Simon recognized de Verceuil by his height and by the shining
waves of black hair that tumbled from under the wide brim of his
tasseled hat.

The Contessa di Monaldeschi walked slowly up the aisle, leaning on the
arm of her plump grandnephew. As she neared the altar, Cardinal Ugolini
suddenly broke away from his position beside Pope Urban and bustled down
to take her other arm. With these two escorts, both the same height, the
contessa tottered to a high-backed, cushioned seat on the right side of
the altar. Ugolini stroked her hand, whispered to her, kissed her cheek,
and went back up the altar steps to stand beside the pope.

_I wish he were not so friendly with the contessa. It is a danger to the
alliance._

It occurred to Simon suddenly that Alain's death would go for nothing if
the pact between Tartars and Christians were not sealed. Now Simon had
another reason, beside the restoration of his family honor, beside his
love for King Louis, to strive for the alliance.

On the side of the altar opposite the contessa, also in a high-backed
armchair, sat a dark young man about Simon's age in a surcoat of blue
velvet with a heavy gold chain around his neck. He sat very erect, and
his dark eyes burned with hatred as he stared across the altar at the
contessa and her grandnephew. He had been pointed out before to Simon as
Marco di Filippeschi, capo della famiglia of the Monaldeschi's
archenemies.

The contessa herself had suggested that a Filippeschi might have
murdered Alain just because he was a guest of the Monaldeschi family.
Simon supposed the Filippeschi chieftain was paying public respect to
Alain to demonstrate his family's innocence. The Filippeschi, Simon had
heard, were opposed to a French presence in Italy--perhaps simply
because the Monaldeschi were friendly to the French.

So opposed that they would murder an innocent young man? Simon burned to
seize Marco di Filippeschi and throttle the truth from him.

By turning his head slightly, Simon could see Friar Mathieu on the left
side of the church, sitting in the midst of the Franciscan congregation.

Beyond the Franciscans, in the shadow of a pillar, stood a stout man in
dark cape and tunic. D'Ucello, the podesta, observing the
funeral--thinking perhaps that Alain's killer might attend. He prayed
that the podesta would stop wasting his time pursuing the nonexistent
women Simon and Alain had been with.

_Find Alain's killer, damn you!_ Simon thought, cle