"Simon," said Friar Mathieu.
If he has relieved me of one burden, can he not take away the other, the greater?
"Patience, Father. We are coming to the spot where the road bends around the mountain, and we will be able to see Orvieto. Everyone will be gathering to rest a bit. Let us wait until we are spread out on the road again."
Friar Mathieu shrugged. "As you wish."
Across the valley the silhouette of Orvieto loomed like an enchanted castle against the moonlit sky. The yellow squares of candlelit windows glowed among the dark turrets and terraces. The tall, narrow windows of the cathedral church of San Giovenale were multicolored ribbons of light. Simon found himself wondering where Sophia, the cardinal's niece, was right now, and what she was doing.
When they were stopped by the shrine of San Sebastian, Simon took the lantern and peered down at the Tartars. The stench of wine and vomit hung heavily over their bed of straw, and both of them were snoring loudly. Aside from being in a stupor, they seemed well enough. The stringy black beard of the younger one, Philip, was clotted with bits of half-digested food. Friar Mathieu produced a comb from his robe and cleaned the beard. Simon rode to the head of the party.
"What are you and the old monk gabbling about back there?" asked Alain.
"He is hearing my confession," said Simon lightly.
Alain laughed. "If you have done anything you need to confess, you've been clever about hiding it from me."
When they were back on the road, Simon and Friar Mathieu took up their position at the end of the line.