el-masked face close to Simon's. "It is known
that there is tainted blood in your family."

Simon's face went as hot as if a torch had suddenly been thrust at him.
It was a moment before he could speak.

"If you were not a man of the Church, I would kill you for saying that."
His voice trembled.

"Really? I doubt you would dare." De Verceuil turned away.

"Monseigneur!" de Puys cried, his face redder than ever. "Do not make me
ashamed to wear the purple and gold."

That hurt even more than what de Verceuil had said. It hurt so much
Simon wanted to weep with anger and frustration.

Instead, he bent forward and lifted the trapdoor and hurried down the
steps. He heard de Verceuil say something to de Puys, but he could not
hear what it was. Fortunately.

He stopped on the roof to look for Friar Mathieu. Groups of crossbowmen
were running from one side to the other. Friar Mathieu was making the
sign of the cross over a fallen man.

"I think the Tartars may be in danger, Friar Mathieu," Simon said. "I
want you to come with me so that I can talk to them."

To Simon's relief the old Franciscan did not object. "Let us take two of
the Armenians with us," he said. "If there is danger, you should not go
alone."

Now that he was away from de Verceuil and de Puys, Simon could reflect
that he might, indeed, be mistaken. But he had to act, even though he
doubted himself.

Simon, Friar Mathieu, and two Armenian warriors named Stefan and Grigor
hurried down the tower's inner staircase to the ground floor. Single
candles, burning low, lit the corridor at long intervals. Here were
storerooms and cubbyholes where servants worked and lived. The
relentless pounding of rocks reverberated in the stone walls, punctuated
by occasional screams penetrating through the arrow slits.

Monaldeschi men-at-arms standing at the embrasures with crossbows kept
their backs turned to Simon as he hurried past. An odor of damp stone
pervaded the still air. Simon noted that as he had ordered, buckets of
water had been placed along the corridor to douse fires.

The kitchen was on the north side of the building. It was dark as a
cave. The cooking fire in the great fireplace, big enough for a man to
walk into it, had been put out. They passed empty cauldrons, piles of
full sacks, rows of barrels, all barely visible in the light of a
half-consumed taper in a candlestick on a table. A large water cask
surrounded by buckets and pots stood in the center