is very curious about the lands of
the infidel."

"The cardinal has agreed to present you to Pope Urban, then?" Her
eyebrows twitched and her mouth tightened.

Her look of displeasure irritated him. For all he knew, it was her
influence that made Ugolini so difficult. But, he thought with grudging
admiration, she herself seemed more resolute than the cardinal.

"He came to see that it was the only course open to us."

"You are persuasive. I see better why your master sent you." She took
the parchments from him, rolled them even tighter, and tied each one
into a tiny leather capsule. One capsule disappeared into a jeweled
purse that hung on her hip. The other she put aside while she reached
into a cage, whistling and twittering. Her hand came out again grasping
a pigeon.

"This is Tonio. He is ten years old. He always gets through." Daoud was
amazed at how calmly the pigeon reposed in Tilia's hand. He was even
more surprised when she handed the bird to him, but he quickly took him,
holding him around the back with thumb and forefinger behind his head,
leaving his chest free so he could breathe easily.

"You've handled birds before," she said, deftly fastening a capsule
under Tonio's wing. She took the bird back from Daoud. Outside the coop,
she opened her hands and the bird took off with a fanning of wings.

"There now," said Tilia. "With that out of the way, perhaps you would
like a piccione of another sort for your pleasure."

"I would indeed," said Daoud, feeling a warmth spread through his body.

"I have just the one for you," Tilia said, patting him on the arm as
they returned to the trap door. "Her name is Francesca. She is
beautiful, warm-hearted, and very discreet. She will serve you supper,
and if you like her, you may spend the night with her. And you need pay
me nothing."

"You are too generous, Madama," said Daoud, recovering from a small
surprise. He had assumed that Tilia would give him access to her women
out of simple hospitality, and it had never occurred to him that he
would have to pay.

XIII

Simon stood shifting from foot to foot in the graveled yard before the
palace of Pope Urban. An Italian cardinal had just arrived with his
retinue of bishops, monsignori, priests, and monks, and Simon knew it
would be some time before the procession passed all the guards and the
majordomo at the main door.

Alain de Pirenne, beside him, said in a low voice, "I still can't
believe it. We a