For over a year now he had been guarding the Tartars with his life, at
Charles's request. Now Charles hardly seemed concerned about them. It
was bewildering.
_And when will I see Sophia again?_ he cried inwardly.
He could simply refuse to stay in Italy a moment longer. He could just
get up right now and leave, go to Viterbo and find Sophia.
No, he could not do that. He had come to Italy to _redeem_ the name of
the house of Gobignon, not besmirch it further. What a scandal if the
king's brother were to charge that Simon de Gobignon turned his back on
him when he was in peril. What would the king and the nobles say of him
then in France? He must see this through, at least until Charles was
securely established in Rome.
But pray God Charles did not ask him to stay with him beyond that.
"You do not need to go back to the Tartars at all," Charles said. "It
seems to me that phase of things is settled. I think it would be more
important for you to go home, this summer, to Gobignon."
Simon's heart leapt with amazement and joy as the words sank in. "Yes!
Yes--I want to--very much," he blurted out. "I want that more than
anything else."
_If I can take Sophia with me._
Charles came around the table and laid a heavy hand on Simon's shoulder.
Simon, still seated, had to twist his neck to look up at him.
"Do you remember when we first spoke of your guarding the Tartars I
promised even greater opportunities for glory? I said that you would
ride in triumph through fallen cities."
"Yes," said Simon after hesitating a moment. He knew where Charles was
leading this, and felt a hollow of dread growing in his stomach.
Charles bent down, bringing his face close to Simon's, his hand still
pressing on Simon's shoulder. The Count of Anjou's eyes glowed green in
the candlelight, and Simon felt paralyzed by his gaze, as if Charles
were a basilisk.
"Simon de Gobignon," Charles said solemnly. "I invite you to join me in
the conquest of Sicily, and to share with me in the spoils. I ask you to
bring the army of Gobignon to this war."
_God's blood, protect me!_
"I cannot make my vassals come here," Simon ventured. His voice sounded
weak in his ears.
Charles's face came closer still.
"_Make_ them come? They will beg you to _let_ them come. This will be
the greatest war since you were a child."
Simon gathered his thoughts. "Their obligations to me are limited. Many
owe me only thirty days' service. Some are not required to serve outside
Gobignon boundaries, need only fight if we are invaded."
"Your father brought four hundred knights and two thousand men-at-arms
with him on the crusade my brother and I led into Egypt."
_Yes, and lost them all._
"But that was a crusade, and the ordinary obligations did not apply,"
Simon said.
"This will be a crusade. The pope is going to declare Manfred an
infidel, an enemy of the Church, and proclaim a crusade against him. But
this will not be like crusading in Outremer, where there is nothing to
be gained but sand and palm trees and--spiritual benefits." Again Simon
heard that hint of mockery in Charles's voice. "Southern Italy and
Sicily are the wealthiest lands in Europe. Riches for everybody! Just go
back and tell your seigneurs and knights about that. They will plead
with you to lead them hither." He smiled sarcastically. "I know what a
dedicated farmer you are. So get the harvest in--and then bring your
army south for the real harvest. The prospect of wintering in Italy
instead of in the north should delight them."
In all his life, Simon thought, he had never wanted anything less than
to lead the knights and men of Gobignon to Charles's war. He thought of
Gobignon, so far away in the northeast corner of France. What business
did his people have in Italy? Inevitably, many Gobignon men would die,
and how would Simon face their families?
But, sadly, he realized Charles was right in his prediction. Simon could
think of dozens of young barons and knights in the Gobignon domain who
would ride singing to a war waged for glory and riches.
He chose his words carefully, not wanting to offend Charles. "This
question of the crown of Sicily--it does not touch Gobignon in any way
that I can see. It would not be right for me to lead my people to war
over it."
Surprisingly, Charles smiled. "I understand, Simon." He patted Simon's
back. He straightened up and strode back to the other side of the table
and sat again.
"You do see my point, uncle?" Simon said nervously.
Charles nodded, still smiling. "Why, indeed, should the Count de
Gobignon come to the aid of the Count d'Anjou? I am glad to see a bit of
shrewdness in you. It means you are growing up. But I will answer you in
one word. Apulia."