Simon, who had been asking questions in the week they had been there,
said, "They come from Constantinople. About sixty years ago the
Venetians paid an army of French crusaders--our forefathers--to turn
aside from the Holy Land and conquer Constantinople instead. The
Venetians took those horses and set them here to proclaim their
triumph."
"Diverting a crusade is surely a great sin," said Alain. "And theft is
theft. But none of my forefathers had anything to do with the foul deed
you tell of."
"No, nor mine," said Simon. "The French knights who conquered
Constantinople were our forefathers only in a manner of speaking."
_But my predecessor, Count Amalric de Gobignon, did fouler things by
far. As Alain well knows, though he is too good a friend to mention
it._
"Still, the good taste of the Venetians is admirable," Simon said aloud,
still gazing at the horses.
"For all I know, this could be the richest city in the world," said
Alain, missing the point. "But what matter, Simon, if its riches are
stolen goods?"
"Venice is by no means the richest city in the world, Messire," someone
beside them said.
Startled, Simon turned to see Friar Mathieu, who had fallen into step
with them, his eyes warm and friendly. Simon wanted to throw his arms
around the old man and hug him.
"There are cities in the Far East so big and so rich they make Venice
look like a fishing village," Friar Mathieu went on, his long white
beard blowing gently in the breeze from the waterfront.
"People love to tell wild stories about the East," said Alain
skeptically. "I've heard of cities of solid gold, birds as big as an
elephant, and so on and on."
_But this man has been there!_ Simon wanted to shout. Much though he
liked Alain, Simon was discovering in his friend a narrowness that made
him a frustrating traveling companion. With Alain here, the conversation
with Friar Mathieu would plod, and Simon wanted it to gallop.
"Sire Alain," he said, "I fear our hired men-at-arms may get into
trouble drinking, fighting, and wenching unless someone keeps a sharp
eye on them. Will you see to them, please?"
De Pirenne held up a broad hand. "I will slap them down for you, if need
be, Monseigneur." Now that a third party was present, he addressed Simon
formally.
"Travel is said to open a man's mind," said Friar Mathieu when de
Pirenne was gone. "But some minds are like country châteaus. Let
anything strange approach, and the doors and windows slam shut."
He took Simon's arm and steered him over the flagstones of the piazza
toward the cathedral. The many-columned façade of pink, white, and green
marble, sculptures, and mosaics filling the spaces between them took
Simon's breath away. There was an opulence to the five great domes that
seemed to Simon to speak of the storied wealth of the East. They were so
different from the pointed spires of the cathedrals newly built in
France.
"I am very grateful to you, Simon, for trying so hard to protect us
today," Friar Mathieu said. "The doge's discourtesy to you was the
worst kind of rudeness, the rudeness of one who thinks himself more
refined than all others."
Simon felt better, but he wondered if the friar was speaking so only out
of kindness to him.
"It is good of you to reassure me," he said, "but the doge seems to be
guarding the ambassadors well enough."
"All show," said Friar Mathieu. "The Venetians are not alert enough. The
doge has no idea that we are in any danger. Nor does he seem to care. I
believe he has not decided whether he has anything to gain from an
alliance between Christians and Tartars. After all, the Venetians trade
quite happily with the Muslims these days."