"Ecco! The residence of Cardinal Paulus de Verceuil," said Sordello with
a flourish of his hand. The narrow Viterbo street on which Simon,
Sordello, and Thierry had been riding opened out suddenly, and they were
facing a huge cylinder built of small stones, blackened with age. Simon
felt his mouth fall open in wonder, and he quickly snapped it shut. He
would not let anything de Verceuil might do seem to impress him.
They rode across a drawbridge over a moat full of water that smelled of
rotting things, its surface coated with a green slime.
"It looks a bit like Castel Sant' Angelo in Rome," Simon remarked.
"It was a pagan temple in ancient times," said Sordello.
After passing through the gatehouse, they found themselves in a
stone-paved semicircular courtyard. The palace was built against the
rear half of the old Roman inner wall and towered above it.
"No more lodging with some noble family or other," said Sordello
proudly. "Now our party has a residence of its own."
_I would rather have almost anyone but de Verceuil as my host._
Simon hoped he need stay here for only a short time. Just long enough to
find Sophia, overcome her reservations about marrying him, and be off to
Gobignon. His heart beat harder as he thought of seeing her again after
those lonely, miserable months in Rome.
Thierry took their horses to be stabled, while Sordello ushered Simon
through a cavernous hall lit by a few small windows near the ceiling.
Two men-at-arms Simon recognized as part of his troop of Venetian
crossbowmen snapped to attention just inside the door, and after a
frantic scramble through his memory Simon managed to greet them by name.
To Sordello Simon said, "I thank you for meeting Thierry and me at the
city gate and guiding us here." They crossed the entrance hall. "After a
long ride, one does not want to have to find one's way around a strange
city."
Sordello smiled smugly in acknowledgment. "Little enough for me to do,
Your Signory, for one who has done so much for me. Come, I'll show you
to the room His Eminence has set aside for you."
He led Simon up a great flight of marble stairs from ground level to the
first floor of the mansion.
"I am capitano of the crossbow troop again," Sordello said suddenly,
halfway up the stairs.
"Who decided that?" said Simon irritably. "I appointed Peppino capitano
after Teodoro was killed."
Sordello's bloodshot eyes caught Simon's. "Peppino was most courteous
about yielding to me when I rejoined the Tartar ambassadors' guards.
After all, I am senior to him." They came to the top of the marble
stairs, and he held out a hand to indicate stone steps leading to the
second floor.
_Damn!_ Simon had removed Sordello from his position for nearly killing
the Armenian prince, and it was pure insubordination for the fellow to
bully his way back into it in Simon's absence and without his consent.
It was typical of Sordello's infuriating combination of guile and gall.
Simon reproached himself for not leaving clear orders on who was to lead
the crossbow troop when he left Sordello with them and was off to join
Count Charles in Rome. But his head and heart had been full of Sophia
then. Discipline demanded that he depose Sordello and reinstate Peppino.
Yes, he thought, if he were intending to stay here, he would do exactly
that. But if he did it and then left again, it would probably only
provoke a duel to the death between Peppino and Sordello. Let things be.
A few weeks from now, at most, he could forget the whole damned lot of
them, Tartars and all.
But Sordello's reemergence as leader of the crossbowmen raised another
question: Would it offend the Armenians?
They came now to wooden steps leading into the shadowy upper reaches of
de Verceuil's castle. Simon looked dubiously at them.
"Trust me, Your Signory, as in any palace, the best apartments are on
the top floor."
_Trust you? When God invites Lucifer to move back into heaven._
And it was equally unlikely that de Verceuil would provide anything
truly grand for Simon. He shrugged and let Sordello climb the wooden
steps ahead of him.
"What about the Armenian prince, Hethum? Does he still want your blood?"
Sordello laughed and looked back over his shoulder. "All settled, Your
Signory. I know Viterbo, as I know most of these Umbrian hill towns, and
I entertained all the Armenians for a night and a day, at my expense.
The best taverns, the best whorehouses. Hethum and I are friends now."
One did not entertain so lavishly on the fifteen florins a month
Sordello would receive as capitano of the archers. Doubtless he had
found other ways to line his pockets.
The mention of whorehouses reminded Simon of the plight of the girl
Rachel. He must find out if Friar Mathieu had done anything to help her.
On the musty-smelling fourth floor of the cardinal's palace, Sordello
led Simon through five connected rooms. Two of them were bare of
furniture, but Simon saw rumpled beds and traveling chests in the other
three. In the last one a black-robed priest sat at a desk by a window,
writing. He frowned at Simon and Sordello as if to reprove them for
disturbing him.
"These are the good apartments?" Simon said when Sordello ushered him
into a bare chamber with a small bed in one corner and a smaller trundle
bed beside it. The window was large, but covered by wooden shutters.
Simon pushed them open to let in more light.
Sordello shrugged. "This is truly the best available, Your Signory. The
cardinal has many people in his employ, and many guests. I would not
leave those shutters open too long if I were you. Even though it is only
April, the flies and mosquitos are numerous already. A wet winter always
brings them out."
_Not worth the trouble to complain about the room. I won't be here that
long._
"Tell Friar Mathieu I am here, Sordello, and tell Thierry to have a hot
bath sent up to me."
"Yes, Your Signory. But unless you are willing to wait till midnight, I
suggest you go down to the kitchen for your bath. The cardinal's
servants are obedient to him and care not a fig for anyone else, and
your equerry will find none willing to carry a tub of hot water up four
flights of stairs."
This was too much. "Now damn your lazy buttocks, Sordello! I am paying
you out of my own purse, and you have had no work to do since I left you
in Perugia. You see that a hot bath reaches me by Vespers, or forget you
were ever in my service."
Sordello's weather-beaten cheeks flushed, but he bowed and left.
Simon leaned on the sill of his window, looking out over the tiled
rooftops of Viterbo. All the buildings he could see were built of a dark
gray stone, giving the place an ancient look even though, for all he
knew, many houses might be quite recently built. This palace Cardinal de
Verceuil had bought for himself seemed to occupy one of the highest
points. Just as Perugia had been bigger than Orvieto, so Viterbo was
bigger than Perugia. Guards in the black and gold of the local militia
paced the high city wall from one massive tower to another. About twenty
years ago this city had withstood a siege by King Manfred's father,
Emperor Frederic. That was one of the reasons, Simon had heard, that
Cardinal le Gros, now Pope Clement, had chosen it.
He heard a rhythmic thumping behind him, then a knock at his door. He
opened it to see Friar Mathieu, bent and thinner, his white beard
sparser-looking, leaning on a walking stick. They hugged each other,
Simon holding the old Franciscan gingerly.
"The safest place on this floor to talk is the loggia," said Friar
Mathieu. "We can share our news there." He bowed to the priest in the
next room and greeted him by name and was answered with a grunt.
"One of de Verceuil's large staff," said Friar Mathieu when they were
out of the priest's chamber. "It is no accident that his room is next to
yours."
"I am surprised de Verceuil lets you live here, Father."
"His Eminence would rather have me far away, but Pope Clement insists I
stay close to the Tartars. And there was a letter from King Louis saying
the same. After all, people who speak the Tartars' language are scarce
this side of the Danube. And His Eminence may dislike me, but the king
and the pope both trust me. More, perhaps, than they trust him. So the
cardinal put me in a cubbyhole near John and Philip, where I am quite
content."
They came to the stairs, where a doorway led out to the loggia. The
floor was of red tile, and the walls and columns painted a pale green.
Benches and potted trees just beginning to bud were set along the
loggia. They were facing west, overlooking the courtyard. They sat on a
bench, their faces shaded by the overhanging roof, their knees and feet
in the sunlight. Simon enjoyed the late afternoon warmth on his legs,
tired from a week's riding. He looked forward to his bath.
"I am sure Pope Clement himself will be eager to see you," said Friar
Mathieu. "I hear he has been deluging Count Charles with letters
demanding to know when he will march against Manfred."
"Count Charles does not have a big enough army yet to attack Manfred,"
said Simon, thinking how glad he was to be away from the dour, driven
count. "And it seems that Manfred would rather wait for him to make the
first move. Anjou says he will not be able to recruit more knights and
men until the pope officially gives him the crown of southern Italy and
Sicily."
"His Holiness wants Charles to come to Viterbo to be crowned. He refuses
to set foot in Rome."
"Charles is determined to be crowned by the pope in Rome. He keeps
mentioning that Charlemagne was crowned in Rome."
Friar Mathieu smiled. "So, the fate of Italy is in the hands of three
men who are each unwilling to make a move." Sunlight turned his beard to
silver. "And what are your plans? Have you returned to us for good, or
will you go back to Count Charles?"
At the thought of the prospect before him, Simon felt a warmth within
rivaling the afternoon sun. "Tell me, Father--where can I find Cardinal
Ugolini's niece, Sophia?"
Friar Mathieu's eyes seemed to sink deeper into the hollows under his
white brows. "Ugolini and Sophia are not here in Viterbo."
Simon felt as if a wintry chill had fallen on the loggia. "What? Where
have they gone?"
"They never came here. None of us, not even the pope, realized Ugolini
was gone until the day of the papal coronation, when he still had not
appeared. It was a scandal. After all, Ugolini was cardinal camerlengo
under Urban. Papa le Gros--Clement--was furious. The rumor is that
Ugolini has fled to Manfred. The pope intends to strip him of his rank
for leaving the Papal States without permission."