re about to attend a council called by the pope
himself." His blue eyes were huge, and his fair skin was flushed with
excitement. He was dressed in his best, an azure tunic with silver
embroidery at the sleeves and collar, and on his feet poulaines, black
deerskin shoes whose elongated toes came to points. The hilt of the
longsword hanging at his waist was plain, but Simon knew it had been in
the Pirenne family for generations.

"Do not believe it yet, Alain," Simon said wryly. "We were not invited,
and we have not yet been let in."

"Surely they would not keep out so great a seigneur as you," said Alain.
"Especially when you have been faithfully protecting the Tartars for a
month."

"Well, that is what I am counting on," Simon said.

They stood inside a high wall of cream-colored tufa, the same rock on
which Orvieto stood. The wall, topped with square battlements,
surrounded the papal palace. Simon's gaze swept beyond the wall toward
the bluish tops of nearby hills, wreathed in morning mist, then back to
the row of pine trees that stood between the wall and the palace, the
massed green of the needles almost so dark as to appear black. The
palace itself, fortified by six square turrets, was of white limestone.
It must have cost the papal treasury a fortune, Simon thought, to haul
all those big blocks up here. Within this solid edifice, surrounded by
this high wall, atop the impregnable mesa of Orvieto, the Holy Father
was certainly well protected.

The last monk in his gray gown had passed the guards at the door, and
Simon saw more clergymen massing at the outer gate. He took a deep
breath and started up the stairs, de Pirenne hurrying behind him. He
reminded himself, _I am the Count de Gobignon_.

He said as much to the majordomo, who stood before him in white silk
tunic with the keys of Peter embroidered in black on the left breast.

"Ah, Your Signory, I saw your brave battle in the cathedral with that
heretic assassin." The majordomo had a prominent upper lip that made him
look like a horse. "A thousand welcomes to the palace of His Holiness. I
will be happy to tell him that you are attending the council." He showed
big yellow teeth in an unctuous grin.

Then his face fell as he looked down at Simon's belt. "I regret, Your
Signory, but you may not wear your sword in the palace of the pope. Even
though you wielded it most gloriously in His Holiness's service. Only
the papal guards may bear arms within. A thou