“Ha,” replied Raczyński. “It’s true, I don’t deny it. But I still have to say I’m afraid. I’m riding in secret, true. But you know yourselves what it’s like with a new law: everyone’s suddenly vying with each other, everyone wants to demonstrate his zeal and show off, for perhaps it’ll be seen and lead to a promotion. So Zbigniew Oleśnicki has an army of informers at his service. And that Jędrzej Myszka, the bishop’s vicarius, that little squirt, son of a dog, has a dog’s nose and is sniffing to find out if there are any Hussites around King Władysław… Forgive me, I meant to say—”

“You meant to say ‘any Hussites.’” Prokop cut him off coldly. “Let’s not split hairs.”

“Yes, indeed… But I would rather not go near the king. I’m meeting Sir Jan Mężyk of Dąbrowa, a supporter of our cause, in Zator. Together we shall ride to Pieskowa Skała, where I will meet in secret Sir Piotr Szafraniec, the Chamberlain of Krakow. And Sir Piotr, a fellow favourably inclined towards us, will convey our message to King Władysław.”

“Well, well,” said Prokop pensively, twisting his moustache. “Except that Jogaila isn’t in the mood for envoys now. He has other worries at present.”

The other men exchanged meaningful glances. They knew what he meant, for the news had spread quickly and widely. Queen Sophia, Jogaila’s wife, had been accused of marital infidelity and adultery. It was rumoured she had shared her bedchamber with at least seven different knights. Arrests and investigations were ongoing in Krakow, and Jogaila, usually calm, was said to be furious.

“A great responsibility rests on you, Brother Wyszek. Our missions to Poland have come out pretty poorly up until now. Suffice to recall Hynek of Kolštejn. Therefore, first inform Lord Szafraniec, please, that if King Władysław permits, a Czech mission will soon come to the Wawel to pay its respects to His Majesty, which will be led by me, in person. That is the most important thing in your mission: to prepare for mine. You are, you will say, my authorised envoy.”

Wyszek Raczyński bowed.

“I shall leave it to your judgement and intuition,” continued Prokop the Shaven, “regarding whom you talk with in Poland and whom you approach and sound out. For you must know that I have not yet decided to whom I shall take my mission. I’d like to go to Jogaila. But in adverse circumstances I don’t rule out Witold.”

Raczyński opened his mouth but said nothing.

“We share common ground with Duke Witold.” Little Prokop cut in. “We have similar plans.”

“In what way similar?” Wyszek asked.

“Bohemia stretching from sea to sea. That is our plan.”

Wyszek’s face must have expressed a great deal, because Little Prokop immediately hurried to explain.