Mathieu I am here, Sordello, and tell Thierry to have a hot
bath sent up to me."

"Yes, Your Signory. But unless you are willing to wait till midnight, I
suggest you go down to the kitchen for your bath. The cardinal's
servants are obedient to him and care not a fig for anyone else, and
your equerry will find none willing to carry a tub of hot water up four
flights of stairs."

This was too much. "Now damn your lazy buttocks, Sordello! I am paying
you out of my own purse, and you have had no work to do since I left you
in Perugia. You see that a hot bath reaches me by Vespers, or forget you
were ever in my service."

Sordello's weather-beaten cheeks flushed, but he bowed and left.

Simon leaned on the sill of his window, looking out over the tiled
rooftops of Viterbo. All the buildings he could see were built of a dark
gray stone, giving the place an ancient look even though, for all he
knew, many houses might be quite recently built. This palace Cardinal de
Verceuil had bought for himself seemed to occupy one of the highest
points. Just as Perugia had been bigger than Orvieto, so Viterbo was
bigger than Perugia. Guards in the black and gold of the local militia
paced the high city wall from one massive tower to another. About twenty
years ago this city had withstood a siege by King Manfred's father,
Emperor Frederic. That was one of the reasons, Simon had heard, that
Cardinal le Gros, now Pope Clement, had chosen it.

He heard a rhythmic thumping behind him, then a knock at his door. He
opened it to see Friar Mathieu, bent and thinner, his white beard
sparser-looking, leaning on a walking stick. They hugged each other,
Simon holding the old Franciscan gingerly.

"The safest place on this floor to talk is the loggia," said Friar
Mathieu. "We can share our news there." He bowed to the priest in the
next room and greeted him by name and was answered with a grunt.

"One of de Verceuil's large staff," said Friar Mathieu when they were
out of the priest's chamber. "It is no accident that his room is next to
yours."

"I am surprised de Verceuil lets you live here, Father."

"His Eminence would rather have me far away, but Pope Clement insists I
stay close to the Tartars. And there was a letter from King Louis saying
the same. After all, people who speak the Tartars' language are scarce
this side of the Danube. And His Eminence may dislike me, but the king
and the pope both trust me. More, perhaps, than they trust h