Whimpering, Sophia stumbled back to the armchair where she had been sitting. A sob forced itself up from her chest into her throat. She felt Rachel's gentle hands helping her to sit down. Another sob came up, shaking her body. Another followed it, and another. She lost touch with everything around her for a time, buried in a black pit where neither sight nor sound nor even thought could penetrate. She was lost in wordless, mindless grief. Then, gradually, she began to hear murmurings, voices. Friar Mathieu said, "She saved your life." Simon said, "I know. David--Daoud--told me not to take Sordello with me if I went looking for Sophia. As if he knew this might happen. How could that be?" Rachel was sitting on the arm of the chair, gently stroking Sophia's shoulder. Friar Mathieu said, "Why would Sordello try to kill you? Because he was about to rape Sophia when you interrupted? Or because he was afraid you would punish him for killing--Daoud?" Amazement jolted Sophia's body. She opened her eyes and stared at Friar Mathieu. "_Sordello_ killed Daoud?" Simon answered her. "I will tell you how he died. I must talk to you. I have waited more than a year, you know, to see you again." Sobs still shook her, but she nodded and wiped her face with the sleeve of her gown. He reached down. She took his arm, and he helped her up. She saw that he had a bloodstained strip of linen tied around his neck. "The balcony," she said. "Good." As she went to her chest to get her cloak, Sophia looked at the icon of the saint of the pillar and thought how much, even though it had Simon's name, the expression looked like Daoud's. Simon held the door to the balcony for her. The night was cold and moonless. The bitter smell of burning floated on the freezing air. The shouts of frenzied soldiers and the agonized screams of men and women seemed to come from everywhere. Fires blazed in all parts of the town, their glow and smoke turning the night sky a cloudy reddish-gray. On the plain to the north, campfires twinkled. Somewhere out there Daoud lay dead. She looked up at Simon. Darkness hid his face. The ruddy glow of burning Benevento haloed his head. In a quiet, even voice he told Sophia how he came upon Daoud fighting side by side with Manfred, and how he fought with Daoud after Manfred was killed. How he lay helpless with Daoud's sword pointed at his face. "He did not move for a long time," Simon said. "It was growing dark, but I saw the look on his face. A gentle look. He did not want to kill me. I am sure of it." And then without any warning had come the treacherous crossbow bolt out of the circle around them, and Daoud had fallen. "It was Sordello. He could not understand my rage at him. He kept protesting that he had saved my life. He had not." Sophia thought of Sordello's attempt to seduce her. She clutched the wooden railing, choking bile rising in her throat.