"They _tried_ to do it," said Louis, "and that is one reason that they
and the popes are such enemies. But I do it for the same reason I allow
you to go to Italy, Charles. To prevent a greater calamity and to
accomplish a greater good."
"And who will your choice for pope be, brother?"
Louis stood up. "I do not want to compromise myself even more by letting
that be known. I will write the name in my letter, and the letter will
be sealed."
He stood up. "If you defeat Manfred, may God have mercy on you, Charles.
You will be a king in your own right, and you will know what it is to
have to make decisions like this."
Simon felt sure that making royal decisions would never be the agony for
Charles that it was for Louis.
Charles stood up, too, then dropped to his knee and pressed his forehead
against his brother's pale hand. "God bless you, Louis. I promise you,
this is one decision you will always be happy to have made."
_I will always be happy he made it_, Simon thought.
* * * * *
Later, as they walked together through the gray stone halls of the
bishop of Avignon's palace, Charles struck Simon on the shoulder. The
blow threw Simon off stride, reminding him how strong Charles was.
"You did it, boy, you tipped the balance for me when you pointed out
what might happen if the pope dies," Charles said with a grin. "I was
quite angry with you until then."
"I had a feeling you were, uncle," he said.
Charles's nail-studded boots clicked on the stone floor of the corridor.
"Have you forgotten that if it were not for me, you would still be
growing cobwebs at Gobignon?"
"No, uncle, I have not forgotten."
"Then why did you take the pope's letter to my brother without telling
me about it?"
Simon felt a dull heat in his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind he
had always known that Uncle Charles would want to be told first about
any messages passing between the pope and the king. But, feeling it
would be wrong, Simon had pretended to himself that he knew no such
thing.
"It was my duty to take it promptly to the king," said Simon, looking
straight ahead.
Charles suddenly stopped walking. "Simon," he said, forcing Simon to
stop, turn, and look at him.
"Simon, do not let your idea of duty make you forget your loyalty to me.
I helped raise you as a boy. I gave you this opportunity to bring honor
to your house. I will be offering you even greater opportunities."
"I have not forgotten, uncle," Simon said again.
"I do not suppose you know how to unseal and reseal a royal document?"
Simon felt his blood heat with anger.
"No, uncle." He did not feel strong enough to denounce Charles, but he
tried to put disapproval into his voice. "I have never heard of anyone
doing such a thing."
"Pas mal. Too bad." Charles's round eyes were heavy-lidded with
contempt. "Well, I must leave at once to begin squeezing the money for
this campaign out of my subjects. Especially since I have given up my
claim to Provence. I cannot wait around to see who my brother thinks
should be pope. I am sure he will make a good choice."
"I am sure he will," said Simon frostily.
_I pray God it is not de Verceuil himself._
Again the heavy blow on his shoulder, both comradely and threatening.
"Well, then. In the future when you have important news, make sure I am
the first one to hear it."
Simon felt hotter still. Uncle Charles was supposedly helping him win
back his honor, and yet was proposing that he betray the king's trust.
He had admired Uncle Charles all his life because he seemed to be
everything a great baron should--commanding, strong, warlike,
victorious, loyal to the king, the Church, and the pope. But he had
always had the uneasy feeling that Charles d'Anjou was not a _good_ man
in the sense that King Louis was. And he had always kept in the back of
his mind his mother's warning, _He uses people_. He had felt that unease
strongly over a year ago, the day Charles asked him to lead the Tartars'
military escort. Now he knew there was good reason for that uneasiness.
"Yes, uncle." Simon had no intention of obeying, but since Charles had
no right to ask such a thing, there was no harm in misleading him. After
a year in Italy and all he had been through, Simon found he feared his
Uncle Charles less than he had. And trusted him less.
And now, he thought, it would be back to Italy. Back to see his efforts
bear fruit, as the alliance of Christians and Tartars became a reality.
Perhaps he would escort the Tartars to France, to King Louis, so they
could draw up their war plans together.
But, best of all, he would seek out Sophia in Perugia. He would propose
marriage to her again. Now she would believe him, now that she'd had
time to think about everything he had said to her. Sophia. Seeing her in
his mind, he felt as if he walked among the angels.