God's will, too? In any
case, Simon, we cannot settle this question tonight. There is too much
at stake, and we must proceed thoughtfully."

"But what if--if something happens to me while I am in sin?" Simon
pictured himself lying in a street in Orvieto, blood streaming from his
chest as Sophia watched, weeping, from a distant window. And then he saw
grinning Saracen-faced demons in hell jabbing him with spears and
scimitars.

"I can give you absolution conditional on your desire to do whatever is
right," said Friar Mathieu. "Promise God that you will make all haste to
determine His will in this matter and that when you know what He wants,
you will faithfully do it, whether it be to give up the title or to keep
the title and the secret. I need hardly remind you that God sees into
your heart and knows whether you truly mean to set things right. Say an
Act of Contrition."

The weight of shame seemed as crushing as ever, and Simon did not think
Friar Mathieu's speaking Latin words while he himself spoke the formula
of repentance would take the burden away. But he began the Act of
Contrition.

His voice as he uttered the prayer was barely audible over the clicking
of the horses' hooves on the stony road, the rumbling of the two carts
and the rustling of the pines on the hillside. He repeated what Friar
Mathieu had said to him about being ready to follow God's will. Then the
old Franciscan made the Sign of the Cross in the air.

The road narrowed now so that there was not enough room for horses side
by side. Simon fell behind Friar Mathieu.

_Roland and Nicolette need never know I told anyone._

The only way they would find out would be if he felt called upon to
reveal the secret to the world.

He felt as if his whole body were plunged into icy water. He realized
that by his promise to Friar Mathieu--to God--he was embarked on a
course that could end in ruin or worse for his mother and father as well
as himself. Their pretense that Simon was Amalric's child was a crime.
He saw them all brought as prisoners before King Louis.

How could he bear to face the king, whom he admired more than any other
man in France, even more than his own true father?

What punishment would the king mete out to them? Would they spend the
rest of their lives locked away in lightless dungeons? Would they have
to die for their crime?

Surely God would not ask that of him.

And then, Simon might decide, with God's help, that he had the