uty,
but with a leavening of charity."

For Simon to say more would reveal too much about himself and his
family. Fuming, he bit his lip. But another objection came to him.

"We will have to take turns standing guard the whole voyage," he said.
"That captain will want to slit our throats to make sure his secret is
safe."

"We would have to stand guard anyway, Your Signory. A sea captain knows
no law but his own greed as soon as he puts out from shore. If you can
pay him seventy-five florins, that tells him you must be carrying a
great deal more money. But I have insured our safety another way. I have
told him that an old friend of mine here in Livorno knows his secret,
and if that friend does not receive a message from me in due course
assuring him of our safety, he will report Guibert to the Inquisition.
Guibert would never be able to come back to Livorno, his home base, and
he would not really be safe anywhere in Italy."

Simon shook his head angrily. "I like none of it."

"Even the greatest barons, even kings, must put up with much they do not
like," said Sordello sententiously, "if they are to get anything done."

"As you said before, Monseigneur," said Thierry in a comforting tone, "a
man must be philosophical."

"Philosophical, yes," said Simon wearily. He could, he supposed, afford
to be philosophical. If the heretic sea captain did not manage to kill
them, in three or four days he would be in France, on his way to find
King Louis. All these unsavory doings, indignities, and discomforts
would mean nothing if his mission ended in triumph.

The thought of the King's gratitude, of Uncle Charles's respect, of the
way the tale would spread among the noblesse of France, bringing him new
honor, sent a thrill of pride through him.

At last he would have proven himself.

L

The sky was iron-gray, and a cold wind, unseasonably cold for August,
blew down from the north. Daoud stood near the entrance to the courtyard
of the Palazzo Papale, facing a row of the podesta's guards, in yellow
and blue, who held back the watching crowd. A troop of mounted lancers
clattered out under the gateway arch. Then, in mule-borne litters, came
the nine cardinals who had elected to go with the pope to Perugia. Each
had his own small procession of clergy and guards. In a sedan chair
borne by six burly men rode Fra Tomasso d'Aquino, reading a small
leather-bound book. Then came a hundred mounted archers, their conical
helm