ingly
well. But, he reminded himself, this was not over yet. He must continue
to think quickly.

"De Puys, clear the Venetians out of here. Assemble them outside. Then
march them away from this street altogether. And collect their crossbows
and get them locked up again. You should never have let them get at
those weapons. De Pirenne, you stay here and tell me what happened."

"Well, this is how it was, Monseigneur," said Alain, looking abashed.
"Our men were drinking quietly, and this redheaded woman was sitting
with Sordello. Then these men from Tartary came in. They made no
trouble, just sat down in their own corner. But the woman, she took a
fancy to that man you saw trying to kill Sordello. She served him wine
and sat down with him. Sordello went over and tried to get her back.
There were words. They didn't understand each other, but the meaning was
clear. Sordello went for the other with a knife. And then the other man
_kicked_ it out of his hand--rather a surprise, that was--to Sordello,
too, I think. And the next thing I know he was strangling Sordello and
his companions would not let anyone stop it. Sordello had the key to the
storeroom where the crossbows were kept. After the Armenian seized him,
he threw it to one of the Venetians."

A typical muddle, Simon thought, like most of the cases brought to him
for justice since he had become Seigneur of Gobignon. He felt disgusted
with all these fools. No saying who was at fault. Most likely the damned
woman. Thank the Virgin he did not have to fix blame, just put a stop to
the fighting.

Sordello, who had been lying curled up on the floor, suddenly lashed out
with a booted foot.

The woman screamed. As Simon stared, the young Armenian fell heavily to
the wine-wet floor. Sordello sprang upon him, and a dagger flashed. He
was striking at the Armenian's chest.

Simon had no time to feel the panic that flooded through him. He grabbed
for Sordello's arm, too late to stop the dagger but pulling it back so
that it drove upward through the muscles of the chest instead of
plunging deep. The Armenian bellowed in pain. With all his strength,
Simon yanked Sordello off the Armenian and threw him backward. De
Pirenne caught him and held him.

Shouting in their own language and brandishing their swords, the other
Armenians rushed at Sordello.

A familiar voice cried out a sentence in a strange tongue. Friar Mathieu
rushed into the circle of candlelight, his white beard f