Smaller bombards were fired after the large one, hurling one-hundred-and-fifty-pound balls. The bombards boomed. The ground trembled. After being woken, Reynevan brooded over his dreams, and there was much to brood over: he’d dreamed of Nicolette, Katarzyna of Biberstein, again. In detail.

The cannons roared. The siege went on.

Around noon, Prokop gave the third and most important reason for agreeing to Scharley’s leave. Their spirits sank at once.

“I’ll be needing you in Silesia. Both of you. I want you to return to Silesia. In August, when we repulsed the crusade at Stříbro,” Prokop continued, ignoring their expressions and not waiting for a response, “the Bishop of Wrocław once again stabbed us in the back. The army of the bishop and the Silesian dukes, traditionally supported by Albrecht of Kolditz and Půta of Častolovice, attacked the Náchod region again. Yet again, much Czech blood flowed. Yet again, fire destroyed homes and farms. Yet again, indescribable atrocities were perpetrated on defenceless people.

“For at least a year, a wave of appalling terror has passed through Silesia. Pyres blaze everywhere. The Teutons are cruelly tormenting our Slav brothers. We will not stand idly by. We will march to Silesia and lend a brotherly hand with a peaceful, stabilising mission. But a mission like that has to be prepared.” Prokop still didn’t allow them to get a word in. “And that will be your task. Once you have sorted out your private interests, the ones I’ve generously given you permission for, you will join Brother Neplach on White Mountain. Brother Neplach will prepare you for the task. Which you will accomplish, I have no doubts, with great dedication: for God, religion and the fatherland. As befits Warriors of God… I see you want to say something, Scharley. Speak.”

“We are known in Silesia,” said Scharley after clearing his throat.

“I’m aware of that.”

“Many people know us there. Many think ill of us. Many would like to see us dead.”

“Good. That will ensure you are cautious and sensible.”

“The Inquisition—”

“And that you won’t betray us. End of discussion, Scharley. Enough! You have your orders. You have a task to accomplish. And now go on leave and sort out your private interests. I advise you to sort out all of them, very thoroughly. Your task is, I accept, risky and perilous. It’s right to take care of personal matters before something like that. Pay off one’s debts to friends and loved ones. Become indebted to others—”

He suddenly broke off.

“Reinmar of Bielawa,” he said a moment later, and his expression sent shivers running down Reynevan’s back. “Your private interests don’t by any chance have anything to do with avenging your brother’s death?”

Reynevan shook his head, for his mouth had suddenly gone so dry he couldn’t utter a word.