, a lifetime of love. That was why she wept whenever he
tried to convince her that he meant to marry her.

She had promised him faithfully that the next time they met she would
tell him what the obstacle was to their marrying. Whatever the reason
was, he would sweep it aside and carry her off to Gobignon with him.

Friar Mathieu could marry them before they even left Viterbo. Then if
Grandmere or his sisters had any objections, they would have to swallow
them. They could be together in his castle this summer, when the rivers
were flowing fast, when the trees were heavy with fruit and the fields
were green and the forest was full of fleet deer and clever foxes. How
she would love it!

Sophia. A thousand visions of her cascaded through his mind, of her dark
red lips smiling, her eyes glowing like precious stones, her proud
carriage. And he remembered the feel of her limbs tangled with his, her
passion the proof, despite her fears, of the depth of her love for him.

It would be maddening to stay away from her for the two months Charles
had asked of him, but after that they would have the whole of their
lives together.

LXII

Sophia heard a murmur from the riders ahead, and looked up. It was
warmer here in the south, and she had opened the curtains of her sedan
chair. Following the path around the side of a hill, the two men
carrying her had brought Lucera into view.

It seemed not to have changed at all in the year and a half since she
had left with Daoud and Lorenzo. The octagonal walls and square towers
of Manfred's citadel, warmed by the setting sun, rose above the small
city standing in the center of a plain surrounded by hills.

Her skin tingled at the thought of seeing Daoud again. But her heart,
which should have been light with happiness, ached, tormented for months
by a decision she could not make.

A cry from the men-at-arms leading the way startled her. Her eyes
followed a pointing arm and saw, high on the rocky slope of a nearby
hill, a mounted warrior.

He glittered in the sunset. He was too far away for her to see the
details of his costume, but gold flashed on his breastplate, on his
hands and arms, and on the white turban that shaded his face. One of
Manfred's Saracens probably, sent out from Lucera to bid them welcome.

She saw that their path descended gradually into a valley. The Saracen's
horse was scrambling down a steep slope to meet them. The warrior leaned
back in this saddle to