"Try to give an alarm and you are dead too, Father," Lorenzo growled. "No, Lorenzo, no!" Rachel cried. "Friar Mathieu is a good man." "Perhaps that would not matter to Messer Lorenzo," said Friar Mathieu, his eyes fixed on Lorenzo with a penetrating stare. "If, as I suspect, he serves that elegant blasphemer Manfred von Hohenstaufen." Lorenzo gave a short bark of a laugh. His heart was galloping. Friar Mathieu knelt and whispered prayers in Latin over the dead Venetian. With his thumb he traced a cross on the man's forehead. "You think there is no good to be found in King Manfred's camp?" Lorenzo said. "I am not surprised. You Franciscans pride yourselves on your ignorance." Rachel's hand rested lightly on Lorenzo's arm. "Lorenzo, I beg you, do not insult Friar Mathieu. He has been my only friend since John took me from Madama Tilia's house. What are you doing here?" Her face lit up with hope. "Have you come to take me away?" Lorenzo's mind was working rapidly. Apparently, Friar Mathieu was a decent sort, and Lorenzo had no desire to kill him. But what to do with him? Rachel might have given him the answer. This was, in fact, a God-given chance to get her away from the Tartars. And Daoud, he knew, would bless him for it. "Where are the Tartars, Rachel?" he said. "They put on mail and took bows and arrows and swords, and they have joined the fighting." Lorenzo was astonished. "Charles is risking their lives in this battle? Pazzia!" And the would-be king of Sicily himself was not even fighting. "Yes, it does seem mad, does it not?" said Friar Mathieu. "Well, that is good," said Lorenzo. "I was afraid I might have to fight them for you, Rachel. Why did this lout say you are under arrest?" "The cardinal accuses me of spying for King Manfred. He says you were all spying--you, Madonna Sophia, Messer David. Is that true?" Lorenzo looked from Rachel to Friar Mathieu. There was no need to keep it from them any longer. For good or ill, all would be settled today. "In a word, yes." "Ah!" Friar Mathieu exclaimed. "I knew it." Lorenzo felt himself grinning suddenly. "I could tell the cardinal that you knew nothing about us, but I do not think my testimony would help you. Perhaps it would be best if I just got you away from here." Rachel's face was like a sunrise. "Oh, yes, yes!" "Good. Wait one moment now." He went out of the tent and looked around. There were no guards in sight. He rolled the second wine cask into the tent and set it beside the first. He dragged the Venetian's body into a corner, where anyone looking in would not see it. "You have actually come here in the midst of this battle to rescue Rachel from John the Tartar?" said Friar Mathieu. The old priest might still have a protective feeling toward the Tartars, Lorenzo thought. Best not to tell him the real reason.