Simon's bedazzlement at Charles's tribute to him turned in an instant to
anger. By publicly announcing a decision Simon had not yet made, Charles
was trying to force him to commit himself to the crusade. For a moment
Simon was tempted to tell Charles that he would crusade at his side when
the Middle Sea froze over.

But as he stood looking down at Charles's barons and the nobles of Rome,
half turned toward Charles, half turned toward the assembly, the
clapping and cheering were overwhelming him. His eye was drawn by a red
hat above the rest of the crowd, and he was delighted to see that de
Verceuil's face seemed a deeper red than his vestments.

Simon's anger at Charles faded as the moment lifted him up in spite of
himself.

He who had dwelt in the shadow of treason all his life, who had hidden
himself, when in great assemblies, for fear he would be noticed and
treated with scorn, now honored by this multitude in the capital of
Christendom in the age-old palace of the popes!

Was it not to achieve this that he had come to Italy?

_If only Sophia could see._

He did what he felt was required, and knelt before Charles, taking the
new king's extended hand and kissing a huge ruby ring.

In a low voice Charles said, "I have prayed that I would have your help,
Simon. Can you not tell me that my prayer has been answered?"

If he refused Charles and went back to Gobignon, he would never see
Sophia again. And he would probably never again know a moment like this,
when he felt so _right_ as the Count de Gobignon.

But he was still offended by Charles's claiming a commitment that Simon
had not given him.

"It seems you already know your prayer has been answered, Sire."

Charles frowned for a moment, then smiled and patted Simon on the
shoulder. "Forgive me. I want so much for you to join me that I spoke as
if it were already true. Will you make it true?"

He looked up into Charles's large, compelling eyes and nodded slowly.

"I will come after the harvest is in, Sire. I will come with my army."

* * * * *

Rachel slid from the bed, trying to shake it as little as possible so as
not to wake John. Letting her robe of yellow silk flutter loosely about
her nude body, she hurried behind the screen that hid her commode and
opened the chest that held her most private belongings. She took out the
device of bladder and tubing Tilia had given her long ago, and with a
pitcherful of lukewarm w