"Gradually--too gradually, I am sorry to say--I have come to see that Charles d'Anjou was not the great man I once thought him to be. When I learned that John and Philip were killed, that killed any remaining feeling I have for Charles. So I will help you if I can. But where can you all go? All of southern Italy and Sicily will be overrun with Anjou's men. I cannot keep you, and you cannot safely leave me." "Let us go back to the others," said Sophia. "It will be best if we talk together about this." She could hardly believe he was serious about letting her escape. Her pain-wracked mind was unable to come to grips with what was happening to her. How she needed Daoud! He would know what to do. As she entered the firelit room her eyes blurred with tears. But she saw at once that there were more people in the room than when she had gone out on the balcony with Simon. One of them was holding a crossbow leveled at Simon. Her heart stopped. Then she recognized him, and she let her breath out in relief. Black and white curly hair, graying mustache, broad shoulders. Lorenzo. She heard a growling. Scipio stood there, held tightly on a leash by Tilia. Ugolini was beside her. Rachel hurried to Sophia and took her hand. "I'm glad you are back. I was frightened for you." "Simon wants to help us," said Sophia, taking Rachel's hand. She could not give up in despair, she thought, while she had Rachel to care for. "You took long enough to come in off that balcony, Count," Lorenzo said. "Put down your crossbow," Sophia said. "Count Simon has decided to be a friend to us." "I would not regret giving our new friend just what _my_ friend Daoud got today from his man Sordello," Lorenzo said. Tilia said, "Do you--know, Sophia? About Daoud?" Holding herself rigid against this fresh reminder of her grief, Sophia said only, "Yes." Friar Mathieu said, "Lorenzo, the man who killed Daoud lies there--on the floor. No need to talk about revenge." He pointed to a corner of the room where Sordello's body lay. Needing a moment's relief from her pain, Sophia said, "Lorenzo, how did you ever get here?" Still holding the crossbow pointed at Simon, Lorenzo spoke without looking at her. "After I got Rachel and Friar Mathieu out of the French camp, I saw this fellow's army charging down from the hills to attack Daoud and his Falcons." Lorenzo shook the crossbow. Sophia prayed that he would put the crossbow down. What if by accident he unleashed a bolt at Simon? If Simon were to die before her eyes, that would surely be more than she could bear. "I had to try to warn Daoud," Lorenzo said. "I left Rachel and the friar there and rode off. I never did reach Daoud." He hesitated a moment, eyeing Simon, then smiled, a hard smile without warmth or mirth. "I got your precious Tartars, though, Count Simon." Simon nodded, his eyes bitter. "Sordello told me it was you who killed them." He took a step toward Lorenzo, who shook the crossbow at him again.