"I was wrong to pay court to the cardinal's niece." He could still feel her lips under his, still taste them, and his body tingled at the remembrance. "I am as much at fault as de Verceuil. But it was he who found that ignorant woman to replace you as interpreter, and then he went off to gamble--with David's servant, of all people--and left the Tartars alone and unprotected." Friar Mathieu shook his head. "Yes, and drinking that wine of Montefiascone. I wonder why God chose to make those particular grapes so irresistible." Simon pounded his fist into his palm. "We must confront de Verceuil, Friar Mathieu." A deep crease appeared between the thick white eyebrows. "At this hour?" Simon saw the fatigue in Mathieu's wrinkled face and felt guilty. "I am most heartily sorry for awakening you at this ungodly time of night. It was just--" "Just that you could not sleep yourself." The friar laughed. "But it is a most Godly time of night. The fact is, I would have had to get up soon to say the first part of my office. Were I living with my brother Franciscans--as I wish I were--I would be up chanting lauds with them. But I fear the cardinal will be neither willing nor able to talk to us if we go to him now." "So much damage has been done, Friar Mathieu. The contessa is furious. I could not begin to reason with her. She went on and on, talking about murderers of babies. I would not be surprised if tomorrow morning she ordered us to leave her palazzo." The old man raised a hand. "Pope Urban would not let her do that. It would be an insult to the ambassadors." "Cardinal le Gros told me the pope looked pale and shaken when he left. He might not care whether the ambassadors are insulted. We can have no more of de Verceuil's blundering." _Or mine._ Friar Mathieu shook a finger at him. "What happened tonight is not the cardinal's doing. None of this is accidental. What happened tonight shows that Ugolini will do everything in his power to block this alliance." "But Ugolini did nothing tonight. It was all that man from Trebizond." "That is like saying that the axe chops the tree down, and not the woodsman wielding it. Ugolini brought David to the contessa's reception. He brought David's servant, an accomplished gambler as well as a recruiter of brigosi. And he brought his niece, Sophia." At the mention of Sophia a sharp pain went through Simon's chest. _Sophia cannot be part of it. Not when I have just found her._ Was it possible that the passion she had showed in their time together in the atrium was a sham? That would be too cruel. And yet, how could he prove that she was innocent? "It is just a coincidence that Sophia is here in Orvieto now," he said. "She is as undecided about this matter of the Tartars as the pope himself is." _But is the pope still undecided_, Simon wondered as he spoke.