“But my father…”
Lombardy, summer, 1324 Alaric spat. “Mongols,” he said, the word itself an epithet. “Never trust them.” Jaufre thought of the Mongol Baron Ogodei, and didn’t disagree. “Yes, well, when the Mongols didn’t come, Robert told us it was over.” His smile was wry. “We didn’t believe him, of course.” “Wilmot did,” Alaric said. “But you…
