Handy had no public enemies in Joachim’s court—keeping one’s distance from both the unwashed hoi polloi and the high-born fuckwits, and projecting oneself as the ominous weapon of the king’s displeasure would do that. As far as they were concerned, he was anonymous, impersonal, with no more designs on anyone’s possessions or ambitions than the odd decorative suit of plate armour or tapestry, albeit a touch more animate and bloodthirsty.