With deference to Simon's dress and manner, the crowd parted for him when he joined them to see what they were looking at.
It was the body of a dead man.
It was Alain.
Simon staggered back, feeling as if he had been struck in the heart by a mailed fist.
"No!" he cried.
"Do you know this man, Signore?" someone asked him.
Simon did not answer. He fell to his knees beside Alain, horrified by the face so white it seemed carved from marble. He saw now the great bloodstain down the front of Alain's pale green tunic. Flies with gleaming blue-green bodies were humming above the bloodstain, settling down again after Simon's arrival disturbed them.
He raised his head, and through the tears that clouded his vision he recognized a face. Last night's innkeeper. A short, balding man with large eyes and a generous nose.
"We have sent for the watch, Your Signory," said the man.
"Did anyone see or hear anything?"