I know. He wanted to be the authority on the Tartars. He wanted to carry the day for the alliance all by himself.
Hard to believe, Simon thought, but it seemed de Verceuil would rather see his cause lost than have someone else win credit for its success.
"I shall fetch him myself, Fra Tomasso," Simon said loudly.
To his relief, he found de Pirenne, expecting an outing in the country, with their two horses just outside the papal palace wall. Simon explained his errand, and together they made the short ride through the stone-paved streets to the Franciscan hospital. There the Father Superior hastily summoned Friar Mathieu.
De Pirenne relinquished his horse to the old Franciscan. Friar Mathieu's bare skinny shanks, when he hiked up his robe to sit in the saddle, looked comical to Simon.
"I knew the Holy Father had called a council today," said Friar Mathieu, "but I assumed Cardinal de Verceuil would send for me if I were needed."
"Better to assume that he will do the opposite of what is needed," said Simon. Friar Mathieu laughed and slapped Simon's shoulder.
The pope's servants were passing flagons of wine and trays of meat tarts when Simon and Friar Mathieu entered the hall. The arguments among the prelates had risen almost to a roar, but died down as men saw Simon escorting the small figure of Mathieu d'Alcon in his threadbare brown robe toward the papal throne.
Fra Tomasso spoke softly and respectfully to the elderly Franciscan. While de Verceuil glowered from the pews, Friar Mathieu stood before the pope, seeming as serene and self-possessed as if he were in a chapel by himself.