Anticipation was highest in the Zelny trh - the "cabbage market" - where the largest crowds had gathered. A large open area lined with a heterogeneous mixture of buildings, the vegetable market, now clear of its stalls, hosted a boisterous collection of revelers who had clearly made an early start to the festivities. A few were jumping into the Parnassus fountain, from which carp were sold at Christmas. The procession would pass through this square, up the Biskupska and the Petrov hill to the St. Peter and St. Paul Cathedral where the crowds were already so thick it was getting hard to move.
Brezen and his tethered companion made good use of their combined bulk to force their way to the front of the thong and find a place directly before the bonfire of logs and the metal brazier in which the blessed fire would be lit. The youngest brother, disguised as a cripple, wriggled and squirmed into a similarly advantageous position several yards away. The remaining brothers distributed themselves in the general crowd, but kept insight of one another.
For days now the story had been going around Brno that the Bones of St. Hugh were going to be part of the Holy Saturday procession, and the crowds, always substantial, had swelled accordingly. The open space before the cathedral was packed. It took the considerable efforts of all Herr Druer's men to keep the more thirsty revelers away from the long tables and large wine barrels.
Darkness, when it came, came quickly. As if in recognition of its role, the sun slid dramatically behind the Spilberk fortress casting one last halo of light around and through the trees of the wooded hill. The castle on its crown still had a fearsome reputation as one of the worst prisons in the Habsburg Empire. Although the prison had been closed for ten years, most of Brno's inhabitants still shivered and crossed themselves if their business took them anywhere near it.
But that evening no one looked to the east, they were all watching for the star that would start the Easter Vigil.
Those at the edges of the crowd in the Zelny Trh heard the approaching procession first. Police forced a narrow causeway between the bodies, and the smart uniforms of the Austrian National Guard appeared to the accompaniment of a squeal of fife and drum. It had arrived. Small boys pushed and wiggled between the legs of their elders and more than one saluted as the soldiers marched by. Behind the soldiers were costumed mummers, who had been performing on street corners around Brno for weeks. This was their last appearance of the year, and they made the most of it, darting into the crowd, frightening the girls with their crude makeup and garish costumes and extracting the 'tribute' penny from all who were prepared to pay.
At the center of the procession, in full majesty and dignity came the priests, deacons, deans and elders of the church, each robed in his finest vestments. Towards midnight the Bishop and clergy would all process around the church, ending up at the baptismal font where prayers and ceremonies would be used to consecrate the water. Later the Bishop, standing in the water, would baptize the catechumens and at dawn the vigil would be concluded with more prayers and the celebration of the Holy Sacrifice.
But that was not why most of these people had come to the square. As Father Vitezslav passed, a enormous sigh went up from the now silent crowd, and everyone crossed themselves in reverence to the bones of Saint Hugh. His reliquary looked particularly small, outside and away from its church, but all eyes were on it that evening and few were on the Bishop, who marched directly before it.
Slowly the procession wound its way into the open area before the cathedral steps and the pile of oil-soaked logs. Each group in the procession found its place and the Bishop, accompanied by Father Kohl, Monsignor Schrattenbach and Father Vitezslav awkwardly positioned themselves at the top of the steps with their backs to the cathedral doors, and Herr Druer's barrels. The Bishop paused a moment to regain his dignity and looked over the brazier and into the faces of the crowd.
Looking back at him were the monks of St. Thomas', including Brothers Matthew, Joseph and Gregory, a not-so-crippled cripple and Cesky Brezen, who, released from his chain was opening his shirt and starting to pull out its contents. The moment had arrived.