enetian men-at-arms under a certain Count de
Gobignon."

Daoud felt a tingle of anticipation, as he did when he was about to
close with the enemy in a battle.

"So I will be in Orvieto before them. That is good."

"Yes, but Cardinal Paulus de Verceuil has arrived here before _you_. He
speaks for the King of France, and he has already begun to press the
case for a Tartar alliance before Pope Urban. He has arranged for the
Tartars and their guards to live at the palace of the Monaldeschi
family."

Daoud caught an intonation in Tilia's voice that suggested it was a
great accomplishment for the Tartars to live at the Monaldeschi palace.
Was she trying to discourage him?

"What is this Monaldeschi family?" he asked.

"The oldest and richest family in Orvieto," she said. "Right now the
capo della famiglia, the head of the family, is the Contessa Elvira di
Monaldeschi, who is over eighty years old. But she is more ruthless and
savage than many a younger man. Almost all her menfolk have been killed
off by their blood enemies, the Filippeschi, and she has had many
Filippeschi killed."

"What do they fight about?" said Daoud.

"Who knows? A Monaldeschi kills a Filippeschi, so a Filippeschi kills a
Monaldeschi. It has been going on forever." Tilia went on. "What you
must realize is that the Tartars will be well guarded because the
contessa has more men-at-arms than the pope and a very strong palace."

He turned away from Tilia. Daoud stared out through the screen of pine
branches at Orvieto's sunlit rock platform. A wagon inched its way up
the narrow road.

"Who is this French count who guards the Tartars?" he asked.

"Count Simon de Gobignon. He is very young and very rich. He holds huge
estates in France and numbers his vassals in the thousands. He is close
to the French royal family, even King Louis himself and the king's
brother, Charles d'Anjou."

Charles d'Anjou. Daoud remembered Lorenzo saying that Charles d'Anjou
coveted the throne of Sicily.

A flash of light caught Daoud's eye. A party of helmeted men in yellow
and white surcoats had come out of the main gate of Orvieto, formed a
ragged column and were patrolling along the base of the city wall, led
by a man with a white plume on his helmet.

"Who are those soldiers?" he asked.

Tilia leaned forward to peer through the trees and across the valley,
then resettled herself against the tree trunk.

"Pope Urban has two hundred Guelfo fighting men quartere