euil and the Tartars have been invited to a supper at the
Palazzo Papale. Rachel is alone in her room. I made sure of that a
little while ago."

Feeling like a man going obediently to his own beheading, Simon said,
"Let us go and talk to her, then."

In the corridor, Simon saw Sordello and Thierry.

"Your bath is ready, Monseigneur," said Thierry.

"I will bathe later," said Simon, trying not to let the whirlwind of his
emotions show in his face.

"There is no way to keep the water warm, Your Signory," said Sordello.

"_Then let it freeze!_" Simon shouted. He turned away quickly and
followed Friar Mathieu.

* * * * *

Simon at first did not see the small figure huddled in a far corner of
the high, gauze-curtained bed. Rachel's room, on the floor below
Simon's, was much bigger than his. The outer wall, which curved slightly
because it was part of the old temple, was lined with blue-veined white
marble. A large window admitted dim light through oiled parchment and
curtains.

"Rachel," said Friar Mathieu softly in Italian. "Here is the Count de
Gobignon, whom I told you of. He is in charge of the men who guard
your--protector. He is Madonna Sophia's friend. She has asked him to try
to help you."

Simon felt a twinge of guilt. Could he be Sophia's friend if he was
trying to get Rachel to reveal Sophia's secrets? But Sophia had
disappeared without a word to him. If she had secrets, he had to know
them, even if he had to deceive this child to get at them.

But at the same time he desperately wanted to learn nothing about Sophia
that would hurt him.

Rachel used a red ribbon to mark her place in the book she was reading,
climbed down from her bed, and curtsied to Simon. Her skin was as white
as the marble on the wall. She wore a pale blue gown. Her small breasts
pushed it out in front ever so slightly. Simon could see why Sophia had
kept referring to her as a child. He could not imagine how anyone, even
a Tartar, could want to couple with so delicate-looking a creature.

_Even with books to read and a spacious chamber, she must feel like a
prisoner._

He forgot his own anguish momentarily in pity for her plight. He wanted
to take the wide-eyed girl gently in his arms and hold her.

Simon and Friar Mathieu sat on small gold-painted chairs, and Rachel sat
on the edge of her bed. Simon racked his brain for a way to start the
conversation. It must seem to be about Rachel, but it mu