next day it will catch up to us."

"Then tonight, tomorrow, or the next day, Monseigneur," said the
pock-marked FitzTrinian, "you can command us to charge that rabble."

The Roman mob was close enough now for Simon to make out what they were
shouting.

"Muorire alla Francia!" _Death to the French!_

The cry sent a bolt of fear through Simon. They would have to do
something at once.

Were Charles's lieutenants actually going to sit on their motionless
horses and haggle with him until these infuriated Romans fell upon them?
Not just Charles's venture was at stake, but their own lives. Could they
be stupid--or greedy--enough to let themselves be overwhelmed while they
argued about money?

_Yes, they could be. That stupid and that greedy._

Simon's fear transmuted itself to anger. These men were a disgrace to
chivalry. Worse, as marshals of an army commanded by King Louis's
brother, they dishonored France. He almost wanted to draw his sword
against them, his disgust was so great.

"You speak of dishonor when you are refusing to attack an enemy in the
field at the order of your seigneur?" Charles shouted.

"We are not refusing, Monseigneur--" Alistair FitzTrinian began.

Simon had heard enough. If Charles's hired commanders would not command,
he would.

"Follow me, Thierry." Simon swung his horse around to ride toward the
rear of the column. His face was hot with anger.

Simon felt little sympathy for Charles; he had chosen these men. But
Simon de Gobignon, at least, was not going to let himself be set upon
and murdered by a crowd of commoners, even if those commoners had ample
justification. Nor was he going to allow French arms--if these
blackguards Charles d'Anjou had hired could be said to represent French
arms--to be disgraced. He had learned somewhat about leading fighting
men in the last year. He could do what was needful, since no one else
seemed about to.

He galloped past the files of mounted knights who crowded the road
beside the Tiber. Beyond them were the foot soldiers. If those
Burgundians who executed the Roman delegation were any example, the
men-at-arms might be more reliable than the knights. Simon searched the
column for the sort of men he needed.

He saw, just past the end of the line of mounted men, two score or more
of archers in blue tunics with longbows slung over their backs. He was
not experienced with the use of the longbow in battle, but what he had
heard about its long range su