sand pardons, but you must
take it off. You may leave it with the capitano of the guard if you
wish."

Simon's face burned with embarrassment as he realized he was going to
have to disappoint Alain. The scimitar was one of his most precious
possessions, and he would not entrust it to a stranger, even a stranger
in the service of the pope. With a sigh he unbuckled his belt and handed
it, with his dagger and the jewel-handled scimitar, to de Pirenne.

"If only I had thought to bring Thierry with us," he said. "Forgive me,
Alain, but would you be good enough to take these back to the Palazzo
Monaldeschi? Then you can meet me back here."

"Forgive _me_, Your Signory!" the majordomo interjected. "I am desolate,
but His Holiness himself has commanded that no one is to enter after the
council begins."

Simon felt angry words forcing their way to his lips. But he clamped his
mouth shut. This was, after all, the court of the Vicar of Christ on
earth, and he did not dare protest against its customs. He had the
reputation of France to think of. These Italians already thought the
French were all barbarians.

"I knew it was too good to be true," de Pirenne said with a rueful smile
as he turned away. "I will be waiting for you in the yard outside,
Monseigneur."

Simon shared his friend's unhappiness. This would have been something
for Alain to remember for the rest of his life.

"Bring our horses," Simon said. "We can go riding in the country after
the council is over." Alain's downcast face brightened at that. Simon
knew that Alain, born and reared in a country castle, hated being cooped
up in town.

Simon turned away, feeling dread at having to go into the papal court
alone.

* * * * *

The great hall of the pope's palace was long, high, narrow, and shadowy.
Even though it was a sunny day outside, the small windows of white glass
on both sides of the room admitted insufficient light, and had to be
supplemented by a double row of three-tiered chandeliers, each bearing
dozens of candles. The pope could have saved himself the cost of a great
many candles, Simon thought, if he had built his great hall in the new
style, like the king's palace in Paris, with buttresses that allowed for
much larger windows.

But this was Italy, he reminded himself, where there was war in the city
streets, even war against the pope. Large glass windows would offer poor
protection. The King of France did not hav