LII
Fighting billows of terror that threatened to engulf her, Sophia pulled her veil aside so that Tilia's servant Cassio could recognize her. Yawning, Cassio led Sophia and Riccardo into the large, column-lined reception room and left them. Ugolini's man threw himself down on a padded bench. Sophia, too agitated to sit still, unpinned her hooded cloak and dropped it beside Riccardo. Even though she had just walked halfway across town, she paced the carpeted floor, twisting her fingers.
Would Tilia be able to help, or would she be as powerless as Ugolini? This journey across the city might be utterly futile, but Sophia, unable to sleep and tormented by demon-inspired visions of what was happening to Daoud, had to do something.
Tilia quickly appeared on the landing of the second floor gallery, followed by Cassio, who held a candle. Despite her bulk, she seemed to flow down the stairs in her trailing red silk gown.
"Quickly, tell me what has happened," she said. "For you to come this late it must be disastroso." Her voice was calm but hoarse. Her face was puffy and creased with deep wrinkles. She wore one piece of jewelry, her bishop's cross.
"We had better talk alone," Sophia said. Tilia nodded. Riccardo was already sitting on a couch in the entry hall with his eyes shut. Cassio looked inquiringly at Tilia. His shoulder-length black hair, usually well-combed and glossy, was a nest of unruly locks pointing every which way.
"Give me the candle, Cassio," said Tilia. "Come up to my room, Sophia. Your escort can wait here." She sighed. "A few weeks ago there would have been clients waiting in this room even at this hour. Since the pope left—" She waved a hand at the emptiness of the great chamber.
Sophia felt herself wanting to cling to Tilia, as if the short, fat woman were her mother. A few months before she had felt nothing but hatred for the brothel keeper because she had introduced Rachel into whoredom. Now she prayed only that Tilia could help her.
Her bedroom was cool, the shutters of a large double window having been swung open to let in the night air. Tilia sat on her wide bed, which was covered with embroidered cushions and silk sheets that draped over the four posts. Sophia went to the window and drew back the curtain to look out. The street outside was dark and empty.
What was happening to Daoud in the Palazzo del Podesta? Were they crippling his beautiful body? Was he dying? Dead? She felt like crying at the thought of how they might be hurting him. But she could not help him unless she kept her head.
Sophia quickly told Tilia about Daoud's arrest. Tilia lay back on the bed, her beady eyes fixed on Sophia, and fingered the cross on her ample bosom. Every so often she nodded, as if this were just what she had expected.
She covered her eyes momentarily with her hand. "May God be kind to Daoud ibn Abdallah. He is worth ten of any ordinary men."
She knows Daoud's Muslim name!
But Sophia had no time to pursue the thought. Tilia had quickly wiped her tears away and turned to Sophia expectantly.
"With Lorenzo away you are the only one who might be able to do something," Sophia said.
"What do you expect of me, if David lets himself be taken away and the cardinal does nothing?" Tilia asked. "Have I more power than they?" Clearly her use of "Daoud" was a momentary indiscretion.
"We need someone who can think," Sophia said, realizing how vague she sounded in her desperation.
"How is Adelberto taking it?" Tilia asked.
"He is almost speechless with terror. He just moans and weeps and wrings his hands. I am afraid he may try to run away, or confess everything or do something equally foolish."
Tilia nodded again, grimly. "He is picturing all the things they will do to him if he is found guilty of conspiring with the enemies of Christendom." She looked at Sophia keenly. "What about you? Are you not afraid for yourself?"
"I am dying of fear."
Tilia reached over and squeezed her hand. "I am frightened too. Who would not be? But you're right—giving way to panic just leaves us helpless. Let us go back to Adelberto's mansion. He is a changeable man. I may be able to get him to think sensibly. I will see what I can do with him."
A wave of relief swept over Sophia. At least she was no longer struggling alone.
Sophia could see a bluish light on the tile roofs of the houses across from Tilia's window. It would soon be morning.
God, they have had Daoud for a whole night! What have they done to him?
"D'Ucello has men watching the cardinal's mansion," Sophia said. "Riccardo and I slipped out through the tunnel that leads under the street to the potterymaker's shop, but we cannot get back in that way."
"Getting there is the easiest part of it," said Tilia. "Cassio will hire a covered cart for us. The hard part will be deciding what to do once we have arrived." She smiled and patted her breasts, accentuated by the gossamer fabric of her sleeping gown. "I must put some clothes on."
"While you dress, can I see Rachel?" Sophia asked. She noticed three ironbound chests, ornamented with circular enameled medallions, standing in a row against the wall beside Tilia's bed. Each was secured with a padlock. They must hold the gold Tilia's customers brought to her.
"I will take you to Rachel," said Tilia. "She is as well and happy as when you saw her last. But do not tell her what has happened to David."
"There is no point in frightening her," Sophia agreed. "But when we leave Orvieto, I want to take her with us."
"Whether you believe it or not, I am looking after her welfare," Tilia said. "Just yesterday, John the Tartar offered me five thousand florins to let him take her to Perugia with him when he follows the pope there. He flew into a rage when I refused him. So, you see, I have even braved the fury of the Tartars for Rachel's sake. Perhaps you will begin to judge me a little more kindly."
Turning to leave the room, Sophia froze momentarily. It had not occurred to her that Tilia would know that she had once hated her. The woman was penetrating. She felt a little more confident that Tilia would have the wisdom to help her in this calamity.
Tilia, holding a candle, opened Rachel's door for Sophia. More glittering gold had been added to the girl's bedroom since Sophia had last visited her, and when the candle flame illuminated it, the room seemed to blaze. Sophia blinked at the gold curtains before the windows and the heavy cloth-of-gold draperies surrounding the bed.
All this, she thought, was to impress that horrible Tartar who came here to lie with Rachel. How lucky Sophia had been to be able to share her bed with a man she loved.
But thoughts of happiness with Daoud—memories—were like a knife in her heart, now that he had been taken from her.
Tilia pulled the drape aside, and there was Rachel, curled up nude on top of yellow silk sheets. Her skinny arms and legs made her look even younger than she was. Sophia felt heartsick as Rachel's eyes opened wide at the sudden light. She sat up in bed, dragging the sheet across her body, then drew back against the wall. She looked terrified. Sophia wondered what sort of awakenings Rachel was used to in this place, and a sudden return of her rage at Tilia made her tremble.
Well and happy, is she?
But she dared not be angry with Tilia now. Tilia was the only person who could help her.
Rachel's black eyes fell on Sophia, and the fear went out of her face. It was replaced by a glad smile that hurt Sophia's heart all the more.
I abandoned her to this, and yet she is happy to see me.
"I will leave you two to talk," Tilia said.
Sophia sat on the gold sheets and took Rachel's hand when Tilia was gone. For a moment she forgot her own grief and fear, as an urge to comfort Rachel pushed to the fore.
"All of us are going to be leaving Orvieto soon, and when we do we will take you with us," she said. Rachel's dark eyes glowed.
Sophia went on. "Wherever we go, you will not have to stay with Tilia anymore and do—what Tilia expects of you. We will find a home for you."
She was not sure how she was going to keep such a promise, but she decided that Daoud would have to kill her before she would let him put Rachel in another brothel.
Again the knife in her breast as she remembered she might never see Daoud again.
Rachel shrugged. "I may be better off doing this than I would be as some man's wife." She looked down at her hands, and Sophia saw that her fingers were long and slender and quite beautiful. "John Chagan has made me very rich, you know."
Sophia thought of the three locked chests in Tilia's room. She would have to make sure that Rachel, when she left this place of shame, got all the gold that was rightfully hers. And how outrageous, that Tilia had been filling Rachel's head with lies about how lucky she was.
"Tilia and the others here have to believe that this is the right life for them. But there is not a woman here who would not trade whatever riches she has earned for a real home, with a husband and children."
Rachel was silent a moment. Her face was all straight lines, Sophia saw, yet delicate and feminine at the same time.
As a woman, she will be much more beautiful than I.
"Even you?" Rachel said suddenly.
Sophia was surprised. "We are not talking about me. I am not—a courtesan."
"What are you?" Rachel asked softly, shyly.
What word is there to describe me?
She had thought often about other women and how different their lives were from hers. Sometimes, to survive, she had to give her body to men when she did not want to. She had been in danger of death. She had known love and wealth and power. She had lived this way since her parents and the boy she had loved were killed, and she could not imagine living any other way.
"I am just a person who does whatever she needs to," said Sophia. How could she sit here and talk like this, when Daoud might be dying? A chill went over her, as if she were in the grip of a fever, and she almost cried aloud.
"Something is wrong," Rachel said. "Why are you here so early in the morning?" That look of terror was coming back into her face.
The door opened, and Tilia was there, dressed in a long green silk tunic and a yellow satin surcoat. Light was beginning to show through Rachel's windows. Sophia held Rachel's hand for a moment and then let go of it and stood up to leave.
"Take me with you," Rachel said, seizing Sophia's wrist.
"Not now," said Sophia quickly. "We will all be together when we leave Orvieto."
Rachel's eyes overflowed with tears. "I do not want to stay here. I want to go with you now."
"What have you been saying to her?" Tilia said angrily.
"Nothing," said Sophia. She turned to Rachel. "See, Madama will be angry with me. She thinks I have been frightening you. Now show her that you are calm and are willing to stay here."
Rachel's thin shoulders slumped. "As you wish, Signora."
In the midst of her fear for Daoud, a pang of guilt shot through Sophia. She had upset Rachel and then spoken gruffly to her. She rushed to her and hugged the thin body against hers.
She kissed Rachel quickly and followed Tilia out.
Sophia followed Tilia through the door of Ugolini's cabinet after Tilia thrust it open without even knocking. Ugolini's eyes bulged at the sight of Tilia, and he threw down his pen.
He was still in a panic, Sophia saw, heartsick. Even if they could come up with a plan to rescue Daoud, would he be willing to do anything?
"Now, of all times, you should not be here," he cried at Tilia.
Without a word Tilia marched across the Syrian carpet, her broad hips swinging under her green gown. She went around Ugolini's desk and held out her arms to him. With a slightly embarrassed glance at Sophia, he stood up—he was the same height as Tilia—and let her take him into her arms. He leaned his head on her shoulder for a moment, then handed her into his chair.
They really are lovers, thought Sophia, seeing the little cardinal's sudden wistful smile. The sight of that smile gave her new hope. Perhaps Tilia could restore his courage. Only Ugolini had the power and authority to do anything about Daoud's imprisonment. Tilia had to bring him back to himself.
"Did you not want me to know, Adelberto, what happened to David?" she demanded, looking down at the parchment he had been writing on. "What is this?"
"I am calculating my horoscope for this day. The stars are telling me I have overreached myself and have only myself to blame for my downfall."
"For your downfall? Dear God, Adelberto, have you given up hope already?"
His words dimmed Sophia's hopes. He believed in his stars.
Ugolini, dressed in a white gown tied at the waist with a cord, walked to the half-open windows and pulled the violet drapes across them, darkening the room. A breeze made the drapes billow inward and blew out the flame of the candle on his desk, plunging the room into a deeper darkness. Unbidden, Sophia picked up a wax taper from Ugolini's worktable, igniting it from the fat, hour-marked candle in the corner away from the window, and went lighting candles in the candelabra around the room. Talking in the dark would only drive their spirits lower.
If only Lorenzo were here. He would have a plan by now, and be doing something about it.
Ugolini held out his hands to Tilia. "I am doomed, and I do not want you dragged down with me." He turned to Sophia, whiskers bristling over his grimace. "You should have left her out of this."
If I had left her out of it, there would be no hope at all, Sophia thought, sitting on the small chair facing Ugolini's worktable. She looked with appeal at Tilia, who nodded reassuringly.
"Tilia needs just as much as any of us to know what is happening," said Sophia. "And you need to talk to her." Ugolini's hands were trembling, she saw. She, too, was afraid, both for herself and Daoud. Fear was a black hollow eating away at her insides.
Oh, Daoud, what are they doing to you?
He might come out of the Palazzo del Podesta blind, or with arms or legs cut off, or mad, she thought. When she saw him again, she might wish him dead—and herself along with him.
She wiped the cold sweat from her brow with the hem of her silk cloak. In the heavy, hot air, the scent of Tilia's rose-petal sachet filled the room.
"Only a miracle can save us," said Ugolini, pacing and waving his hands. "I have been praying to God that He take the soul of David of Trebizond before he breaks under torture and dooms us all."
Sophia reeled with the pain his words brought her. She wanted to claw Ugolini's eyes out. She sprang up from her chair, fists clenched.
"May God take your soul!" she screamed at him. "And send you straight to hell!"
Ugolini turned and stared at her as if she had struck him.
"Be still, Sophia," said Tilia quietly. "That will not help."
Panting heavily, Sophia sat down again. They needed Ugolini so badly, and he was so useless. She wanted to weep with frustration.
"Of course God will damn me," Ugolini cried, throwing his arms into the air as he paced the room, his white gown rippling. "Why should He spare me or any of us, when we have been working against His Church?"
It is not my Church, thought Sophia resentfully. It is the schismatic Latin Church he speaks of. Remembering that she was probably the only person of her faith in Orvieto, she felt terribly alone.
Almost as alone as Daoud must feel.
"It seems that you no longer know who you are," said Tilia sourly to Ugolini.
"Eh? What do you mean?" He turned quickly and peered at her.
She talks to him as if she were his nursemaid, Sophia thought. And that is what he needs.
"You are one of twenty-two men who rule the Church," said Tilia firmly. "You will elect the next pope, and very soon, by all signs. You are not a citizen of Orvieto, subject to this podesta." She spat the word. "You are one of the most powerful men in Italy."
"I am the creature of the Sultan of Egypt, and soon the whole world will know it," Ugolini moaned. "Oh, God, how I wish you had never come to me with his bribes."
So it was Tilia who had recruited Ugolini for this work. There were depths to this woman. If anyone could have an effect on Ugolini now, she could. But Sophia wondered if even Tilia could reach the cardinal in his present state.
"Are you sorry you met me, Adelberto?" said Tilia softly.
"No, no!" said Ugolini hastily.
He rushed over to where she sat at his table and put his hands on her shoulders.
"Without you," he said earnestly, "my life would have been flat and empty."
Love, thought Sophia. He loves her. That might make the difference.
"And I helped you become wealthier than you ever dreamed possible. I helped you buy the red hat."
"True," said Ugolini. "But Fortune raises men high only so they may fall farther when she casts them down."
Tilia brought her large hand down hard on Ugolini's marble-topped table. "Enough of this talk of the stars and Fortune. Look here, Adelberto, for this little cimice, this bedbug of a man, d'Ucello, to walk into the house of Cardinal Ugolini and arrest one of his guests—it is insufferable! You must not permit it."
Sophia did not dare to breathe as she watched Ugolini's face for a sign of returning strength.
"No doubt you are right," said Ugolini, nodding slowly like a boy being taught his lessons.
"You must bring pressure to bear on this man," Tilia went on. "With most of the cardinals following the pope to Perugia, you are now even more important in Orvieto."
Thank God for Tilia. At this moment Sophia was willing to forgive Tilia even the corrupting of Rachel.
Ugolini said, "Yes, but if last night I could not stop him from taking David, what can I do now?" He spread his empty hands.
Another gust of wind lifted the purple drapes and sent scraps of parchment from Ugolini's table to the carpet. Sophia saw circles and triangles and whole constellations flying across the room.
They would have to enlist the aid of someone who had influence over the podesta, Sophia thought, someone who was friendly enough to Ugolini to be willing to speak on his behalf. With the pope gone, the most powerful person in the city was—
As soon as the thought came to her, she spoke. "The Contessa di Monaldeschi. Cardinal, you must go to her and ask her help."
Her heart rose to her throat, choking her. Tilia and Ugolini stared at her. Would they listen? Would they spurn her idea?
"Why should she help me?" said Ugolini.
"She admires you," said Sophia. "She told me so the night of the reception she gave for the Tartars. Now that the pope has left Orvieto, she probably feels neglected."
Wide-eyed, Ugolini shook his head. "But David is accused of involvement in the attack on her palace. Just yesterday I saw her cackling like a strega while her men chopped off Marco di Filippeschi's head and murdered half his family. They even impaled a baby on a spear, and she shouted with glee."
"That has nothing to do with us," said Sophia, though the image revolted her. "She has no reason to connect David with the Filippeschi."
Tilia nodded vigorously, shaking her body and the chair she was sitting in. "Sophia has an excellent idea, Adelberto. If the Contessa di Monaldeschi pleads for David, if she, the injured party, is convinced of his innocence, the podesta must yield."
Sophia felt more confident as she saw that Tilia was on her side. She pressed the attack.
"Again and again d'Ucello has shown that he does whatever the Monaldeschi expect of him," she urged.
"He used to do whatever either family expected of him," said Ugolini. "Until so many Filippeschi perished that they ceased to matter."
Ugolini went to the window. A blast of hot, damp wind roared into the room, and he raised his hand protectively in front of his face.
"It will storm soon," said Tilia. "It cannot be soon enough to suit me. A storm will break this terrible heat. As soon as the storm passes, you must go to her."
Ugolini nodded slowly. "If I fail to convince her, I will be no worse off than I am now."
"You will convince her," said Tilia. "You might as well start to put on your red robes."
Real hope sailed across the sea of terror to Sophia now, and it was a galley, a galley with sails painted a cardinal's red. She felt it bearing her up over her dread for Daoud and for herself.
"I will go to the contessa with you," said Sophia. If he gave way to panic again, she could stop him from doing too much damage.
"And I will return to my house," said Tilia, standing up.
"No," said Ugolini. "It was dangerous enough for you to come here. We know this mansion is being watched. Stay here until nightfall."
Tilia smiled, went to him, and held his small, pointed face between her hands. "I will stay. And if you succeed in persuading the contessa to have David freed, we will have something to celebrate, you and I."
To celebrate! What a wonderful thought. Sophia had begun to feel she would never celebrate anything again.
But moving Ugolini to act was only the first step, she reminded herself. The contessa might prove to be against them, and Daoud might still be doomed.
Sophia watched, eaten up by anxiety, as the Contessa di Monaldeschi advanced slowly into her smaller audience chamber, leaning on her grandnephew, a plump boy in red velvet.
"I hope you have not come to scold me, Cardinal Ugolini," the contessa rasped.
Could this old woman really have laughed to see a baby impaled on a spear, Sophia wondered as she and Ugolini bowed.
"Dear Contessa, scold you?" Ugolini said with a chuckle. "Whatever for?" Sophia was delighted to see how completely he had, to all outward appearances, cast off the terror that gripped him a short time before.
Like all of us, when terror strikes, he needs to feel he can do something.
"Ah, Cardinal. Surely you know." When she reached Ugolini, the tall, bony old woman clutched at the boy's arm with both clawlike hands and began, with an effort that made her compress her withered lips, to lower herself to the floor. It hurt Sophia just to watch her struggle to genuflect before the cardinal.
The contessa had aged a great deal, Sophia thought, since she first saw her, over a year ago. She was thinner, more bent, moved with much greater difficulty. Ugolini reached out to try to stop her from kneeling.
"Please, Dona Elvira!" he cried. "Do not trouble yourself so."
"No, I am a good daughter of the Church," said the contessa. "And through you I pay homage to God."
The old woman's maroon satin gown crackled as she bent her knees. Even kneeling, she was almost as tall as Ugolini. Gold bracelets rattled around her skinny arms, and heavy medallions dangled from gold chains around her neck. A net of gold threads held the coiled braids of her white hair in place.
Once she was on her knees, her grandnephew pulled off his red cap and bowed to Ugolini with a sweeping gesture. His hair was a mass of tight black curls. Had he, too, watched the massacre of the Filippeschi, Sophia wondered. And what had that done to the boy?
"Please let me kiss your ring," the contessa said. She seized his hand and planted a loud, smacking kiss on his sapphire cardinal's ring.
"It is I who should pay homage to you, Dona Elvira," said Ugolini.
Sophia immediately stepped forward to help the contessa struggle to her feet. The boy took the old lady from the other side. Sophia caught a glimpse of him looking at her with bright, amused eyes. Eyes that were too old for the face of an eleven-year-old boy.
When she got close to the contessa, Sophia smelled an odor that made her think of a damp cellar. Together Sophia and the Monaldeschi heir walked with the old lady to a broad-armed chair, where she settled herself, gasping. Two manservants set smaller chairs for the cardinal and Sophia facing the contessa.
The contessa's grandnephew leaned elegantly against the back of the old lady's chair, the fingers of his chubby hands interlinked. Sophia glanced at him and caught his glittering eyes roving over her body. He saw her looking at him, and smiled faintly and without embarrassment.
Contessa Elvira raised a trembling hand. "Cardinal Piacenza had been most unkind. I had a letter from him this morning condemning me in the rudest terms for our triumph over the Filippeschi canaglia yesterday in the Piazza San Giovenale. He accused me of sacrilege, because I shed the blood of Marco during a Mass. When else could I have taken him and his foul brood unawares? God gave me the opportunity."
"Nothing happens save by the will of God," Ugolini murmured.
"Esattamente! Yet Cardinal Piacenza has the audacity to tell me that I am in a grave state of sin and that I have led Vittorio here into sin as well."
Glancing again at Vittorio, Sophia noticed the sword, short enough for a boy but long enough to kill, that hung from his jeweled belt.
Ugolini shook his head. "No one has the right to say that another is in sin. Only God sees the soul. Judge not, lest ye be judged."
Sophia found it hard to believe that this was the same man whose panic she had struggled to overcome a few hours earlier. He was suddenly the perfect clergyman, attentive, sympathetic, sententious.
"Yes, and for what should I be judged?" The contessa lifted both hands now. "For exacting justice?"
"If you have any doubts, dear Madama," Ugolini said, "I will be happy to give you absolution."
That was a nice touch, thought Sophia. If she confessed to him, that would certainly put her under his influence.
But even as they talked, across town the podesta's men might be tearing Daoud's body to pieces. Sophia felt her stomach knot. She shook her head as vigorously as she dared, to drive away the hideous images without attracting attention to herself.
Hurry! Dear God, make them hurry!
"I have no doubts," said the old lady firmly. "Besides, I have my own chaplain. I would not wish another person on earth to know me as well as he does. But I do thank you for your kind thought, Cardinal. I am glad to see that not all the princes of the Church think alike in this matter."
"I am sure Cardinal Piacenza is quite alone," said Ugolini.
The contessa shrugged. "I do not know about that. Since His Holiness left, no one has called on me. I have been feeling quite abandoned."
Now Sophia began to feel a stronger hope than ever. The old lady liked to be flattered by princes of the Church. Perhaps she could be won over after all.
"Surely your guest, Cardinal de Verceuil, attends you often," Ugolini ventured.
The contessa sniffed. "That Frenchman. He is no more civilized than his Tartars. I would rather he left me alone. The French are all rather barbaric. Of course, that fine young Simon de Gobignon—he is most attractive." She grinned with a lasciviousness that startled Sophia. "This palace has not been the same since he went back to France."
"Back to France?" Ugolini stared. "I thought he, too, was going to Perugia."
Sophia felt a ball of ice suddenly encase her heart. She had told Ugolini, as she told Daoud, that Simon was going to Perugia. She prayed Ugolini would not suspect that she had been lying.
"Oh, no," said the contessa. "France. He told me himself when he took leave of me. And when he returns, I think Ghibellini everywhere in Italy will have reason to tremble. Because the might of France will follow him. I am only sorry he will not come in time to save Orvieto from the Sienese. One of my sergentes just reported that the Sienese army is but a day or two away from here."
And Lorenzo with it, thought Sophia. If only he would hurry.
"What will you do, Contessa?" Ugolini asked. "As a Guelfo family, do the Monaldeschi intend to leave Orvieto before the Sienese arrive?"
He was straying from the subject, thought Sophia impatiently.
Never mind the damned Sienese army. They cannot do us any good.
The old lady tossed her head, her hooked nose jutting defiantly. She laid her hand on Vittorio's.
"We will stand fast. This family has lived in this city since the days of the Etruscans. I expect our militia to put up a good fight. After our honor has been satisfied, we will ask, with dignity, for terms."
"Very brave," said Ugolini.
The militia of Orvieto, thought Sophia, was under the command of the podesta. If d'Ucello was involved in fighting the Sienese, what might that mean for Daoud?
Dona Elvira looked at the cardinal slyly. "Are you also staying in Orvieto, Your Eminence?"
"For the moment," said Ugolini.
Sophia was surprised that Ugolini did not say more, but the conversation seemed to be going the way he wanted it to.
"You may be able to help us, Your Eminence."
Sophia felt more elated than ever. If she wanted help from Ugolini, then surely she would be willing to help him.
"Nothing would please me more, Contessa."
"You are from the south, from Manfred's kingdom. You might have some influence with these Ghibellini. Perhaps a word from you would help to keep our house and our property intact."
Ugolini threw out his arms. "Dear Contessa, anything. Of course, as a loyal supporter of the pope I do not ordinarily have dealings with Ghibellini."
"Of course not," the contessa agreed. Vittorio smiled. He had a small, chiseled mouth, such as Sophia had seen on the men in ancient Roman sculptures.
"But whatever little I might be able to do, I am entirely at your service," Ugolini said.
"I have always considered you my very good friend, Your Eminence. Even though you opposed the alliance of Christians and Tartars and they were my houseguests."
That startled Sophia. The contessa made it sound as if the Tartars had left her home.
"Were your houseguests, Madama?" Ugolini asked. So, he had noticed it too.
She sighed. "Yes, they and that boorish French cardinal left for Perugia this morning, not long before you came. They chose a bad day to leave. This morning's storm is not the end of the rain. Another storm is coming. Every joint in my body aches."
"These storms clear the air," said Ugolini.
The contessa held up a sticklike finger. "Exactly as the storm yesterday in the Piazza San Giovenale did."
Now she was bringing up her grievance, Sophia thought. Evidently she had offended a number of cardinals with the massacre of the Filippeschi.
A servant brought a small table of some shiny black wood and set it in their midst. Its legs were carved in the form of twisting, wingless dragons. Perhaps it was a gift to the contessa from the Tartars. Sophia had seen such furnishings in Constantinople and knew they came from the distant East, where the Tartars ruled.
Another servant brought a tray with small sweet cakes filled with a paste made of crushed white raisins. A third poured the pale yellow wine of Orvieto into silver goblets for them. Sophia sipped her wine, but her stomach churned with fear for Daoud, a fear held rigidly in check. She could not drink much, and she could not eat at all.
Every so often she glanced at Vittorio di Monaldeschi, and each time she did, she found his eyes fixed on her.
Ugolini wiped his mouth after finishing off a cake. "As Fortune's wheel turns, all of us need friends at one time or another."
"How true," said the old lady.
"I come before you today to presume upon our friendship to ask you a favor, Madama," said Ugolini.
"We need each other, as you have said, Your Eminence."
Sophia prayed that the contessa would agree to help.
Ugolini told how the podesta's men had arrested Daoud the previous night. Sophia watched the contessa's face for some sign of sympathy, but the old lady remained as expressionless as a bird.
"I am shocked that the podesta would arrest your houseguest," she said. "But what can I do? After all, Signore d'Ucello holds the office because he has our confidence."
Which means that he stands aside while you murder your enemies.
Ugolini spread his hands. "Precisely because he has your confidence, dear Madonna, I know he will listen to you. We have had no word of what has become of our guest and friend."
"I want everyone punished who had anything to do with the attack on my palace," said the contessa, clenching her bony fist.
And what if the contessa were to discover that the man they were talking about had incited that attack and used it as cover for his own attempt to murder the Tartar ambassadors, Sophia thought. She would want him torn to bits in the piazza. New waves of terror washed over her.
And she would want those who helped him punished along with him. Sophia glanced at Ugolini and saw that he was sweating.
Dear God, do not let him falter now.
"Of course, Contessa," he said. "That is why I have come to you. Because you, and not the podesta, are the one truly injured. But the arrest of David is a terrible mistake. I place before you my belief in this man's absolute innocence. I am prepared to swear to it. He was not even here in Orvieto when that dastardly attack occurred. He was in Perugia. There are countless witnesses. I know this man. He is a good man, a merchant, not a warrior."
"I remember him," said the contessa. "A very good-looking blond man. I heard his conversation with the Tartars and I began to wonder myself about the wisdom of allying ourselves with them."
"It is probably because David did testify against the Tartars that the podesta thinks he might be connected with the attack on your palace," said Ugolini. "But such a man as David would have nothing to do with such mascalzoni as the Filippeschi. I, too, have opposed the alliance, and yet you and I are friends. It is one thing to disagree in a civilized way. It is another to turn to behave like a scoundrel. David has the same horror of murder that we all do."
Remembering what she had heard about the killings in the cathedral plaza, Sophia wondered if the contessa had any horror of murder at all.
"I am sure that is true," said the contessa. "But the podesta must have good reason for detaining this David."
Despair overwhelmed Sophia. The tears that had been falling in her soul sprang to her eyelids and began to run down her cheeks. She should not show her feelings like this, she thought. But what did it matter, when Daoud was dying and no one would lift a hand to save him?
"Why are you crying, child?" said the contessa. Sophia heard sympathy in her voice.
"Forgive me, Contessa," she said, sobbing. "This is very rude of me."
"Does this man mean so much to you?" asked the old lady, her rasping voice softened.
In her anguish, Sophia was still clear-headed enough to see that she might use that anguish. She threw herself down on the terrazzo floor and clasped the contessa around the knees.
"Sophia!" She could hear Ugolini's chair scrape as he stood up. The boy took a step toward her.
"It is all right," said the contessa. "You love this man, do you not?" She patted Sophia's hair.
"Yes," Sophia wept. "And I swear to you, he is innocent."
He is, too, because he believes that everything he is doing is right.
"Your Eminence?" said the contessa. "You approve of your niece and this man from Trebizond?"
"Oh, certainly," said Ugolini waving his hands. "He is a fine man."
"Hmm," said the old lady. "That night at my reception I thought you and the young Count de Gobignon were attracted to each other."
Sophia felt a strange stab of guilt.
"Oh, he is too far above me, Contessa," she said. "A count. David is a merchant. We are right for each other."
It is true that David and I are much more suited than Simon and I.
"It makes me feel young for a moment to see a beautiful woman in love." The contessa stroked Sophia's cheek with dry, rough fingers.
Sophia opened her eyes wide and looked the contessa full in the face. "Please help us, Contessa, for the sake of love."
The contessa sighed and smiled. "I will send for d'Ucello. I will request that he stop questioning your friend." She looked across at Ugolini. "You must give me your word, Your Eminence, that this David will not leave Orvieto until all doubts about him are settled."
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Sophia kissed the shiny knuckles, wetting the blue-veined hand with her tears.
"Sophia, stand up," said Ugolini, touching her shoulder. "This is embarrassing."
Vittorio helped her to her feet, holding her waist more tightly than was necessary.
Embarrassing? If not for my outburst, there would be no hope of freeing Daoud.
But I must live in terror awhile longer. Until I know he is well. That they have not done anything to him. Oh, God, let him come back to me healthy and whole.