"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.