united, the
thirteen French would be one short of two thirds. And they are far from
united. It could take years to elect a new pope."

Years! Simon was horrified. What a disaster! Without a pope, the
question of the alliance would languish. The Tartar ambassadors might
yet be assassinated, or just die. Hulagu Khan might die. Even King
Louis, God forbid, might die, and the next king would probably not be
interested in crusading.

Simon, for his part, had pinned his hopes for the restoration of his
family honor on the success of the Tartar alliance. A new pope must be
elected, and soon.

He carefully took the two scrolls out of their silk wrappings. Both were
tied with red ribbons and sealed with blobs of red wax which King Louis
had stamped with his personal seal, a shield bearing fleurs-de-lis.
Simon held up the one addressed "His Eminence, Cardinal Paulus de
Verceuil."

"We must try to get this letter to de Verceuil at once. It names King
Louis's choice for the next pope. It could end the deadlock."

Father Mathieu stroked his white beard thoughtfully. "Exactly the sort
of letter the rule against messages was instituted to keep out. A king
attempting to influence a papal election." The old Franciscan took the
scroll in one hand and tapped it against the palm of the other. "But I
think for the good of the Church and for the success of our own mission
we had better get this letter to de Verceuil at once. King Louis's
choice cannot be worse than de Verceuil, de Tracey, or Ugolini."

"Yes!" said Simon eagerly. "But how do we get the letter to him?"

The old Franciscan pushed himself to his feet. It hurt Simon to see how
slow and painful his movements were. Damn that devil in black who had
tried to kill the Tartars!

The Tartars! He had thought they were well guarded enough, and that it
was safe to leave them while he carried Urban's letter and the king's
reply. But if the question of the alliance were to drag on, the foes of
the alliance would try again to strike at them. Fear clutched at his
heart.

"Are the Tartars here in this palace?" he called after Friar Mathieu,
who was hobbling out of the room holding King Louis's scroll.

"Oh, yes. The Baglioni family have given them a whole quarter of the
palace. They are well enough, though they hate being trapped indoors by
the weather and by the need to keep them under guard. John Chagan has
with him a young Jewish girl named Rachel, whom he kidnapped from a
brot