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.Why don t you watch where you re going? That s it.That s good. The Archdeacon nods as my feethit the ground. Just keep close and follow me. Is it always so crowded? On this street, yes.It s the main route from one side ofCarcassonne to the other.But there are other ways. Where are we going? To the castle.Come on.Easy to say; not so easy to do.How difficult it is to keepout of the dung and the spittle when you re trying to avoidoncoming traffic.Dodging stray children.Falling over strayanimals.Getting clouted with a bucket of water (ouch!) assomebody slips on a puddle of grease.And now my horse isnervous: it keeps tossing its head, and jibbing.A horriblesmell, like smoked urine.Olive pips sliding underfoot.Ahouse with carved shutters.Slow down, Father, I don t want to lose you. Archdeacon! Someone is waving at us over theseething heads: someone dressed in red and blue and yellow.96The Archdeacon looks around, and lifts his hand. Master Bardelin, he replies, without much enthusiasm. A word in your ear, Father? Tomorrow, my friend.I have business with theViscount.This way, Isidore.This way, Isidore.Down a side street, and we re outof the dyers quarter.It s weavers here: I can tell by all thebits of carded wool blowing around.It smells better, too though not much better.Fewer people, but a lot moregarbage. Father Pagan. A woman beams at us from a doorstep.She bobs her head as the Archdeacon turns. God s blessingson you, Father. And on you, my dear.Giggles from somewhere behind her.The Archdeacon doesn t stop to chat: just salutes her, and presses on.Heseems to have a great many friends.Does everyone knowhim? Does everyone know you, in Carcassonne? Not everyone.This isn t my quarter. Where do you live? South. He waves his hand. Near the cathedral. Do you have your own house? I do, yes. Is it nice? You ll see. He smiles at me over his shoulder. I ll takeyou there after we ve visited the Viscount. Suddenly hesneezes, very loudly, five times in a row. I usually don t comethrough here, he says, mopping his face. All this wool.itbothers me. Pagan!97The Archdeacon jumps like a mouse that s beentrapped in a corn-bin.He turns, looking back towards thecross street behind us: there s a man stepping out of theshadows, a grey-haired man, magnificently dressed.A lord,perhaps? He has gold on his sword-belt; gold on his fingers;gold on the brooch that s holding his cape across his chest.Even his tunic is embroidered with gold.He looks familiar, somehow. Pagan, he says, in a low, lazy drawl. What a wonderfulsurprise.I thought you were off wooing heretics at leastthat s what your Bishop told me. I was. And now you ve had enough? I was summoned. Ah. What a very tall man he is.Tall and heavy.And there ssomething about his face his long nose his blue eyes Oh, of course! Of course.He could be Lord Roland stwin.Except that Lord Roland s face is thinner, and hedoesn t have a beard. Who s this? Lord Roland s twin looks down his noseat me. What happened to Julien? Julien was ill, the Archdeacon replies. I had to leavehim. And this?The Archdeacon hesitates.He seems oddly subdued:I ve never seen him like this before.So abrupt.So wary. This is Isidore, he says at last. Isidore, make yourbow to Lord Jordan Roucy de Bram.He is Roland s elderbrother.I knew it! I knew he had to be something like that.98How fine he looks in those beautiful garments.How wellhe carries himself, for a man so full of days. That s an impressive head of hair you ve got, Isidore,he says amiably. Hot enough to start a fire.Where did youpick that up? Isidore s parents were foreigners, the Archdeaconrejoins, before I can even open my mouth. Now if you llexcuse us, my lord, I ve been summoned by the Viscount.He wants to speak with me urgently. Does he? How fortunate.It just so happens that I mheading that way myself.We can walk together. Lord Jordanswings around, and lets loose an ear-splitting whistle. Guichard! Move it! Sniffing after skirts again, I ll warrantyou
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