Sordello shrugged. "That lovely lady stays apart. She goes to church, she reads, she paints."
Worried though he was about the impending Filippeschi attack, Simon's heart felt lightened by joy. Sophia was innocent. His love for her was vindicated. After this was over he would come to her and broach marriage.
"You must watch Madonna Sophia for me," Simon said. "Stay close to her. Do not let her go out tonight."
"Stay close to her." Sordello grinned. "That will not be hard, Your Signory."
Simon seized the front of Sordello's tunic. "Never speak that way of her."
Sordello jerked away from Simon and brushed his tunic. "I am a man, Your Signory. Do not treat me like a slave." The coarse face was pale with outraged pride.
He forgets his place so easily. But there is no one else to guard Sophia for me.
"I want you to be thinking about her safety, and that alone," he said in a calmer voice.
Sordello bowed. "I understand, Your Signory." But resentment still burned in his narrowed eyes.
In the midst of his fear, like a single candle glowing in a pitch-black cathedral, Simon felt a tingle of anticipation. There was something in him, deeply buried but powerful, that keenly looked forward to taking command in battle.