The door leading from Cardinal Ugolini's private cabinet to the solar
swung back, and David came in. As always when she first caught sight of
David, Sophia felt her heart give a little jongleur's somersault. She
loved the look of his hard eyes with their suggestion of weariness at
having seen too much.
But now those eyes were turned toward her, and they were narrowed
angrily.
"Why were you rude to him?"
His harsh tone, when she was so pleased to see him, hurt her. She had no
ready answer for him. To give herself time to think, she walked to the
small chair Simon had occupied and sat down in it.
Cardinal Ugolini, sitting at his carved oak table, spoke up.
"Sophia put him in his place by demonstrating to him that she could
speak his language better than he could speak Italian, David. There is
no end to the arroganzia of these French."
David was still looking at Sophia. The midday light streaming through
the white panes of glass threw sharp shadows under his cheekbones,
giving him the gaunt look of a desert saint.
_God's breath, how I would like to paint his picture. At least I could
have that much of him._
"Do you think I wanted you to meet him so that you could teach him
better manners?" David demanded.
"Of course not," she said, "but you do not understand men."
David's laugh was as harsh as the planes of his face.
"Oh, yes," Sophia went on impatiently, "you have always lived with men,
and you lead men and fight against men. But you do not understand how
Christian men, especially Frenchmen and Italians, feel about women. You
know nothing, for example, of l'amour courtois."
"Yes," said Ugolini. "The head of every young French nobleman is full of
two things, honor and l'amour courtois."
David looked from Ugolini to Sophia and back again. "What is this
l'amour courtois?" he demanded. "I should know about it. Why have you
not told me?"
Ugolini lifted his shoulders in a gesture that reminded Sophia of a
shopkeeper on the Mese.
"My dear fellow, we cannot guess where the gaps are in your knowledge of
the Christian world. That is why it is so dangerous for you to go about
in public."
David held out his hands in appeal.
"You have seen me testify before the pope himself. How can you still be
afraid?" He curled his fingers in toward himself, inviting Ugolini to go
on. "Tell me about courtly love."
_How graceful his gestures are._
"It was begun many years ago by a number of noble ladies of France, and
especially Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who led an absolutely scandalous
life," Ugolini said. "She married the King of France, accompanied him on
crusade. Costumed as an Amazon, rode bare-breasted in Jerusalem.
Jerusalem! Divorced the King of France, married the King of England. Had
lovers uncounted besides."
_If I had been born into the nobility, I might have been a woman like
that_, Sophia thought wistfully.
David shook his head as if buzzing flies circled it. "But what has this
to do with Simon de Gobignon?"
"As His Excellency said, this Simon comes out of a world shaped by
courtly love," Sophia answered. "There are many strict rules about how
men and ladies should behave toward one another. One of the most
important is that the woman rules the man."
David smiled thinly. She had rarely seen a full open smile on his face,
but she remembered what a glorious sight it had been and wished he would
smile that way now.
"So, by scorning the way he spoke Italian, you believe you are making
yourself more attractive to him?"
"Far better than I would by letting him put his foot on my neck, the way
your harem women do."
"You know nothing about our women." But his eyes were crinkled with
laughter. "Less than I do about your courtly lovers. And what do you
think of _my_ Italian?"
"Better than his," she said, and was rewarded with a broader smile.
She felt a warmth inside as if her heart were melting. Trained from
childhood to hide her feelings, she turned her gaze toward the wall
paintings of the nude Adam and Eve.
A loud knock shook the outer door of the solar. At Ugolini's summons the
door swung inward. Sophia briefly saw the tops of the sun-dappled palm
and lemon trees in the inner court, beyond the arches and columns of the
galleria. Then the door closed again behind Lorenzo, Scipio at his side.
He carried a small parchment scroll in his hand.
"I met the Count de Gobignon at the entry way just now," he said. "Three
days ago I was bringing men back from Castel Viscardo, and I encountered
him, not knowing then who he was, on the road."
David muttered something in the Saracen tongue. It could have been a
curse or a prayer. But before he could speak, Ugolini's fist struck the
desk.
"He saw you bringing bravos to Orvieto?" he cried at Lorenzo. "You will
get us all killed. I see it now. De Gobignon did not come here to
persuade me to change my mind about the Tartars. He came here to spy on
us." His voice was shrill with fear.
Scipio growled at the cardinal, and Lorenzo slapped him sharply on the
head, then on the rump. The dog fell silent at once and trotted off to
the corner of the room farthest from Lorenzo. Ugolini and David both
eyed the animal with distaste.
"Perhaps the count should be killed, then," said David, "before he can
use against us what he has learned."
_Oh, no, please don't kill him!_
Sophia felt an urge to cry out, to do something to protect Simon. And
with that protective feeling she saw him again--the glossy, dark brown
hair that hung in waves almost to his shoulders--the startling blue eyes
in an angular, intelligent face. The tall, slender body.
And that name--Simon. Was there an omen of some sort in that? Did not
this Simon even look somewhat like her painting of Saint Simon Stylites,
carried with her all the way from Constantinople? As the saint might
have looked when he was a young man?
As Sophia Orfali meeting the Count de Gobignon, she had felt almost half
in love with Simon.
"How can you talk of killing him?" Ugolini cried, his voice almost
cracking. "The French cardinals and their men-at-arms would tear the
city apart. It might be enough to bring Charles d'Anjou or King Louis
himself down here with an army. Sooner or later they would trace it back
to us. And then, if you want to know your fate"--his finger moved in
turn from David to Lorenzo to Sophia--"go see what they do in the Piazza
del Cattedrale to that poor wretch this count captured."
Sophia felt a sickening, falling sensation in her stomach at this
reminder of the danger she was in. Usually she managed to keep calm by
refusing to think about what would happen if she were caught. She cursed
Ugolini for taking her defenses by surprise.
Lorenzo whirled suddenly on Ugolini. "Get hold of yourself, Cardinal.
How can a man think, with you shrieking away like a crazy old nonna?"
_Good for you, Lorenzo_, she thought.
"I am a prince of the Roman Catholic Church," Ugolini shouted. "You will
show respect!"
Unabashed, Lorenzo turned to David. "Despite his hysterics, I do think
the cardinal is right. If de Gobignon were murdered, the city would be
in an uproar. We could not go on with our work."
"Dear God, why did You send these people into my life?" Ugolini groaned.
Lorenzo offered the scroll in his hand to David. "This prince of the
Church has been making such a commotion, I nearly forgot this. A man
with a clerical tonsure brought it to the door just after the young
count left."
David's dagger seemed to leap into his hand. The man could move so fast,
Sophia thought. He cut the black ribbon tying the scroll and slipped the
dagger back into its scabbard. He unrolled the parchment and studied it
with a frown.
"This is in Latin," he said, handing the scroll to Ugolini.
Red-faced and breathing heavily, Ugolini took the scroll and read it,
moving his finger along the lines. He shut his eyes as if in pain.
Whatever this message was, thought Sophia, it was upsetting him still
more.
Ugolini looked up with fear-haunted eyes. "It is from Fra Tomasso
d'Aquino. He invites you to visit him at the convent of the Dominicans.
He says he wants to hear more about your travels."
David nodded. "Excellent. I have been wanting to find a way to meet
privately with him."
Ugolini threw the paper to the floor and shook both fists. "Mother of
God! Do you not understand that this is a trap? The Dominicans are in
charge of the Inquisition. They are called the domini canes, the hounds
of the Lord. They can _smell_ heresy."