," said Lorenzo. "I was afraid I might have to fight
them for you, Rachel. Why did this lout say you are under arrest?"

"The cardinal accuses me of spying for King Manfred. He says you were
all spying--you, Madonna Sophia, Messer David. Is that true?"

Lorenzo looked from Rachel to Friar Mathieu. There was no need to keep
it from them any longer. For good or ill, all would be settled today.

"In a word, yes."

"Ah!" Friar Mathieu exclaimed. "I knew it."

Lorenzo felt himself grinning suddenly. "I could tell the cardinal that
you knew nothing about us, but I do not think my testimony would help
you. Perhaps it would be best if I just got you away from here."

Rachel's face was like a sunrise. "Oh, yes, yes!"

"Good. Wait one moment now."

He went out of the tent and looked around. There were no guards in
sight. He rolled the second wine cask into the tent and set it beside
the first. He dragged the Venetian's body into a corner, where anyone
looking in would not see it.

"You have actually come here in the midst of this battle to rescue
Rachel from John the Tartar?" said Friar Mathieu.

The old priest might still have a protective feeling toward the Tartars,
Lorenzo thought. Best not to tell him the real reason.

"I guessed that right now there would be less of a guard on her," said
Lorenzo. "And if you are as ashamed of your part in what has happened to
her as I am of mine, you will help me. You really should come with me."

"Willingly," said Friar Mathieu. "I have no great confidence in your
ability to protect Rachel."

"You seem to have done little enough for her yourself," said Lorenzo
gruffly. Friar Mathieu appeared angry as he opened his mouth, but then
he closed it again, without speaking.

_A good Christian. Turning the other cheek._

Trying to see in all directions at once, Lorenzo carried blankets from
the tent and threw them into the back of the cart. He took the
long-necked jar of poisoned wine from under the driver's seat. Looking
around for guards and seeing them all gazing southward toward the
battle, he went back into the tent and put the wine on the table.

"This wine was my disguise," he said. "I am bringing a gift of wine for
the Tartars from the Bishop of Agnani." Much better to tell them no more
than that.

"My chest, my treasures," Rachel said. Lorenzo sprang at the box she
pointed out and gripped it by both handles. He was shocked at its
weight.

"My God! I do not know if I c