"Are you not pleased?" Simon prodded him.
"Pleased about a war?" Friar Mathieu's eyes were sad under his snow-white brows.
Simon felt as if his chair had been pulled out from under him and he had been dumped on the floor. His whole being had been focused on bringing good news to Perugia.
"But Father Mathieu, this means that the alliance of Tartars and Christians is approved. By Pope Urban, anyway."
Now that Pope Urban was dead, did that mean anything? He hesitated, confused.
Friar Mathieu sighed again. "I want the Tartars to embrace Christianity. I want the holy places liberated. But this warfare in Italy seems to me a false turning in the road. However—neither you nor I can stop the march of events. What is it you are carrying?"
Simon unbuckled the fastenings of the leather case and took out a package wrapped in silk. "Two letters written by King Louis. One was for Pope Urban. The other is for de Verceuil if Pope Urban should die."
"You will have trouble delivering either one."
"The one for Pope Urban I will keep as the king ordered me, until a new pope is elected. But the other one—why? Where is de Verceuil?"
"Locked away with the other cardinals in the Cathedral of Perugia, trying to make himself pope."