Ere he had reached the door, this individual swaggered through the crowd and touched him on the shoulder. Francesco looked at him vaguely; something familiar teased him in the man's face.
"Am I addressing Messer Francesco Villani, the papal envoy?" he said awkwardly.
Francesco nodded with an air of vague wonder.
"What is your business with me?"
"I am sent to bring you to one who is dying."—
Francesco, with the custom of his confraternity, turned instantly to go, but on a sudden impulse he lingered.
"Who is your master?" he asked with a quick misgiving.
"Raniero Frangipani," replied the other gruffly, then after a pause:
"He was mortally wounded in the field of Scurcola!"
"Lead the way!" Francesco said with quick resolve.