me I needed
to do something needful--get the story of my journey among the Tartars
written before it is lost in my failing memory. A good thing I did not
land on my head."

Despite the pain he felt at Friar Mathieu's injuries, Simon had to smile
at the old Franciscan's little joke. And indeed, he might look small and
fragile huddled in his chair, but he was showing energy and zest for
life. He was pulling through.

"And behold," Friar Mathieu went on, lifting his bandaged right arm, "I
myself am exempted from writing. Friar Giuseppe must do the work while I
sit here and explore my memory. And when I grow tired of even that
little bit of work, Friar Giuseppe reads to me from the newly arrived
manuscript on mathematics, called _De Computo Naturali_, by our gifted
brother Friar Bacon of Oxford. I could almost be grateful to that
Assassin."

Simon stood awkwardly, looking unhappily down at him, till Friar Mathieu
motioned him to sit on the ground beside him. To make room for himself,
Simon moved a pair of crutches out of the way. It was worrisome that so
soon--only a few weeks after the fall that had almost killed him--Friar
Mathieu had started hobbling about on crutches and had begun dictating,
sitting painfully upright, to Friar Giuseppe. Even though one leg was
certainly broken and there were probably a dozen other cracks in his
arms and ribs, Friar Mathieu insisted that he was more likely to die if
he remained in bed than if he was up and moving about.

"You are looking well today, Father." He had to admit it, even though
the old priest was not taking proper care of himself.

"I am lucky this happened to me in the spring," said Friar Mathieu. "The
sun and air help me mend. But I fear you will not see my complete
recovery, since you will have to leave Orvieto shortly."

"Leave? Why, Father? Has something gone wrong?" His first thought, as
always, was for the safety of the Tartars. Ever since that terrible
night in April, he dreaded leaving them out of his sight.

Instead of answering, Friar Mathieu asked Friar Giuseppe for privacy.
The young priest bowed deeply and touched the old man's hand reverently
before gathering up his writing materials and turning to go.

"You have not heard, then? A courier brought the news to the pope's
palace last night. All through the north, the Ghibellini are on the
move. Siena, it seems, has been quietly raising an army to send against
Orvieto. And the Ghibellino party has taken p