other fell in love while Amalric
de Gobignon was still alive. She succeeded in passing me off as the
count's son, but we three, my mother, Roland, and I, know the secret.
And my confessor. And now you."

She shook her head, bewildered. She felt no doubt that what he was
telling her was true. The pain in his face was like that of a man who
had stripped his very skin off to reveal himself to her. It tore at her
heart to see him suffering so much.

"But how could this happen, Simon?"

"It is too long a tale for today. Perhaps one day I can tell you all of
it. But do you believe me now? Truly there is no barrier of family
between you and me, Sophia. Unless you set one there, knowing that I
am--I am a bastard and an impostor. Could you think of marrying me?"

The tears she had been holding back, for an hour it seemed, burst
suddenly from her eyes, as sobs welled up in her throat. And yet, she
wanted to laugh as well, at the irony of it. To think that he was
ashamed of his pretense. If he had any idea of _her_ pretense, and
David's, he would probably kill her on the spot.

His face, coming nearer and nearer. All his finery was a red and purple
blur before her tear-filled eyes. His hands were reaching for her.

_He loves me. He really loves me. He really does want to marry me._

If he had taken that strange Saracen sword of his out and run her
through with it, he could not have hurt her more. She had been thinking
about sending David to kill him, and he had just entrusted all of
himself, his family, everything he possessed, his body and his soul, to
her.

If David went after him, this time one of them--Simon or David--would
surely die. The luck of the Monaldeschi palace encounter could not
protect both a second time.

She felt Simon's hands on her shoulders. She pulled away from him.

"Sophia!" She heard the anguish in his voice.

Tartars and Muslims were a thousand leagues away. If Christians and
Tartars were destined to join forces and destroy Islam, it would happen.
She willed herself to believe that. And if it was not destined, it would
not happen.

David and Simon were here. To say anything to David about Simon's
mission to France was to doom one man, perhaps both. It might be the man
who loved her, or it might be the man she loved. And she did not want
either to die.

"Sophia, I beg you, speak to me! Are you turning against me?"

She wiped her streaming eyes to see Simon standing before her, his arms
ha