Opalinski sniffed. "That may well be. But that will still be the way the Swede comes at us-and not even you think he can be defeated with bows and arrows."

"Well, of course not. But I also know that I have no chance of defeating the Swede-not so mighty as he has become-if I simply try to match him head to head, like two bulls in a field." Koniecpolski gazed down at the young nobleman, very serenely. "This is why I am the Grand Hetman of Poland and Lithuania, and you are not."

Opalinski chuckled. "Point taken." He shivered a little, and drew his cloak around him more closely. "And, now, it's cold. Your poor horse looks half-frozen himself. I propose we retire indoors."

In point of fact, the horse-like the hetman-had been exercising far too vigorously to be chilled. And it wasn't really even that cold, for the time of year. Still, the idea of retiring to a comfortable salon and warming one's innards with a stout beverage appealed to Jozef. So, he too drew his cloak around him more tightly, and faked a shiver.

"Weaklings," jeered Koniecpolski. "And at your age! Just another reason to practice mounted archery."

After Koniecpolski left for the stables, Jozef and Lukasz began walking toward the estate's great manor, some distance away. Fortunately, it had been a sunny and unseasonably warm day, so the ground was fairly dry. Otherwise, with the recent snowmelt, their boots would have been caked with mud by the time they raced their destination.

Still, it was slow going. That suited Jozef well enough, though. He needed the time to compose his thoughts. He wasn't looking forward to the coming discussion.

"So solemn," Opalinski murmured, after a while. "Is it really that bad, Jozef?"