He saw the Armenians unslinging their bows and nocking arrows. "It is I, de Gobignon!" he shouted. He heard Friar Mathieu call something to the men, and they lowered their bows. Good that they were alert, he thought, but what might have happened to them on the road to make them so?
He rode in among the Armenians, and felt a hollow pit in his stomach as he saw the rich saddles on two of the riderless horses, silver and mother-of-pearl inlays glistening even in the darkness of the forest.
"Simon!" Friar Mathieu, on donkeyback, called.
Simon turned to the nearest cart and looked in over the shoulder of the driver, one of the Armenians, who stared at him from under heavy brows.
There, on a bed of straw, lay two bodies. They had the short, broad build of the Tartar ambassadors. Simon's heart stopped beating.
"Mary, Mother of God!" Simon whispered. He got down from his horse.
Mathieu was beside him, gripping his arm. "Did you come looking for us, Simon?"
Simon was sick with despair. He gestured feebly at the two bodies.
"What happened to them?"
"You might call it a mischance due to their inexperience. I tried to warn them, but they would not heed me."