." He stopped, eyeing Simon. He had sparkling black
eyes, and his black mustache was trimmed so that it was no more than a
thin line above his mouth. Simon remembered now having seen this man,
the governor of the city, at the execution of that poor heretic a month
ago.

"Signore Podesta," Simon bowed. "The honor is mine."

"Not at all, Your Signory." Now the stout man looked past Simon into the
room, and his eyebrows flew up. Simon turned and saw Friar Mathieu
anointing Alain's brow with his oil-dipped thumb, forming a cross on the
white forehead. Most of Alain's body was under an embroidered coverlet,
and the kitchen knife had disappeared.

D'Ucello blessed himself and said in a low voice, "I will examine the
body after the good father is finished with the last rites. Would you be
so kind as to step out of the room, Count, so that we can talk?"

Closing the door behind him, Simon followed d'Ucello through the
corridor out to the colonnaded galleria overlooking the lemon trees
where he and Sophia had kissed on the night of the contessa's reception
for the Tartars.

So long ago that seemed now, though it was little more than a month, and
so much tragedy had come of it.

Simon told d'Ucello the story he had worked out, that he and Alain had
gone to that inn searching for women and had gotten separated.

There were large bags under the podesta's eyes, dark as bruises. They
contracted as he listened to Simon.

"Forgive me, Your Signory, but I must be clear. Are you telling me that
you slept with a woman last night?"

Simon tried to look abashed and reluctant to speak. "Yes."

"And where did this take place, Your Signory?"

"In my private room at the inn."

"Who was she?"

Simon had prepared his answer. "I do not know. A pleasant lady whom I
met in the common room."

The bags under d'Ucello's eyes twitched. "There are no whores in that
part of town, Signore. It is one of my duties to see that the
prostitutes are limited to a quarter of the city where they will not
offend the holy or the well-born. A cardinal has his residence across
the street from where your friend's body was found." D'Ucello's mouth
stretched, but neither his eyes nor the dark bulges under them joined in
the smile. "The woman who entertained you must have been an ordinarily
respectable person who chose to go astray that evening." He paused and
looked grimly up at Simon.

Simon felt as if a clammy hand had taken him by the back of the nec