“You say, Brother Wyszek, that the curia Romana would welcome back and forgive the Czechs like a prodigal son, receive them again into the European Christian fold? And we are eager to do so. But first of all, they must change their habits and their faith. To the true one. To the faith that Christ taught and Peter professed. That Master Wycliffe and Master Huss taught. For true faith, apostolic faith, in accordance with the letter of the Bible, is the one we faithful Czechs profess. Will the European christianitas receive us into its bosom? Then let it first cleanse it.

“There are men like Petr Chelčický, like Mikuláš of Pelhřimov. Like your countryman Paweł Włodkowic, defending freedom of conscience. God willing, the Roman Church, understanding its errors, will turn towards just those men. God willing, it’ll heed their teachings.”

“And if it doesn’t,” Little Prokop finished with a cold smile, “it’ll heed our flails.”

The silence lasted a long time. It was interrupted by Wyszek Raczyński.

“I’m to repeat all that to Szafraniec,” he stated. “Is that what you want?”

“If I didn’t, would I be speaking about it?” Prokop twirled his moustaches.

Jan Rohač of Dube, the famous Hejtman of Čáslav, was waiting for Raczyński outside the granary with a mounted escort.

The Pole swung himself into the saddle of the steed offered to him and took a wolfskin coat from a servant. Then Prokop walked over to him.

“Farewell, Brother Wyszek,” he said, holding his hand out. “May God guide you. And please pass on my good wishes to King Władysław through Szafraniec. May he fare well—”

“In his marriage with Sophia,” said Little Prokop, grinning, but Prokop the Shaven quieted him with a sharp look.

“May he fare well in the chase,” he finished. “I know he’s fond of hunting, but he should be vigilant. He’s seven and seventy—at that age, it’s easy to catch a chill and expire from it.”

Raczyński bowed and clicked his tongue at his horse. They were soon trotting towards the crossing on the Labe, he and Jan Rohač of Dube. Two close friends, comrades, companions, brothers in arms. Rohač and Wyszek, the Pole and Czech, still had before them many battles, skirmishes and clashes, during which they would fight together, side by side, horse beside horse, thigh by thigh, shoulder to shoulder. They would also die together—on the same day, on the same scaffold, first cruelly tortured and then hanged. But at that time no one could have predicted it.

The huge bombard had cooled down by morning, and the eager gunner didn’t fail to fire it right at sunrise. The roar and the trembling of the ground were so intense that Reynevan fell from the narrow pallet he was sleeping on, and fragments of straw and dust fell from the ceiling for some time.