t was impossible to tell whether they were sleeping
or praying. In the four months since the cloth had been brought to
Orvieto, it had never been left unattended. The pope had decreed that
priests in hourly shifts would watch day and night before the blood of
the Savior.

Simon suspected reverence was not the only motive for this vigil. He
knew several tales of famous relics being stolen, not only from pious
zeal, but because relics attracted pilgrims and their money. And the
people of Bolsena might still be jealous.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Simon approached the altar, genuflected,
and walked into the shadows on the left side of the cathedral. He paused
by a fluted pillar that rose like a tree trunk. Approaching him was a
beggar in a tattered gray cloak that hung to his ankles. A deep hood hid
his face. The man gripped Simon's arm. The face of Sordello looked out
of the shadows under the hood. Simon pulled his arm free.

"I have something important to tell Your Signory, but it is not about
Cardinal Ugolini and his circle." Sordello spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"The Filippeschi are going to make a surprise attack on the Palazzo
Monaldeschi."

The news hit Simon like a kick in the belly.

The Tartars--and he and his men--would be caught in the middle. He
thought back to Alain's murder. Even since then he had felt that Orvieto
could be a death trap for him and all his men.

Simon leaned forward to peer into Sordello's pinkish eyes. "When will
the attack come?"

"Tonight, after vespers."

_Tonight!_ Now Simon's blood froze. _No time! No time!_ a voice shrieked
inside him. He wanted to run back to the palace shouting warnings all
the way. It took all his strength to keep him standing with Sordello, to
force his mind, galloping like a runaway horse, to slow down and frame
questions.

"How did you find out?"

"Tavern talk. Some of Giancarlo's hired bravos were drinking with
Filippeschi men."

Sweat that felt like a cold rain broke out all over Simon's body. The
Tartars--he must get them out of the Monaldeschi palace. But the
contessa had been his hostess for many months. He himself had no quarrel
with the Filippeschi, but he had an obligation to defend the contessa.

"How long have you known this?"

"I just learned it last night, but they must have been preparing for
months."

"Why _now_?"

Sordello's eyes met his. "The Filippeschi think the Monaldeschi are
betraying Italy to you French."

If the Fil