A pile of provisions lay at Ramon’s feet. Ramon stands in the courtyard while Bernat runs hither and thither looking for leather wine flasks. Something is in Ramon’s throat thick and sticky. He swallows again and again but it will not go away. So he trains his eyes on his friend bobbing from one storage room to the next in search of everything Ramon will need for his journey.
A tattoo of metal-tipped boots. Ramon turns. Bernat freezes. Two servants of the pope appear scarlet and gold cloaks hung around their shoulders. As they approach Ramon reads their faces: They wear the triumph of someone who has seen danger and misfortune but managed to avoid it.
“We have orders to accompany you to a ship ready to sail.”
Ramon sets his jaw and looks at the men. “In such haste?”
