"I should think it would endanger his health even more if a war broke out in Orvieto," said Friar Mathieu.
"I will see him," said de Verceuil. "But I will also arm myself and my men to help defend this place."
Simon expected de Verceuil to next propose himself as commander of the defense, but, to his delight, the cardinal had nothing more to say. Then the suspicion crossed his mind that de Verceuil did not want to have to take the blame in case of defeat.
"Grazie, Your Eminence," said the contessa.
Simon said, "I must go to Signore d'Ucello. Surely the podesta will not let civil war break out in the city he governs."
The contessa laughed, a knowing cackle. "Go to him if you like, but you waste your time. He cannot—will not—stop the Filippeschi. He has Filippeschi relatives, you know. But he could not stop me, either, if I chose to attack them."
Friar Mathieu said, "Perhaps we should take the ambassadors to the papal palace. That would get them out of harm's way until this is over."
Simon's body went rigid. The Tartars were his responsibility. He would never give them up to the pope's men-at-arms.
"No!" he said. "The duty of guarding them is mine, and I will surrender it to no one."
De Puys struck the table with his open palm. "Bravely spoken, Monseigneur."