"Yes, I will stay in Krakow because I have heard about the tournaments
and I will be glad to try my strength in the lists during the combats;
and this youth, my nephew, who although young and smooth faced, has
already seen many cuirasses on the ground, will also enter the lists."

The guests glanced at the youth who laughed mirthfully, and putting his
long hair behind his ears, placed the mug of beer to his mouth.

The older knight added:

"Even if we would like to return, we have no place to go."

"How is that?" asked one of the nobles.

"Where are you from, and what do they call you?"

"I am Macko of Bogdaniec, and this lad, the son of my brother, calls
himself Zbyszko. Our coat of arms is Tempa Podkowa, and our war-cry is
Grady!"

"Where is Bogdaniec?"

"Bah! better ask, lord brother, where it was, because it is no more.
During the war between Grzymalczyks and Nalenczs,[2] Bogdaniec was
burned, and we were robbed of everything; the servants ran away. Only the
bare soil remained, because even the farmers who were in the
neighborhood, fled into the forests. The father of this lad, rebuilt; but
the next year, a flood took everything. Then my brother died, and after
his death I remained with the orphan. Then I thought: 'I can't stay!' I
heard about the war for which Jasko of Olesnica, whom the king,