If only there were more I could do. For Rachel. For Daoud.
Tilia kept shaking her head. "They took everything of value. Thank Fortune, most of my money is on deposit with the Lombards. But the chests I kept in my room are gone, and there were bags of gold coins in them. One chest was Rachel's."
Sophia's heart sank further at that news. Now Rachel had not even gold to make up for all that had been done to her.
"The dirty ladroni," Tilia went on. "That Tartar and the other one, and the cardinal—all of them had such merry times in my house. How could they do this to me?"
"The Tartars are simply doing as Tartars do," said Sophia. "They take what they want, and they kill anyone who tries to stop them. As for the cardinal, he is a Frank, and if you had seen what the Franks did to my city, you would not be surprised at this." She felt helpless. How could what she was saying possibly comfort Tilia?
Tilia struck the heel of her hand against her forehead. "How stupid I was! When John the Tartar said he wanted to take Rachel to Perugia with him, I should have known he would not accept my refusal. I should have been prepared for this."
Sophia, remembering how Rachel had begged to leave Tilia's house with her that morning, spoke sharply before she could stop herself.
"As it was, you kept Rachel safe for him until he was ready to take her."
Tilia gasped. "That is very unfair."
Now Sophia was deeply angry with herself. She had already decided that what had happened to Rachel should not be blamed on Tilia. And she was trying—or should be trying—to comfort her. Her cruel Greek tongue had got the better of her.