Sir Guy slowly straightened, almost afraid to see that unnatural swirl of colors in the cleric’s eyes, but what he saw was the same golden brown he had known for years.

“Thank you, Father.”

“My son … this undertaking … it is with the consent and cooperation of the infidel and heretic Ibrahim al-Asiri? Cousin and private advisor to Saladin, enemy of God? You have made a preliminary bargain with a representative of the Antichrist on earth?”

“He is a Saracen, to be sure, but—”

“Yes or no, my friend?” asked the priest. “Did you enter into an agreement with Ibrahim al-Asiri?”

“I did. In the name of God and for my love of the Church, I did.”

The priest took his hand and patted it. “I just wanted you to say it aloud. Plain and not couched in the twisted language of diplomacy which, I must admit, often sounds like the mutterings of the devil. Tell me the truth, Sir Guy, for much hangs on it. If I were to say no—if I threatened to do the terrible things that we both know I can do and indeed should do to a man who has brought this to me and asked of me what you have asked—would you be willing to kill me?”

Sir Guy said nothing.

“Speak now or I will call the guards.”

“Yes,” croaked the diplomat, though he knew that he could never do such a thing. He could kill an uncle or brother before he killed a priest.

“Then tell me one more thing. If you escaped; if you fled this hospital and the city, if you took a boat to Spain or some other port, if you changed your name and lived forever in hiding … would you still want this plan of yours to go forward? Does the substance of this agreement matter more to you than titles, land, wealth, or your own name? Does this agreement matter more to you than your own life?”

“Yes,” Sir Guy said again. His throat felt like it was filled with shards of broken pottery.

The priest stepped closer, his face as severe as one of the saints of antiquity. “If I were to call my guards in here and have them strike you down and cut off your head and scatter the worthless pieces of your body to the vultures … would you even then want this agreement to move forward?”

Tears broke from Sir Guy’s eyes and he buckled slowly to his knees. He drew his sword and let it clatter to the flagstones. His dagger clanged as he dropped that across the sword. Sir Guy bowed his head.

“Yes,” he said in a voice that was filled with passion but without hope.