Fat gray clouds hung low over the Umbrian hills, and Sophia thought she
heard thunder rumbling in the west. As Simon's message had promised, he
was waiting for her by the shrine of the Virgin on the road leading
north from Orvieto. But what was he doing here, she wondered, with spare
horses and a loaded baggage mule?
He waved to her and dismounted, and his scudiero--the same man who had
yesterday delivered Simon's note to her--took charge of the beasts.
Clearly Simon was beginning a journey. He had not simply come out here
to meet her. But he would not go anywhere far with no more company than
one squire. And how could he leave the Tartars when hardly two months
ago he had nearly lost his life protecting them?
Trying to puzzle out what was afoot, she rode with Ugolini's man
Riccardo beside her to the shed-covered shrine where a blue-robed Mary
held a smiling baby Jesus. Riccardo helped her down from her horse and
Simon came forward.
She took Simon's arm, and he led her into the pine forest beside the
road. She studied his face, trying to guess what thoughts were passing
behind his somber blue eyes.
As soon as they were out of sight of their companions, she asked him,
"Are you going to Perugia ahead of the pope?"
He did not answer her at once, so she kept her gaze on him.
Sophia enjoyed looking at Simon as she enjoyed looking at beautiful
icons, jewels, sculptures. Yet his body did not have the fine
proportions she had seen in statues made by Greeks of old. He was very
tall and slender, all sharp lines pointing to heaven. His head, framed
by long dark brown hair, was narrow, the nose and chin angular. His
eyes, set in deep hollows, were bright with candor and intelligence,
though at times she saw in them a haunted look.
She even found his barbaric Frankish garb pleasing. From Simon's narrow
shoulders hung a cloak of rich crimson silk, and he wore a soft maroon
cap adorned with a blood-red feather. The purple surcoat that extended
below his knees sparkled with dozens of embroidered repetitions of a
design of three gold crowns. In Constantinople only the Basileus and his
consort were permitted to wear purple. From Simon's black leather belt,
decorated with silver plates, hung a curving Saracen sword. Precious
stones twinkled in its handle.
Now that she considered it, she recalled that she had always seen Simon
in more subdued colors.
_He dressed this way to please me_, she thought fondly.
He looked away from her, but there was nowhere for him to look. They
were walled in on all sides by a thick growth of pines. The lower trunks
of the trees were straight and clean, like the poles of a palisade,
their branches, which started higher than she could reach, putting out
the bright green needles of new summer growth. Somewhere far above them
was the cloudy, rain-heavy sky, but here they were enveloped in deep
shadow under interlocked pine branches. The forest was so dark and
soundless that she began to feel a little frightened. Simon and she were
enemies, after all, even though she hoped he would never realize it. She
often forgot it herself, when she was with him, liking him as much as
she did.
"I am not going to Perugia," he said.
"Did you have me ride all the way out here to tell me no more than
that?" she demanded.
"I wanted to tell you that I love you," he said hoarsely. He turned
toward her, and his face glowed with adoration.
_Oh, the boy! The dear, beautiful boy! He loves me, and he means it with
every fiber of his being._
She felt a wave of warmth, not love but surely a kindliness, going out
from her to him. He turned and took her shoulders in his big hands. She
liked the feel of his hands on her. If only she could forget about
David, she could happily give herself to him.
But she _was_ acting for David, and she was here to find out what this
Frank was planning. She must make some guesses, and then see if she
could get him to confirm them. Such as, where was he going, and why was
he leaving the Tartars behind?
She had to tilt her head back to look into his troubled face. "Come, let
us sit down," she said. She took his hand and led him to a tree whose
trunk was wide enough to let them rest their backs against it. Her silk
skirt formed a dark green semicircle around her, bordered by an
embroidered orange and red design of flowers.
There was a grace in the way he sat down, despite his long arms and
legs. With a practiced movement he swept his sword back behind him, out
of his way.
"Where were David of Trebizond and Giancarlo the night of the attack on
the Monaldeschi palace?" he asked suddenly. She went cold. Did he
suspect them, and her too? Had d'Ucello told him of his unsuccessful
effort to see David and Lorenzo that very night?
"They had both left the city," she said. "They went to Perugia and
Assisi. David wished to see the wonder-working body of San Francesco at
Assisi."
"I thought he was interested in silk, not saints." Simon glowered at
her.
She made herself laugh. "Surely you do not think David the merchant was
in the streets, fighting, the night the Monaldeschi were attacked?"
She heard a bell ring somewhere in the distance. Some little hillside
church ringing out the hour of Tierce. The chiming sounded clear and
peaceful.
_Dear God, sometimes I wish I could have become a nun._
Simon sighed and took her hand gently and held it resting on his thigh.
"Why does it have to be Cardinal Ugolini who is your uncle?"
"If not for my Uncle Adelberto I would not be here and we would never
have met," she said.
"You are so beautiful," he said.
The adoration in his eyes was like a dagger in her heart. She wanted so
much for it to be for her, and it was for a woman who did not exist.
_I am so far from what he thinks I am. Michael and Manfred treated me
like a whore. David sends me to seduce this man who is his enemy._
And that, she thought, was why she so much hated to see what had
happened to Rachel, and to know that David had done it and that she
herself had a hand in it.
"You will never come back to Orvieto, will you?" she said
disconsolately.
His grip on her hand tightened. "No. That is why I wanted to meet you
today. Tell me--if your uncle goes to Perugia to follow the pope, will
you go with him?"
She let her body lean sideways till she was pressed against him. "Oh, I
am sure my uncle will go. He is the cardinal camerlengo, after all. As
for me, I would go if I thought I would see you there."