The count was silent for a long moment. His back remained turned, but his shoulders heaved. He seemed to be sobbing. Daoud glanced at Sordello, whose eyes glowed with triumphant hatred.
So, Lorenzo finished the Tartars. At last. I pray only that it is not too late.
He felt, not elation, but a quiet satisfaction. He thanked God for letting him hear this news before he died.
"Did you get Giancarlo?" de Gobignon asked in a quiet, choked voice.
"No, Your Signory. The battle came between us."
Daoud thought, Thank you, O God, for that.
"Go away, Sordello," said de Gobignon in that same subdued tone. "Go where I cannot see you. I will deal with you later."
"Your Signory, this man is capable of the most unbelievable treachery. He will tell you monstrous lies. In the moments of life he has left to him, God alone knows what evil he may do. I urge you, kill him at once. It is the wisest thing. Here, here is my dagger. Cut his throat. Avenge John and Philip—and yourself. Or, let me do it for you. Do not soil your hands."
He is terrified of what I might say about him.
In his dimming vision Daoud saw Sordello lunge at him, holding a long dagger. Suddenly he vanished. A moment later Daoud heard a crash.