n thought. It was
unmilitary. Besides, it irritated him and added to the tension of this
endless waiting.

He took a step back and shouted, "Silencio!" The archers looked up, and
he saw more surprise and annoyance than respect in their faces. Some
eyed him expectantly, as if they thought him about to make a speech. He
glared at the archers for what he felt was a suitable interval, then
turned away and walked out to the edge of the jetty, his thumbs hooked
in his sword belt. He ignored the muttering that arose the moment he
turned his back.

"Scusi, Your Signory," said a rasping voice at his elbow. Simon turned.

Andrea Sordello, capitano of the archers, smiled broadly at him,
revealing a gap where one of his eye teeth should have been. The bridge
of his nose was smashed flat.

"What is it, Sordello?" The capitano had met him in Venice with a letter
of recommendation from Count Charles d'Anjou, brother of King Louis of
France, but a not-quite-hidden insolence in the manner of this bravo
made Simon uneasy.

"If Your Signory wishes to command the crossbowmen, perhaps it would be
better to transmit your orders through me. The men do not understand why
you silenced them just now. They are not used to being told to stand
like statues for no reason."

_And you would like to make yourself popular with them by disputing my
order, would you not?_

"Tell them they have entered the service of the kingdom of France," he
told Sordello. "It is customary for French soldiers to maintain a
military bearing and discipline."

"Forgive me, Your Signory, but that may offend them."

"It is not my duty to tell them what they want to hear but what they
_must_ hear," said Simon. _Rather well put_, he thought to himself.

"Si, Your Signory." Sordello walked away. He had a slight limp, Simon
noticed. The man had certainly been battered. Even so, Uncle Charles's
letter said he was a fine troubadour. Or trovatore, as they called them
in Italy.

"Monseigneur!" A shout broke in on his thoughts. Alain de Pirenne, his
closest friend among the six Gobignon knights he had brought with him,
was pointing out at the harbor. The two rows of oars on either side of
the long-delayed galley were in motion. Even at this distance Simon
could hear the drumbeat and the overseer calling count. Simon had heard
songs comparing the oars of galleys to the wings of birds, and he could
see the resemblance as the rows of oars, looking delicate as feathers
from