ldeschi, under a
chimney in the center of the room, a cauldron big enough to hold a man
simmered over a low fire. From it came a strong smell of lamb, chicken,
onion, celery, peppers, garlic, cloves, and other ingredients Simon
could not identify. Beyond the cauldron a trapdoor covered the stairs to
a locked cellar pantry where, Simon knew, the Monaldeschi hoarded
possessions as costly as jewels--their collection of spices imported
from the East.

Simon had just a glimpse of the ruddy face with its broken nose before
the crossbowman-troubadour fell to his knees and thumped his forehead on
the brick floor.

_Perhaps I could pop Sordello into that cooking pot and be done with him
for good and all._

"Thank you, Your Signory, for being willing to see me," came the muffled
voice from the floor. "You are far kinder than I deserve."

"Yes, I am," said Simon brusquely. "Get up. Why have you come to me?"

Sordello rocked back on his heels and sprang to his feet in a single,
surprising motion. Simon told himself to be wary. It was all very well
to be gruff with Sordello, but he must keep in mind that the man was a
fighter, a murderer. And one with a vile and overquick temper, as he had
proved in Venice.

"I have no one else to go to." Sordello spread his empty hands. He had
grown a short, ragged black beard, Simon noticed. He wore no hat or
cloak, and his tunic and hose were stained and tattered. His tunic hung
loose, unbelted. No weapons. That made Simon feel a bit easier. The toe
of one boot was worn through, and the other was bound with a bit of rag
to hold the sole to the upper.

"I thought you would see the Count d'Anjou." And Simon had half expected
Uncle Charles would send Sordello back with a message insisting Simon
take the fellow back into his service.

Sordello laughed and nodded. "Easy to say 'see the Count d'Anjou,' Your
Signory. Not so easy to do when you are a masterless man with an empty
purse. The count likes to move about, and quickly at that. But I caught
up with him at Lyons. He already knew the whole story."

"I wrote to him," said Simon.

"Well, your letter must have been most eloquent, Your Signory, because
the count refused to take me back into his service. He called me a fool
and a few other things and told me I deserved exactly what I got. Told
me if I wasn't out of the city in an hour he would have me flogged."

"I assumed that the count reposed great confidence in you, and I felt I
must