"Yes. That worm-eaten spy of yours told you, eh?" Lorenzo jerked his head in the direction of Sordello's body. "He was trying to guard them at the time. He did a bad job of it."
"Mère de Dieu!" was all Simon said. Anger reddened his face, but he was looking off into space, not at Lorenzo.
"After that," Lorenzo went on, "I found the wagon, but Rachel and Friar Mathieu were gone. I found another riderless horse and hitched it up, and I drove the wagon into the forest west of here. Rachel, I buried your chest. I hope I remember where.
"By then it was nightfall. I used my forged safe conduct to get me back into Benevento. Then I had to dodge the mobs of drunken Frenchmen running wild all over town. I knew where you were staying, Sophia, but it took me all night to get into this house past Count Simon's guards. I spent hours in hiding and scrambling about on rooftops."
"I thought I would die of fright," said Tilia, "when Lorenzo came through our window."
Thank God for Lorenzo! How I love him. Nothing can stop him. Nothing can kill him.
"What were you planning to do with these people when you came here, Count?" Lorenzo said. "Turn them over to your master, Anjou?"
Sophia turned to look at Simon. He stood composed, his empty hands at his sides, his face, pink in the glow from the fire, calm as a statue's.
"Your master—Daoud the Mameluke—asked me to come here," Simon said.
"Please put your crossbow down, Lorenzo," Sophia said again.