"I am Tilia Caballo, and this is my house," she said in a commanding voice. "How long have you been here?"
What a brave woman Tilia was, Sophia thought. Could she herself face an officer of the watch and speak to him sternly like that?
"Since the hour of None, Madama. The podesta was here, but he had to leave."
"And what are you doing? Just standing about? Have you left that poor man's body to hang there since mid-afternoon, where women and children could see it? Take him down at once. Are you not Christians? How can you treat the dead with such disrespect?"
In the midst of her own horror, Sophia took comfort from Tilia's display of strength, and wondered how the stout little woman felt inside.
Sophia had hated her at times, and still thought Tilia had done a horrible wrong to Rachel. But what she felt for her now was mostly admiration.
After all, all of them were equally guilty of what had happened to Rachel. The blame should not fall on Tilia alone.
The beak-nosed officer called orders to others nearby. But his expression as he turned back to Tilia was surly.
"There might be some question about whether he was a Christian, Madama. This is, after all, a house of ill repute."
"Ill repute!" Tilia blustered. "This is—this was—the handsomest house of pleasure in Orvieto. And our patrons occupied the very highest levels in the Church. You would be wise to have a care how you speak of my house."