Ugolini shook his head. "Clothing will not deceive the pope and those around him. You are asking too much of me."
Daoud wished he could give this up. Ugolini was nothing but a sodden lump of fear. But he had no choice but to keep trying. The cardinal was his gateway to the papal court.
"Think of the reward," Daoud urged. "Part of the wealth I have brought with me is already yours. If the pope sends the Tartars away without an agreement, my sultan will give to you with both hands."
Ugolini looked tormented. "But the peril—"
Daoud had been certain that money would not be enough to enlist Ugolini's cooperation. Baibars already had been generous with him.
Bribes alone will not move this man.
As he searched his brain for another approach, his eyes explored the room. The skull, the powders, the brass instruments. Ugolini was a student of many strange things, things verging on magic. Were these not odd interests for a Christian prelate? He knew Greek, which was rare for a Latin Christian. He had spoken of heresy before. Was he not, in his willingness to correspond with Baibars, a heretic of a kind? And perhaps in these studies of his as well.
I must remind him that he sympathizes with us.
"My master sent me to you because he knows you are a friend to Islam."
Ugolini raised a cautioning hand. "Mind you, I am a Christian."