Holding herself rigid against this fresh reminder of her grief, Sophia said only, "Yes."
Friar Mathieu said, "Lorenzo, the man who killed Daoud lies there—on the floor. No need to talk about revenge." He pointed to a corner of the room where Sordello's body lay.
Needing a moment's relief from her pain, Sophia said, "Lorenzo, how did you ever get here?"
Still holding the crossbow pointed at Simon, Lorenzo spoke without looking at her.
"After I got Rachel and Friar Mathieu out of the French camp, I saw this fellow's army charging down from the hills to attack Daoud and his Falcons." Lorenzo shook the crossbow.
Sophia prayed that he would put the crossbow down. What if by accident he unleashed a bolt at Simon? If Simon were to die before her eyes, that would surely be more than she could bear.
"I had to try to warn Daoud," Lorenzo said. "I left Rachel and the friar there and rode off. I never did reach Daoud." He hesitated a moment, eyeing Simon, then smiled, a hard smile without warmth or mirth.
"I got your precious Tartars, though, Count Simon."
Simon nodded, his eyes bitter. "Sordello told me it was you who killed them." He took a step toward Lorenzo, who shook the crossbow at him again.
Put it down! Sophia wanted to scream.