e Hands." She let him draw off her
red silk slippers, and he almost cast away all his promises to himself
as she curled her toes against the palm of his hand. He forced himself
to stand up and pace the room while she lounged back on her bed, her
head propped up on her elbow, watching him with that delicious smile of
hers.

She questioned him about his life, and he offered her a simple version
of it, telling her nothing about his secret illegitimacy and the
dishonor of the man whose name he bore. It struck him while talking to
her that perhaps these two sins that had shaped his life--Amalric de
Gobignon's treason and Nicolette de Gobignon's adultery--had given him
the strength to resist the temptation to assail Sophia's virtue. He told
her how he had spent much of his youth in the household of the King of
France and how this had led to Count Charles d'Anjou's giving him the
task of protecting the Tartar ambassadors.

And thus, inevitably, their talk got around to the Tartars.

"Why did you accept this task from the Count of Anjou?" she asked. "You
have a lofty title, huge estates, everything you could want. Why trouble
yourself with all this intrigue?"

Having decided not to tell her the truth about his past, Simon now could
not answer her question both honestly and fully. He could not say that
he had committed himself to this mission to clear the stain of treason
from the name of de Gobignon and to prove that he had a right to the
title.

So he told her of another reason, equally true.

"I am in part an orphan, and the king was like a second father to me. It
is his wish that Christians and Tartars join together to liberate the
Holy Land. And I would do anything for him."

Sophia frowned. "I find that hard to understand. As for me, I hate the
Tartars."

Simon's mind pounced on that. Could she be more involved in Ugolini's
scheming than she had admitted?

"Why do you hate the Tartars? You know so little about them."

"I know that they almost made enemies of us because you thought I was
kissing you just to help my uncle."

_Walk carefully, Simon._

Again she was hinting at her uncle's involvement in all that had gone
wrong for the alliance. But if he asked her about it outright, she might
think--as he had thought of her--that he was courting her only to
further his cause.

"Well, I am sure your uncle is following his conscience, as we all are,"
said Simon. Actually, he believed nothing of the kind. But he