the Chalice with real conviction. I say it because there’s no shortage of people who’ve done it for other reasons, sometimes very base—and always very prosaic—ones. But, I repeat, that doesn’t apply to your brother, nor, I believe, to you. After all, you—sincerely, devotedly, without a trace of cynicism—are fighting for the cause and the religion for which your brother ended up dead.”