e, let me do that." Friar Mathieu was on his knees beside the hurt
man, his hand covering the wound. "Messere," he said to the carpenter,
"ride my donkey to the hospital of the Franciscans. Tell them there is a
man badly hurt here and Friar Mathieu d'Alcon says they are to send
brothers to take him for treatment."

Simon stood up slowly as the carpenter climbed on Mathieu's donkey.

"It is not safe for you to stay here," he said to Friar Mathieu. "The
people know you were part of the procession and may blame you for what
happened."

Mathieu shook his head. "No one will hurt me. Go along now."

Simon jumped into the saddle and spurred his palfrey to a trot. Thierry
rode beside him.

"Those two didn't throw anything," Thierry said.

"Of course not." Simon wondered if de Verceuil cared that the Venetians
had shot two innocent men.

When Simon caught up with the procession, de Verceuil was still
furiously scrubbing his face with his pale violet cloak.

"If you had done something sooner about the rioting, this outrage would
not have happened to me," he said, a quaver of anger in his deep voice.

_God help me_, thought Simon. _I could easily grow to hate him. Cardinal
or not._

* * * * *

Word of the shootings must have spread through the city, Simon thought,
because the twisting street leading to the cathedral was nearly empty.

But the piazza in front of Orvieto's cathedral of San Giovenale was
packed with people. Simon's eye was immediately drawn to the top of the
cathedral steps. There stood a white-bearded man wearing a red mantle
over white robes glittering with gold ornament. On his head a tall white
lozenge-shaped miter embroidered with a red and gold cross. In his hand,
a great golden shepherd's crook at least seven feet tall. Simon's mouth
fell open and he held his breath.

The ruler of the whole Catholic Church the world over, the chosen of
God, the anointed of Christ, the heir of Saint Peter. His Holiness,
Urban IV, the pope himself. Simon felt almost as much awe as he had that
day in Paris when King Louis had let him kiss the Crown of Thorns.

_How lucky I am to be here and see this man whom most Christians never
see. It is close as one can come to seeing Jesus Christ Himself._

It looked to Simon as if the Holy Father were glowing with a
supernatural light. To his left and his right stood a dozen or more men
in bright red robes and wide-brimmed red hats with long r