Henry was already awake when a servant knocked on the door in the morning. He didn't get much sleep that night – he woke up many times, afraid he would take up too much space in the bed. Sir Capon, evidently, had no such worries, because he gradually sprawled across most of the bed and Henry was squeezed on the very edge.

And so he wasn't thrilled when the servant gave them an invitation to a Mass at the castle chapel. Even the well-rested Capon didn't care much about it, but, as he rightly remarked, it was too great honor for them to refuse.

The Mass exceeded Henry's expectations. The priest who served it seemed like a younger and somewhat sleeker version of Father Godwin. Henry also recognized some passages during the sermon. The priest used the same words he himself had preached when Godwin made him say the sermon in his stead. Henry liked the sermon, but Otto von Bergow frowned and glared at the priest and Sir Capon grimaced strangely. How Markvart von Aulitz looked like, Henry didn't know, because he carefully avoided looking at him.

After the Mass, the lord of the castle greeted them briefly and left immediately. Henry and Capon followed soon after him so that they wouldn't have to greet Markvart. When they returned to their room, a breakfast tray was waiting for them. Henry, as instructed by Capon the day before, ate only very sparingly. Then they passed the time until the beginning of the feast by watching the bustle in the third courtyard.

The feast was in full swing, and Henry thought again how lucky he was not to have to sit at the main table like Sir Capon. He was seated between the castle lord's wife and an elderly nobleman, and though he bravely tried to converse, he sent one desperate look after another to Henry. He was obviously awfully bored.

To his surprise, Henry found out that he was actually enjoying the feast. He had never seen so much food together in his life, and he tasted many things for the very first (and probably the last) time. He was seated at one of two tables that were perpendicular to the main one, and his closest companion was the castle priest, who had introduced himself as Benedict.

"Nomen omen, eh?" The priest laughed, but when he saw Henry's blank expression, he cleared his throat awkwardly and was silent for a moment.

Henry felt silly and hurriedly thought about some topic of conversation, until he finally blurted out the first thing that came to his mind:

"Forgive me the question, Father Benedict, but how come you're not sitting at the table with Sir Otto? I thought priests had reserved a place of honor."

As soon as he said that, he wished he had bitten his tongue instead. But Benedict just grinned:

"The relationship between me and Sir Otto is not exactly a warm one. As you may have noticed, my sermons are not to his liking. And whenever he can, he demonstrates it. But I am sure I have nothing to regret. The company down here is, I think, far more pleasant."

Henry had to agree, and they drank together. And then they talked more freely. Benedict described his experiences with Hus's sermons in Prague with great enthusiasm and found a grateful listener in Henry.

The servants kept carrying new food, refilling their glasses, and time passed. It seemed that Otto von Bergow didn't spare any expense, as jugglers and musicians also came. With the amount of wine consumed steadily increasing, the volume of the conversation increased as well, and the feast lost its initial formality. The guests at the side tables gradually got up from their seats and sat elsewhere or just stood in small groups.

Although Henry was restraining himself, he began to feel the effects of alcohol. When he got up to go to the privy, his head was spinning and he had to concentrate on walking straight. Sir Capon caught up with him in the hallway and, when they stopped, swayed alarmingly.

"Well, Hal? Are you enjoying yourself?"

"It seems all right, so far," replied Henry cautiously. "But didn't you say, sir, that we should restrain ourselves when it comes to drinking?"

"Ha! I would like to see you being restrained, in my place," snapped Capon. "Only wine saved me from biting my nails with boredom!"

Henry laughed and, after a while, Capon joined him, and together they worked their way to the privy.

"Can't we just up and leave?" asked Henry on the way back.

"Too early for that, we would offend the host. Furthermore, whoever leaves the feast on their own feet shows he didn't like it."

"You're pulling my leg again, aren't you, sir?"

"I wish I was, Henry."

When they returned to the banquet hall, Otto von Bergow called them to him. He, too, seemed to drink with abandon and smiled broadly at them.

"Sir Capon, we haven't had a chance to talk yet! Come and sit here with me."

Henry wanted to walk away discreetly, but Capon grabbed his hand and clearly indicated that he should go with him. They sat down, refilled their glasses, and then politely waited for the lord of the castle to speak again. He stared at them in silence for a moment. He paid special attention to Henry who didn't know where to look. Finally, Bergow shook his head and turned back to Capon.

"Well, young sir, I wanted to ask yesterday, but I completely forgot – what happened to you on your way here? The roads are as they are, I understand that, but I guess there is no hidden hole to blame for you appearance."

"Um… well, sir… we were attacked by some bandits," stammered Sir Capon.

Henry stared at the table, not daring to lift his head. He hoped that if they hadn't been asked by then, no one would be interested.

"Bandits, you say? Where did it happen?"

"Not far from Jičin. Near the rock towers," Capon continued lying.

"Well, that's Jičin's problem then, not mine. But tell me, where is your entourage? Did you leave Rattay accompanied only by a single guard?" Otto von Bergow asked in a scandalised tone.

As Sir Capon talked about the problems that afflicted their men, Henry breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that no one would pick apart their bandit story. When Sir Capon finished speaking, Sir Otto laughed heartily and made a toast to the health of the poor guards. He was joined by several men who listened in to the story. Henry finally raised his head and was startled to find he was looking directly into Markvart von Aulitz's face. He looked away immediately and drank quickly to disguise it.

Capon's narration was well received. As soon as the laughter subsided, someone began to tell another story of a similar nature, and gradually more and more stories were shared. After each of them followed another toast, and Henry began to suspect that he had long since exceeded a reasonable amount of alcohol. But he didn't care anymore.

As usual, humorous stories about failures and mishaps changed to bragging. The gentlemen at the table described with great vigor their successes, mostly of a military nature, and inevitably it was Capon's turn again. He boasted of being a brave warrior during the siege of Talmberg. Henry noticed that even in his intoxication, Capon had the presence of mind to not mention names and details. It didn't seem to bother anyone.

Then it was Henry's turn. He panicked for a moment, not knowing what to talk about. But then Capon whispered in his ear the name Hagen Zoul, and Henry, relieved, began to tell about their duel. He thought he wasn't making any sense, with his tongue heavy from drinking, but it must have turned all right, because the feasters drank to his story, too. He didn't even try to count the number of cups he had already drunk. Otto von Bergow then got up and announced he was leaving for the privy, but they should continue without him, he would return in no time. Henry exchanged glances with laughing Capon. It seemed he was having a good time, at last. Henry had fun too and he had quite forgotten who sat at the table with them.

And then it was Markvart von Aulitz's turn. Henry didn't pay much attention to him, at first. Instead, he focused on his finger circling on the table, spreading the spilled wine. But then he heard a word that caused him to look up.

"Skalitz. It was Skalitz we raided on the orders of King Sigismund. What a small and dirty town – one would think that with such an access to silver they could do something about it. After all, they didn't even have proper walls. Or a garrison. Nobody there could resist us. Except for one man. I remember him still. He was dressed as a blacksmith, but he brandished his sword like a real soldier. He killed more our men than everyone else in the city combined. I knew we would need to get rid of him. So I rode to him and challenged him to a duel. Like I said, he was good, but he didn't stand a chance against me – "

"That's not true! He didn't stand a chance, because you stabbed him from behind, you bastard!" Henry listened to Markvart's words, and it took him a moment to figure out what he was talking about. When he finally understood, his eyes widened. All of his previous resolutions went out of the window. He accompanied his shout with such a fierce jump that his chair overturned and rattled on the floor.

Markvart von Aulitz also jumped up and snapped at him: "Shut up, boy. Do you think I didn't notice the way you look at me? What's your problem?"

Henry saw red again. Someone put a hand on his shoulder, but he swept it away in one quick motion, leaned across the table, and grabbed the German nobleman's shirt.

"I say you're a filthy liar, a coward, and a murderer!" Henry was so enraged his voice jumped an octave.

The men sitting around had finally recovered from their stupor and stood up as well. Some of them caught Henry, others Markvart, and tore them apart. All participants swayed dangerously, threatening to fall into one pile. Before anyone else could speak, Otto von Bergow, who had managed to return, intervened:

"That's enough! What is the meaning of this?"

Markvart was the first to speak, "This young man attacked me for no reason and falsely accused me! I ask you, sir, to have him locked up immediately."

"Everything I said is true," raged Henry. "I was there. I saw it all!"

"Sir Otto, I hope you will not let some insignificant squire insult the king's envoy," said Markvart with pretended calm. He motioned for the men around him to let him go, and when they did, he folded his arms across his chest and looked at Otto von Bergow.

Henry, unable to speak anymore, just growled furiously and tried to wrench himself free. But they held him tight.

"Silence," said Bergow, and Henry obeyed, but continued to cast murderous glances in Markvart's direction. However, the German ostentatiously ignored him.

The entire banquet hall fell silent and everyone stared at the main table. That is, all those who were still on their feet. Otto von Bergow stood silent for a moment, rubbing his chin – he seemed to be thinking deeply – and then summoned his guards.

"Take him away and lock him in the tower," he ordered, pointing to Henry.

Markvart smiled with satisfaction and bowed slightly to Sir Otto. Henry couldn't believe his ears and was completely speechless, shocked at the injustice. Which was actually good. The guards took him from his fellow diners. As they dragged him away, he finally managed to see Sir Capon. The young nobleman looked as shocked as Henry felt. He tried to send a desperate plea for help with his eyes, but Capon just watched helplessly as they led him away. And then the banquet hall door closed behind him.

Henry walked without resistance, feeling like he was in a dream. He knew what he had just done was incredibly stupid. All his thoughts just slid across the surface of his mind, and he let them flow freely, preferring to concentrate on the path under his feet, the sky above his head, anything, just so he wouldn't have to think.

They crossed the second courtyard and entered a wooden building. There they passed several floors, only to emerge on the staircase that Henry and Capon had examined the day before. They were halfway up when Henry made a mistake and looked down. As soon as his overwhelmed mind noticed what he was actually seeing, it shut down. His vision swam, and his legs trembled and gave way. He landed on all fours and threw up.

He heard the surprised cries of the guards as if from a great distance. When he finally stopped vomiting, he felt the guards lift him up and half support him and half drag him up. They climbed one floor in the tower, then the guards pushed him into a room and slammed the door behind him. Henry curled up in a ball on the bare ground, breathing hard.

He didn't know how long he lay there. He might have managed to fall asleep for a while. The creak of the door opening woke him. One of the men who had brought him there before stepped inside, a large jug in his hands. When he saw Henry watching him, he motioned for him to get up and take the jug.

Henry stood up and had to lean against a wall and wait for his head to stop spinning. Then he walked to the door, grabbed the jug and looked into it. There was a clear liquid inside.

"What is it?"

"Water. Our master sends it and commands you to drink it. All of it. At once."

"Is this some new form of torture?" asked Henry, not knowing what to think. Who had ever heard of drinking so much water at one go?

The guard laughed. "It's not. But it could be – if you don't drink it yourself, I'll have to pour it down your throat. And you probably wouldn't like that."

When Henry still did nothing, the guard sighed and began to explain:

"Look, there's nothing to worry about. The water is clear, from the castle well. And in the morning, you will thank the master. I swear, if you drink it now, you'll be as good as new tomorrow – no hangover."

"You're kidding," blurted Henry, looking at the jug with renewed interest.

"As God is my witness, I'm telling the truth. Sir Otto came up with this a long time ago. In the beginning, he had to threaten and force us, but today, every man in the garrison voluntarily drinks a jug of water after a night of drinking."

"And it's really just ordinary water?" wondered Henry. If it was so easy to get rid of a hangover, how come not everyone did it?

"Yes, it is. And now, for God's sake, drink!"

Henry picked up the jug and began to drink. He soon found out that it wasn't that easy, after all. The water was quite cold, and he couldn't drink more than a few sips at a time before his neck ached and he had to stop. When he was halfway done, the breaks no longer helped, and his throat burned with each swallow. At three-quarters, the water felt like a cold stone in his stomach, and he thought himself so full that nothing could possibly fit in him anymore. Occasionally, he looked at the guard, but the man was leaning against a wall, cleaning his fingernails with a dagger and returning his gaze indifferently. Eventually, Henry drank it all, but he was still convinced that it was a refined form of torture, one that required no torturer, because the prisoner was hurting himself all on his own.

The guard took the empty container from him, set it behind the door, and, with a smirk, handed him a chamber pot, that had been hidden until then.

"Put it somewhere close, you'll need it. Good night." And he left.

Henry no longer had the strength to think about anything. He prepared the chamber pot and went to sleep on a prepared straw mattress.

He spent the night in a strange half-sleep. At first he couldn't sleep, because he was worried about Capon. He was also blaming himself for being stupid and reckless and breaking all of his resolutions and promises. He was disappointed in himself. He thought he could control himself better. It was a very bitter pill to swallow to know this aspect of his own nature.

In the end, he managed to close his eyes, but it couldn't be more than a few moments, and he opened them again, because he needed relieve himself. Then, another round of self-blame and an attempt at sleep followed. After waking up for the second time with an urge to pee, he began to understand why the guard smirked at him as he handed him the chamber pot. The third and fourth awakenings cemented the belief he had been deceived, and that the guard must be laughing at him now. Tired and broken, he stumbled over to the straw mattress, and this time fell asleep immediately.

Henry was still sleeping when he felt something poking into his ribs. He rolled over to try to find a better position, but the pressure didn't stop and a voice broke through his sleepy thoughts.

"Wake up!" the voice ordered, and Henry opened his eyes and looked around in confusion.

A dim light penetrated the room through a single narrow window, and Henry recognized the face of the guard from yesterday. He was prodding him with his leg with great enthusiasm. In an instant, everything came back to him. Henry sat up abruptly and lashed out at the man:

"A cure for a hangover, was it?! I haven't slept all night because of you!"

The man didn't let himself be intimidated: "When you're calmed down, think about how you really feel. In the meantime, you're supposed to have breakfast and get it together, because Sir Otto is coming to see you, soon." Then the guard turned and left.

Henry paused, frowned and began to examine himself. When he thought about it, he felt weird, different, but he couldn't say exactly why and how. And then, finally, it occurred to him. He felt weird, because wasn't hungover, at all! His head was spinning slightly from a lack of sleep, but all the other problems, common after drinking too much, didn't came.

Then, he realized what the guard had said and, immediately, felt worse. He dreaded what Otto von Bergow might want from him. But he didn't dare to disobey, so he turned his attention to the breakfast. He wasn't sure what he expected, but he had the impression that prisoners usually ate worse. There was a bowl of hot soup on a tray, and when he tasted it, he recognized a strong broth. Surprisingly, he felt even better after the meal than before. He also found out that during his sleep, someone had emptied the chamber pot and brought a basin with water.

He was washing his face when the door opened and Otto von Bergow entered the room. Henry hurriedly wiped his face with his sleeve and bowed deeply. The lord of the castle accepted it calmly, then leaned against the wall, folded his arms across his chest and announced that they would wait for a while. For whom or what, he didn't say, so Henry spent the next few minutes in a state of nervous tension, trying hard not to show it. And Sir Otto watched him all that time.

The door opened a second time, and Henry's heart pounded wildly. But, instead of Markvart von Aulitz or an executioner whom he was unconsciously expecting, Sir Capon entered. When their eyes met, Capon grinned nervously at him, but he was obviously relieved to see Henry was fine. But there was no time for a longer welcome. Otto von Bergow sent Capon to stand next to Henry.

"I hope you have both followed my orders yesterday and are able to stand and think."

Henry and Capon both nodded.

"Alright then. Let's start with the easier thing first. What is the dispute between you and Sir Markvart, Henry?" asked Sir Otto.

Henry fidgeted, wondering how to get out of this mess. "I drank a lot, yesterday, and Sir Markvart's false statement outraged me more than was reasonable," he tried, suppressing a desire to spit after saying that bastard's name.

Otto von Bergow just raised an eyebrow. And it was clear to Henry that this time, he really put his foot in it.

"Henry, I must say you have not made much of an impression on me yet, and with each word, you only make it worse. Now, I am going to give you a little time to think carefully about your answer, and then I will ask you again. I really hope that this time you can prove to me that you can use that head on your neck."

With burning face and blazing ears, Henry looked down and wished he could sink underground and disappear somewhere. Sir Capon took a breath, probably to help him in some way, but he didn't get a single word out.

"Remain silent for now, Sir Capon. It will be your turn later."

Henry didn't have to think too long. He had already tried lying, and Sir Otto made it clear what he wanted to hear. And so he told the truth. With his head bowed, he talked about the smithy, his mother and Martin, the assault on Skalitz, what Markvart von Aulitz had done. Otto von Bergow listened intently and let him speak.

"… so when I heard him spout such filthy lies, bragging about the murder of my father – Martin – I couldn't control myself," finished Henry, still looking at his shoes.

"Well, your story is by no means exceptional, but your resentment of Markvart von Aulitz is understandable. But we will return to that later. Now, I am interested in one more thing. Your father."

Henry closed his eyes in horror.

"I am sure that the man you alternately call Martin and father isn't the man you wanted to keep secret from me," continued Otto von Bergow.

"No, sir."

"Well, the name of your real father, Henry."

"Please, sir, why do you want to know? I don't think it will help anything if I tell you his name," stammered Henry.

"It will help. It will help you, Henry. Sir Capon here is a nobleman and also my guest, so he isn't in any serious trouble. On the other hand, you are a nameless nobody who attacked a nobleman under my roof. When I want something from you, your answer should be yes, sir. Not why." Otto von Bergow spoke in the calm tone of a man who knows he holds all the trumps.

"Sir Otto, Henry is my subject. I decide what happens to him," Sir Capon spoke up. He tried to use a firm and determined tone, but Henry heard his voice tremble.

"My castle, my will, Sir Capon. And, if I am not mistaken, you still haven't been recognized as an adult, have you?"

"No, sir," replied Capon reluctantly.

"I suggest you think about that the next time you speak out of turn."

Henry risked a brief glance at Sir Capon. The young nobleman was pale and gritted his teeth. Henry understood him.

"Back to you, Henry. Look at me and tell me who your father is," ordered Bergow.

Henry didn't understand why Otto von Bergow wanted to know that, but he realized the best thing he could do now was not to resist him. He straightened up and looked Sir Otto straight in the eyes:

"My father is Radzig Kobyla."

Otto von Bergow studied him for a moment before speaking, "Of course, the likeness is there. All along I had the impression that you reminded me of him. Very well, then." And after that statement, Sir Otto turned away from him and focused his attention elsewhere.

"Sir Capon, let's go back to that interesting letter you delivered to me. Although your uncle tried to be impartial when writing it, in the light of new circumstances, his position is quite clear to me. I would be interested in your opinion now."

Henry stared at Sir Otto and didn't understand a thing anymore.

"M-my opinion, sir?" stammered Capon.

Otto from Bergow sighed mightily.

"This is going nowhere. You are both tense as a virgin on her wedding night and just as useful. I will wait outside for a moment – you will get a grip on yourselves, in the meantime. You have two options: when I return, we will talk openly and truthfully, in which case you will receive a reply to your letter. If you cannot do that, then we will say goodbye and you will leave empty-handed." Then Sir Otto turned, without giving them time to answer, and left.

Henry and Capon immediately turned to each other.

"What the fuck did that mean?" moaned Henry. "First, he pries Radzig's name from me, and when he has it, he waves his hand over it as if he doesn't even care?!"

"I don't know! Maybe he just saw the likeness and was curious," shrugged Capon. "I'd rather ask what was yours outburst at the banquet supposed to mean?! As if we haven't talked about it so many times…"

"Sir, later when we have the time, you can scold me all you like, feel free to punish me, even, but now we must agree on what to say to Otto."

"What do we tell Otto?"

"I don't know!"

"Me neither!"

"You better come up with something and fast, because, apparently, I don't know a shit about these things!"

Capon shot a nasty glare at Henry and ran his hands through his hair. Then he raised his head and looked at the ceiling, at the floor, at the walls, and back at Henry who was watching him intently. "I can't return to my uncle and tell him I screwed up again. I just can't. Bergow is a nobleman… If we ask for his word, that he will actually respond to the letter… then I suggest we tell him the truth." Capon's gaze changed to pleading.

"Can we trust his word, though? You know what's being said about him."

"We trusted Toth, too."

Henry nodded. "Very well. I still think he already knows what we're going to tell him. I suggest we keep quiet about Margrave Jobst involvement. If we can."

"I agree."

The two of them smiled at each other and took several deep breaths. When he heard the door click, Henry managed to squeeze Capon's hand in support. Sir Capon returned the favour and then Otto von Bergow was back.

AN: Not much to say about this chapter. Just that the translation was easier than I expected. Just two more to go...