"Oh, no." David smiled. "But I saw you there, and you seemed to be."
God's wounds, how true that is! was Simon's first thought. He had held himself rigid throughout the heretic's horrible death, afraid that he would throw up.
But how disturbing to discover that this Greek merchant, apparently an enemy, had seen right through Simon's effort to appear imperturbable. Of all the people in Orvieto, this man was the last Simon would want to reveal himself to. He cursed himself for giving David such a perfect opening.
How could I be such a fool? And I thought I was so clever, addressing him in French.
Simon had been anticipating his next encounter with David with a mixture of eagerness, fear, and anger, almost as if it were to be a battle. Now he wished he had stayed away from the man.
"I felt sorry for the poor devil, as I believe a Christian should," Simon said. "Did you not?"
There was a baleful look in David's eyes, as if he hated Simon for his answer.
But the man from Trebizond only shrugged and said, "I have seen much blood and pain in my life."
A broad figure in a white robe billowed up to Simon and David. Simon remembered him from the pope's council—Fra Tomasso d'Aquino, the distinguished Dominican. The friar's belt of rosary beads rattled as he walked. It would take a week, Simon thought, to recite all the Our Fathers and Hail Marys that encircled Fra Tomasso.
"Count, I trust you will forgive my interrupting you. I have already had the pleasure of meeting Messer David of Trebizond, but I have wanted to speak to you ever since you arrived in Orvieto. As a seminarian I studied for a year in Paris under your uncle, Hugues de Gobignon. A friar of great renown. His murder was such a tragedy."