Oddly, Alain still wore his sword and dagger.
Alain's weapons were still both sheathed. Whoever had stabbed him had not given him time to defend himself. Yet, there were no recessed doorways or alley openings where an armed robber might hide himself.
The spot was unpleasantly familiar. This was where Simon's archers, at de Verceuil's orders, had shot two Orvietans.
Had Alain been tricked by someone pretending to be a friend? Was the killer someone Alain knew?
Ah, my poor friend, what a shame it is when a young knight dies without sword in hand. Simon clenched his fist, the tears falling unceasingly. By the wounds in Christ's body I swear I will avenge the wounds that killed you, Alain.
Simon remembered now that the watch was on the way. When they got here they would ask him questions about what he and Alain were doing here, questions he did not want to answer until he had time to think.
A scandal would give de Verceuil a chance to eat me alive. And I must get Friar Mathieu to help me.
"Send someone to the Palazzo Monaldeschi for my horse," he said to the innkeeper, standing suddenly.
"As you wish, Your Signory." The innkeeper hurried off.
Simon swept the crowd with his gaze. "Remember, all of you. Anyone who saw anything, heard anything. You will be paid. Come to the Palazzo Monaldeschi."