convince him that I had done the right thing in dismissing you."
He sounded in his own ears as if he were apologizing. He reminded
himself firmly that the scoundrel had no right to an apology.

"You convinced him, all right." Sordello's manner was becoming less
humble by the moment.

_He is either going to attack me or--worse--ask for his position back. I
must not be soft with him._

"Once a man as well known as the Count d'Anjou has expelled you from his
service, you can't find a position anywhere in France or Italy," said
Sordello. "Not if your only skills are fighting and singing. I sold my
horse in Milan. I walked from there on. I ran out of money in Pisa. I
starved and slept in ditches to get here."

"And stole here and there, too, I'll wager," said Simon, determined to
be hard with Sordello. "Well, here you are, and why have you come?" He
knew the answer perfectly well, and was determined, no matter how the
troubadour tried to play on his sympathies, to send him on his way. Even
if he had wanted to take Sordello back into his service--and he most
definitely did not--the Armenians and the Tartars would never permit his
presence among them. At any rate, regardless of what Sordello claimed,
he would not starve. He could sing for his supper in inns. And Italy's
street-warring families and factions could always use a dagger as quick
as Sordello's.

"I could throw my lot in with the Ghibellini, Your Signory, but their
prospects are poor," said Sordello, as if aware of Simon's thoughts.
"The day is coming when all of Italy will be in the power of the Count
d'Anjou. I want to get back into his good graces, and the only way I can
do that is through you, Your Signory. If you take me back, he will take
me back."

_David of Trebizond's servant, Giancarlo! Just today, was I not wishing
I could put someone in the enemy camp?_

Simon stood staring into Sordello's eyes, deliberately making him wait
for an answer. The troubadour's eyelids wrinkled down to slits, but he
held Simon's gaze.

"I was going to tell you I had nothing for you." Simon saw Sordello's
face brighten at the hint that Simon would offer him something. "But
there is a way you can serve me."

Sordello began to smile.

"It does involve throwing your lot in with the Ghibellini," Simon said,
"but you will be serving me and, through me, Count Charles. Does that
interest you?"

Sordello dropped to his knees, seized Simon's hand, and kissed it with
rough