r Signory," said the man.

"Did anyone see or hear anything?"

"My wife heard your friend go out before dawn. He never came back."

_Jesus, have mercy on me_, thought Simon. _This is my fault. He went out
to await the dawn so he could warn me. And someone killed him._ Tears
were pouring from his eyes. He was sobbing convulsively.

"Poverello," he heard someone mutter sympathetically. Here he was a
knight, a count, kneeling in the street weeping in front of a crowd of
strangers. He did not care.

Guilt crushed him. He wanted to lie beside his friend's body and be dead
with him. But how could he? No, he had to find and kill Alain's
murderer.

Still kneeling beside Alain, he wiped his face with the edge of his cape
and surveyed the crowd. To keep his identity a secret seemed unimportant
now.

"I am the Count de Gobignon of France. I will pay handsomely anyone who
helps me find the man who did this. If anyone can name the murderer, I
will pay"--he thought a moment--"a thousand florins."

A murmuring ran through the crowd. A fortune! Foolish, perhaps, Simon
thought, to offer such a reward. A man would accuse his own brother to
get that much money.

_I may hear many names. I will have to be sure._

He looked down at poor Alain. The flies were crawling on his face, and
he brushed them away. Alain's lips had turned blue. He looked for
Alain's purse and saw none on his belt.

Stabbed to death for the few coins he carried. Dead at twenty years of
age. Tears overflowed his eyes again.

Oddly, Alain still wore his sword and dagger.

Alain's weapons were still both sheathed. Whoever had stabbed him had
not given him time to defend himself. Yet, there were no recessed
doorways or alley openings where an armed robber might hide himself.

The spot was unpleasantly familiar. This was where Simon's archers, at
de Verceuil's orders, had shot two Orvietans.

Had Alain been tricked by someone pretending to be a friend? Was the
killer someone Alain knew?

_Ah, my poor friend, what a shame it is when a young knight dies without
sword in hand._ Simon clenched his fist, the tears falling unceasingly.
_By the wounds in Christ's body I swear I will avenge the wounds that
killed you, Alain._

Simon remembered now that the watch was on the way. When they got here
they would ask him questions about what he and Alain were doing here,
questions he did not want to answer until he had time to think.

_A scandal would give de Verce