Feeling as if he would burst into flames with anger, Simon stood under a
bright blue sky dappled with high white clouds on a wooden quay at
Livorno, two weeks after leaving Orvieto. The masts of small boats lined
the waterfront like a forest of tree trunks stripped of their leaves.
_If I were traveling with a proper entourage, a few knights and a troop
of archers, by God's wounds they'd carry me. These shipmasters are too
damned independent._
One large ship, anchored midway between the shore and the arm of the
harbor, looked to Simon like his last chance. Leaving Thierry on the
quay, he dropped a silver denaro into the callused palm of a man with a
dinghy and had himself rowed out to the big ship.
From what he knew of ships, this was a middle-size buss, sitting high in
the water, with rounded prow and stern. The name _Constanza_ was painted
on the stern. Human muscle moved it; Simon counted ten oarholes on each
side.
As he trod the catwalk from the prow of the ship to the stern castle
where the captain stood, Simon saw no one sitting at the oars and no
chains. So the ship must be rowed by its crew, free mariners. A square
sail, furled at present, mounted on a single mast amidships would help
the rowers when the wind was right.
The captain, whose bald scalp was brown as well-tanned leather, bowed
deeply when Simon presented himself. He was half Simon's height, twice
as broad, and all muscle. He smiled, showing a full set of bright white
teeth when Simon explained that he needed passage to Marseilles.
"Bon seigner, you must understand that it is not a simple matter to
engage a ship of this size to carry you wherever you wish to go." The
language the captain spoke was neither French nor Italian. Simon
recognized it at once, and he felt a little inner leap, because it was
the tongue his parents spoke, the Langue d'Oc, the speech of Aquitaine,
Toulouse, and Provence.
"Of course I understand that," Simon replied in the same tongue. "But if
you--"
"Bon seigner," the captain interrupted, "there are no words to describe
how honored I would be to carry you. And no words to describe my grief
that I cannot take you." That could be taken two ways, Simon thought.
"I am prepared to pay prodigiously, Captain," said Simon with sinking
heart.
If the captain noticed that Simon was speaking in his own tongue, he did
not remark on it. "I do not own this ship. That is the point, you see,
bon seigner. The owners have instructed me to wait here for a cargo of
olive oil, which I must take to Cyprus. So I cannot leave now, and when
I do leave, I must sail away from France."
The captain was respectful enough, but Simon sensed a hidden glee in his
refusal.
"But you have not heard how much I will offer you," he said, desperate.
The bald man shut his eyes as if in pain. "It does not matter. Merce vos
quier, forgive me, but I have a duty to those who have entrusted this
ship to me. Surely there must be some other captain in this harbor who
will let you make him wealthy."
"I have been to every other captain," said Simon. "All have refused me
for one reason or another. Yours is the only ship left."
The captain of the _Constanza_ spread his hands. "Ah, well, Pisa is only
a little farther north, and there are many more ships docked at its
quays along the Arno. You are bound to find one that will carry you. Or,
failing that, this is the best time of the year to make the journey to
France overland. The roads are good."
Simon knew that Pisa had been a Ghibellino city for generations. Word of
his coming might even have reached enemies in Pisa. He was sure that he
and Thierry had been followed along the road they had taken up the
Tyrrhenean seacoast. The Pisans would be only too glad to put an end to
his mission, and quite possibly to him. And following the endlessly
winding coastal road--which would require him to pass dangerously close
to Pisa--it would take him a month or more to get to French territory.
He decided that this captain meant him nothing but ill. He broke off
abruptly and made his way back to the rowboat.
A shout of laughter came floating across the water from the _Constanza_
as the boatman rowed him back, putting Simon in an even fouler mood.
Looking toward shore, he saw a man in a short, dark cape standing on the
dock with Thierry.
The boat tied up at a piling, and Simon gave the rower a second denaro
and climbed up a short ladder to the quay. With a jolt of anger he
recognized the man talking to Thierry as Sordello.
_What the devil is he doing here?_
Instantly Sordello was kneeling at Simon's feet, clutching at his hand
and kissing it and weeping copiously.
"I followed you all the way from Orvieto, Your Signory. I did not make
myself known to you before this because I feared you would send me
away."
"Get up," said Simon impatiently. "We thought we were being followed by
enemies. We took unnecessary precautions, thanks to you." This utterly
unwelcome encounter with Sordello, added to the impossibility of finding
a ship, filled him with an almost uncontrollable rage.
"Your Signory, on the roads of Italy there are no unnecessary
precautions." The man's expression shifted in the blink of an eye from
fawning tears to a cocksure grin showing his missing teeth.
"What are you doing here?" Simon demanded. "I did not give you leave to
stop watching Cardinal Ugolini's household."
"Circumstances gave me leave, Your Signory, as I was just explaining to
my good friend Thierry here." Thierry looked startled at being so
described. "The woman Ana who carried my reports to you betrayed me. She
told Giancarlo, the henchman of the merchant from Trebizond, that I was
in your service. That Giancarlo is the sort who opens a second mouth in
your throat before you can explain yourself with the first one."
"Does anyone else in Orvieto know where I am going?"
_Good God, was he lurking about when I was with Sophia?_
Sordello looked at him out of the corners of his eyes. "No one knew,
Your Signory. I had to think it out for myself. I heard you had gone to
Perugia. But, I asked myself, whyever would you do that? There is
nothing in Perugia until the pope moves there. What, then, would be
important enough to make you leave off watching over the Tartars? A
message for Count Charles, I guessed--or perhaps for your king--too
important to be carried by anyone but yourself. Then I had to decide
which road you'd take. Directly north would lead to Siena, and we have
all heard that an army of Ghibellini is gathering in Siena to attack
Orvieto. So, you must be headed for the coast. And, as we see, my
guesses all turned out right." He finished up with a broad,
self-satisfied grin.
How could a man so often foolish also be so shrewd? Simon turned and
stared out at the water of the harbor, a deeper blue than the sky. What
a nuisance this fellow was! Turning up now, when Simon had problem
enough trying to find a way to get to France. Simon momentarily saw
himself running Sordello through with his scimitar and kicking the body
into the harbor.
_And that story about Ana betraying him is almost surely a lie. She is
not at all the sort who would do such a thing. Probably he himself did
something stupid that gave him away._
Sordello broke in on his thoughts. "Thierry tells me you want to sail to
Marseilles, Your Signory." He pointed to the high-sided, round-hulled
ship that Simon had just left. "That buss you were on out there, is that
not the _Constanza_? I think I know the master--his name is Guibert. Did
you arrange passage with him?"
Grudgingly Simon told Sordello of his failure with the captain of the
big ship. Sordello grunted.
"It is not right that a man of your distinction and wealth and gentle
birth should have to go up and down the dockside begging for a ship."
Simon despised the flattery but could not help agreeing with it. His
situation was indeed embarrassing.
"It is past midday, Your Signory," Sordello continued. "Thierry tells me
you are staying at the Hare. A good inn, I know it well. You can get a
decent noonday meal there for a denier or two. Meanwhile, let me try my
luck. I warrant I will find a ship for you before you finish your last
cup of wine."
Tired, hungry, and discouraged, Simon thought: _At least it will give me
an excuse to rest._
And Sordello had not yet asked him for money or employment. That was a
relief, but Simon told himself to be ready; the begging would start soon
enough.
* * * * *
Feeling more relaxed, Simon was draining his third cup of red wine when
Sordello reappeared. Bread, cheese, and a stew of goose, onions, and
cabbage for Simon and Thierry had cost twelve denari. Simon suspected
the price had gone up when the host saw the scarlet silk cape and
gold-embroidered purple surcoat he had worn in the vain hope of
impressing the ships' captains.
"Being cheated and lied to is a normal part of traveling," he told
Thierry. "If you wish to avoid it, stay home. One must be philosophical
about it."
"Your Signory!" Simon saw Sordello's burly figure silhouetted against
the blue sky in the open doorway of the inn. He waved him in.
"Success!" Sordello sat down at their table without asking permission.
"We have passage on a large ship sailing north and west along the coast,
and stopping not just at Marseilles, but at Aigues-Mortes, whence we
can travel north through the Rhone valley." Simon noticed the "we" but
said nothing. "It takes on a cargo of woolen cloth and silk and spices
this afternoon, and it leaves tomorrow at sunup. We can board our
animals and sleep on the ship tonight."
"How much will this cost--us--Sordello?" said Simon, his improved mood
making him feel a bit like joking.
A quick glance from Sordello's bloodshot eyes showed he understood that
Simon understood. "Thirty florins, Your Signory. Oh, and I promised him
an additional forty-five florins when we get to Aigues-Mortes. That
little extra after the passage helps guarantee that you get where you
want to go."
Thierry whistled. "Seventy-five florins! We could buy five more horses
for that."
Sordello shrugged. "But more horses would not get you as far and as fast
as that ship will. And it is no more than Count Simon would have had to
pay if he had done the bargaining himself."
"Less," Simon admitted. In his desperation he had actually been thinking
of offering Guibert a flat hundred florins.
_Wait! What is happening here?_ he asked himself suddenly. When he had
first seen Sordello this morning, he had fully intended to turn him away
here in Livorno. Now he was paying his passage to France. Again he was
being taken advantage of.
He leaned forward suddenly, planting his folded arms on the table.
"But why must I take you, Sordello, eh? What further use are you to me?
Can I not save some florins if I leave you on the dock here?"
Sordello looked pained, brushing the curly gray hair back from his
forehead. "What I have just accomplished shows Your Signory how useful I
can be."
"Thus far you have nearly ruined my mission by attempting to murder an
Armenian prince--"
"That was more than a year ago, Your Signory."
"And you have failed to learn anything useful as my agent in Ugolini's
household."
"Your Signory! If not for me, you would have been totally unprepared for
the attack on the Monaldeschi palace."
Simon saw that Sordello's rough skin was reddening. His bad temper was
threatening to break through.
It was true, though, that Sordello's warning about the Filippeschi
attack by itself made up for all the man's misdeeds.
The mention of Ugolini's household brought back the pain of that
parting from Sophia. He pictured again that dizzying moment when he
almost possessed her, remembered how he had poured out all his secrets
to her. He saw again her tears and remembered his own, that he had shed
after she ran from him. The memory made him feel like weeping now.
Hoping to sound casual, Simon said, "The cardinal's niece--I believe her
name is Sophia. Did you see her before you left Orvieto?"
Sordello's discolored eyes met Simon's. "No, Your Signory. I have seen
little of her since the night of the Filippeschi uprising."
_Damn this gap-toothed brigand!_
Simon continued to pretend to be casual. He stood up and yawned. The
wine made him feel less in control of his feelings than he liked.
"Let us go and see this ship you have found for us."
"Your Signory, you have not told me whether you will take me back into
your service."