ad the face of a man who
could cut the toughest leather to his pattern.

Age had bent the pope somewhat, and he leaned on the shoulder of a man
who walked beside him. This man was so unusual a figure that he drew
Simon's attention away from Pope Urban. Like the Holy Father, he was
wearing white, but it was the white robe of a Dominican friar, and it
curved out around his belly like the sail of a galley with the wind
behind it. He was partially bald, his face round as a full moon, and his
eyes, nose, and mouth were half buried in flesh the sallow color of new
wheat. He nodded repeatedly in response to something the pope was
earnestly saying to him.

"Who is _that_?" Simon whispered, earning himself a black look from de
Verceuil.

"Fra Tomasso d'Aquino," said Cardinal le Gros. "I am told he is the
wisest man alive. Papa Pantaleone has appointed him to conduct this
inquiry, unfortunately."

"Why unfortunately, dominus meus?"

"Bad enough for us that d'Aquino is Italian, he is also a relative of
the Hohenstaufens. His older brothers have served both Frederic and
Manfred."

"A relative of the Hohenstaufens!" de Verceuil exclaimed loud enough for
two nearby bishops to turn and stare at him. "How can His Holiness trust
such a man?"

"Fra Tomasso is not _that_ close a relative," said le Gros. "Papa
Pantaleone hates the Hohenstaufens more than anyone. Have they not
forced him to immure himself here in the hills, when he should by rights
be reigning in Rome? And yet he favors Aquino because Aquino is loyal to
the Church and well informed. Come, let us find our seats." They walked
together toward the pews near the papal throne.

And Simon was suddenly standing alone at the back of the congregation.

Standing at the foot of the steps leading up to his throne, Pope Urban
turned, smiled, and spread his hands in benediction. He intoned a prayer
beginning, "Dominus Deus," very rapidly in Latin and followed with
greetings to all present. He mentioned each cardinal, archbishop, and
bishop by name, then several distinguished abbots and monsignori. His
white beard fluttered as he spoke.

Then Simon heard, "And we greet with joy our countryman, Simon, Count de
Gobignon, who bears one of France's most ancient and honored names."

A stunning brightness blinded Simon, as if lightning had struck right in
front of him. _Ancient and honored!_ In front of so many leaders of the
Church. If at this moment some hidden enemy were to shoo