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.